“Why? You show yourself in your paintings and pictures. But not in life.”
“You do the same.”
“No. Those are talking animals in a made-up kid’s book.”
“No, it’s not. It’s your comfort. From what happened. From what your father used to do. For the life you were forced to live.”
Amelia quickly shook her head. She swung her right foot and turned just enough to slide off the counter and get out of my reach.
“You’re looking too deep into it, Josh,” she said. She touched her lips. “We can’t do this kind of thing.”
“And what’s that?” I asked.
“Whatever this is. Trying to relive the past or whatever. You can’t just kiss me, thinking it’s okay because you did it once before.”
I laughed. “That’s what you think?”
“I don’t know, Josh.”
“You’re the one who came after me, love. You were sent to talk to me, remember? And you keep coming for more. What about my story is so important to you?”
Amelia didn’t answer. I watched her eyes move to her bag. She grabbed it in a hurry as though I was going to take it first and keep her hostage.
Before she said she had to leave, I walked to the door and opened it.
“I’m sorry for asking anything,” she said. “I didn’t know what would happen when I saw you again. That night… the chance to write again. Talk to you. Something I found… it’s a mess right now.”
I touched her hand as she walked out the door. “What did you find, love?”
She laughed. “Nothing. That’s the problem. I find nothing and turn it into something.”
“To protect yourself from the truth.”
She looked back at me. “You still know me all too well, Josh.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It was then. And I don’t want it to be now.”
“Why?”
Amelia turned her hand and interlocked her fingers with mine. Her fingers were short. Her nails all uneven. Not a hint of nail polish or anything like that.
She squeezed once and broke the hold.
I caught her blinking fast.
“Josh… I think I was in love with you back then.”
“You can always fly. You just have to close your eyes and think really hard about it.”
“But what if I fall?” the little pig asked its mother.
“What if you don’t?”
“You need wings to fly.”
“Look over your shoulder, precious.”
The little pig looked over her round shoulder and let out a yell.
There were wings! Real wings!
They were perfectly positioned and looked perfect. They were white, the edges thick with what looked like maybe feathers. And the little pig was suddenly able to move those wings. They weren’t there a moment ago! Now they were. And they were moving.
“How…?” the little pig asked.
“You’ve always had them,” the mother said to the little pig.
“I did?”
“Of course you did. You just have to believe you can fly and you will.”
The ground shook under them.
A heavy thud sounded.
They both knew what it was.
Who it was.
The monster. The dragon. The scary beast.
Big teeth. Bigger claws. Able to eat anything with one big gulp.
“You have to fly too,” the little pig said.
“No. I’ll stay. It’s your time.”
“No!” the little pig yelled. “You can fly too! LOOK!”
The ground shook harder.
The little pig’s mother turned her head and she had wings too!
The little pig put her hand out and the mother took her hand.
Together they jumped off the billion-mile-high cliff and together they started to fly.
All before the evil monster, dragon, beast could get them.
They were flying! They were happy!
I slid the papers away and smiled.
My throat felt squeezed shut and I wanted to yell, punch a wall, get out a lot of anger just sitting inside me… but I also wanted to rush over to Amelia, scoop her up and tell her that she would never need to worry about flying again.
Yet I had no idea what the hell that meant.
Yeah, it was a story written by a kid. Or a teenager. It was a horrible story. But the meaning of it. The reason why she wrote it. It wasn’t for herself. It was for her mother. And when things were too much, she’d run. She’d go to the worst part of the little town we were from and she’d find me.
And it was always just when I was ready to do something crazy. Or something stupid. Something that would define the rest of my life because as far as I was concerned back then, life was already over. I had lost her. And it wasn’t just her, but everything that came with it. The idea that forever wasn’t true.
Except those rare moments with Amelia when it felt like it could be real.
Only I couldn’t stick around.
I had already caused enough pain.
“Dammit,” I growled to myself as I reached for another drink.
I couldn’t even taste the whiskey by then.
But my thoughts were clear.
Amelia let me read one of her stories.
Which meant I now had to tell her the truth of my story.
Chapter 19
When the Dust Clears
THEN
(Amelia)
There was so much dust in the air I thought the house was on fire. The entire house shook before the dust rose. A picture on my nightstand fell over. I scrambled off the bed and thought about grabbing my stuffed animals, but I told myself not to. Bad enough I still wrote stories that had some of them talking in it.
I was too old for that.
Too old for so many things. But too young for so many things too.
For a second, I looked back and thought about jumping out the window. Not literally, meaning I wanted to hurt myself. But I thought about climbing out and finding a way to drop down. The only problem was that it was a long and straight drop. There were no places for me to put my feet or anything. It wasn’t like in some show or movie where there was a trellis or something to use as a ladder.
So the house shook and stopped.
There was another thud, but this one much quieter.
That was the door slamming.
Then there was the sound of my father’s truck starting and the busted muffler growling. It almost sounded like someone holding the end of a balloon and slowly letting the air out. He was supposed to have gotten it fixed like a month ago, but he claimed he lost the money.
I knew the truth.
So did Mom.
But both of us didn’t say a word.
I guess in some sense, we knew better.
Well, she did at least. I just followed her lead.
I saw the dust the second I got downstairs.
Panic set in, thinking my father had set the house on fire. Which he had threatened to do before. In some crazy romantic gesture, he would get so drunk that his violent side would calm enough that he’d say he wanted to burn the house down and start over.
“Mom!” I called out.
Instantly, she appeared from the cloud of dust, waving her hands.
The smell hit me and that’s when I knew it wasn’t smoke. It was like heavy powder.
That much dust though…
“It’s okay,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. It’s nothing we can’t easily fix.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
The dust danced and dissipated, giving way to the sight of the dining room wall.
Littered with holes.
Holes the size of my father’s fists.
Mom half smirked, as though it should be celebrated that my father chose the wall to hit instead of… you know.
I walked toward the dining room and started to count the holes.
One, two, three, four…
>
“Come on, Amelia, let’s have a cup of tea together,” Mom said.
She got between me and the wall and put an arm around me. She rushed me to the kitchen where she hurried to push all the junk mail and car parts across the table and against the wall.
“Mom,” I said. “You have to talk about it. At least to me.”
“Yup,” she said in a perky voice. “You got it. Yup.”
She scrambled through the kitchen to get two mugs that didn’t match after she put water in a pot to boil for tea. Her hands shook as she did so.
I just sat there in silence.
The minutes moving like hours.
The reality of my home life settling in deeper.
I kept glancing at the back door, wanting out.
I had nowhere to go.
But there was someone I could go look for.
The tea tasted funny.
The old pots and pans gave this metal flavor to everything.
And I was pretty sure the milk had expired.
I casually sipped the tea only twice. Then I just put the mug to my lips and pretended to drink.
Mom all but chugged hers.
From where I sat, I could see the dining room. The white dust from the wall on the floor looked like someone had opened a bag of flour and dumped it.
“It’ll get fixed,” she said. “You know how he is.”
“He’ll sober up and pretend it never happened, Mom.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s okay with you?”
Mom laughed and reached across the table. “Can I tell you a story?”
“Sure.”
“He bought this house because I saw it one time. On our first date.”
“Oh?”
“I swear, Amelia. I swear. There used to be this little Italian restaurant where the laundromat is now. When the owner passed, the restaurant was closed. Anyway, he insisted on taking me there. And we drove by this house. I pointed to it because it was Christmastime and there were lights around the porch and the two upstairs windows. And a plastic Santa next to the chimney. I made a comment about the house. How I wanted a house like that someday. Just a simple house. A simple life. And he remembered that, Amelia. The second this house went up for sale, he bought it. Like… that…” Mom snapped her fingers. She smiled and looked away. “That’s what he did…”
“Years ago, Mom,” I said. “Years ago.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Years ago.”
If he had done what he did to the wall to you, Mom, you wouldn’t be here right now…
My heart ached with the words I wanted to say.
Mom stood up and her chair went flying behind her. “Well, I’m going to bed. You should too. Everything will be okay, Amelia. Fly, baby, fly…”
I nodded. “Always.”
“What’s the new story?”
“Oh, I don’t have-”
“You have to have something. Come on.”
My brain scrambled. “I… uh… well, there’s this one idea. This room with a window, right? But the way out is so steep, this person is trapped. So, she has to find a way out.”
“A person, huh?” Mom asked.
“Well, I don’t know yet.”
“How does she get out?”
Mom was really excited.
I was just making things up as I went along.
“Uh… she just stares down and is afraid. Until she finally just… does it.”
“She climbs down?” she asked.
“Yes. She has the ability and strength to climb down. To freedom.”
“I like that,” she said. “Write it. I want to read it.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
“Fly, baby, fly,” Mom said as she walked away.
I gave her a minute or two to get upstairs.
I wasn’t going to fly.
But I wasn’t going to stay home either.
Chapter 20
Rockin’ It
THEN
(Josh)
“This is for the win, man,” Murph said. “Pick your rock. Make it count.”
Abel stacked up the empty beer bottles on the tree stump.
There was a pile of rocks next to me.
This was how we stayed out of trouble. Which was kind of a lie, because throwing rocks at bottles was just practice for when we needed to throw rocks at windows.
Last week, Nash won.
Tonight he had been eliminated by Murph.
If I broke three of the bottles, I’d win.
And what would I win?
Nothing.
Just the right to brag. And then we’d do it again next week. Get together, drink - because we needed empty bottles to throw rocks at - and have fun.
It sure as hell beat being at home.
And with the nights starting to get comfortable again, I had no reason to go home, ever. I could find my way around, find somewhere to crash or just crash outside. As long as I stayed hidden and the cops didn’t break my balls for being out in public, I was good.
“Take your shot,” Abel called out.
I grabbed the first rock.
Murph liked to go through the rocks.
I eyed the bottles and wound up for my throw.
The rock sailed through the air and hit the bottles so hard, all three broke. They shattered all at once. It was an explosion of glass.
“Damn!” Nash called out. “You did it, man.”
I put my arms up in the air. “Told you I’d win tonight.”
“Now what do we do?” Abel asked. “We’re out of beer.”
“Let’s go steal more,” Nash said.
“And get some snacks,” Murph said. “Unless we feel like going for a run.”
“A run?” I asked. “Where?”
“There’s always work to be done.”
“I’m not in the mood to work,” Nash said. “I’m fucking exhausted after last week’s fight.”
We were all feeling it.
There had been a big fight last week.
Two schools. Meeting up at the coal dumps. Just working some pent-up stuff out. We fought until the cops showed up and then we all scattered before getting arrested.
The fights were needed, but they really didn’t do anything.
They would calm things down for a minute or two and then rumors and other bullshit would start.
I looked down at the rocks in the pile.
“What the hell are we going to do now?” Abel asked.
I pointed to the rocks. “I have an idea.”
We each had a bunch of rocks in our shirts.
“Right here,” I said.
We dropped our rocks down to the sidewalk across the street from my father’s house.
My mind pushed back at me.
He has a family. Another family. A new family. There are other people in the house. Innocent people. People who did nothing wrong to you. People who don’t know what had happened.
Even still… it was just how things went in life.
Kind of like what he did.
When he showed up and…
I brought my arm back.
“What are we doing?” Murph asked.
“We break every fucking window,” I said.
“Are you serious?” Abel asked.
“Watch me,” I said.
“Hey, Josh, wait,” Nash said. “Your girlfriend is here.”
“What?” I asked.
I lowered my arm and turned to see Amelia walking up the sidewalk.
What the hell is she doing here? Again?
She was just walking with her hands in her pockets and her head down. Not even realizing she was walking toward us. Or what street she was on. Not to mention if she kept going and went over the hill, she’d be in the worst part of town. A place where guys like Murph didn’t have guys like me to stop things from happening.
“Hey,” I called out.
She looked up and her eyes went really big.
“She’s cute and hot at the same time,” Murp
h said to me from the side of his mouth.
“Say that again and I’ll smash this rock through your teeth,” I said to him.
“Whoa,” he said. “Possessive?”
“Protective,” I said. “She has no idea what she’s doing.”
I met her down the sidewalk a little and she had that look on her face. The same look she had right before she cried that one night. Which meant something happened again with her father.
First thing I did was look at her face to make sure he hadn’t hit her.
Murph was right.
She was cute. And she was hot.
I shook my head though.
She was a few years younger than me.
Which was a big deal at my age.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She shook her head.
“Okay. Give me a second.”
I turned and looked at Murph.
I didn’t need to say a word.
“Hey, boys, let’s walk,” he ordered.
“Right,” Nash said.
“Enjoy the night,” Abel said.
They all looked at Amelia and they all started to laugh.
My lip curled.
Sometimes I thought about fighting them.
“Why do they look at me like that?”
“Truthfully? They think you’re my girlfriend.”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“I told them you were.”
She swallowed hard. Her cheeks went flush. “Why…”
“It’s hard to explain,” I said. “It’s sort of a claiming thing. That sounds bad. Really bad. But… you’re a pretty girl, Amelia. They look at you a certain way. And a lot of others would too. And they would do anything or say anything to convince you to like them. And it’s not just liking them, okay?”
“What does that mean?”
I touched my jaw. “Seriously?”
“What? What am I missing?”
“They think we fool around, okay? That’s why they leave when you show up.”
Amelia gasped and stepped back. “Fool around… as in…”
A Letter to Delilah Page 11
