Hadrian's Wall (45 page)

“Wow!” she exclaimed.

I took advantage her attention to the
shopping bags to quickly pull the red bow off of the television,
tucking it away behind the shelf. It would be embarrassing for me
to have to explain this kind of gift. I hoped that she’d reach the
conclusion that equipment was mine and wouldn’t ask any
questions.

“May I?” She was already inside the bedroom,
her head bowed in my direction. I shrugged and she took that as a
yes. “Yay! I’ll help hang up your clothes in the closet.”

Thankfully, it was all we did in the minutes
after. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh my goodness!” she cried, holding a large
black handbag, discreet-looking with delicate, colored designs on
the seams.

“What happened?” I thought maybe a mouse had
popped out of the handbag, but no, actually, she was stroking the
handbag as if it were her little pet. For a moment I contemplated
the possibility that I wasn’t the only abnormal person here. It
felt reassuring in a strange way.

“Hey, don’t you recognize who made this
handbag?” she asked incredulously.”You need to know that only ten
of that design are manufactured each year! It’s all handmade by
specialized Italian artisans. Honey! Madonna has one of these!”

“Oh... cool.
What else could I say?
To
me, a handbag was just a handbag—useful only to carry
things.

Delilah stroked the handbag once more,
gazing at it with covetous eyes before she nested it between
pillows on the bed as if it were a newborn baby. Her hands touched
it with such reverence that I almost couldn’t stifle a
laugh...almost. This “Addams Family” look she was wearing didn’t
match the things she said she liked. It was as if a party girl had
decided to dress up for Halloween. Was she trying to impress
someone in particular or was it a form of “political protest in
post-adolescence”? Perhaps she was a militant with a cause...I
didn’t believe for even a minute the thing about urban tribes.

Curiosity overcame me. Why did she insist on
pretending to be a creature of darkness when it was obvious that
she wasn’t? Remember, girl! In Hadrian’s Wall, nothing is what it
seems to be.

Well, we were not yet close enough friends
to engage in personal talks, but there would be no lack of
opportunity to discover what was so mysterious about her “Area 51”
persona.

Fighting for a piano.
Elbows nudges. A coffin. And I’m the one who’s
crazy
?

I shook my head, mystified,
and began to put the clothes on hangers. Delilah came over and
started to do the same. We both worked in silence, but she couldn’t
contain herself for long. Soon she was praising or criticizing the
items in my wardrobe. Obviously, her criticisms were directed at my
old clothes,
what was left of them
and the cheers were for the few elegant pieces
that Charity had directly or indirectly provided me.

Delilah began decreeing what matched with
what and according to her deliberations, she was keeping the pieces
together. I didn’t pay much attention to her chatter about fashion.
I could never memorize the amazing amount of combinations that she
could do with my measly two coats.

Suddenly, she looked at me
thoughtfully, as if an idea had formed in her mind. She commented
on how much she enjoyed being a fashion consultant. If she wants to
be a fashion designer, she needs to begin advising her fellow
residents how to dress appropriately. Hence, to say that she would
help me change my style was a logical step for her. I rolled my
eyes.
What I had done in another life to
attract so much futility? First Charity, now Delilah.

If nothing else, when she realized I was not
carrying any makeup with me, she had to “bombard” me with a
political speech on the need to look good in modern society. Well,
if she could see the box of super expensive makeup that I’d left in
the hospital room, she probably would have had a heart attack.

“Oh, before I forget...I have something for
you,” she said, stopping her emptying of my old suitcase.

From the back pocket of her black pants,
beneath flowing veils, she pulled out a booklet with a picture of a
flower on the cover. On it was written the word “Manual.”

“I’m loaning it to you, right? I want this
back!” she warned, very serious.

I looked stunned when I saw the cover of the
booklet that she was handing me. I was even more confused when I
started leafing through it. What the hell would I do with a manual
on gardening? Noticing my confusion, she sat on the trunk and
stared at me.

“Your life depends on this manual, she
said.

How so?

“You may have noticed that all the bedrooms
have longitudinal flower pots filled with pansies. Well, each
student has an obligation to look after his or her pansies. They
should always be well-maintained...otherwise the consequences can
be catastrophic. She significantly lifted her painted eyebrows.
Keyra loves her plants. She’s even won some awards with them.”

“It’s a house rule?”

“That’s right.”

“And when the bedroom is unoccupied?” I
looked out and beheld the pansies that overflowed from window sill.
They were lilacs. “Who took care of them before me?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. We just
arrived, but when students occupy a bedroom, they take on that
responsibility. You got it? This assumes that you have to learn how
to do the pruning, dealing with the fertilizer, irrigation, and so
forth.”

Just me? I never even had a vase of violets
in my life!

“Take this reading seriously. If you neglect
them, believe me, you will not like to see Keyra furious.”

“Okay,” I stammered.

Was McPherson House hiding an insane
asylum?

16

BLUE BLOOD

Delilah chattered
incessantly while I put away the rest of my belongings. She made me
so crazy, I couldn’t get myself organized, nor decide where to put
the things. Anyway, I ended up hastily putting everything away
without paying attention to where things went.
The expression “running on auto-pilot” had never been more
appropriate for me, b
ut I knew that sooner
or later I would have to arrange them again.

Patience is a virtue, so goes the old
saying. Well, I had to look at the positive side—it left me no time
to think about Adrian and his intemperate departure. I wanted to
forget that whole episode and the Category 5 hurricane named
Delilah helped me do that.

“Oh! You brought only a few
things? Where’s the rest of your luggage?” she asked somewhat
dramatically.

I shrugged, ignoring her
surprised look. She’ll understand what she wants...and that’s
exactly what she did. “Well, when the rest gets here let me know.
I’ll come back and help you put it away.”

Her offer seemed genuine.
I hadn’t won the lottery, nor did I have important connections in
the fashion world, so maybe—
maybe—
she really wanted to be my
friend. It was possible, wasn’t it? There was no reason to not be
sociable. She seemed nice, although she seemed like Charity—a
fanatic about fashion.

Suddenly Delilah grabbed my
PDA and ran her fingers over the engraved initials. “What’s this?”
she asked, puzzled.

“A sort of electronic organizer,” I
responded carefully.

“Oh...” Obviously my answer did not satisfy
her.

I was hoping she wouldn’t
ask me any more questions, but she has a bad habit of jumping to
her own conclusions about things, which she confirmed for the
second time.

“What’s your relationship
with Adrian Cahill?” she asked me point blank.

It was not mere curiosity
that I detected in her voice. She knew more than she was letting on
and I was sure that she was determined to get details. I had to
think about what I should say considering that neither Adrian nor I
thought we were engaged in any sort of relationship. Okay, I will
admit that our cinematographic kiss changed everything, but
Adrian’s attitude immediately thereafter made me feel unsure about
the ground on which I was treading.

“We’re friends,” I
responded, deciding that the best option was a half-truth. “He
helped me while I was recovering from the accident that occurred on
the Mountain of the Polish Man.”

She sat unceremoniously on the lid of the
trunk at the foot of my bed. “I know that, but...you already knew
each other from somewhere else, right?”

I knew that if I said yes
I’d have to explain and I’d end up caught in a web of lies which I
couldn’t sustain for long.

“No,” I said.
Given the tone of my voice, doesn’t she realize
that it’s time to end this conversation?

“Of course...”
No, she didn’t realize!
“You know he’s going steady with Asia Chadwick of the “blue
blood” Chadwicks, don’t you?”

It felt as if the ground
beneath my feet was
shaking
, but I shouldn’t have been
surprised. In my heart, I knew that something had happened—or was
still happening between them. The scene in the cafeteria popped
into my head. Asia looked at him in a way that seemed far too
possessive for two people who were “just friends” or colleagues. It
was the look of someone who had previously experienced the intimacy
of a romantic involvement. I lost count of the times that I’d seen
that same look on the faces of girls in school after they’d had sex
with their boyfriends.

I found myself transported back to that
moment in the cafeteria, re-living it with startling clarity—a 3D
movie shot in slow motion: Asia taking her eyes off Adrian only to
face me head on while he talked with the angel-face jokester. If
looks could kill, I would have been dead in a heartbeat.

No! No! No!
Adrian assured me that wasn’t dating! But if he
lied to me, then the hypothesis is confirmed that I’m just the
newest toy to spice up his boring life.

I froze. A sense of frigid
cold seized my soul. Suddenly, his last words echoed in my
mind:
Never forget that it’s for your own
good. You’ll have to trust me and be patient. But above all, you
will have to trust yourself
.

Trust.
Humpft!
How could I trust him after
so many unexplained situations? On the other hand, if he asks for
my trust, if he asks me to be patient, isn’t it only fair to give
him my vote of confidence?
Maybe
...

“You never heard about the
Chadwicks?” Delilah gestured as if that would help me remember
people I’d never heard of.
“Lord
Devlin Chadwick, Marquis of Wentworth was Asia’s
most famous ancestor. He’d had a brilliant career in the House of
Lords.

Mmmm
... so the girl’s English....a
nd she
has a pedigree!

Oh, I knew I was
being
catty,
but I
couldn’t help it, especially when I visualized what Asia’s “blue
blood” family might be like. Having named her daughter
after
a continent, the
mother was probably quite a character. I pictured her as lady
dressed in Victorian-style, high-necked gowns decorated with
ribbons and ruffles in order to support a heavy bust. Her breasts
might serve as a weapon if the noble lady wanted to kill someone by
giving them a bear hug. Don’t forget the large wide-brimmed hat
trimmed with feathers and bows and, of course, a lacy parasol to
avoid the sun causing her
patrician
porcelain skin to freckle.

Asia’s
noble
father would also be a sight
to behold...according to my caustic and fertile imagination.
Perhaps a long-nosed, tall, emaciated-looking gentleman? He would
have a mustache as long and convoluted that would make Lassie
envious. He would wear the standard suit and bow tie, and he would
peer down at everyone over the top of tiny, round
glasses.

Hmmm..
. He’d be a humpback because he spent his childhood and
adolescence cowering in a pathetic attempt to go unnoticed in his
tall stature and gangly appearance. Getting in line at the end of
recess would have been the greatest torment he ever experienced,
something that would have forced him to spend the family fortune
for the years he probably spent in therapy.

His nickname at school? Let
me think... “Giraffe!” Noble Giraffe or perhaps Blueblood Giraffe!
In my mind I laughed. If I could not reach my opponent in real
life, at least the imagination created a little revenge quite
satisfactory.

Delilah cleared her
throat, reminding me that she was still waiting.
Damn!
I wanted to
imagine Asia Chadwick’s life at school. I turned to Delilah,
measuring her with my pointed gaze—a good tactic of war of
“
The Plastics”
at
school, when they wanted to humiliate a colleague they considered
less worthy or less intelligent. In fact, they did that to me all
the time! Maybe I could produce the same effect with Delilah. Would
worth the attempt?

“Why are you telling me
these things?” I decided to go on offense because it’s said that’s
the best defense. “I know nothing about them dating!”

If you were fishing, sweetheart, I think
your fish just got away!

Delilah peered into my face
for a split second and then shrugged. Her disappointed expression
kindled faint hope in my heart. The alleged romance between Adrian
and Asia might be just a guess by someone who loved to gossip. Asia
could have spread the rumor herself behind Adrian’s
back.