Blinding Mirror

  Blinding Mirror

  Shelley Halima

  Copyright © 2009 Shelley Halima

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-578-01892-8

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this novel in loving memory of James Danner Sr., James Danner Jr., James Edward Davis, Edward Quinn Sr., and Mia Moreno.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to thank each and every one of you who have read my work and supported me in my endeavors. As a writer you spend so much time in solitude as you create these characters and their situations and that in itself is personally fulfilling. But it’s made even more so when you bring your work out from the shadows to present to readers and the story strikes a chord with them. Again, I thank you and look forward to continuing the journey with you. Keep the emails coming—I truly appreciate them.

  Praise for Blinding Mirror:

  What a wonderful and great experience I have had reading "Blinding Mirror" a novel by a soon to be literary star Shelley Halima. It was like watching a soap on television, I couldn't wait to get to the next page! Continued success as you are truly a gifted and talented individual, I look forward to your future works. E'lyse Murray, ELYSE GROUP 7, AGENT to the STARS

  Shelley Halima's latest novel, Blinding Mirror, is three hundred and twenty one pages (previous edition) of sheer bliss. I think a mark of a good book is a writer’s ability to make the reader understand why the characters do what they do. Halima has definitely mastered this technique in her work. I would highly recommend Shelley’s work to any patron especially those who would like a change from the usual fare offered by many of her contemporaries. ~ Stacie Brisker, Librarian at Cleveland Public Library

  Blinding Mirror is an exceptional thriller by Shelley Halima. Halima expertly weaves a multi-generational, multi-ethnic tale of suspense and intrigue. This novel takes you on an emotional journey as you see how Olivia grows from an impoverished teen to a selfish, gold-digging socialite. This novel is a sensational start to the Mirror series. 5 out 5 books ~ From Radiah Hubbert of Urban-reviews.com

  Blinding Mirror is splendid. A dark, page-turning gem, this rags-to-riches saga tosses happily-ever-after to the wind. Vivid characters propel an authentic saga, illustrating such ugly behavior as it fuels a desperate hunger for the beautiful life at a tragic, human cost. The climax stays with you long after you put Blinding Mirror down. It¹s a novel you can¹t wait to tell your friends they just have to read. - Dwight Hobbes Mpls/St. Paul Magazine, Pulse of the Twin Cities

  In her third novel, "Blinding Mirror", author Shelley Halima continues writing about race and class struggles. This time the beautiful Olivia Valente tosses aside family and racial identity to strike out on her own to find wealth, and happiness. Halima's novels are reminiscent of those crafted by Harold Robbins, Jacqueline Susann and even Jackie Collins. We love Halima's hot mestiza characters in this page turner with a twist. Where is the mini-series? ~ Charlotte Morgan, author, "Judgment in Goshen, Taxonomy of Ordinary Murder" and Editor of Intangible Magazine

  IG

  Indie Gypsy

  P.O. Box 511002

  Livonia, MI 48151

  http://www.indiegypsy.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  She looked into the wild, enraged eyes of her daughter and winced as she felt the sharp point of the knife being held just beneath her chin.

  “How could you do this to me?! I overlooked all of your lies, Mother! I made excuses for them! But this—I’ll never forgive you! Do you hear me?! Don’t you realize what I’ve done?!”

  She exhaled sharply as the tip of the knife punctured her skin slightly but she didn’t try to fight. One of her biggest deceptions had been revealed and the effects were nothing short of horrendous. All she wanted at that very moment was for her daughter to sink the knife in because death would be welcome. Neither of them would recover from her deceit and she would not be able to live with herself knowing she could have saved her daughter all this anguish.

  “Just do it,” she whispered. “Please.”

  As her daughter drew back the knife, she closed her eyes and waited for an end so she would no longer bear witness to the madness she had caused.

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Oliva Magdalena Delgado was born May 14, 1961 in Fresno, California to a mother whose ancestry was Afro-Mexican and a father who was Mestizo of Spanish and Amerindian descent. Her mother Inès’s family was originally from Veracruz and her father Alphonso’s family was from South Tehuacàn. Both sets of her grandparents escaped their impoverished lives in Mexico for slightly better yet still impoverished ones in the United States. The American riches they dreamed of proved to be out of their reach and poverty was the unwanted heirloom passed to their children. Not only did Oliva’s parents have to contend with financial struggles but familial ones as well.

  Alphonso’s father was against his relationship with Inès. He disapproved of his son being involved with a woman he referred to as a mayate. Out of hurt pride, Inès’s family countered by saying they didn’t want their daughter with the son of a Pi-Po-Pe – a Pinche Poblano Pendejo.

  They ended up running away to get married when Inès found out she was pregnant with Oliva. Though she didn’t voice it to Alphonso, Inès never had the desire to be a mother and the only thing that pleased her about her pregnancy was it gave her the upper hand over the rival for Alphonso’s heart—a young woman named Gloria. Inès was sure of Alphonso’s love for her yet he was still fooling around with other women whenever the opportunity arose. She didn’t know at the time Alphonso wouldn’t let a wedding ring or a pregnancy interfere with his involvement with other women.

  Alphonso desperately wanted a son and was so disappointed when Oliva was born he left the hospital before the umbilical cord was even cut. He went to a friend’s home and drank until he passed out on the living room floor. There were three subsequent pregnancies which all ended in miscarriage. The miscarriages devastated Alphonso who felt each one was a missed opportunity for a son, but to Inès it was a relief. Any maternal feelings Inès possessed were more freely expressed to various pets she had throughout the years than to her only child.

  A rumor got back to Inès that Alphonso had another child courtesy of an affair with a married woman over in San Benito. Alphonso denied it until they were in the heat of an argument he broke down and told her he had the son he always wanted. The resentment grew between them over the years and eventually the main thing that held them together was the sheer enjoyment of making each other as miserable as possible. Each blamed the other for whatever they hadn’t accomplished in their lives. Somehow arguing was a good distraction from their dire circumstances.

  When they weren’t in a verbal battle, Alphonso blew away disappointments in clouds of marijuana smoke courtesy of the marijuana plants he grew in their backyard. He continued despite warnings from his doctor to stay off of drugs and alcohol because of his heart problem. Meanwhile Inès swallowed her disappointments with any calorie-laden food that was in the fridge or cupboards.

  Considering the circumstances which her family lived, Inès had an odd snobbery about her. She believed her family to be better than most of the other families in the area. She was mindful to speak well and not use slang outside the confines of her home. This was a trait she passed on to her daughter.

  Oliva’s parents treated her as if she were an unwanted visitor in their home. At first her parents’ lack of love and attention hurt Oliva. But from an early age the hurt was replaced with hatred. She despised her pa
rents for not giving her what she deserved, not only love but material things. She resented that she had to wear shoes that were either extremely scuffed or were stuffed in the bottom with cardboard because they had worn through. Until she was fifteen and earned money from babysitting the neighbor’s youngest child, she’d never had an outfit that wasn’t worn by someone before her. To Oliva, her parents were pathetic and in her eyes they saw an additional mirror of their failings. While at first she was treated by her parents with complete apathy, it was when they saw the disdain she had for them that they began to direct some of the anger they felt for each other towards her. The only time Inès and Alphonso showed unity as a couple was when it was to gang up on Oliva.

  By the time Oliva was in her mid-teens she’d not only acquired contempt for her family, but those in her neighborhood as well. Although she wasn’t a very attractive child–skinny to the point she almost looked emaciated and all teeth and ears–by the time she hit her teens she’d developed into quite a beauty. Compliments from her parents were non-existent. It was when she began to notice the jealous stares of other girls and lustful ones of the boys that she became aware of her attractiveness. The wall she built around herself with her family extended to the outside world. She made no effort to nurture friendships with other girls or entertain the interest of young boys and kept to herself. When walking down the street, she’d grown accustomed to hearing, “apretada!” shouted in her direction from passing cars or a group of boys angry over their spurned advances.

  Her teachers were amazed that she displayed a maturity and intelligence that far exceeded her peers. A few commented when they spoke with her, it was as if they were conversing with a colleague. She had the opportunity to advance a grade ahead a couple of times but her parents wouldn’t allow it–they weren’t concerned she might not make the adjustment; it was simply out of spite. To the disappointment of her teachers, Oliva decided to drop out of school right after she began her senior year. She simply found school a complete bore and knew some of the subjects better than many of the teachers. The majority of her time was spent in her room reading poetry, novels and books about places she wished to visit. Her world was a completely solitary one—until the day she met Pilar Machado.

  Chapter 2

  Oliva met Pilar two weeks after her eighteenth birthday. She noticed a moving truck unloading items at the old Garcia house but didn’t take further note. A few days later as she was walking past on her way home from the library when she heard a female voice greet her with a hello. Oliva turned her head and saw a beautiful young woman waving to her. Her skin was fair with just a hint of copper and her auburn-colored hair fell past her shoulders. Her frame was tall and lithe. She was wearing a snug pair of hip hugger jeans, a plaid shirt tied just beneath her breasts and platform shoes. She looked a great deal like the actress Verònica Castro from the telenovela “Los Ricos Tambièn Lloran.” To Oliva, she appeared terribly out of place in their neighborhood. She seemed more the type who would be sunning by the pool in the backyard of a swanky home in Beverly Hills. Oliva didn’t say hello, she just waved back to her.

  The next day when Oliva was walking by, she saw the young woman watering some flowers in front of the home. They weren’t there before so Oliva supposed they’d been planted that day. She had her back to Oliva. Oliva paused for a moment then found her voice to speak.

  “Hello.”

  The woman didn’t respond. Oliva cleared her throat and tried again.

  “Hello.”

  The woman turned around at the sound of the voice behind her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she answered. “I thought I heard someone say something but I was in a bit of a daze. How are you?”

  “Fine,” Oliva replied with a tentative grin.

  The woman bent the hose to cut off the flow of water and walked over to Oliva, offering her hand.

  “I’m Pilar.”

  “My name is Oliva. I live just down the street.”

  “Pleasure.”

  “I see you’re already sprucing up this old place. The flowers alone make a big difference.”

  “Oh yes, I’m trying. You should see the work I had done inside. I had someone come in and paint and put in carpeting and flooring so now I’m in the middle of the daunting task of unpacking boxes.”

  “Do you—would you like any help?”

  “If you’d like to assist me it would be great. Actually, I need the help as much as the company. I don’t know a soul here.”

  “Can I start tomorrow? This is chore day for me at home.”

  “Tomorrow is fine. Thank you, Oliva.”

  “No problem. Well, I guess I’d better get home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date. Don’t eat before you come because I’m going to make us some dinner, okay?”

  “Sounds great. Later.”

  “Bye, Oliva.”

  She didn’t know what it was but something about the way Pilar said her name sent a shiver through her. Oliva began her trek home wishing the next day had already arrived.

  Chapter 3

  Oliva arrived at Pilar’s house and knocked on the door. She could hear music coming from inside as well as the inviting smell of food. She smoothed the edges of her hair around her ponytail one last time. A moment later Pilar opened the door and greeted her with a smile. She was wearing another shirt that was tied just under her breasts like the day before and high-cut blue jean shorts. She was barefoot and her toenails were painted bright red.

  “Oliva! Come on in. I just put dinner on. I had to pick up a few things at the market so I got started a bit late.” She moved aside to let Oliva in. “I’ve got a couple of fans going. It’s hotter than a deuce today. I have to get some air conditioning in here.”

  Oliva stepped into the living room and took in the hip decor. It looked as if everything for that room was already unpacked. The furniture looked so new like no one had even sat on it yet. The thick shag carpeting felt plush beneath her feet. She decided to step out of her sandals so not to sully the new carpet. She was impressed with what Pilar had accomplished on her own with putting her home in order. A painting on the wall caught her eye and she walked over to it.

  “That’s a reproduction of a painting by Paula Rego called, ‘The Firemen of Alijo’,” Pilar informed her.

  “It’s kind of disturbing but I like it.”

  “Yeah, she’s one of my favorite artists behind Lourdes Castro whose work I have in storage.”

  Pilar walked toward the dining room and began unpacking one of the boxes. Oliva followed and went to one of the boxes on the dining table.

  “Oh, that’s stuff for the spare bedroom. Instead of unpacking everything at once, I’ve been unpacking the boxes for each room and doing them one at a time. It took me all night to do the living room and kitchen. Right now let’s unpack anything marked ‘dining room’.”

  “Okay,” Oliva replied. “Where are you from? I detect a bit of an accent.”

  “Portugal. I’ve lived in the states since I was a child but I go back to visit as often as I can so I guess that’s why there’s still a touch of an accent.”

  “Can you tell me about what it was like while we unpack?”

  “Sure! I was born in the Madeira village Câmara de Lobos... ”

  Later Oliva sat at the kitchen table as Pilar prepared their plates. From the moment she stepped into Pilar’s house she couldn’t help but think how drab and shabby her family’s was in comparison. The carpeting at her house was nothing like the spanking new shag carpeting she’d just walked on. It was so worn down until it was one with the wooden floor beneath and her mother had run out of rugs to cover holes. She looked over at the dish drainer filled with pretty dishes. The one at home contained a few plates but was mainly filled with used TV dinner and store bought pie foil plates for dinnerware. The kitchen floor was pretty, shiny linoleum. The linoleum at home was peeling, worn and so soiled it wouldn’t come clean no matter how hard her mother made her scrub it. Whi
le Pilar had brand new harvest gold colored appliances, theirs looked like they could’ve been used on the I Love Lucy show. And Pilar added nice decorative touches like the ivy plant hanging over the sink in the macramé plant holder. Oliva was stirred with a mixture of jealousy and admiration. She would do anything to live in a home like this.

  “This music is really cool. What kind is it?”

  “It’s called fado. I can listen to it almost non-stop. But I also like Elton John and Leif Garrett too.”

  “I adore Leif Garrett! He is so handsome.”

  “He is isn’t he?”

  “I wrote him a fan letter and he sent me an autographed photo. It’s a rubber stamp signature but I still treasure it.”

  “That was cool of him. You’ll have to bring it over and let me see it.”

  She brought over two plates and set one in front of Oliva.

  “This is arroz de maraisco. It’s one of those dishes I could eat every day.”

  “It looks great.”

  Pilar sat down, and then got back up to get the wine. She took her seat again and poured the wine. “Hey, how old are you?”

  “I just turned eighteen. Why do you ask?”

  Pilar tilted the wine bottle in her direction as an answer.

  “I didn’t want to contribute to the delinquency of a minor. I hope I’m not boring you with stories of Portugal but I have to tell you this. We have this ugly black fish there called esprada preta. It looks a sight but it’s oh so good! When I’m there I usually cook it with vinho e alhos. Heavenly.”

  “Can you have some shipped over here? I’d love to try some.”