A Letter to Delilah

by Jaxson Kidman

  “Thought you and Rae worked that out?”

  “When she woke up ready to dump hot coffee on me?”

  “Trust me, she’d love to hurt you, Josh, but she’d never waste coffee. Not on you.”

  “I feel even more welcome,” I said.

  “That’s the thing… you’re sort of not. You showed up last night around one in the morning.”

  “Shit. Did I wake Toby?”

  “No. You woke me. And Rae.”

  “And she didn’t kill me?”

  “You’re lucky she was comfortable,” he said.

  I grinned. “You two really have something special together.”

  “Yeah. Special.”

  “Hey.” I put the coffee mug down on the counter. “I’m sorry. Last night got the best of me.”

  “Thought it was a big night for you.”

  “It gets old, fast,” I said. “Everyone talking, questioning, most of the people full of shit.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “Who knows,” I said.

  I reached for the flask and Aaron swatted it away. Next thing I knew he had my arm and was twisting it behind my back. I felt like I was getting arrested. He put his right shoulder against my left shoulder and tried to pin me against the counter. In all fairness, if things were to get violent between myself and Aaron, it was a pretty even fight. He was stronger than he looked and the same size as me.

  “Don’t fuck around, Josh,” he said. “Last time you wandered around drunk… blacking out… showing up here…”

  I swallowed hard.

  “Should I give you two some alone time?”

  Aaron released his hold instantly as Rae walked through the kitchen.

  She was now dressed for the day. No more comfy PJ’s and messy bed head for her.

  “You look ready to take on the day,” I said with a smart-ass undertone.

  “First things first,” Rae said, “getting your ass out of my house.”

  “Blame him,” I said and nodded to Aaron. “He gave me coffee. Now I’m just waiting for breakfast. What are you cooking?”

  Rae laughed. “He think he’s funny?”

  “I’m trying to be serious for a second here,” Aaron said. He shoved me against the counter. “Look at me, Josh.”

  “Oh, Christ,” I said. “What’s with you?”

  “What you did last night was bullshit,” Aaron spat in my face.

  My eyes moved left, and I saw the look of surprise on Rae’s face.

  Aaron was the only person in the world who could yell at me and push me around like that and not get a fist to the mouth.

  “You remember Amelia?” I asked.

  “Who?” Aaron asked.

  “That’s right. You were too good to be bad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I used to run with Murph,” I said. “And his crew.”

  “Those assholes?” he asked.

  “Who’s Murph?” Rae asked.

  “Hey, sweetheart, can you-”

  “It’s cool,” I said, cutting Aaron off. “She can hear it. I don’t care.” I looked at Rae. “I wasn’t always the honest and upstanding man I am now.”

  Rae rolled her eyes. “Right.”

  “He used to get himself into trouble all the time,” Aaron said.

  “And you were there to bail me out,” I said, grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and shook him. “But seriously, there was this girl. Amelia. I only ran into her a few times. But when I did…”

  “Aw, are you in love?” Rae asked.

  “No,” I said. “She was always in trouble too. A different kind of trouble. Anyway, she was there last night. Trying to interview me for some story she was writing. That’s why I took off. The entire night was a joke. I felt like a spectacle to everyone there. And seeing her…”

  “I don’t remember Amelia,” Aaron said. “You never talked about her. I do remember De-”

  “That’s what happened last night,” I said. “Okay? I had a few drinks. I stole Azor’s flask.”

  “Azor?” Rae asked.

  “Long story. An artist friend. I drank what was in his flask. I wandered around the event and the mindless conversation just got the best of me. Then Amelia… well, to be fair, I saw her when I was holding Toby. She was the one he was trying to point to the painting for. He turned his head to tell her it was a red flower and he bopped his head against mine.”

  “And you thought to yourself, why not just get blasted drunk and show up at Aaron’s?” Rae asked.

  “I don’t remember,” I said. “But the good news is that you got to experience my presence one more time.”

  “Oh, how blessed we are,” she said.

  She opened the door to the fridge, blocking herself from view.

  I looked at Aaron and mouthed sorry, brother.

  He shrugged his shoulders and pointed. Then he mouthed get the fuck out.

  I pushed from the counter and my right hand touched my right back pocket.

  A flash of a memory from the night before hit me.

  I quickly shoved my hand into my back pocket.

  It was empty.

  I reached into my other back pocket and that was empty too.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron asked.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “The greatest words I’ve heard all morning,” Rae announced with her head in the fridge.

  I charged forward and Aaron put a hand out.

  I knocked him out of the way and kept going.

  I had done a lot of stupid things while drunk in my life… but this was bad.

  I lost the letter I wrote for Delilah.

  Chapter 9

  A Meeting II

  A WHILE AGO

  (Josh)

  “Did you do what we talked about last time, Josh?”

  I stopped pacing and looked out the fourth-floor office window. The parking lot was full, the town damp from the late morning rain. My eyes kept focusing on random droplets of rain that had clung to the window, not willing to let go so easily and just float down the glass.

  “Josh?”

  I turned. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Look, it isn’t easy, okay? You of all people should know that.”

  “I completely understand. That’s why I’m asking. I’m not judging. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just talking.”

  “Asking questions.”

  “Which is my job. Unless, of course, you have anything you’d like to talk about.”

  “Yeah, actually I do,” I said. I walked to a leather loveseat and sat down. Right on the edge. “What if I don’t ever want to say goodbye? Huh? What if that… stuff… is the driving force behind me?”

  “I believe it.”

  “You believe it?”

  “Yes. What you just said. The unanswered questions. The deep-seated anger. Pain. All of that manifests into something… well… beautiful. And if you write this letter. If you say goodbye. If you get that closure and walk away a little freer, then what?”

  “Exactly. Then what?”

  “You think you’ll lose your edge.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Forget about that for a second. I’m talking personal.”

  “Personal. Okay. What does that mean, Josh?”

  “That means…” I stood up and started to pace around the office again. I must have put a hundred miles on that floor by now. “She deserved better. More. A chance at life. And I’m the only one who ever cared for her… and then I’m the only one who says goodbye…”

  Silence filled the room.

  I hated when that happened.

  Those passing seconds waiting for someone to say something.

  “I don’t want that,” I finally said.

  “You don’t want to say goodbye? Even though you know she’s not really here.”

  “That’s where I call bullshit,” I said. “How can you tell me wha
t to believe?”

  “I’m not doing that at all, Josh. I’m talking in the physical sense. In the physical presence. Right?”

  “Fuck your physical presence,” I said. “How’s that?”

  “You can read the letter. Why not start there? Read the letter to me. Or read it into a mirror. So the words are said.”

  “Or never.”

  “What about your dream? Have you had it again lately?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Did you have any dreams?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. So, no dreams.”

  I looked at the door to the office. “Drinking helps.”

  “With what, Josh?”

  “Sleeping,” I said. “I drink. I sleep. There are no dreams.”

  “I think we both know what my response to that would be. I won’t say it… unless I have to…”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s a dangerous path.”

  “Would you like to shift gears a little? Maybe we can talk about something else. Come back to the letter in a little while.”

  “What else is there to talk about?” I asked.

  “We can talk about your father. Your family. Maybe we can-”

  “I think we’re good for today,” I said.

  I opened the door and left.

  Nobody came after me. Nobody begged me to come back.

  The only person who ever would… was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Same As Him

  NOW

  (Amelia)

  I opened the door to the gallery, and it was an entirely different world. The place was barren, the spotlights all turned off, the walls mostly bare, the fake wood grain floor looked cozy and comfortable as I walked through places that had been stuffed with people as they talked, laughed and stared at Josh’s artwork.

  A door at the back of the gallery opened. Out came a woman dressed in super tight blue jeans and a baggy black top. She was tall, skinny, elegant, her hair messy but done that way on purpose. She wore bright red lipstick and her eyes were a bright hazel color, highlighted by mascara and eye shadow. Her cheekbones were a mile high, chiseled to perfection. When she looked at me, I felt like I didn’t belong there at all. Hair? Makeup? I couldn’t remember if I had brushed my teeth that morning. This woman looked ready to walk a runway in a fashion show.

  “Can I help you?” she asked with a curious smile.

  “I was here last night…”

  “Oh, of course. Did we formally meet? If so, I do apologize. So many faces. I’m Sasha.”

  “Amelia,” I said.

  We casually shook hands for a quick second.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked.

  “You know, it’s going to sound strange, but I was here to interview Josh.”

  “Well, he’s not here right now,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since last night. He does that though. He’ll slip away and disappear.”

  “Right,” I said. “I didn’t expect him to be here. What am I saying? I also came because I lost… well, I didn’t lose. I mean, I found something.”

  “Found something?” Sasha asked.

  “Outside here. Was just wondering if someone reported something lost?”

  “That’s rather vague,” she said. “Should I be worried?”

  “No,” I said. “I… it wasn’t anything important. I mean, of monetary value. It was a letter. Looked like someone had written someone else a letter.”

  “Well, I don’t have a lost and found in here.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I guess I wanted to see the aftermath. Try to understand a little more about Josh and his artwork.”

  “And you said you’re a writer?”

  “Yeah,” I said, skipping the long-winded, boring story. “I was here to do a piece on him. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him. So, I’m building a puzzle.”

  “Good luck,” Sasha said. “That puzzle has a million pieces, and many you’ll never find.”

  “No?”

  “I’m not the one to talk to about it,” Sasha said. “I consider Josh a friend. I would never divulge anything about him.”

  “Oh, I’m not asking…”

  “Of course you’re not,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I curled my lip as Sasha strutted away.

  The only reason you fit into those jeans is because you have no ass.

  I laughed in my mind and walked to the front of the gallery.

  Grace had tried to help me get my spark back for writing. And a letter I found was doing just that. I wanted to write about the letter. I’d never know the true story behind it, but I could make one up.

  As I opened the door to exit the gallery, a smell hit my nose.

  The familiar, harsh smell of cigarette smoke.

  From the corner of my eye I saw wisps of smoke curling around from the side of the building. Excitement got the best of me, wondering if the person who wrote the letter had come back to try to find it where they thought they had lost it.

  I turned the corner and saw who was there, smoking.

  “What are you doing here?” his voice questioned.

  It was Josh.

  “Want a smoke?”

  “No thanks,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I asked you first,” he said. He pushed from the building and started to walk away.

  “Where did you go last night?” I asked.

  “Why does that matter to you?”

  “Just curious. It was your night. All your work on display. You looked like you didn’t want to be here.”

  “Is this you being investigative? Didn’t get enough for your story? So you came back for more?”

  “Actually, no,” I said. “I came back for something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I said.

  We moved down the sidewalk and past the gallery.

  I was next to him as he smoked.

  “Then I guess whatever I did or do is none of your business too,” he said.

  “I’m not looking for a story, Josh,” I said. “I’m done with that.”

  “Done? Can I read what you wrote?”

  “I didn’t exactly write anything. Yet.”

  Josh laughed. “I’m sure your editor will be pissed.”

  “Good thing I’m not actually hired.”

  He paused. “What?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got nothing to do.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” he said.

  “Can you at least tell me what you were doing here?”

  “Last night was my show,” he said. “I always come back.”

  “Why?”

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be telling me your story.”

  “And my story revolves around your story.”

  Josh took the last drag of his cigarette and tossed it away.

  He closed in on me, staring down at me with the same dark and dangerous eyes that I remembered from a lifetime ago.

  “Then I guess we’re connected again, love.”

  The little corner breakfast place had a storm door like you’d see on a house. Josh held it open for me as I was attacked by the smell of coffee and syrup. My mouth began to water almost instantly. My mind was officially stripped away of the letter and all my thoughts - real and not - about it.

  I inched by Josh, smelling him.

  His clothes smelled like old air and smoke. It was the same as I always remembered on him. The tough boy who had a reputation of running all over the streets, hell bent on some kind of revenge that I never understood. What I did know was that when I needed someone more than ever before in my life, he was the one who showed up.

  He was also the one who gently touched my face one night and whispered into my ear that I needed to stay away from him. That he needed to stay away from me. And it wasn
’t because he was a couple of years older than me.

  In some way, Josh had been this wild memory, a type of fantasy that sometimes built up in my mind when I was alone at night, in the dark, biting my lip, feeling things that I never knew what they meant until I was a little older and realized it was… lust. A dirty crush. A physical need and desire for him.

  And go figure, time just made him look better.

  His hair messy in a much different way from Sasha’s forced, messy look. The scruff on his face suggesting he just didn’t give a damn about shaving until it annoyed him. His shoulders were wide against the black hoodie he wore, the bottom of the hoodie barely covering the top of his old, ripped jeans. I had to hurry and move my stare, realizing that I was picking him apart as though I’d had too much to drink, was feeling emotional, and was in desperate need of someone to touch me and tell me I looked beautiful.

  I hated that feeling.

  But not near Josh.

  He pulled a chair away from a table and kept walking.

  A half smile crept on my face as I realized he’d done that for me to sit.

  He swung around the table and sat down, leaned forward, and was right there staring at me.

  A waitress was already on her way with coffee.

  “What’s your story, love?” Josh asked in a soothing voice that had a rough undertone thanks to his cigarette smoking habit.

  “It’s really boring,” I said.

  “Maybe I could use boring in my life,” he said.

  “Why’s that?”

  Josh grinned and leaned back as the waitress put the coffee on the table.

  “Anything to eat, Josh?” she asked.

  “Surprise me,” Josh offered.

  “And for you?” she asked, looking at me.

  “Same as him,” I said.

  “I’ll be back in a few,” the waitress said and walked away.

  I raised an eyebrow. “She knows you.”

  “Wow. Your detective skills get better by the day.”

  “Just thinking out loud for a second.”

  “And what’s the story then?” Josh asked.