A Letter to Delilah Page 4

  “Dammit,” I growled.

  I locked the door and looked up, waiting for the creak of the floor.

  I picked up the beer bottle and hurried to take off my hoodie. I balled it up and put it on a chair at the kitchen table. When I pushed the chair in, the hoodie was totally hidden. I reached back and pulled the hair tie out of my hair. I bent forward and messed with it. It was forever in a million knots because of my curls.

  When I stood back up, I let it fall wherever it wanted.

  I walked to the fridge, opened it and took out the almost empty gallon of milk. The expiration date was two days ago, but my father insisted it was still good to drink.

  “Hello?” a voice asked. “Who’s there? I have a weapon. I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Mom, it’s just me,” I said. “I’m getting a drink of milk.”

  Mom shuffled into the kitchen with her right hand hidden in her royal blue fuzzy bathrobe.

  She took her hand out of the robe, holding the TV remote from her bedroom.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “I was going to pretend it was a gun,” she said. “In case you were a robber.”

  “I’m just getting a glass of milk,” I said.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “Just thirsty,” I said. “Go back to sleep. Before…” I looked up. “… he wakes up.”

  Mom nodded. “Yeah. I’d better go.”

  “Goodnight, Mom,” I said.

  “Goodnight, Amelia,” she said. “Fly, baby, okay? Always fly…”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  Mom left the kitchen and I put the milk back.

  I looked down and gasped.

  All that planning to lie to my parents, and I had forgotten to take my shoes off.

  Not that it mattered.

  Mom didn’t notice.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  She was afraid for her life.

  So was I.

  That’s why I went for my midnight walk. Wishing I could just walk to a new town, a new house and a new family.

  Or meet someone to save me from it all.

  I thought about that cute boy again and bit my lip.

  He certainly wasn’t the knight in shining armor I wrote my stupid stories about.

  If anything, he would only cause more trouble for me.

  At least I’d never see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Pictures, People, Pissed Off

  NOW

  (Josh)

  … in every way possible. But the thing is, Delilah, you don’t understand what that means. And you can’t understand what that means. In my mind and my heart, you are so great. Greater than anything I’ve ever seen, held or loved in my entire life. Nobody understood that part. Everyone looks at age as this way to judge you, and I call bullshit on that. We’ve been through so much. So much of that not a single person gets. A day can pass by in a breath or a day can pass by in a year.

  I’m going to tell you a hundred times that I love you, Delilah. There’s no escaping it…

  “Have a drink with me,” Aaron said as he passed me a small glass with amber liquid in it.

  I took the glass and put it down on the table.

  “You’re turning down a drink?” he asked.

  “I’m not drinking that shit,” I said. “Let’s get a beer.”

  “They have beer here?”

  “If I say I want beer, it appears,” I said. “I’m a magician.”

  “Hey, there you are,” another voice said.

  I turned and saw Rae walking with her hand locked tight to Toby’s little hand. He was carrying a small elephant and looked as nervous as Rae.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked Rae.

  She curled her eyebrows down. “This is madness here, Josh. I didn’t realize you were famous.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “It’s just a bunch of people trying to look smart in front of each other.” I crouched and opened my arms. “Where’s my hug, little man?”

  Toby pulled away from his mother and came charging at me. I scooped him up and stood. He smelled like ketchup and grape juice. The smell of youth and innocence.

  “I came back to have a drink with Josh,” Aaron said.

  “Drinking? We have the baby with us. You can’t be doing that.”

  “Easy, love,” I said to Rae as I smiled. “I wasn’t going to let him get wasted.”

  “Yeah, right,” Rae said. “I know how you two are together.”

  “It’s called a bromance,” I said.

  “It’s called moronic,” she threw back at me.

  “Maybe you need a drink.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Aaron said. He grabbed the small glass of champagne off the table. “Here. Drink.”

  “I’m responsible,” Rae said.

  “Hardly,” I called out.

  “Josh,” Aaron said.

  I put my right hand around Toby’s head and covered his ear. He put his head on my shoulder to cover the other ear. Not that it mattered.

  I leaned in toward Rae. “I think I remember someone once flashing cop cars down on Brooker Street after throwing back way too much tequila.”

  Rae’s cheeks flushed and she smiled. “Shut up, Josh. Give me my baby back.”

  “He’s mine,” I said. “My excuse to cut through the crowd.”

  “He’s using our son like a hostage,” Rae said to Aaron.

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “Have a drink?”

  Rae took the glass from Aaron.

  “That’s the spirit,” I said. “Now don’t go flashing anyone tonight. There are cameras out there.”

  I made a quick move to get out of Rae’s reach. There was nothing better - or easier - than to piss her off and leave Aaron to feel the wrath.

  “You ready to go for a walk with me, little man?” I asked Toby.

  “Yes,” he said in a quiet voice.

  He was cool as anything. Giant blue eyes full of wonder. He clutched my shirt tightly as I moved from the back of the gallery to the front. There was a big crowd of people all walking around, drinking, talking, trying to figure out what the hell I had been trying to do for each photo and painting.

  Maybe some artists had these massive stories to tell.

  Not me.

  The same story was told in everything I did. A story that nobody would ever be able to see. A story that only I could tell.

  “Hey, Josh! Can we have a quick word?”

  A guy in a suit waved as he called out the question.

  “Can’t talk,” I said. “I’m with someone very important right now.”

  The more people that saw me, the louder they got. But nobody dared to get too close to me as I held Toby.

  I went to the opposite side of the room and stopped.

  “That’s crazy, right?” I asked Toby.

  “Crazy,” he said and laughed.

  “Here. Look at this with me. What do you see, little man?”

  “A flower,” he said and bit at his hand.

  He was safe but nervous.

  I understood the feeling.

  “A flower,” I said. “Here. Look closer.”

  Toby was right. It was a flower. A flower called a red peony. I only knew the name of the flower because Michelle told me when she saw the picture I took. Her grandmother had been a florist and the stuff she knew about flowers amazed me.

  The flower was fully bloomed with the red petals wide open, showing off a bright yellow center. What you needed to do was get extra close to see that the yellow wasn’t just pollen. There were hands. Reaching out - or up - for help. And the petals were extended long wisps of hair that were perfectly straight.

  It was messy and abstract. Something I worked on fast when I was drunk and alone. Sitting and standing for twenty hours straight to bring it to life the way I wanted.

  “What do you see, Toby?” I asked as we were just inches from the picture.

  “Flower,” he said
again.

  I laughed. “That’s right. Okay. Just a flower. What color?”

  Toby looked at me.

  “Can you say red?” I asked him.

  “Red!” he yelled.

  “Great job,” I said.

  I turned and was face to face with a woman.

  She looked really familiar. Her hair. Her eyes. They stuck out to me.

  I’d seen her before.

  My mind did the whole did I sleep with her thing, which was honestly old and useless.

  She just stared at me.

  “Red flower,” Toby announced and turned his head to look at the picture.

  When he did, he slammed his head into my head.

  It hurt me which meant it really hurt him.

  “Ah, damn,” I said and touched his head.

  But it was too late.

  Toby let out a long wail and clung to my shirt even tighter.

  I hurried away along the back of the gallery, trying to avoid more of the crowd.

  “I got you, little man,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  He cried his heart out as I raced to the back.

  That’s where Rae and Aaron were both leaning against a table, shoulder to shoulder, each with a glass of champagne, looking at each other with lust-filled eyes. They looked ready to find a bathroom to have a little fun.

  And there I was with Toby as he cried.

  Rae put her glass down and went into Mom mode.

  “What happened? What did you do, Josh?” she yelled at me.

  “Hey, why do you have to blame him?” Aaron asked.

  “Relax,” I said. “He bumped his head off mine trying to look at a painting.”

  “Jesus Christ, Josh,” Rae said as she ripped Toby out of my arms.

  “Let me make sure he’s okay,” I said.

  Rae threw a hand to my chest. “Stop. You did enough.”

  “Rae,” Aaron said.

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t even want to come. There are too many people here. This isn’t for kids. And you should be on my side.”

  “Your side?” Aaron asked. “Are you frigging kidding me?”

  “Hey,” I snapped. “You two need to calm down. The little man is fine. I’m sorry that happened. That’s on me.”

  “Whatever, Josh,” Rae said. “Okay?”

  Toby was done crying already.

  I gently touched his cheek and swiped away a tear. “You okay, little man?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You want to tell Mom what you said?”

  “Red flower,” he said to Rae.

  “Good,” she said. “We came. We saw. Now we can go home.”

  “Thanks for the support,” I said.

  “Screw you, Josh,” Rae snapped and made a line toward the door.

  I looked back at Aaron as he stood stuck between being pissed at Rae and being pissed at me.

  “Do what you have to do,” I said. “I get it.”

  “She gets touchy at things like this,” Aaron said. “Touchy about everything. I just wanted to have a fucking drink with her tonight.”

  “Go home and have a drink,” I said.

  “Tonight is a big night for you. I’m your best friend.”

  “You’re also a father, Aaron. That’s the most important job in the world.”

  “What about Rae?”

  “Father first. Then my best friend. Then Rae’s punching bag and sex toy.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s how you think it is with me and her?”

  “Come on, man,” I said.

  “I’ll talk to you later. She’ll leave me if I don’t get out of here.”

  Aaron blasted through the back door and I stood there alone. There were a lot of people out front looking at pictures and paintings. Discussing what they meant. What I was thinking when I created them. People debating if it was worth making an offer on one or more.

  I touched my back pocket.

  I thought about unfolding the letter and taping it to a wall. In an empty gallery. Nothing but that letter. And have everyone come and read it. So I could finish the promise I made a long time ago.

  The problem would be letting go of the letter, which I was supposed to do after writing it.

  I moved my hand and licked my lips.

  I needed a drink.

  I met Randy five years ago. He loved to paint gigantic paintings with lots of colors and shapes. He would finish a painting and get high to stare at it. He said if the painting moved and spoke, it was a good one.

  After some millionaire paid a lot of money for a painting, he had gotten messed up one night and signed the painting Razor. Then for some reason he decided to drop the R to make himself sound more… artistic?

  Either way, Azor saved my ass the second he handed me the large, silver flask.

  I flicked the lid open and drank like a man finding fresh water after a month in the desert.

  “Let’s go make you famous,” he said. He wore an extra-large sweater with thick knitting that looked like a blanket.

  He was tall, skinny, and his long hair and messy beard made him look like he belonged in some hippie band from the sixties, singing about peace and tripping on drugs.

  “Fuck famous,” I said. “I just want people to understand.”

  “Then let’s go make them understand,” Azor said. “And, hey, there’s a woman looking for you.”

  “Who? What’s her name?”

  I had a handful of Azor’s ugly sweater.

  I released my grip and backed away. I took another drink. The brandy was good. Really good.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  I took another drink from the flask and slipped it into my other back pocket.

  “That’s my flask,” Azor said.

  I ignored him and walked to the front of the gallery.

  The crowd was buzzing with people. The owner of the gallery - Sasha - was floating around in a long black dress. She looked beautifully morbid, something she took pride in. Her grandfather owned half the block and this place was given to her as a just because kind of thing, but it worked to my benefit.

  “Josh!” she called out when she saw me. “Come talk to us. Tell us everything.”

  I gave a wave and kept walking.

  Soon I had a lot of people calling my name.

  It was almost like an echo in my mind.

  The brandy started to really set in.

  So much so that I heard a voice…

  My plan was to walk right out the front door of the gallery and leave. I could walk home from where I was. A thirty-minute walk or so, but the fresh air would do me good. Maybe.

  But the voice.

  It was in my head and then it was real.

  A familiar voice.

  An impossible voice.

  Someone touched my arm. “Great work here, Josh. I love it.”

  That wasn’t the voice though.

  It was a short woman with a low-cut dress. Her eyes dark and flirty.

  I nodded and thanked her and kept walking.

  I heard the voice again.

  I stopped again.

  This time when I spun around, someone was standing there.

  The woman from before.

  The curly hair.

  The dark blue eyes.

  It wasn’t Delilah. No. No way. Delilah wouldn’t be here. Delilah couldn’t be here.

  But I knew this woman.

  “Can we talk for a second?” she asked, her voice smooth and nervous.

  My eyes moved left to right around the swelling crowd of people.

  I slowly started to nod.

  I couldn’t explain it, but looking at this woman made me feel comfortable.

  Chapter 7

  Left For Nothing

  NOW

  (Amelia)

  He was drunk.

  He kept staring at me like he wanted to hug me or something.

  Swaying a little to the left, then the right, wor
king his way through the large gathering of people all there to look at what he had created.

  He looked like he wanted to leave.

  That intrigued me.

  I only knew Josh from the few times we ran into each other. Which didn’t seem like much, but each time seemed to be a life changing situation for me. Probably not for him, but it was impressive how he managed to get out of the bad boy life and do something else.

  He sipped from a flask as we stood in a dimly lit hallway in the back of the gallery. I could smell the booze. I could also smell him. His skin. His clothes. Not soaked in cologne. Not done up to look fancy and nice.

  It was… just Josh.

  His back was against the wall, one leg bent, foot flat against the wall. His head moved almost robotically, left to right, as though he was expecting someone to catch him doing something wrong. My mind raced with all the potential storylines. Which pissed me off a little because I didn’t want to write this kind of stuff. Maybe I didn’t want to write at all. Yet, I was here. I got dressed and came here. To find him.

  I stood there without a notebook or my phone out to take notes.

  “I’m supposed to write something about you,” I said.

  Josh looked at me. “Write what?”

  “A story. Whatever I want.”

  “So, you’re a reporter?”

  I laughed. “Hardly. I haven’t written in a long time.”

  “And here I am talking to you.”

  “Only because you know me,” I said.

  Josh nodded. “Yeah. I guess it’s been a while. Anyone after you right now?”

  My throat closed a little. “No. I’m good. I guess.”

  “Want a drink?” he asked and offered me the flask.

  “Sure,” I said.

  I put my lips to the flask and as I took a drink, a much younger version of myself started to giggle. An innocent voice that whispered you’re drinking from the same thing as Josh… which means it’s like kissing him… omfg…

  I extended my arm and Josh wrapped his fingers around my hand and the flask. He pushed from the wall and turned to face me.

  “What are you really doing here, Amelia?”

  Hearing my name come from his lips sent shockwaves through me.