Hadrian's Wall (63 page)

“Yeah,” I grimaced and then refocused on my
drawings.

“Listen, this isn’t what you’re thinking.
I...”

“No, you listen, Delilah.” I dropped my
pencil and leaned all my weight on my elbows, but then I
immediately felt that this position was torquing my back and I
tried to slowly straighten up to find a more comfortable position.
“I can’t stand it when someone befriends me under false pretenses.
My whole life has been like that and when people don’t tell me the
truth, it’s even worse.”

She remained silent.

“Very well, I said. “I think I’m going to
talk to Stephen.”

“No! Please! Don’t do that. This is my only
chance...”

“Chance for what?”

“...to be closer to Stephen,” she
stammered.

Sighing again, she returned to sit on the
edge of my bed. “I didn’t want to play your nanny. It’s not my
style...” She shrugged. “But when a special request came from
Stephen, I couldn’t refuse. He avoided me for weeks, but when he
finally came to me, it was to ask for my help! The opportunity was
too good to pass up.”

Well, she wasn’t telling me anything new
since I’d heard her conversation with Abby.

“Stephen is so uptight!”
she continued, now seeming somewhat embarrassed. “He doesn’t give
me any chance... You don’t understand!
I
need
to be with you and
I need
to report to him everything
that you do.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

Delilah laughed derisively.
I’ve got to know if you’re happy, if you need anything, if you want
to go, if you want to stay, who you talk to...
Everything!

Now I understand why
Delilah pressed me so much to go to that party. She didn’t want to
sacrifice anything! She was just trying to manage the situation:
what she
wanted
with what
she’d
have to do
to achieve her objective,
but she could never get what she wants without sacrificing some
things. Generally, an achievement only happens after a succession
of compromises. In this case, Delilah wanted Stephen, but she
wanted to keep her intense social life too. What does she sacrifice
first?

I sighed, slowly stretching my legs and
resting my elbows on my knees.

“I’m telling you, I don’t need a nanny. If
you don’t tell me what’s going on, you won’t have my cooperation,
nor will you have my sympathy for your cause.”

She shook her head vehemently, but remained
mute. Considering this to be a refusal, I got up, opened the door,
and gestured for her to leave. “Go to Stephen. Give him your daily
report,” I said sarcastically. “Enjoy yourself and tell Stephen I
hate being distrusted when I have given my word, but he still sends
nannies to watch over me.”

“It’s nothing like that,” she said. “Damn!
He’ll think I messed up.”

“You’ve been gossiping with Abby! I heard
you! If Stephen expects discretion from you, you’re in
trouble.”

“But Abby is my friend! She won’t say
anything to anyone. Besides, she doesn’t know that Stephen isn’t
normal...” She broke off.

“What are you trying to say? He’s
not...normal?”

She looked up and stared at me.

“That he’s not human?” I pressed her.

Delilah clenched her fists and turned to the
window.

“So, you know,” she said softly.

I quietly digested what she said.

Her face was serious now.
“And thanks to this
favor
he’s asked of me, he looks for me almost every day
to learn about your day. It hurts me to know that he only comes to
me to know about you, but I do anything he wants me to do just to
be near him! I even sacrifice my social life to do this for
him.”

I shuddered to hear confirmation. Imagining
this crazy situation was one thing, but sharing it is completely
different.

“I know some things,” I replied cautiously.
“I’ve been watching the Cahills...and I think we’d be fools to not
realize that they don’t act like the rest of us...most of us
anyway.”

I cannot believe I admitted that out
loud!

“If you want my help, you have to trust me
and let me into the game. Tell the truth.” I was pushing hard
now.

Delilah hesitated...and then as if she had
made a very difficult decision, she grabbed my hand.

“Come with me.” She towed me out the door.
We crossed the hallway and entered the room she shares with Abby,
directly across the hall from mine. She closed the door behind us
and turned the lock.

Briefly, I was distracted
by the thought that she had a coffin in her room. I glanced around,
curious.
Mmmm
, the
place looked pretty normal to me—a college girl with her posters
and other mementos around, but wait! There he was! The atmosphere
in her room suddenly changed from normal college student to
Dracula: Dead and loving it!

The coffin was in the
opposite corner of the room. It was actually kind of cute! Tan
polished wood without any of those gleaming and complicated reliefs
that in my opinion could turn a funeral into a “horror show.” It
had some stickers on the sides—small vampires, mummies, puppies of
werewolves, and even heavy metal rock stars. It was blowing me
away! There was even the Tasmanian Devil!
A teen-fashionista coffin
.

Delilah gestured for me to sit down. “Abby
won’t be back anytime soon, so...”

“You two share this room?”

“Yes.”

“So, she knows...?”

“No. Abby thinks I’m an obsessed Satan
worshipper, as well as a conspiracy theorist.” She sat down heavily
on one of the beds and stared at me. “She also believes she can
save me from my own delusions.” She looked like she was
pouting.

“Please, Mel. You can’t dismiss me. It’s my
only chance with Stephen!”

I felt like I was beginning to soften, but I
couldn’t let her know it—at least not until I got some more answers
out of her.

“Why do you need to resort to tricks to be
near him?”

“Stephen is stubborn. I feel like he wants
me, but he believes he can’t be involved with me. He’s always
saying that we belong to different worlds.” She leaned forward. “I
don’t care about any of that, I just want to be with him.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what world does he
live in?”

Delilah didn’t answer. She seemed very
nervous. She stood up and walked to the window.

“What
is he? I persisted.

“I have a theory...”

I sighed. This conversation was going to be
difficult.

“Did you know that Stephen saved my life?”
she asked. Her gaze was lost in the landscape out there. Suddenly
she asked, “Do you really like Adrian?”

Another sudden change of
subject
...

“Sure I like him,” I frowned at my response.
For me it was something obvious, but then I remembered I had to
hint that there was nothing between us, just friendship. On
impulse, I added, “He is very special to me...”

There was no way she didn’t see the
sincerity in my eyes. Delilah was suddenly calm and sat down
again.

“Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to
be a fashion designer. Many years ago, my mother sold fabrics, you
know? Now she’s running a successful factory and is very busy with
regard to the competitive market in which she decided to settle —in
other words, the production of fabrics.” She looked at me askance.
“What I mean by that is...I grew up in the middle of textures,
colors, cuts, and fashion trends.” She gave me a bright smile, as
if she enjoyed sharing sweet memories.

“I designed the best
evening gowns for prom in high school, including my own dress. The
high standard sewing is
my
world
—the world my mother introduced me
into.” She gave a short laugh and then sighed. “It sure isn’t my
daddy’s world. Definitely, not! He’s an accountant. He owns a firm
in partnership with another guy and despite the fact that my
mother’s loaded, he still works at running his business. He’s a
proud man.”

Oh, God! Now she’s going
to tell me the story of her life!
I armed
myself with patience and fortitude.

“But don’t think my father’s a pauper,” she
said. “He may not have as much money as my mother’s family, but his
name also boasts tradition and prestige in our town.”

She lowered her head, stroking an imaginary
seam in her clothes.

“Sometimes, I think the
reason my parents got married was to satisfy practical
interests...it was a business deal.” She was restless. She got up
again and walked back to the window, but her sad look only lasted a
second. “But one thing they have in common is me. They love me very
much. They invested heavily in my education...so
voila!
I was accepted by
three excellent universities—the dream of any teenager.

“One of them—UWall, is the least affordable
in the world! Whoever graduates from here will have it made—any job
they want. The final stage of the fashion program here will take
place in the most important design houses on the planet—something
that’s almost impossible to achieve. But my parents were worried
when I chose UWall. Later I understood why. They wanted me to stay
closer to home. With so many reputable colleges in Michigan which
offer the same courses, they didn’t understand my need for
independence. They tried to send me to the Institute of Fashion and
Visual Arts in Detroit which also conducts creative study
cycles.

“Because my mother was affiliated with the
Textile Association, she knew many influential people in the
business. She was so determined to keep me near home, she even
pulled some strings to get me a seat there, which was totally
unnecessary. If I really wanted to attend the Institute, I would
have submitted my application for admission, but she didn’t want to
believe that I had other plans.

“Anyway, the pressure on me to attend a
college close to home was enormous. Believe me, they would have
accepted California, but Maine, no way!”

Delilah laughed and began to imitate the way
her mother talks. ‘Sweetie pie heart, Maine winters are as horrible
as ours! You’ll trade six of one for half a dozen of the other. At
least in California the weather’s nicer...and those wonderful
beaches will be teeming with athletic guys willing to please the
heiress of the Michigan tissues. Your aunt Adele is there... you
can work in one of her boutique shops.” Suddenly, Delilah became
serious. “Leave her protective wings to fall into the clutches of
Aunt Adele? Give me a break, Mom! Do I look like a fool?”

“But you’d be close to Rodeo Drive and other
famous addresses in the fashion world and fashion is extremely
expensive!” I teased her.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have quick and direct
access to the famous fashion designers’ homes. Aunt Adele runs a
group of shops that sells a popular line of clothing. It’s not high
fashion.” She grimaced. “Here the classes are very small because
only the best students stay. Those who complete this program will
train with the masters!” she replied confidently. “After the
traineeship, yes, the next step is to get my outfits parading in
Los Angeles and attracting the attention of some movie star. Just
imagine...Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie, or Charlize Theron wearing
a legitimate ‘Delilah Key’ at the Oscars...it will be sheer
glory!”

I shook my head. I could see that she had
considered the pros and cons before making her decision and she was
confident that she would succeed.

“I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let
me come to the UWall. My father attended college here! He even has
a bracelet from when he was student here. He says it’s his ‘lucky
charm, but he never told me that he had attended UWall. I found his
diploma stored in his old office that he’d turned into a
bric-a-brac room. The bracelet was in a box along with trophies and
other trinkets.

“Isn’t that weird?” Most people are proud to
hang their diplomas on the wall, especially when they graduated
from one of the most respectable universities in the country. I
never saw someone from Harvard, Oxford, Yale, or Johns Hopkins hide
their diploma in a box.

“I also found some pictures of him from his
college days.” She frowned as if something she’d seen in the photos
left her puzzled.

The hair on my neck
bristling, but I dared not ask her to describe what she saw in the
photos. I wanted to know all the facts, uncover all the mysteries,
but I still was afraid to go deeper.
Coward!
Yeah, yeah, I
know...

“In any case,” she went on, oblivious to my
panic. “Seeing that I was not persuaded to change my mind, Dad made
some contacts and off we went. When I realized that we were on the
road headed here, I was upset because I wanted to bring all my
stuff—my drawing board, the mannequins, sewing machine, my
templates, but they thought it best that I get to know the area
first. If I was willing to keep going and not turn back, my mother
promised to send my things in a van from the factory later.”

I looked around and saw nothing except a
drawing board which was being used as a desk and, of course, Abby’s
silkscreen and knitting materials.

“At that time, we still didn’t know if I’d
get a room here in McPherson House. The student support personnel
informed me that all the accommodations were occupied by freshmen
and I’d have to put my name on a long waiting list, so I came
prepared to rent a studio, a furnished room, or something in Saint
Paul, like so many others have done who come to UWall.

“Dad flatly refused to let me come here by
airplane. He and Mom wanted to be with me as long as possible and
see for themselves the place where I would stay, so we came by car.
The trip was a sort of family holiday. No one expected to happen
what happened...”