My stomach turned. I nodded and faked a smile. “Right.”
“Oh, look at me, missing the point of my story,” she said. “Dr. Williams said I needed to get this off my face. Fast. Like really fast. I’m talking emergency fast.”
“Jeez,” I said. “And it’s not-”
“Let me tell you about that,” she said. “Emergency? Fast? Me?” She shook her head. “I thought I was going to go.”
“Go where?”
“To my grave!” she announced loudly.
I stepped back. “Oh. Wow.”
“Just got the call though that it was nothing. So I guess I got a little plastic surgery, huh?”
Miss Laura laughed, and I kept inching back. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I’m really sorry but I have to get inside.”
“Oh, right, of course you do. You have company.”
“Company?” I asked. “You mean Grace?”
“No. I know Grace. Oh, me and Grace go way back.”
“I know you do,” I said. “But I really have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, dear,” Miss Laura said. “Let’s do tea soon.”
“Yes,” I blurted out. “We will do that. I hope you feel better.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “Dr. Williams said I was going to be fine. And to call him anytime I need him.”
“Great,” I said.
I had my hand on my doorknob and I twisted it.
Miss Laura turned her head for a split second, and I made my final escape.
I opened the apartment door and rushed inside.
I was home.
At peace.
Or so I thought.
But Miss Laura was right.
There was company waiting, for me.
Grace was quick to put a glass of wine into my hand.
“What is this?” I whispered to her.
Her hair was super long and smelled like lavender. She took pride in her calming appearance and demeanor, but after getting to know her the way I had, there wasn’t much about her that was really all that calming.
“Stay with me,” she whispered and turned.
“Anabel,” Grace said. “Meet Amelia.”
I watched as a tall woman wearing small framed glasses rose up from a chair at the dining room table. Her hair was black and pulled back in a tight, yet messy, bun with a pen stuck into it.
“The last of our kind,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“True writers, huh?”
“Writers…”
I glanced at Grace and she smiled. “Let’s start at the beginning. Anabel has been close to me for, what, two years now?”
“Please, call me Bel,” Anabel said. “Casual talk.”
“Right,” Grace said. “Casual. Do you mind if I tell Amelia the story?”
“Of course not,” Bel said. “Actually, I’ll do it. It’s simple. I was smart. Lived fast. Got a great job. Made a lot of money. And I burned out fast. Ended up depressed and started to have some bad thoughts about myself. That’s when I knew I needed a change. So, I quit my job. I traveled. I decided to start my own site. A blog. Then I moved along with social media and all that fun stuff. But the point is, I wanted to capture writing the way I always wanted it to be.”
“Just like you, Amelia,” Grace said.
“I’m confused here,” I said. “What is this?”
“This is me helping you,” Grace said. “I guided Bel through the darkest of her days. I helped her find her voice. And I know what writing means to you.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I looked at some of your stuff,” Bel said.
“What stuff?”
“Forgive me,” Grace whispered.
“What did you do?” I asked Grace.
“It’s okay,” Bel said. “I like your voice. I like the way you tell stories. There’s a realness to it. And I like that realness.”
“I’ve never… wait…”
“Just have a drink and breathe,” Grace said.
She touched my hand and I lifted the glass to my lips. I took a sip of the wine.
“I try to find stories that matter. Stories that are fun to tell. And you know what? I’m okay with fiction. I’m okay with talking life and putting your spin on it.”
“Bel wants you to write for her,” Grace said. “That’s why she’s here. I called her. We talked. She wanted to meet you.”
“I wish I knew about it,” I said. “I smell like a restaurant. I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about any of this.” I looked at Bel. “I’m sorry.”
I walked around Bel and put my wine glass on the table. When I spotted some of my notebooks on the table, I shook my head. I hurried to scoop them up and started thinking about where I was going to live because I couldn’t live with Grace anymore.
Bad enough I had to deal with pictures of cats everywhere. And a cat butter dish. And a little glass cat that poured creamer for coffee. And the cat salt and pepper shakers.
But this…
“You’re raw,” Bel said. “Because of your past. Which makes for good writing now.”
I froze and looked over my shoulder. “What?”
“I can read between the lines in the stories. Looking for comfort. Looking for a safe home. I’m not asking you to write me a novel. Or write the greatest story ever told. But if you’re interested in doing something with writing, I would love to help out.”
“Trust me, you don’t know anything about me,” I said. “Neither does Grace. You’re both way off the mark here.”
“Or maybe right on it,” Bel said. “That’s why you’re running. Protecting your heart. Which is beautiful.”
“I’m taking a shower,” I said.
I had no idea why I decided to announce that.
I was pissed off as I dumped the notebooks on my bed.
Writing was a thing of the past for me. And anything that was considered current was only what I did for fun and nothing else. Those stupid stories of talking animals I used to write about as a young girl. That’s what I sometimes still wrote.. For fun. Not for money. Not for seriousness.
And I didn’t care whether Bel was popular or not, the words I wrote were for me and nobody else.
I just wanted to come home after actually working an early shift, take a shower and try to relax.
I opened my bedroom door to find Grace standing there.
“You forgot this,” she said, holding the glass of wine again.
“What are you trying to do?” I asked.
“Be mad at me, that’s fine. Just have some wine and talk.”
“I said I’m taking a shower,” I said.
“With wine.”
“With wine,” I said, taking the glass from Grace.
I thought about showering and then packing my bags and leaving. But I had nowhere to go. This was my home. Crazy roommate and all.
I managed to sneak into the bathroom without seeing Bel again.
After I locked the door, I put the glass of wine on the ledge of the bathroom sink.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I needed something stronger than wine to get through the rest of the night.
“You can hate me all you want,” Grace said as she stood in the doorway.
I held the towel tight to my body. Grace may have been okay with walking around the apartment mostly naked - or completely naked a few times - but I wasn’t.
“I just know what Bel is looking for. She’s reaching out to heal her soul. It’s not like this thing is worldwide. I had been talking to her again, just keeping up with her recovery.”
“Recovery, huh?” I asked.
“When the soul breaks, it’s hard to put back together.”
People paid Grace to hear this stuff.
“My point is this, Amelia,” she said. “You’ve talked about writing several times. When you drink too much, it’s all you can talk about. And it’s something you should do. You enjoy doing.”
“What do I want to do
with some stranger, Grace? Some stranger’s blog? Seriously?”
“Well, there’s a little more to it.”
“Of course there is,” I said. “There’s always a little more to it with you.”
“There’s this art thing happening tomorrow.”
“Art thing?”
“Gallery? Showing? Event? I don’t know what it’s called. But this guy takes pictures and then paints on them or something. You sort of know him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Josh.”
“Josh?” I asked.
“Yeah. Josh. He’s the artist. And Bel was thinking if you went there and he recognized you, you’d be able to talk to him a little. You could write something up and she’d publish it online. That’s it.”
“Josh,” I whispered as my memory began to jog.
How many people named Josh had I met in my entire life? And I was supposed to just-
My mind froze.
I tried to keep a straight face.
But I wasn’t good at keeping a straight face. Ever. That’s what always got me into so much trouble when I was a young girl.
Grace slowly started to smile, seeing the reaction on my face.
“I guess you remember, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I do.”
“Whatever you decide, Amelia, it’s your choice. I was just trying to help. I knew if I talked to you about it, you’d push me away. So maybe having Bel here… well, that was a stupid idea. She did leave you this though.”
Grace brought an envelope from behind her back. She stepped into my room and slid it onto the nightstand.
Then she slipped away to where I wouldn’t see her for the rest of the night.
I made sure to lock my bedroom door before dropping the towel to the floor. My curiosity of the large envelope overruled my desire to get dressed.
So I stood there, naked, and opened the envelope.
There were several papers in it.
Copies of pictures and drawings.
And then a picture of him.
Of Josh.
Sitting on the top step of an abandoned house, arms on his knees, a lit cigarette burning away, his intense stare jumping off the picture and hitting me.
Oh, yeah, I knew exactly who Josh was.
Chapter 4
Take a Swing and a Shot
THEN
(Josh)
I climbed up on the hood of the minivan and twirled the baseball bat in my hand. There was no time for a tough guy speech or anything like that. Not that I had one to give anyway. I was running with three guys – Murph, Nash, Abel – and they were all way too deep in bottles of cheap booze, half drunk, talking about parties and girls.
But they still came with me all the way across town, walking back alleys and some busy streets to track down this fucking minivan.
I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to drive a minivan.
Leaving two kids behind to be raised by a woman who should have been retired and enjoying a simple life. Playing this fake game of caring about someone else and a different life, always leaving me wondering what was really said about me and her.
“Hey, Josh, you swinging that bat or what?” Murph asked.
“It’s getting fucking cold out here,” Nash said. “Freezing my dick off.”
Abel punched Murph in the arm. “Yo, Nash is afraid he’ll shrivel up in front of Katie. Remember last time? In the rain?”
Murph burst out laughing.
“Fuck you guys,” Nash said. “She dared me to run out in the rain naked. What the fuck was I going to do?”
“Tell her no?” Murph asked. “Shit, you thought that was going to help your chances with her? The look on her face…”
“And you screaming at everyone about being cold,” Abel said, snorting. “And what happens to your dick when you’re cold…”
“Shut the hell up,” I growled. “Let me do this.”
“Hey, Josh,” Murph said. “You might want to-”
I swung the baseball bat. And as I came down with it, I jumped a little just for extra power. I knew nothing about baseball, but I knew how to use a baseball bat.
When the bat hit the windshield there was a pop sound. The windshield didn’t explode like in some action movie. Instead, there was almost a dent in the glass. It spider cracked into an uneven circle. So I had to do it over and over, making my mark.
“Fuck, Josh!” Nash yelled. “Company!”
I had the bat in the air, and I looked at the house.
Tall bushes. Ugly yellow color. Concrete porch with a white, metal railing. Cliché and fake.
“Where?” I asked.
“Across the street,” Abel said. “Shit. Let me get her.”
Her?
I turned my head the other way and saw Abel already starting to move.
I jumped off the hood of the car and ran after him.
“Stop,” I ordered.
“I’ll fucking get her,” Abel said.
I poked the bat at Abel and knocked him off balance.
“Porch light’s on!” Murph announced.
Fuck.
“You three bolt,” I said. “Go to Jackie’s garage. Right now. I’ll take care of this.”
I ran across the street as the guys ran up the street toward the woods.
The air was crisp and went straight to my lungs.
But I could run for hours. For days. In the heat. The cold. Whatever.
I almost didn’t see the girl. If it wasn’t for her white hoodie I wouldn’t have.
She was at the side of a house, frozen, staring right at me.
I realized how I must have looked. Chasing after her. A baseball bat in my hand.
She looked to be my age. Maybe even familiar.
From school?
I wasn’t sure.
“Hey,” I said to her.
“Please…”
I looked at the bat.
I tossed it into the air and caught it at the middle point. Then with a hard throw, it flew through the air to my right, crunching into some bushes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. “I would never hurt a girl. Ever.”
“I didn’t see anything,” she said. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“What are you doing out here so late?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Do you live here?”
“Uh, no,” she said. “I mean, yes. I live here. My father has a gun. He’ll shoot you.”
“Bullshit,” I said with a grin. “You don’t live here. And your father doesn’t have a gun.”
“Why would I lie to you? I saw what you did.”
“Thought you just said you saw nothing?”
“I lied,” she said. “About that.”
“But not the house?” I asked.
“No. I live here. And my father is going to shoot you.”
“Then let’s find out.”
I ran to the steps of the house.
I made it up two steps before the girl let out a small yell and grabbed for my hoodie.
I stopped and turned, staring down at her.
“I don’t live here,” she said.
“I knew it.”
“But my father does have a gun.”
“What does that have to do with anything here?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you the truth.”
“Right. You’d better get home. It’s getting cold out.”
“Nobody knows I’m out here,” she said.
“Nobody cares that I’m out here,” I said.
She backed up and I walked down the steps to the sidewalk.
We were two strangers standing in front of a stranger’s house.
I noticed her hair. Dark blonde and super curly. Her eyes were a dark shade of blue. There was this sense of tough innocence about her.
“Seriously, you’d better go,” I said. “My guys are meeting me somewhere. And when that guy” - I poin
ted to my father’s house - “comes out and finds his windshield fucked up, he’s going to call the cops.”
“Who is that guy?”
“Nobody you need to know,” I said. I closed in on her. “Just like me.”
She smelled like honey and lavender. And how in the hell I knew those two smells was beyond me.
I sidestepped and nodded, waiting for her to walk away.
When she went out of sight, I looked to my father’s house again.
He was stumbling down the porch steps, about to find his minivan with some damage.
I smiled, but it didn’t make me feel any better inside.
A messed-up windshield for a messed-up childhood didn’t seem to be a fair trade at all.
Chapter 5
Two Days Expired
THEN
(Amelia)
OMG… cute guy alert.
I stuffed my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie and rolled my eyes.
I knew there were some streets in town I wasn’t supposed to be on, but I never knew why until now.
After cutting through a few yards, walking along an old, rusted chain link fence, I heard the sound of voices and couldn’t believe what I had seen. A guy on the hood of a minivan, swinging a baseball bat over and over. Three other guys on the ground, watching.
Stupid me for freezing up and being seen.
And stupid me for running and stopping at a random house not that far from where the vandalizing had happened.
But at least I got to talk to him.
And by him I had no idea his name or who he was.
Just some tough, cut boy in a black hoodie who was super tall. With messy, long hair, and a really mean look in his eyes. At least until we started talking. Then the look in his eyes changed. He relaxed a little, even after I told him I lived in the house I stood at and that my father had a gun.
I hurried back home and went through the back door into the kitchen.
As I turned to shut the door, I bumped the counter full of empty beer bottles. They clanked together and one took a dive to the floor. The sound was like a bomb going off.
A Letter to Delilah Page 3
