Signal to Noise(61)

The living room had a view of the kitchen and she watched as Mr. Rodriguez poured himself a glass of water. Daniela opened her notebook.

“I finished the assignment you gave me.”

“What did you think of the book?”

“I thought it was fun.”

“Wuthering Heights was fun?”

“Well... yeah?” Daniela said cautiously.

She realized she should have said dramatic, moving, romantic—any of those words. Fun was such a stupid choice.

“Here,” he said, setting a glass before her. “I figure you might get thirsty.”

“Thanks,” she said, though she didn’t need it at all.

“You were saying it’s fun?”

“Yes. I mean, I finished it quickly and it wasn’t hard at all. I wrote my impressions on it, like you asked.”

Mr. Rodriguez stood next to her, leaning down to look at her notes. Sometimes, when Daniela stood in line at the supermarket, boys brushed by her, touching the side of her breasts. Meche would not allow anyone to cop a feel, but Daniela just tried to ignore it. It didn’t happen too frequently, anyway, and she tried to tell herself the boys did not mean it, that it was an accident.

When she felt Mr. Rodriguez’s hand brush against the side of her breast Daniela stiffened and stared at her notebook, figuring he hadn’t meant it.

“What did you think about Heathcliff?”

Daniela’s tongue clicked. Yes. Just an accident. “He’s a complex character. You’d think he’d be the hero, but he acts like the bad guy sometimes...”

There. She felt it again. Large fingers brushing against her breast.

Daniela looked down. She scooted a bit to the right, reaching towards a book, moving away a little from him.

“... there is a part where...”

The fingers again, though this time they rested on her thigh.

Daniela’s eyes went round. She swallowed.

“Mr. Rodriguez, you’re making me uncomfortable,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

The hand tugged at the hem of her purple peasant skirt.

“I’m going home,” she said and stood up.

Mr. Rodriguez smiled at her and it was such an innocent smile that for a split second Daniela thought maybe she had imagined it, that her overactive imagination was mixing a plot from one of her books with real life.

“Look here, I know how you look at me,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “Let’s not be a baby about it.”

The shock of his words numbed Daniela and she sat in her chair, motionless, an overstuffed doll. Mr. Rodriguez’s hand returned to her thigh.

“Look, I’m doing you a favour.”

The books she read did not contain scenes like this; they offered no solutions and no maps through this forest. Daniela tried to think, tried to move from the chair and was only able to utter a weak, “Please stop, sir.”

He reached for her shirt, about to take it off, and Daniela raised a leg and kneed him in the balls. He howled in pain, bending down. Daniela pushed him away and rushed towards the door.

For a few panicky seconds she thought the doorknob would not turn, but the door swung open easily and she rushed out like a scared rabbit, running faster than she thought possible. Two blocks from his place she tripped and skinned her knees, but she got up again and ran and ran until she was out of breath.





“SHE’S STILL IN bed,” Daniela’s sister said.

“But it’s noon,” Meche said. “She told us to come at noon. Is she sick again? Can we see her?”

“Well... you can try. I took her breakfast up today and she wouldn’t even open the door. She says she has a cold.”

“We were supposed to have lunch together,” Sebastian explained.

“Yeah, I know. Maybe she’ll come down if you talk to her. She’s been acting weird since yesterday.”

“Alright,” Meche said.

They went up the stairs to Daniela’s room. Her door had a colorful sign bordered with flowers which read ‘Daniela.’ Meche knocked three times and waited.

“What?”

“Hey, it’s us,” Meche said. “We’re here for lunch.”

“Go away.”

Meche frowned and glanced at Sebastian. When Daniela was sick, she liked having them around. They read to her or played board games. She enjoyed the company and, in fact, felt sad when they didn’t show up.

“Stop kidding and let us in.”

“I’m not kidding. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Come on. We’re not going to go. What’s up with you?”

“If I tell you... you can’t tell anyone else.”

“Who are we going to tell?” Meche said. “Open up.”

Daniela unlocked the door. Meche and Sebastian walked in. The curtains were drawn. Daniela, in her pyjamas, looked tired and her eyes were red from crying. She shuffled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Meche asked. “Did you catch a bug?”

“No,” Daniela muttered.

Meche frowned. She sat at the edge of Daniela’s bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked very seriously.

Daniela covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “It’s embarrassing...”