Run Delia Run Page 6

  I blinked a few times and ran a hand through my hair, bringing myself back to the present.

  It was dark, but I could see palm trees and large plants. Terra cotta pots full of flowers dotted the path up to the big door with an iron handle. A fixture above the door spilled yellow light.

  The driver took our bags out of the trunk and brought them up to the door where Camille met him. She ran to us, throwing her arms around me and kissing me on both cheeks. Then she did the same to Will, who balked at the hug. She smelled like sunshine and exotic flowers.

  “Oh my. Look at you,” she cried. “Come in, come in. Will, dear, are you hungry? I’ve got some delicious soup for you, some cheese and fruit, too.” She pushed us into the house and I stood in awe at my surroundings.

  “Let me show you around and get you settled.” She motioned for us to follow. I reached for Will’s hand, but he pulled it away.

  What did he know? Did he intuit something? Did he miss Leo? What if this was all a big mistake?

  The house was bright and tropical with orange walls and bright blue accents. One wall was covered in crosses and prayer beads. I knew she collected Mexican art, but my mouth gaped open at everything before me. Painted masks, tin mirrors, and iron on every surface. The place was bright and airy, the rooms were large. She had vivid green plants everywhere, real ones, not the plastic kind that I favored.

  The kitchen was large with an island that sat under a pot rack loaded with cast iron pans. Blue and yellow tiles circled the room. This home was so unlike the place Leo and I shared.

  Camille made us sit down at the old pine farmhouse table as she spooned soup into large bowls decorated with Mexican folk art. I was happy to see that life was treating my friend well.

  I thought back to how we met, each of us new to Hollywood. We were introduced by a mutual friend in acting class and worked at a catering company together. It wasn’t long before Camille and I shared a tiny apartment with yellowed blinds and stained industrial carpet in downtown Los Angeles. We spent two years as roommates before she met Joe. They married quickly and then moved to Mexico where Joe’s antique business was located. Camille abandoned her acting dreams for a career as an artist. She was hugely talented and most of her work featured paintings of flowers, not unlike Georgia O’Keeffe but in brighter colors.

  Camille was pretty with eyes the color of a dark pool and café au lait skin. She was thin and elegant; her style was simple, wearing only jewelry and floaty caftans. On her feet she usually wore leather sandals that laced up her legs like a roman warrior. Her style had not changed in the years I knew her.

  We had nothing in common at first. I was from Ohio; she grew up in the Bronx. My parents were dead; hers were very much alive. I carried the pain of my youth around with me, always on edge; whereas, she was friendly and open.

  We both left home at eighteen to make it big in Hollywood; dreams of fame and fortune brought us both west. When she refused to sleep with the director who was casting for a major film, she decided right then and there that she was not interested in pursuing her goal of being a star. I didn’t have to sleep with anyone; I met Leo Kubias and that was the beginning and end of everything.

  “This is delicious soup. Did you make it?” I asked, spooning more black beans and onions into my mouth. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was; the last time I ate was the day before. Will slurped his soup and dipped his tortilla into the bowl, not even pausing to look up at us. I dragged my eyes from him to Camille.

  “No, that would be my wonderful housekeeper, Juana. I can’t wait for you to meet her. I don’t know what I would do without her.” Camille rested her chin on her folded hands and I noticed the diamond encrusted watch adorning her thin wrist. I thought of that hideous alligator skin watch in my bag.

  Leo had never known my style. He never bought me an article of clothing or piece of jewelry that was my taste; rather, he bought things that he thought I should wear. A memory popped into my mind of him standing over me with a bag from Neiman Marcus full of fancy clothes.

  “Throw out that rag.” He laughed, motioning to my favorite cardigan sweater. “What are you, the cleaning lady? I have an outfit in here for you. Go change. And put some makeup on. That red Chanel lipstick I bought for you should do the trick.”

  And because I didn’t know how to say no to my husband, how to stand up to him for fear of setting off his temper, I slinked away and changed from my jeans and sweater into an outfit that met his expectation.

  I wondered what it would be like to have a husband that valued me as a person. Was that even a possibility? Leo frequently told me I was weak and that I had nothing without him, and most of the time I believed him.

  Not long ago, I saw a photo of an abused dog that shied away every time a rescuer tried to help him. That’s me! I thought. I’m the abused dog that refuses help. But for Will I found strength. I may have been a weak wife, but I was not a weak mother.

  I pushed the hair away from my face, forcing myself back into the present moment. Turning to look at Will, I tried to forget Leo and focused on my son's happy face as he ripped a tortilla into pieces. I met Camilles eyes and grinned.

  “So, how is everything?” she asked, taking a sip of bottled water. “How’s life in Beverly Hills? Doing a lot of shopping? Lunching? Yoga? What do people do out there these days?” I knew she wanted the details that brought me here.

  I glanced at Will and gave a slight shake of my head. Not now, not in front of Will.

  “Shopping?” he groaned, and then set his head in his hands theatrically. “Not the mall! Not Whole Foods! No shopping!”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny. You know how I love to go out and be social. No, I’m home all the time as usual. Come on, have I ever liked to shop?” I smiled at her; she knew that I would rather sit home alone with a good book than go out and spend money. I shopped when the mood struck and spent money buying books at cozy little bookstores that served hot coffee.

  “I like shopping when I get a treat,” Will proclaimed, his face lighting up. “I get a donut!”

  Looking at Will, Camille winked. “We might find a donut for you while you’re here. Would you like that?”

  He stuck out his tongue and panted, nodding his head.

  She turned to me. “How’s life in Los Angeles? Are you hanging out with anyone I’d know?”

  “What’s with all the questions?”

  “I want to know what it’s like to be married to a hot shot executive in the movie industry. That was our dream, remember? Marrying a millionaire? Living a life of luxury?”

  “Honestly? I have very few friends. I get together for lunch with a couple girls but very topical relationships. No emotional ties. We shop, we go to lunch, and we play tennis. Very exciting,” I said dryly.

  The truth was I had about three friends I saw on a regular basis. Sure, I had a charmed life in a beautiful town and everything looked perfect on the outside. Leo insisted I get facials, plus Botox and fillers around my tired eyes. He made me play tennis and go to Pilates twice a week and arranged that I get spray tanned every summer. He hired a cook to fix low fat meals, and, when he was home, he checked the pantry for healthy food that met with his approval. I was relieved he wasn’t obsessively lining up the labels on the cans and boxes, but he had other quirks that sent bolts of anxiety through my body. I told myself no one was perfect. My life was amazing, at least from a distance.

  In the past ten years, I dressed in fancy gowns to rub shoulders with famous people at the Emmy Awards, the Golden Globes, and the Academy Awards. I met A-list celebrities where ever I went; I was on a first name basis with many of them. And where did that get me? My home life, my private time with Leo, was far from glamorous.

  I was unimpressed with that life. I wanted to trade it all in for something more genuine and easy. I didn’t want Will attending private school thinking everyone’s parents had millions of dollars, or everyone had the latest iPhone or gadget, or that people with more money and toys were worth more
than anyone else. As it was, he was spoiled. I didn’t want my son to think that riding on a private jet was a normal way to travel. I thought back to when I lived at Aunt Priscilla’s and dreamed of life as a famous actress. Money and fame were the answers back then, but now I knew better.

  We had a large home in Beverly Hills with velvet green grass and potted plants; a Mediterranean Sea colored pool in the backyard, and a garden designed by a well-known landscape designer. A housekeeper came in twice a week and, more often than not, I would invite her to sit with me and have some tea and chat. When the chef wasn’t cooking for us, I made everything myself. I didn’t have a team of makeup artists and wardrobe stylists; although, Leo constantly reminded me that I needed them. My son didn’t have a nanny. Ever since he was born, I was the one who took care of him.

  “Come on.” Leo laughed. “Why wouldn’t you have a baby nurse or a nanny? Do you really want to get up at night with him and take care of him all the time?”

  Yes, I did.

  Leo hired a nurse for Will, against my wishes. She lingered in doorways and appeared whenever I talked on the phone. I suspected she was reporting back to Leo and I let her go.

  I turned back to Camille. “I haven’t changed at all. I’m boring.” I made a face and she laughed.

  “How about I show you to your rooms? I bet you’ll love it upstairs.” She took Will’s hand and led us up the tiled staircase. Paintings hung on the walls, replicas of the works of Diego Rivera and a few of her own paintings here and there.

  She showed Will his room, a big square with textured walls and a bed with a dark wood frame. The only ornament in the room was a simple cross hanging over the bed. The windows were open and I could smell the perfumed air wafting in.

  My room was similar to Will’s, but on my bed sat a bright patchwork quilt of juicy colors—tangerines and reds with deep purples and soothing blues. One painting hung on my wall, the Virgin of Guadalupe with a serene smile on her oval face. I wished I could find that serenity.

  “Is this okay?” Camille asked.

  I told her it was fine. No need to tell her I’d probably be sleeping with Will. I wanted to make sure he slept well, no night terrors. I kept this hidden from Leo who yelled at Will whenever he caught him sucking his thumb. “Our son is not a baby.” He glared at me. “You coddle him.”

  He would have been furious to know I sometimes slept with Will. The image of Leo’s flashing eyes and the slow burn of anger suddenly felt so real to me that I gasped for breath.

  I helped Will get ready for bed, assisting him with the shower in the bathroom that was painted bright pink.

  “I can do it myself,” he insisted.

  “At least let me get the water temperature right,” I said, turning the faucet so that the water was not too cold or hot.

  Later, I tucked him into bed, inhaling his clean soapy smell. I leaned over his bed to kiss his head.

  “Is dad coming? How long are we staying here?” he asked.

  I handed him his small stuffed bear, the object he never fell asleep without. He put it under his arm and hugged it close.

  “Look honey . . . dad is home, working. Now is time for you and me to have some fun without him.” I smoothed his wet hair back off his forehead. “It’s fun to have an adventure sometimes, just the two of us, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and pulled the crisp white sheets up around his pink face. I gazed at him; my beautiful boy with his dark brown hair and bright clear eyes. Ever since the day he was born, an intense love flooded every cell in my body and I experienced a primal need to protect him. I’d do anything for him. I would kill for him, if I had to.

  I said his prayers with him and turned off the light. I left the window open because I knew he would like to listen to the bugs buzzing outside.

  With exhaustion in my bones, I ambled into my room to get ready for bed. My mind raced, thoughts of Leo shooting back and forth. I knew that within the next few days he would start looking for me. I wished I could stay in Mexico for good, but I couldn’t. We had to remain on the move so Leo couldn’t find us. I couldn’t bear to think of what would happen then.

  I didn’t want to involve Camille or her husband Joe any more than I had to. Leo didn’t really know Camille, and I hoped that he wouldn’t recall I had a friend in Mexico. Did I ever mention her? Our lives circled around his friends and acquaintances, not mine. Except for those early days together, we never spoke about me.

  Despite the refreshing breeze that blew the white gauzy curtains away from the windowsill creating a peaceful atmosphere, nightmares threatened my sleep. I tossed and turned, imagining Leo standing over me. As soon as I drifted off, I woke with a jolt and rolled over to look at Will. His breathing was steady. We were safe. I lightly ran my hand over his back. Then I turned over, warming under the cozy quilt, trying to relax into sleep.

  When the sun poured through the windows, I tiptoed to my room, threw on my clothes, and went for a quick run up and down the dirt path near the house. If I stayed on this path, I could see any cars coming or going in the direction of Camille’s house. I needed to release the stress that settled in my body and caused me physical pain. I jogged slowly, grateful that Camille’s home was hidden from main roads; all that led to her hacienda was a long meandering dirt path framed by big plants dripping with white flowers. Nobody would see me through the thick fauna, but I’d hear the sound of an engine.

  It was early in the morning and already humid. I wiped the sweat from my brow and continued on the unpaved road. I kept glancing over my shoulder. Each time I heard a car in the distance I would stop and duck down underneath a massive green bush. I feared Leo would be looking for me, as silly as it was. He wouldn’t even know I was gone at this point. Hopefully.

  With every heavy footfall, I prayed that Leo wouldn’t find me. He had money and power at his disposal. What would stop him from hiring every private investigator in Los Angeles to find me?

  As I ran back to the house, I thought of my next move. Instead of going to Texas as planned, I considered going to Hawaii. I had been there once before, when we were first married. We could go to Oahu and stay for a couple of weeks. Leo would have a hard time finding us there. He would think that we didn’t have money and that we were close to California. I wasn’t using credit cards, so how could he track me? I wasn’t leaving a trail, but it wasn’t impossible to track us down. No, I had to stick with the plan. It took me a long time to get the details in place. I had a schedule, a plan, and a budget. From the public computer at the library, I researched everything I needed to know and took notes in a journal that I kept hidden.

  I ran with thoughts pulsating with each hard step on the dirt road. By time I got back to the house, I was sweating and my breathing was labored. Opening the door, a chill inched down my spine though I was hot. I heard nothing; the house was eerily still and silent. Will should be up by now. I anticipated him watching television in the family room with the oversized chairs and turquoise pillows, canned laughter filling the house along with cartoon voices.

  “Will?” I called out, stepping tentatively on the terra cotta tiles. “Camille?”

  My stomach turned over as I walked quickly and lightly through the house calling out. It was too quiet, the air too still. My hands flew to my mouth as I began to bite my nails in fear. Please, don’t let Leo be here. Please let Will be safe. I thought of all the precautions I took in bringing us here. I thought we would be out of harm’s way. I peeked in Will’s room and saw his unkempt bed, white sheets pulled back, pillows askew. His pajamas lay in a ball on the floor.

  My heart beat wildly as I jogged down the stairs and out the glass French doors leading to the backyard. Invisible hands twisted my intestines as I thought of Leo, here.

  “Will!” I yelled. “Camille?”

  I walked around the perimeter of the backyard. The patio had various pots full of flowers with bright red and fuchsia petals. The palm trees were motionless; there was no breeze and the air was stagnant.


  Finally, I gave a cry of relief when I spotted Will and Camille looking at something next to one of the flowering plants. Concentration was evident in Will’s little face; his eyes were focused on something small.

  “Hey,” I called, relief flooding my body. I worried for nothing. Is this how it was going to be? Scared every second that Will wasn’t next to me?

  Heat cursed through my arms and legs as the dizziness faded and my heart beat returned to normal.

  Camille turned and smiled, holding her hand up in a wave. Her long, dark hair was pulled back with blue clips that looked like shells. She wore a long, thin, white dress with an embroidered collar and hot pink flip flops on her feet looking like a model from a tourism photo. She approached me, held out a flower, and tucked it behind my ear.

  “Out running?” she asked, glancing at my sweat stained shirt and muddy running shoes.

  I wiped my brow and nodded. I shouldn’t have left Will alone. That was stupid. I heard Leo’s voice echo in my brain, You’re a stupid woman, Delia. No one could ever put up with you.

  I took a deep breath, the kind my meditation teacher taught me—Leo hired a meditation coach for me because all of our problems were my fault—but the deep belly breathing did nothing to steady my erratic heart.

  When I spoke, my voice came out funny and high-pitched. “What are you two doing, hiding in the bushes? I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was yelling for you. I was nervous.”

  I watched Will as he bent over a leaf and I noted the expression of attentiveness in his features. He didn’t speak but bit his lower lip in concentration.

  “Oh, Will woke up and I took him out here to look for bugs. He caught a spider and was trying to look for a praying mantis.” She grinned. “You have to love little boys and bugs.”

  “Shhhh. You’re going to scare everything away,” Will whispered. “The bugs don’t like loud noises.”

  I wiped my hands on my shorts, and then started biting my nails again. Camille looked at me and motioned to the chaise lounge chairs where we both sat. My eyes remained on Will as he crouched low, peering into the blades of grass.