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Authors: V.C. Andrews
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room.
“This isn’t very nice,” he said. “We’ve got to get you into nicer accommodations. Once you learn English, Mrs. Dallas will move you to a nicer room, I’m sure. We’ll figure something out.”
Why would my learning English have anything to do with that? I wondered, but didn’t ask.
“Is there anything you need now?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I have to change quickly, make my bed, and get to the kitchen.”
“Really? Put to work so soon? I was hoping to start your first lesson,” he said. “I’ll have to have a conversation with Señora Dallas about you,” he added, and walked right past me into my room.
I had no way to cover myself from the waist down. I lunged quickly for my dry dress, scooped it up, and charged out of the room, wrapping as much as I could around me. I was sure I looked very foolish.
“I’m going to the bathroom to change,” I cried, and continued down the hallway, but when I got to the bathroom, the door was closed. Señor Garman was inside.
Señor Baker came out of my room and looked down the hallway at me.
“You can change in your room,” he said, laughing. “I’ll wait outside if you like. Come on,” he said, beckoning.
I heard Señor Garman flush the toilet. When he opened the door and saw me standing half naked, holding a towel against myself and my dress around my waist, he grimaced.
“What is this?” he demanded. He looked down the hallway at Señor Baker.
“She went to change in the bathroom,” he called back. He spoke in Spanish and then realized it and repeated it in English. “She’s just very confused.”
“Why don’t you use your own room for that?” Señor Garman asked me angrily.
“He wants to know why you don’t change in your room,” Señor Baker told me, laughing. “Come on back. Change in your room, you silly girl.”
I gazed at Señor Garman, who was still grimacing angrily, and then hurried back to my room and closed the door. I could hear them both laughing in the hallway. I could barely keep my tears under my eyelids.
Señor Baker knocked on my door.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” he asked, and then he opened the door before I could respond. I had just buttoned my last button on the bodice of my dress. “Fine,” he said, entering. He stood there looking around a moment and then smiled at me. “Your aunt was right, Delia. You should wear a bra. You have a very nice figure, and you should be very proud,” he said.
I couldn’t speak. No man ever spoke about my body like that. Boys made remarks, but no grown man ever did in my presence, at least. Was this common in America?
“Okay, why waste an opportunity? Let’s have our first English lesson,” he said.
“But Señora Rosario wants me in the kitchen.”
“Don’t worry about it. Señora Dallas thinks this is more important. We’ll begin by identifying things,” he insisted. “When I point to them, I will give you the word in English, and you repeat it, understand?”
I nodded, and he put his hand on my bed.
“Bed,” he said. He went through my room, identifying everything from the floor up. I knew many of these words already, but then he surprised me by turning to me to identify the parts of my body.
He took my hand.
“Hand,” he said. “Arm.”
He touched my face, and I repeated every English word: eyes, nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth, chin.
Then he stepped back and tested me by pointing to everything he had translated. I was very nervous and trembling so much inside I had trouble speaking, but he was impressed with my memory.
“Very good,” he said. “You have an ability for language, and you are motivated to learn. We will be very successful very quickly. I feel confident I can help you. It’s good you know some English already. Were there many American tourists coming to your village?”
“No, only a few and not to the village. They stayed at the hotel where my aunt used to work, but they came to the square or to the farmers’ market
“This isn’t very nice,” he said. “We’ve got to get you into nicer accommodations. Once you learn English, Mrs. Dallas will move you to a nicer room, I’m sure. We’ll figure something out.”
Why would my learning English have anything to do with that? I wondered, but didn’t ask.
“Is there anything you need now?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I have to change quickly, make my bed, and get to the kitchen.”
“Really? Put to work so soon? I was hoping to start your first lesson,” he said. “I’ll have to have a conversation with Señora Dallas about you,” he added, and walked right past me into my room.
I had no way to cover myself from the waist down. I lunged quickly for my dry dress, scooped it up, and charged out of the room, wrapping as much as I could around me. I was sure I looked very foolish.
“I’m going to the bathroom to change,” I cried, and continued down the hallway, but when I got to the bathroom, the door was closed. Señor Garman was inside.
Señor Baker came out of my room and looked down the hallway at me.
“You can change in your room,” he said, laughing. “I’ll wait outside if you like. Come on,” he said, beckoning.
I heard Señor Garman flush the toilet. When he opened the door and saw me standing half naked, holding a towel against myself and my dress around my waist, he grimaced.
“What is this?” he demanded. He looked down the hallway at Señor Baker.
“She went to change in the bathroom,” he called back. He spoke in Spanish and then realized it and repeated it in English. “She’s just very confused.”
“Why don’t you use your own room for that?” Señor Garman asked me angrily.
“He wants to know why you don’t change in your room,” Señor Baker told me, laughing. “Come on back. Change in your room, you silly girl.”
I gazed at Señor Garman, who was still grimacing angrily, and then hurried back to my room and closed the door. I could hear them both laughing in the hallway. I could barely keep my tears under my eyelids.
Señor Baker knocked on my door.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” he asked, and then he opened the door before I could respond. I had just buttoned my last button on the bodice of my dress. “Fine,” he said, entering. He stood there looking around a moment and then smiled at me. “Your aunt was right, Delia. You should wear a bra. You have a very nice figure, and you should be very proud,” he said.
I couldn’t speak. No man ever spoke about my body like that. Boys made remarks, but no grown man ever did in my presence, at least. Was this common in America?
“Okay, why waste an opportunity? Let’s have our first English lesson,” he said.
“But Señora Rosario wants me in the kitchen.”
“Don’t worry about it. Señora Dallas thinks this is more important. We’ll begin by identifying things,” he insisted. “When I point to them, I will give you the word in English, and you repeat it, understand?”
I nodded, and he put his hand on my bed.
“Bed,” he said. He went through my room, identifying everything from the floor up. I knew many of these words already, but then he surprised me by turning to me to identify the parts of my body.
He took my hand.
“Hand,” he said. “Arm.”
He touched my face, and I repeated every English word: eyes, nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth, chin.
Then he stepped back and tested me by pointing to everything he had translated. I was very nervous and trembling so much inside I had trouble speaking, but he was impressed with my memory.
“Very good,” he said. “You have an ability for language, and you are motivated to learn. We will be very successful very quickly. I feel confident I can help you. It’s good you know some English already. Were there many American tourists coming to your village?”
“No, only a few and not to the village. They stayed at the hotel where my aunt used to work, but they came to the square or to the farmers’ market
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