by VC Andrews
I looked at Señor Bovio. He nodded, took my arm, and turned me toward the door.
When I looked back, Mrs. Newell was leaning over the crib, blocking Adan Jr. from my view. I heard him cry and started to turn back, but Señor Bovio kept me moving forward and out of the room.
I knew then that my baby was the paradise from which I was being driven away.
12
Ignacio
I pleaded outside in the hallway.
“Didn’t you see him smile when I touched him, señor? Couldn’t you see how a mother’s touch brought him happiness?”
Señor Bovio continued walking toward the stairway. I caught up with him and grabbed his arm to get him to stop and turn around.
“He knew it was me, señor. He grew inside me. My blood is in his veins. He—”
“It was the dress,” Señor Bovio said, leaning down to whisper to me.
“Qué? What?”
“The dress.” He smiled. “That dress you’re wearing was the dress she wore the day we brought Adan back from the hospital. The dress,” he whispered again, and continued toward the stairway.
I stood looking after him, my mouth open but my tongue unable to form a single word. Behind me, I heard the door being locked.
I followed Señor Bovio, but he hurried off to his office and closed the door before I could get to him. I knocked on it, but he didn’t answer.
“Señor, please, listen to me.”
I waited, but there was only silence, and the door was locked.
Frustrated, I hurried back to my room to take off the dress. I couldn’t get it off fast enough. His comment frightened me so. What madness was this now? Was he just confused, overwhelmed by emotion? How much could I blame on a man’s sorrow over the loss of his only son? Whom could I tell all of this to, anyway? Tía Isabela? Fani? Edward, who had run off? Dr. Denardo? Who would listen to me or believe anything I said now?
Undressed, I sat in a daze until I was too tired to think or keep my eyes open, but the image of Adan Jr.’s face settled over my eyes the moment I closed them to search for sleep. It brought me to tears. Then I remembered that I would be seeing Ignacio the next day, and I began to think only of that.
In the morning, I put on the dress I had worn when I had first come to mi tía Isabela’s home, a dress Ignacio had seen me wearing. I was surprised at how tight it was in the waist and bosom, but I wore it anyway. I looked for Señor Bovio. Teresa told me he had already left the house. Mrs. Newell went up and down the stairs quickly, avoiding me.
As I went out to the car, I think I was as nervous as I had been that first day I had arrived in Palm Springs. My stomach was doing flip-flops, and my heart wasn’t racing as much as it was ticking loudly like some old grandfather clock. Stevens said good morning and smiled at me. At least someone acknowledged my existence, I thought. I got into the car and practically curled up in the corner, terrified of what awaited me.
What would Ignacio do? Would he even come to the visitors’ area to see me? Would he want to greet me with a kiss or a slap? Not that long ago, we had risked our lives together in the desert, and he had nearly lost his life to protect me. He had rescued me a second time when he appeared at my old house to reveal that he was still alive. I had been days away from marrying a man I did not love, trapping myself in a life that would be a kind of prison, too. We had made promises to each other then, promises that were perhaps too great for me to keep.
As the limousine took me to him, I admitted to myself that I couldn’t place all of the blame on Sophia for having alerted the police. Ignacio’s father hadn’t been wrong, either. I had blundered and made it possible for her to do it, knowing all along that she was crouching like a cat in the bushes, waiting for an opportunity to do me harm and to do the Davilas even more harm. Ignacio had put so much trust in me, so much faith and love. I was sure that he had spent many lonely hours in his prison cell berating himself for being so gullible. I was not his favorite person.
And yet I wondered if the love we had once had for each other, a love that had seen us through such a dangerous and painful time, was strong enough to survive all of this. Would I see a flicker of it in his eyes or only hate and anger? What sort of weak defense could I put up for myself, anyway?
More important, I wondered now why Señor Bovio really had arranged for this. Why was it suddenly so important? How did it fit into his plans? What did he expect would happen? Somewhere inside me, in a place where my skepticism and distrust lived, I felt we were being manipulated. I had missed so many signs and warnings before. I was probably missing one now, too.
The guard at the entrance had my name on a list. We drove in and parked. Stevens told me he would wait in the car. The prison walls, fences, and barbed wire looked intimidating. I had read about prisons and seen them in movies, but this was the first time I would be in such a place. So nervous that I couldn’t feel my legs moving, I walked to the first booth practically in a trance and again gave my name. The guard opened a door, through which I walked to another door and another security checkpoint. The guard there was older and friendlier. He showed me the way to the visitors’ reception area. There was another guard there, with a dog that was brought close to me to sniff for drugs. I was told to pass through the door, where a female security guard took me to a private area. I thought this was where I would be strip-searched, but she only patted me down and showed me into the visitors’ room.
It was a large room, with rows of tables and chairs evenly spaced. There were already families visiting inmates, wives and even children. Guards were stationed at every corner, and one walked slowly through the aisles, watching the conversations. I saw television cameras in the ceiling. I was directed to a table to wait.
“How long will it be?” I asked.
“Not long,” the female guard said, “but sometimes the inmate decides not to come. I’ll let you know immediately if that is the case.”
I thanked her and found I was holding my breath. A young woman sitting two tables to my right smiled at me. The inmate she was visiting had yet to arrive, too. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times she had been there and how long the person she loved would be in prison. Surely, it must be even more difficult for people like Ignacio and me, people who have lived outdoors so much of their lives, to be locked away in this concrete and metal world, I thought. It nearly brought me to tears, but one thing I didn’t want to do in front of him was cry.
So much time passed, or seemed to pass, that I began to believe he wasn’t coming. Perhaps Señor Bovio wanted me to experience this rejection as a way of ending my request for him to do something for Ignacio. That made sense to me. I now anticipated the female security guard returning without him. She did enter the room, but she didn’t come to me. She went to greet another female visitor, and then, a minute or so later, Ignacio walked through the door.
His hair was cut so close he looked almost bald. I thought he was somehow bigger, wider in the shoulders, even taller. He paused for a moment when he saw me and then walked slowly to the table. He said nothing, and I said nothing. Then he sat, folded his hands, and looked down at them.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, still not looking at me.
I wasn’t sure if he hated me so much he couldn’t look at me or if he couldn’t look at me because he was ashamed of being there, of my seeing him so trapped.
“For the very same reason I wrote to you, to try to get you to believe me when I said I did not arrange for you to be arrested. It was my cousin who told the police.”
He raised his eyes to look at me. “I know all about you, about your love affair with the rich man who died on the boat and your being pregnant and living in his father’s home.”
“Yes, but—”
“While you were writing to me, promising all those things, telling me to have hope and come back to you, you were going to fancy parties and having this affair. You played me for the fool.”
“No.”
“Do you have a baby
?”
“I do and I don’t,” I said.
He snapped his head back. “What’s that mean?”
“My baby’s grandfather made me sign a paper to give him custody.”
“You gave away your baby?”
“You don’t understand, Ignacio. I have nothing. Mi tía Isabela hates me and won’t help me. Mi primo Edward has run away from college and has not been able to help me. He has his own problems. I have no one, no money, and—”
“Why didn’t you just return to Mexico?”
“Listen, listen,” I pleaded, leaning over the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the security guard study me closer, so I backed away a little.
“I’m going to have a lot of money. Señor Bovio has promised to help get you out of here soon. Maybe—”
“Maybe what, Delia? You have a different life now. You’re a true norteamericana.”
“No.”
“You will live in a grand hacienda, have rich friends and soon a new man. When I get out of here, where am I going? Back to ten dollars an hour, maybe. I’m not going to let you fill me with new promises, Delia. I am stuck here. These promises are like pins in my heart now. I don’t want to believe in anything or anyone anymore.
“A man almost killed me here yesterday. You know what the fight was over? It was over a CD he said I stole. Life is not very valuable here. People kill each other for the simplest reasons. I’m just trying to survive. I don’t want to hear about money and futures.
“You look very good, prosperous,” he added bitterly. “You have a patrón, no? It was probably very smart of you to get pregnant.”
“I did not plan this, Ignacio. Please don’t think such a thing of me. Things just happened. You don’t know what my life was like when I returned from Mexico. Tía Isabela—”
“I don’t want to hear how hard your life was, Delia. Look at where I am.”
I nodded, the tears now flooding my eyes so thickly that looking at him was like looking through gauze. My face softened him a bit.
“Why did you come here? What is it you want from me, Delia? Forgiveness? A blessing? You don’t need any of that. At least, you don’t need it from me.”
“I do,” I said.
“That’s too bad, then. I’m all out of forgiveness. They drum it out of you here,” he said. “Sometimes I feel as if I no longer have skin. I have a hard crust. I have to be like a lizard, especially when my mother comes here and cries the whole time, and my father just sits and stares like a man who has been robbed of his soul.”
“I’m so sorry, Ignacio.” I wiped a fugitive tear away quickly.
“You used to worry so much about the ojo malvado. Well, in here, no one worries about the evil eye. It’s satisfied enough. Look,” he said, sounding more like the Ignacio I had once known. “I’m not important anymore in your life. We have different borders now to cross, Delia. You’re in a different world. You can’t return to mine, and you shouldn’t, anyway. Just forget me, and I’ll forget you. Think of our lives before as if it was all a dream and nothing more.”
“I don’t want to do that, Ignacio.”
“Sí, but what we want and don’t want doesn’t really matter, Delia. At least, not for me. Stay with the grandfather,” he said, and started to rise.
“No, I can’t. He doesn’t want me to stay, anyway. He wants only his grandson.”
“My father wants grandsons, too. Right now, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to bring another child into this world. Adios, muchacha.” He started away.
“Ignacio!”
He did not turn back. He walked with his shoulders turned in, his head down, and disappeared through the doorway. The tears broke free and streamed down my face. I sucked in my breath and looked at the security guard, who was smirking and shaking his head at me. He looked as if he thought both Ignacio and I deserved every moment of our agony.
Ignacio was right about this place, I thought. Forgiveness and love were as locked out of it as the inmates were locked in. I got up and quickly left. Stevens was asleep behind the wheel when I reached the car. I knocked on the window, and he jumped up and looked at me, surprised.
“Back already?”
I nodded and got in. He said nothing more. He could see I wouldn’t talk. I felt as if I were shrinking in the backseat. Before we reached the Bovio estate, I would probably disappear. I didn’t, of course, but we drove out and rode in heavy silence all the way back to the hacienda. Señor Bovio was at the foot of the stairway, talking with Mrs. Newell, when I arrived. They both looked at me, and then she hurried up the stairs as he approached to greet me.
“So? How was your visit with your old boyfriend?”
“Not good,” I said.
“Not good? Why not good? Look at what you are trying to do for him? Wasn’t he appreciative? Doesn’t he still want you to be his wife? You told him Adan was well taken care of, didn’t you? You explained our arrangement?”
I looked at him more closely now. Was this his hope? That I would go off and start a new life with Ignacio, who would probably not want another man’s child to raise? All of it suddenly made sense.
“None of that matters to him, señor. Ignacio is a very bitter young man. He does not see his life and mine joining ever again.”
“Well, that’s ingratitude if I’ve ever seen it. He should count his lucky stars that he has a woman like you willing to care for him.” He thought a moment. “Well, maybe after you have gone to school and become a nurse…”
“I do not think any of that would matter to him now, señor.”
“Then good riddance to him,” he said angrily.
“Can I see my baby now?”
“No. Later, maybe. We’ll see what Mrs. Newell says,” he said sharply, and walked toward his office.
I looked up the stairway and saw Mrs. Newell looking down at me. I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hated her at that moment. I never thought I would wish someone dead, but I prayed that the evil eye would turn its attention to her for a while. She must have seen the anger in my face, fire coming from my eyes. She turned and disappeared quickly down the hallway. As I started toward my room, Teresa stepped out of the kitchen and called to me.
“Delia, you had a phone call while you were away,” she said. “Fani Cordova would like you to call her back. She said you know her number.”
“Fani? Gracias, Teresa.”
Perhaps Fani had news of Edward, I thought. I needed some good news. It was the last bright light left in my stormy, gray sky. I hurried to a phone.
“Yes, I’ve seen him,” she said when I immediately asked if that was her reason for calling me. “He’s back from his self-destructive rampage. He looks as if he lost twenty pounds and won’t say where he’s been.”
“Did he—”
“Ask about you?” She laughed. “Yes, it was practically the first thing he asked. Didn’t he call? I told him you would probably be able to talk to him and see him now.”
“No,” I said, my happiness balloon losing air.
“Well, I imagine he will, or maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe you can see him. I’m inviting you to come to Los Angeles. I have my own apartment here, you know. There’s a terrific party this weekend, and there’s a good chance Edward will be there, especially if he hears you’re coming.”
“I don’t know. I’m not exactly in a party-going mode,” I said, and told her about my visit with Ignacio.
“You went to see him in prison? Wow. That’s cool.”
“It wasn’t so cool, Fani.”
“Look, you’re tired. It’s not your fault. You can’t just roll over and die, Delia. I heard the doctor gave you a clean bill of health.”
“How did you hear?”
“My cousin, how else? I called him to ask how you were doing. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
“I wondered why you didn’t call me. Have you been given your car yet?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send a car for you. It’s time you got out, got back on your feet, Delia. Put some color in those cheeks. If everyone sees you depressed and sad all the time, they will think you really are mentally disturbed.”
“Is that what Señor Bovio thinks?”
“Who cares what he thinks? Are you going to come or not?”
Perhaps Fani was right, I thought. Perhaps I should try to improve, not only my mental state but my looks. Moping about like this did me no good. How would I ever get back on my feet and fight for my son? And then there was the wonderful possibility of seeing Edward. He would know what I should do.
“Yes, I’ll come,” I said.
“Great. Don’t worry about anything. I have clothes for you, too. I don’t want you dressing like some old lady. Just bring yourself. I’ll have you picked up Friday at noon. My last class is at one, so I’ll be at my apartment by the time you arrive.” She laughed. “It’ll be like a resurrection, the resurrection of Delia Yebarra. I love it.”
I nodded to myself. She still enjoyed running everyone else’s life, but for now, I didn’t care. Maybe she would do better at running my life than I obviously had been doing.
After I hung up, I marched down to Señor Bovio’s office to tell him about Fani’s invitation. He shrugged, barely looking at me.
“You’re free to go anywhere you wish, Delia. Where is the application for the school?”
“I’ll give it to you later, señor.”
“Good. I just arranged for your money’s release. You can write a check anytime. See,” he said, “I knew you would realize it’s all for the best. You have your whole life ahead of you. And Adan has his.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to correct him, to say he was not Adan. He was Adan Jr. But I just nodded and left him.
Later, I did give him the application when I joined him for dinner. He was in such a good mood that I felt guilty for being even slightly depressed. A part of me wanted me to hate him for what he was doing and what he had done, but another part of me continued to see his resurrection, too. And then I thought that Mrs. Newell wouldn’t be there forever. In fact, she probably wouldn’t be there much longer. I would wait her out. Things would be very different then. He would realize how important a mother was to a child, and didn’t he want the best for his grandson?