Run Delia Run

by Cindy Bokma

  “I could make that happen very easily,” he informed me, but I told him that the fantasy had gone up in smoke and it wasn’t an ambition any longer. I saw some things when I was trying to pursue my acting and it turned me off. I saw famous movie stars unhappy and depressed, abusing alcohol. I saw sex given out as favors, used to get movie roles. I saw big, powerful actors and executives alike trolling the bars and clubs for prostitutes to hire for an hour or two. I saw more drugs than I cared to acknowledge. I lived it, I was surrounded by it, and ultimately I turned away from it.

  “I want to keep busy. I want to work. Doing what, I don’t know.” I shrugged. The black and white headshots and the stacks of resumes were long gone by now. “I like numbers . . . accounting, maybe?”

  “I’ll come up with something,” Leo vowed. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry about anything, Delia.”

  I pressed my lips together, not knowing what to say.

  Since I landed on Aunt Priscilla’s doorstep almost five years ago, I made things happen on my own. I was reluctant to let him take control and offer me things and make me promises. On the other hand, I liked being taken care of after struggling for so long.

  I swallowed my pride and agreed to let him find me a better job. One job with benefits, rather than three part-time jobs.

  Claire poured a cup of coffee for herself and rested on the edge of the desk. “I’ve got a date, too. With a proctologist over in Torrance. Don’t ask for details tomorrow because you’re not sharing today.” She grimaced at the flowers and trotted away, her high heels echoing on the floor. I turned to say something, but the sight of her blue polka dotted underwear through the thin fabric of her white pants made me grin. Then, I grabbed a hard candy from her tooth shaped mug and went back to work.

  Two weeks later, Leo offered me a job working in the accounting office at a small studio in Culver City. I didn’t know what he said or did to get me the job, but I was grateful. I would be working a normal business week, in the office at eight and home by six at the latest.

  When I gave my notice at the dental office, Dr. Thurman shook my hand with his plump, latex covered hand and wished me the best, but Claire was livid. “So that’s how it goes? Prostituting yourself? You do something for him, he gives you a nice job? Are you really going to be working?” she asked with a bitter tongue. Jealousy oozed from her pores, her face sour. He wasn’t interested in her and she couldn’t stand it.

  The Saturday before I was supposed to begin work, I got in my Jeep and stuck the key in the ignition but instead of starting up as usual, it whined.

  I took the key out and repeated my action but the engine sputtered.

  “Come on, come on,” I begged as I gave it more gas and turned the key. The engine gave no signs of starting. I cursed and hit the steering wheel with my hand. Of all times for the Jeep to break down.

  What was going on and why now?

  I leaned back and closed my eyes

  What shop could I bring it to? Who could get it running by Monday morning at such short notice? What if the repairs were expensive? There was no extra money in bank account.

  Leo gave me a gift certificate to shop for clothes at a fancy boutique on Melrose because he knew I owned very few nice clothes and couldn't afford a shopping trip. I couldn’t call him for help right now, though I knew he would come over in a second. He was the definition of a Prince Charming. I didn’t want to become dependent on him, although he made it easy for me to consider it.

  “Whatever you need, whenever you need it,” he said, his eyes gazing deeply into mine, “Call me and I’ll be there.”

  Though I believed he’d help me, I didn’t want to call. I hated needing people. My mind briefly swam to my parents, of being a child and taken care of, protected. When I was sick my mother used to set me up on the couch in front of the television with pillows and blankets, mugs of hot tea and bowls of soup. Cocooned in warmth, I felt safe and loved though I took it for granted at the time. Closing my eyes against the memory, I tried to call up that feeling of peace, of knowing I’d be okay.

  I went into the apartment and called a tow truck then stood outside, waiting. Clouds gathered overhead, the gray sky threatened to unleash a downpour. The air was cool and damp and I hugged myself to stay warm.

  Blowing on my chilled hands to keep them from freezing, I paced back and forth on the side walk to stay warm. When I turned, a shiny black limousine pulled up alongside the curb and the tinted window slid down.

  Leo’s handsome face appeared. I gave a little jump and gasped. Either he had a sixth sense, or he was checking up on me, this wasn’t a neighborhood he needed to be in.

  “What’s wrong? Car trouble?” he asked, crinkling his nose, an expression he used when he seemed perplexed.

  “My Jeep won’t start.” I cried, unable to keep my voice reasonable. I shivered. Was that a raindrop? “The tow truck should be here any minute.” The air seemed to drop in temperature and a breeze blew my hair.

  He opened the car door and got out, taking a step toward me and wrapping his arms around my cold body. He smelled good, as usual; his spicy cologne warmed me slightly. Looking sharp, he wore yet another expensively tailored suit. By comparison, I could have passed for a teenager in my distressed jeans and a ratty sweatshirt, with a pair of old sneakers, my hair was pulled into a ponytail.

  “Let me help you. I’ll give you a ride anywhere you want to go.” He kissed the top of my head. “I think it’s time for a new car anyway. That heap you drive is old and unreliable.”

  I pulled back from his embrace and looked into his cool eyes. “I uh, I can’t buy a new car. I’ll get it repaired and it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” I stumbled over my words. A new car wasn’t something I could buy like it was no big deal.

  The tow truck rumbled around the corner and in a matter of minutes, I arranged with the driver, an aging cowboy in big black boots, to bring it to the shop down the street.

  “I can bring you to the mechanic and we’ll work out the details, get in.” He opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside. Rain began to fall and I tucked myself into the leather seat as a crack of thunder boomed.

  “Thank you. How did you know I’d need you?” I hugged my arms to my chest.

  “I had an early meeting and I was coming by to take you to breakfast. I wanted to surprise you.” Leo straightened out his suit jacket and smoothed down his silver and blue striped tie. He smiled warmly at me.

  “It’s always wonderful to see you, Delia.”

  “You, too.”

  I watched the modest houses, overgrown trees, and garbage cans on the side of the road whiz by as we drove. I didn’t live in the greatest section of Los Angeles. I tried to see it through Leo’s eyes. The apartment complex was run down, in the middle of a neighborhood with aging homes that I guessed dated back to the 1940s. Tree roots pushed up the cement on the sidewalks making it uneven and tricky to walk on. Iron bars on doors and windows were common and a day didn’t go by that I wasn’t roused in the middle of the night by a whining siren or flashing lights.

  “I don’t like this neighborhood for you. It worries me,” Leo said flatly as if reading my mind. His mouth was set in a grim line as he turned to me. “You need to move. This area isn’t safe.”

  I pursed my lips. “You’re right.” I averted my eyes from his sharp gaze and bit my nails. He knew I didn’t have money but I didn’t want him to know how dire my situation was. My hours at the bookstore had dwindled; I had very little in savings. I would get another job if I had to, maybe waitressing. There was always a way to survive.

  “Of course I’m right,” he scoffed, as if he could not be anything but correct. I didn’t like his tone and pressed my lips together and stared out the window without saying another word.

  We pulled into the auto shop where he flipped open his wallet and paid the tow truck driver with a wad of cash.

  “I’ve got money.” I said, reaching for my wallet, but he pushed my hand awa
y.

  “Don’t insult me.” He saw the expression on my face and softened his tone. “Don’t deprive me of helping. You know how I feel about you.”

  He bent down and gave me a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. A kiss from him made me tingle and sent blood rushing to my face where my cheeks turned scarlet.

  I thought back to our last date, dinner at a restaurant chosen by me. We walked up and down Santa Monica Boulevard and did a little people watching after our hamburgers and French fries. He told me he was falling in love with me. I didn’t know what to say or do. I was blown away by this successful, suave, handsome man who came into my life so suddenly.

  We held hands until I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, falling right down like I did on our first date. I laughed and told him that he had a crazy effect on my sense of gravity. I seemed completely accident-prone when I was around him. I spilled a soda down the front of my shirt, oftentimes I dropped things. I wondered if there was something in his energy that made me off balance. Or maybe I spent too many hours in the New Age section of the bookstore.

  “I want you to think about a new car,” he said as the mechanic wiped his greasy hands on an oil stained rag and shook his head toward my Jeep.

  “You need some transmission work. We could be looking at a couple thousand.” The mechanic directed his words at Leo.

  “Well, how much exactly?” I asked, stepping forward so the mechanic was forced to look at me. The name on his shirt said Jeff.

  He shrugged. “I can’t say without doing a full diagnostic. But judging by the age and condition, it could be three to five grand.” He watched me under the bill of his navy cap.

  Rain was now falling, tapping like fingernails against the window of the garage.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “I guess I have no choice.”

  Leo placed his hands on my shoulders and spun me around. “I’ll buy you a new car.”

  “No. I’ll get the Jeep fixed. It’s fine.”

  “You need something safe, reliable. Why are you trying to argue with me?”

  Jeff stood between us, his head swiveling from Leo to me then back to Leo. He shrugged.

  “No.” I rubbed my forehead. I wish I knew what to do.

  “Well? What do you want me to do?” Jeff asked, looking at his watch, which was covered in grease and grime. His face was pockmarked, his skin oily.

  “Fix it.” I commanded as I gave him my telephone number to call later the next day. He informed me that it wouldn’t even be looked at until Monday. Breathing through my nose, I tried to keep myself calm but an anxious feeling was swallowing me, my brain was wooly.

  Leo shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  Jeff shrugged. “Can you let me know what’s going on?”

  Leo’s jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together. “You’re a piece of work. I have never met a girl who refused help like you. Stop being so stubborn.” His words held an unfamiliar edge to them.

  “So I shouldn’t fix it?” Jeff looked at me.

  I raised my eyebrows but didn’t reply.

  “You think you know best,” Leo scoffed, and then pointed to the limo. “Get inside.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Jeff, who simply nodded.

  We got into the waiting limo and he instructed the driver to go to a restaurant for brunch; I was unfamiliar with the name of the place, but, knowing Leo, it had to be wonderful and elegant. I told him I was not dressed for brunch at a place where designer clothes were required. “Drive-thru McDonald’s?” I asked hopefully.

  “Garbage! Use your brain for once.” His tone was blunt and I shrunk into the seat, refusing to meet his gaze. Was it me or was Leo a little rude sometimes? Or maybe I was too soft, as he told me before. I didn’t like the way he spoke to me and when I told him this, he laughed.

  “You need to toughen up a little. The world is a harsh place and you’re lucky I stepped in when I did.”

  I stared out the window, watching the dark sky and the falling rain.

  I noticed the heat and weight of his hand on my shoulder but I didn’t turn. We sat in silence; the only sound was the windshield wipers moving back and forth.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

  “You don’t like to wear nice clothes. You don’t like gifts. You get mad that I want to pay for you. You don’t want me buying you a new car even though I have obviously have the money. You don’t want to move from your unsafe, disgusting apartment. I can put you in a movie and make you an actress, but you don’t want that. You don’t like elegant restaurants. You rather suffer than be helped. Did I leave anything out?” he asked. I looked at him and he raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m sorry.” I said, “I’m used to doing everything myself. I don’t know how to accept help.”

  “That’s correct. And you have to learn to accept my assistance. I know best. And I’m here for you.”

  I didn’t say anything, only nodded. It was hard to accept love and kindness. Aunt Priscilla helped me but lacked the love I craved. Here was someone wanting to not only help me, but love me.

  Taking my chin with his fingertips, he gently turned my face toward him. Undoing my ponytail, he ran his fingers through my hair.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Chapter 10

  Present

  Dinner at Camille’s that night was wonderful, until Juana’s behavior sent my brain into a free fall of worry. We ate by the light of several tiny candles, much to Will’s delight.

  “Can we always eat with candles?” he asked, knitting his hands into a prayer position. “Please?”

  I smiled at his grinning face, illuminated by candlelight. When I looked at that innocent face, my heart filled with joy. I’d do anything for that boy.

  I ate slowly, savoring every bite. The salad combined chunks of ahi-tuna, red pepper, and jicama with a handful of black beans tossed in a light tangy dressing, it was as delicious as any five star restaurants I had been to with Leo .We drank iced tea with fat wedges of lemons from the trees in the backyard that made Will’s lips pucker.

  While Camille and Will chatted about an old movie I hadn’t seen, I noticed Juana stealing glances at me. She thought I didn’t see her, but each time I looked up; there she stood in the doorway her eyes leveled on me. She quickly moved toward the sink, pretending to wash something, muttering to herself. I patted my hair down, took a look at the reflection in my knife, but nothing was amiss. This happened several times and finally, when my lungs began to constrict and Leo’s face jumped into my mind for the millionth time, I flinched and turned so she couldn’t see me.

  When I caught her mumbling in Spanish again, I asked Camille what she was saying. Did she recognize me? Did Juana know my real identity? I swallowed hard and forced myself to look up. We locked eyes and she didn’t look away. My chest grew tight, blood rushed to my face.

  “Seriously Camille, what is her problem? She keeps giving me dirty looks. I feel uncomfortable.” I hissed. My heart was beating that familiar, frantic drum beat, faster and faster.

  Camille fluttered her hand like she was swatting at a fly, ignoring my panic which rose by the second. “She’s a crazy old woman. Pay her no attention.”

  My erratic pulse and swirling thoughts made it impossible for me to catch my breath. When I held up my hand, it visibly trembled.

  “Why not? Who is crazy?” Will asked, carefully picking his salad apart. “I heard you say Juana. Why is Juana crazy?”

  “She’s loco,” laughed Camille. “Don’t let her upset you.” Flashing me a quick look, Camille raised her eyebrows and turned toward my son.

  “Will, finish your dinner, maybe we can get ice cream later if you eat everything.”

  He clapped his hands and happily grabbed his fork.

  I dropped my voice. “She makes me nervous.”

  “Why are you still whispering?” Will asked, his mouth full.

  “Close your mouth and chew your food. And it’s nothing,
no worries, my love. Do you want to be excused? You can have your iPad.”

  Leo would typically jump in when I offered Will his iPad and yell at me. His words rushed back to my mind as I watched Will carry his plate to the sink.

  His face was tomato red, his eyes flashed. “You’re a weak mother, Delia. A weak mother who uses electronics to bribe her child.”

  “It’s a reward, not a bribe.” My voice always came out weary and insignificant. He reduced me in size. I imagined myself melting into a puddle as each word shrank me smaller and smaller.

  “He should be playing soccer, football. Not inside with his mommy. Speaking of which, have you seen him throw a ball? There’s something wrong with him. Kids his age should be athletic. He can’t catch or even kick a ball.”

  I closed my eyes against the memory. He was the one who bought all the latest electronics and toys, but they were only to be used under his rules. He was so rarely home that it was impossible to stay consistent. Will earned time on his iPad by good behavior, which I thought was fair. My husband didn’t tell me what he wanted, but was quick to criticize my parenting, which left me confused and hurt.

  Rubbing my temples, I tried to push away the thoughts. I refused to revisit the times when things were so bad that I-

  Camille jumped in before I recalled the worst of times.

  “Maybe she was reading her tarot cards again. Should I talk to her?”

  She wiped her lips on the blue linen napkin and cleared her throat. “She’s always worried about bringing bad luck into the house. I think she’s afraid of you.”

  “Afraid of me, or afraid for me? And what do you mean by bad luck? Cursed?”

  Maybe I was cursed. I chose not to tell Camille everything, but the way her eyes lingered on my face told me she had a clue that I wasn’t entirely telling the truth. I shifted my eyes to the floor.

  I wondered what Juana saw when she looked at me. What if she knew something, was she psychic? Was she trying to warn me about my future? I put my head in my hands. Would this dark cloud of fear follow me everywhere?