“It’s time,” she said. I hadn’t seen her put the nightgown down when she first came into my room. Now she reached for it and handed it to me. “Edward’s awake, listening to that CD of Spanish lessons. It’s perfect timing. Get undressed and into the nightgown,” she ordered.
I looked at the flimsy garment. “I am still not sure of what I am to do, Tía Isabela.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to show you exactly,” she said. “Get undressed.”
My fingers were trembling over the buttons and on the zipper of my skirt. She wanted me to take off my shoes and socks as well and put on a pair of slippers. While I was undressing and putting on the nightgown, she went to my door and locked it.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re going to practice this.”
“Practice?”
“I’m going to pretend I am Edward.”
“You?”
She went to my bed and set herself the way Edward was in his, with the pillows behind her.
“We’ll enter the room,” she began. “I’ll remain just inside the doorway, but you go right to him and tell him you are there to see how he is. I’m sure he’ll be very happy about it. Then you sit here,” she said, patting the space beside her on the bed. “Go on, do it. Do it!” she repeated when I hesitated.
I moved to the bed and sat beside her.
“Turn yourself more toward me, toward Edward,” she directed, and I did so. “Now, you reach for his hand. Go on. Reach for his hand.”
I did.
“Good. Tell him you never had a chance to thank him for what he tried to do. Tell him you really appreciated his concern for you. Go on, say it. I’ll help you with any English words.”
I did as she asked, and she corrected my English and had me repeat it.
“While you speak, you are holding his hand as you are doing now with mine, only take your other hand and gently stroke his hand and his arm. Go on. No, stroke, don’t pat,” she instructed, and demonstrated until I did it as she wanted. “Okay. Now, I want you to tell him you like him very much, and you wish you could do something for him that would make him happy. Let me hear you say it.”
I said it, but she didn’t like the way I was saying it.
“You sound too frightened. Say it like you mean it. Stop behaving like a child,” she snapped. “We’re going to do this right.”
I said it again, and she made me do it three more times, until she was happy with the way I sounded.
“He’ll be a little confused, maybe, so take his hand and gently press it to your breast. Go on, do it. Gently. Hold his hand there. He’ll realize you’re basically naked. I want you to move his hand slowly over your breast, over your nipple. Go on. Do it!”
I did, but I felt very strange and frightened by the way she looked at me. She really was pretending to be Edward and reacting as she hoped he might. I felt as if I had wandered into someone else’s mad dream.
“Good. He’ll either smile and say something nice to you, or he’ll be silent, stunned, and, as they say, turned on. You know that expression?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Drop your hand and his into your lap, but hold on to his hand. Slowly, everything has to be done slowly. It’s more erotic that way. Good. Move his hand between your legs, and press yourself toward him.”
I started to shake my head.
“Go on. It’s nothing.”
“If I do this, he will hate me, Tía Isabela. He will think terrible things about me.”
“Or he’ll smile and let you get yourself and him turned on. He’d have to be made of stone not to react to this.”
I felt tears coming but swallowed them back. She was looking at me very intently.
“I want you to do one more thing, Delia. I want you to lean over and kiss him on the lips, softly. Remember, everything is gently, softly. Then start to rise. If he holds on to your hand, stop and let him touch you again. If he lets go, it’s all right, but ask him if he would like you to come back to see him tomorrow night. Go on, do it all,” she said.