Hadrian's Wall (46 page)

Obviously, I wasn’t trying
to ignore the enormous possibility that they were maintaining a
relationship. After all, they belonged to the same social circle,
they work and study together...but my heart insisted on considering
the remote possibility that Adrian was telling me the truth.
What a dilemma!
What
should I believe?

I came to the conclusion
that Delilah’s offer to help me with my stuff was self-serving
after all. I hadn’t won the lottery, nor knew any VIP fashion
people, but I definitely had something she
wanted—information.

Before Delilah could get
more ammunition for her indiscreet questions, I tried to push the
suitcase under the bed. If she found the caricature of Adrian that
I’d done, she’d realize that I hadn’t told her the whole truth
about my feelings for him.

“Hey! I haven’t
finished....” she protested, staring at the suitcase, now partially
hidden by the bedspread.

“Oh, there’s nothing
important in there,” I lied, pretending casualness that I was far
from feeling.

“You’re hiding something,
huh?” She sounded suspicious. “I know what is!”

“Do you
know
?” I challenged, my
eyes widening.

She nodded, suggestively pointing her index
finger at me. “Your sex toy,” she whispered, then she leaned toward
me. “You still keep your snaps? I kept mine. The yellow and red
bring me good memories,” she sighed, gazing at the ceiling.

“I beg your pardon?” My voice rose two
octaves.

“There’s no reason to be
ashamed,” she responded in a condescending tone. “I have my toy for
the lonely hours. His name is Fred. What do you call
yours?”

For a long second, I actually believed she
was serious. When finally the penny dropped, I rolled my eyes,
angry at my own stupidity.

Delilah let out an annoying giggle.
“Gotcha!”

I went to the closet and started putting my
underwear in a drawer. Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming in
the hallway caught my attention.

“This place is very noisy. Are all of the
rooms are occupied?” I asked, taking the opportunity to change the
subject.

Yes, all,” she confirmed.
“There are people who were here before you, but couldn’t get a
place as nice as yours, she commented sweeping her arms around as
if showing my room to a prospective renter. “There are many people
here who are content to share a small room with strangers. You
know...you’re
very lucky
to have a room all to yourself,” she added, the
resentment evident in her voice.

I turned on my heels to
face her. I was surprised by the revelation and a little puzzled by
her aggressive tone.
Hmmm
, my theory that Delilah wanted
to make friends with me was becoming increasingly implausible. So
far, it was nothing new. Nobody ever wanted to be my friend. It
hurt my feelings, but it was a fact. It was obvious that she’d
approached me in order to find out something about my relationship
with Adrian, but for what purpose? Why would my life interest
her—unless she was doing it for someone else...Asia Chadwick, for
example?

On second thought, Delilah
didn’t seem very comfortable with me—not like she is with her
roommate, Abby Haines, or with the others. I now realized that her
irreverence was sounding somewhat forced. I should have known.
Throughout my life I saw this kind of thing happen, so why should
it be any different now?

When I started school, I
learned that when people would initially get to know each other,
they’d be searching for something that they could exploit for their
own benefit. To do this, they became friendly, often helpful, until
they got what they wanted. If they didn’t get what they wanted,
they simply departed without concern about the broken hearts they
left behind. I saw this happen with the athlete in the class,
flattered by his success in sports; I saw it happen with the prom
queen because of her beauty and popularity; somehow, even the nerds
and geeks fell for it, perhaps because of the small services they
rendered to their lazy and less intelligent colleagues. In a way,
this happened to me too; I just never had anything to offer. I
thought about how life is a succession of tradeoffs, so it appeared
that I had no social life...
until
now, apparently
.

The school of hard knocks
is the stage of life where we rehearse our character, who or what
we will be for the rest of our life. But life is a great teacher
too. In adolescence, we consider ourselves “king or queen of the
mountain” or the lowliest of geeks—nothing in between. It’s very
easy to become a tormentor or a victim. When our teen fantasies
end, it’s also hard having to deal with the real world. I learned
that lesson more than any “science” conveyed by the
school.

I had to
wonder
: Was what Delilah wanted within my
reach? Getting into the good graces of Asia Chadwick? Knowing
things about the Cahills that supposedly no one else
knew?

“Hey, what’s that?” she
asked, interrupting my reverie.

I turned my head,
following with my eyes to where she was pointing.
Yikes!
In the corner
there was a portable drawing board and beside it, a large drawing
board bag with handle and adjustable shoulder strap, used for the
transporting of paintings and drawings. Both were still packed and
partially hidden by the curtain.

The drawing board model was expensive, had
the dual function of desk and drawing board. How many times did I
coveted models like it in web ads? Now it was in front of me.
Incredible!

Before the impact of surprise passed, I knew
who had given the gift to me. I also knew that I needed a good
excuse or something to distract Delilah, but my brain refused to
work. It was like a blank sheet...

“Look, there’s a card.”
Before I could pull it out of her little Madonna hands, Delilah was
already reading the content aloud:

Gone are the days when artists had to juggle
to immortalize big egos. Few could afford to portray their own
dreams. And in the end, they were forced to carry their precious
scrolls under the arm.

On hot days, we agree, this could be
disastrous!

Don’t you feel happy to
live in this century?

Adrian

She stared at me with bright eyes, a mixture
of triumph and confusion. After all, I was confronted with my
obvious lie. Nobody gives gifts like these, even as a good
Samaritan. A plate of food, a bus ticket maybe, but things like
this...never!

However, the Cahill’s
family generosity comes in absurd doses, commensurate with their
immense fortune. Someone “less rich” wouldn’t understand this. How
do I explain that the gift was only the reflection of a
lifestyle?
Even if you could explain, that
wouldn’t change the fact that I’d been caught in the
lie
.

“What’s this conversation
of scrolls and disasters? Is he talking in code?” she asked,
frowning.

Maybe he
is
... I thought, amused. But if so, I
wouldn’t begin to know the translation.

“So Adrian Cahill only
helped you in a difficult moment, huh?” She sat on the bed and
crossed her legs. “I can’t say I’m surprised because I already
knew.”

“You knew what?”

“Nothing at all.” She
reached over and pulled my new drawing board bag to closer to her,
absentmindedly stroking its surface like one who is checking its
quality.

“Hey girls! Do you know
who’s celebrating a birthday today?” David Martin had abruptly
appeared in the doorway.

Bless you, David!

“Huh?” Delilah grimaced.
She was really lost in thought, stroking my new folder, wasn’t she?
For a moment I wondered if she wouldn’t ask her parents to give her
an equally expensive folder.

“There’s a fantastic
birthday cake on the kitchen table,” he said, scratching his head.
“If the owner doesn’t claim it soon, the scavengers around here
will eat it.”

“Oh...” My penny had
dropped. I didn’t know how or when, but Adrian had brought the
remains of my “late birthday” cake. Yet another example of his
generosity which I wouldn’t be able to explain to Delilah. She
would understand everything wrong.

“Guilty!” I said, raising my hands.

The two stared at me, surprised.

“It’s my... actually,
it
was
my
birthday.

“Congratulations!” they said almost
simultaneously.

“It’s just passed, guys!” I
said, realizing too late that I should have just been grateful for
the greetings and remained silent. So, now I found myself in
delicate situation, feeling obligated to explain tortuously. “A
friend decided to have a delayed celebration since I was just
discharged from the hospital today.”

I turned sharply back to my
task of putting things away in the closet, praying that they didn’t
ask any more questions. In my peripheral vision, I noticed that
David and Delilah exchanged a brief look, but didn’t make any
comments.

I was relieved when I heard Delilah say,
“Well, we should save your cake from the gluttons.” She patted the
quilt, as if indicating that we should be heading to the
kitchen.

“Relax
! I’d love to share it with you all.”

“Thanks!” David smiled from ear to ear.

“How generous!” Delilah replied. I perceived
a subtle irony in the way she pursed her lips.

“I cannot eat that big cake
alone,” I added. “I can’t let it go to waste.”

“You should not even try!” Delilah explained
to me with ladylike manners. “Unless you want to spend the rest of
the semester at the gym working on losing the extra weight.

As I followed them through the long
corridor, I heard the noise from afar.

“Yikes! This place is huge,” I said.

“Actually, it is,” she
agreed. The university funded the expansion. We’re going to the
kitchen, but actually there are two. Only the students have access
to this one. The other is connected to the dining room where they
serve meals.

David and I exchanged an
amused look. If she wanted to play hostess of “Fantasy Island” it’s
fine with me!

We entered in a well-lit,
cozy kitchen which reminded me of those movies set in small
European villages... A 19th century Solar surrounded by many
trees... Nobles like the Chadwicks, for example, would leave the
bustling city of London to spend their summer vacations in bucolic
places like the one now
forming
in my imagination.

As a rule, the country
houses of the nobility had huge kitchens like that. Deemed to be
the meeting point of the household servants, those kitchens would
have been the realm of plump, red-cheeked cooks
wearing a cap and a greasy apron over a floral patterned
dress
. There would be many delicious pies
and breads being baked. It would be a fairytale scene to warm the
heart of every child for the rest of their life.

The kitchen of the
McPherson
boarding house
carried me to a place like that in my mind. The windows were tall
with radiant sunshine streaming in, illuminating the pans hanging
from a rack near the stove. The decor was modern, reflecting
efficiency in planning, but kept the spirit of “old
stuff.”

There were some guys
between the counter and the two big refrigerators talking
animatedly. One of them was whistling an old
melody...
Wow, it was really old!
Miller? Mancini?
To the
beat of music, he was performing precise movements with a spatula
on a plate sitting next to the stove. Occasionally, he stopped to
pick up ingredients from the counter covered with small colored
tiles located behind him and then he resumed his previous position,
comically holding a bowl full of batter. He stirred the contents
with the whisk and then poured small portions onto the heated
plate.
Hmmm...
He’s making pancakes. Why didn’t I realize that
before?
I love pancakes!

I noticed then that the guy was wearing an
apron with hearts stamped all over it and frilled embroidered
edges. On his head was a blue and white baseball cap with the logo
of a famous baseball team.

As soon as he saw us, he
smiled and asked, “What’s up, Martin? Did you discover where that
delicious cake came from?” He nodded toward the rectangular table
near the window. I looked where he gestured and I saw my cake. Two
girls were handing out plates and silverware.

“Dwayne, this is Melissa
Baker.” Delilah took charge of doing the honors again. “She’s the
birthday girl and, therefore, the ‘owner’ of the cake.”

Dwayne looked at me in a nice way. “Welcome
to our mess!” he said, giving me a wry smile.

I nodded.
So this one is the musical genius...

“Mel said she would share the cake with us,”
David told him.

“No kidding!” Dwayne put on an oven mitt and
took a plate of pancakes to the table.

“Yeah, I’m feeling generous
today,” I joked.

He chuckled and shook his
head. “I hope you don’t regret feeding these hungry
wolves!”

The girls laughed. Dwayne took their cue to
make the introductions.