A Letter to Delilah

by Jaxson Kidman

  “So, how did you and Aaron become friends?”

  “The way normal kids do. We met in grade school. Became friends. Just stayed that way.”

  “Yet it seems Aaron missed a big chunk of your life, Josh. And that big chunk…”

  “Right. Why wasn’t Aaron there when Delaney died? Why wasn’t Aaron there when Gram died? What does Aaron really know about Delilah?”

  “You’re asking the questions and I don’t have those answers.”

  “I do though,” I said. I paced the comfortable office that smelled like polished furniture. “Would you believe me if I said I was protecting him?”

  “You know, you’ve used that word many times here, Josh. Protecting. Protect. Protection. You’re adamant about that. Why?”

  “Look at my life. It’s all I know.”

  “Who did you want to protect first?”

  “I don’t know. When Delaney was dropped off, I had to protect her. I knew what waited for her if my father was in and out of her life.”

  “Ah, right. You didn’t want her to live the way you did.”

  “Same with my grandmother. She got sick. She had nobody.”

  “It all makes sense, Josh. But what about Aaron? Why him?”

  I stared at the window and smiled. “He had a simple life. A normal life. I went to his house for the normalcy. I mean, even down to his parents’ work schedules and balancing dinners and paying the bills. It was just…”

  “Normal.”

  “Normal,” I said. “My life wasn’t. I think there was a sense of innocence with Aaron. I didn’t want him to see it. And he wouldn’t get it. He really wouldn’t get it.”

  “So that’s why you chose other friends.”

  “Yeah. Those were people who got it.”

  “Tough lives. Living on the edge of crime and death.”

  “Are you judging me?” I asked.

  “No. Just speaking.”

  “Aaron knew some stuff,” I said. “A lot. But I kept him away. Our friendship never went away, but time put a wedge between us. When his parents got divorced it really messed with him. But even still, he had a normal life. We could go a year or more without talking and then meet up and it was like we’d seen each other a week prior. That was our friendship.”

  “And he’s the one you made the promise to. To be here.”

  “He was the one who saved me that night.”

  I had a sinking feeling that was sometimes impossible to shake.

  “You called him.”

  “Yeah. And he showed up. He talked to the people who owned the house. He was there with me through everything. He’s like a brother to me.”

  “Yet you have this hidden sense about you and him. Much like other things, Josh.”

  “And your point?”

  “Why hide so much?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “Okay. What do you think will happen if you talk…”

  “I’m not answering that,” I repeated. “Don’t start pushing at me. I’m only here to talk and leave.”

  “But I would like to do more than talk.”

  “Are you coming onto me now?”

  “Josh…”

  I waved my hands. “Sorry, you don’t appreciate my humor.”

  “You lost a lot in a short time. You talk about someone that I cannot confirm is actually someone. You went looking for that someone and ended up breaking-”

  “You’re going to repeat my history to me? Is that what you do? Try to beat me down by bringing up all my sins?”

  The office grew silent.

  “Delilah is real,” I said. “That’s all I’m going to say. And, yeah, I lost a lot in a short time. And, yeah, I kept Aaron away from it. Part of me wishes he would forget about me and live his goddamn life. But part of me doesn’t want to miss out seeing him living a good life.”

  “Why can’t you see yourself living a good life?”

  I laughed. “You know, you told me to write a letter. I lost the letter. I never destroyed it. I lost it. And that letter is… it’s fucking haunting me. So, any of your advice is worth nothing to me.”

  “Yet you still show up.”

  “You want me to write another letter?”

  “Do you want to write another letter?”

  I rubbed my jaw. “I want to leave. And I want to never come back here again. Because the fucking truth is simple. It’s love. Love makes me feel this way. Act this way. Love makes me who I am. But because it’s not fucking roses and diamonds, it’s thought of in a different way.”

  “Love. Okay. And who exactly do you love, Josh?”

  I put my hands to the couch I should have been seated at. I leaned forward and felt the fire roaring from my eyes from the twists of fate that burned in my heart.

  “I love the one I can never have.”

  Chapter 41

  Just Go Home

  NOW

  (Amelia)

  “Hey, you have to come smell this.”

  I had tried counting the stars three different times and lost count after just two. The stars meant nothing to me, but the distraction meant everything. I was lost without Josh. I was lost without the letter to Delilah. I couldn’t stop playing it in my mind, thinking about the fact that he was the one who wrote the letter. He wrote that letter to someone named Delilah, who was the person he truly loved. And yet the letter was written in such a way that said Delilah was gone, but I didn’t know what that meant.

  Gone as in distance.

  Gone as in time.

  Gone as in forever.

  Fingers snapped next to my ear. “You hear me?”

  “What?” I asked Mags.

  “You have to check this out,” she said. “It’s so gross.”

  I stood up and followed her into the restaurant.

  I had no desire to smell anything gross. But most of the staff was gathered near the walk-in fridge.

  “Nope, nope, nope,” Chrissy said as she bolted from the fridge covering her mouth.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “You just have to see and smell it,” Mags said. “Mitch is going to fire someone over it.”

  “There was a smell in there,” Daniel said as he wiped his hands on his dirty apron.

  He was one of the cooks and thought he was working in Paris at a top restaurant. He wasn’t all that good of a cook. The only reason Mitch kept him was because he did all the stuff nobody else wanted to do.

  “What kind of smell?” I asked.

  “Like the date he paid for last weekend,” someone called out.

  Everyone laughed.

  “What’s going on back here?” Mitch’s deep managerial voice boomed.

  It was like being in high school again, watching everyone scatter as though we were under the bleachers, smoking, and the principal came to bust up the fun.

  “Hey, Mitch,” Daniel said. “We’ve got some seafood that went sideways in here. Found it in the back corner. No idea how long it’s been in here.”

  “Who the hell was in charge of the fridge last week?” Mitch asked, looking for a head to chop off.

  Lucky for me I was a waitress.

  I inched back and had all intentions of going back to work.

  But then Daniel being Daniel, he darted into the fridge and grabbed a handful of whatever had gone bad. He showed it to Mitch and the smell turned its way toward me.

  The second it touched my nose, my stomach launched like a rocket.

  I put my right hand to my stomach as my eyes spied the oozing and gooey liquid of what used to be something edible.

  I vowed right then and there to never eat seafood ever again.

  But that meant nothing for what was about to happen.

  “I’ll gladly clean this out,” Daniel said to Mitch. “But my ass isn’t taking the-”

  I turned and spotted a trash can.

  A hand went to each side of it and I buried my face into the trash can as I threw up.

  And it wasn’t just some cut
e girl throw up either.

  It was… bad.

  I screamed like I was dying.

  The sound of my stomach emptying slapped against the sides and bottom of the trash can and sounded so loud, I went from sick to embarrassed.

  “Holy shit,” Daniel called out.

  I lifted my head. “Get that out of here!”

  I pointed to the nasty, rotted seafood.

  “My goodness, Amelia,” Mitch said. He put a hand toward me and stopped. “Are you… that was…”

  I touched my bottom lip.

  Everyone was staring at me.

  “Did you not smell that?” I yelled.

  “Everyone get back to work,” Mitch ordered. “Daniel, clean that fridge out. Check everything. Twice. Three times. I’ll handle the outcome later.” Then he set his sights on me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. “That smell…”

  “I can’t keep you here, Amelia.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t stay. I know the smell… but if it’s anything else…”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Mitch,” I said. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ll chug water. Soda. Beer. I’ll eat a burger. I’ll eat…”

  My stomach growled deep and twisted.

  I had a single hiccup that made me freeze, wondering if it was just a hiccup.

  Mitch put his hand out. “You need to go home. Just to be safe.”

  “Mitch…”

  “This isn’t a conversation any longer. I told you to do something. Someone will cover your tables.”

  I stared at him in disbelief, but that lasted all of about five seconds.

  Mitch turned his attention to the kitchen staff.

  I had plenty more in me to argue.

  But instead I threw up again.

  I wasn’t going to tell Grace that I got sick at work.

  She was terrified of illness.

  I played out what to tell her the entire drive home.

  It was the only way to stay calm from being pissed off at Mitch. And it was a welcome change to the racing thoughts about Josh.

  He left his own apartment, leaving me stranded there.

  And I waited for hours.

  Three hours to be exact.

  I didn’t touch the letter.

  I just paced, waiting for him to come back. Wondering what the right words were to say to him. I needed him to know that I wasn’t trying to get a story out of him to write or sell or whatever. Nobody gave a crap what I wrote about anyway. I was a nobody. But with Josh I felt like somebody. I felt safe. I felt loved. It was the way he looked at me and touched me, bringing back the only good memories I had of being a teenager and reminding me of what we would be capable of if we stayed together now.

  After three hours, I left.

  That was almost a month ago.

  A month.

  A month without hearing Josh’s voice. Or seeing him. Our conversations were quick texts that had no meaning behind them. It was just me knowing he was alive. I didn’t fear him doing something intentional to himself, but I feared him losing his edge over the letter and whoever Delilah was.

  I spent so much time alone in my room with notebooks and my laptop, going through old memories of my life like a dusty box of pictures. Writing down ideas and typing up what became nothing more than quick stories, which had no real life. And each time I wasted hours on it all, it was a gentle reminder that my life at the restaurant was far from over. I’d then toss and turn in the middle of the night wondering if I should bother writing anymore. Just put it all away and leave it be. Or figure out a new career in life. Maybe do what Grace did. Coach people through life.

  Because I was so good at coaching myself.

  Of course, I couldn’t just get home.

  Miss Laura was outside her apartment, cleaning her door.

  She would actually wipe her front door down at least once a week.

  “Amelia!” she cried out when she saw me.

  She wiped her forehead.

  “Hard work?” I asked.

  “You can’t imagine it. Need to keep my place spotless. Hey, what are you doing back so soon? Your shifts are never this short.”

  “Caught a lucky break,” I said.

  “Bad business?” Miss Laura shook her dirty rag at me. “I always tell people, you never know about the restaurant business. It’s so strange. I think we all need to just cook at home. Go back to the way it used to be.”

  “Well, if that happens, I’ll be out of a job,” I said with a weak smile.

  “You’re a writer, Amelia. Not a waitress.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “Oh, come on now,” she said. “Say, let me tell you a story…”

  I groaned in my mind.

  Then in my stomach.

  It wasn’t a sick groan.

  It was probably a hungry groan.

  After throwing up at work, I was now hungry.

  How perfect.

  “I need to get inside,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Another meeting?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “Your door looks nice.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” Miss Laura said. “The trick is to mix-”

  “Write it down for me,” I said as I made a move for my door.

  The whole another meeting thing slipped my mind until I saw Bel sitting at the dining room table.

  She had a balled-up tissue in her hand and dabbed her left eye.

  “Oh…” I managed to say.

  Grace spun around. “What are you doing home?”

  “Early night,” I said. “Sorry. I’ll disappear.”

  Bel cleared her throat. “Amelia. It’s so good to see you again.”

  “I’m so sorry for interrupting here.”

  “Hardly,” Bel said. “I own my emotions. I had a rough day.”

  “Join the club,” I said.

  I immediately regretted saying that.

  “What’s wrong?” Grace asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Let me get out of the way here.”

  I hurried to walk by, knowing one of them was going to grab me.

  Of course, it was Bel.

  “Have you written any more about that letter?” she asked.

  I felt Grace’s eyes burning at me too.

  “No,” I said. “I found out who wrote it and the ending wasn’t what I thought.”

  “You’re a writer though, Amelia. You could make up your own.”

  “Not with that,” I said.

  “I have other work available,” Bel offered.

  “I think it’s worth considering,” Grace said.

  “Then I will do that,” I said. “I will consider it.”

  “You seem different,” Bel said. “Something about you… I don’t know.”

  “I’m just tired and annoyed,” I said. “I don’t want to be bothered.”

  Bel let me go. “Hint taken.”

  “Why don’t you sit with us?” Grace asked.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  I walked to my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed. I bit my lip. I swallowed hard. I felt out of place. Yet, it was the comfort of my room. In my apartment. Cat posters and all.

  I had my phone in my hands.

  Hey. Listen - I’m sorry about the letter. This is crazy that we don’t talk anymore. I loved you then, Josh. And I love you again now. It’s different though. I’m sorry I asked about her. I just never read anything like that. And what she must have meant to you. You still love her. And that’s okay. I could live with that. But I can’t live without you.

  My thumb flirted over the screen. One flick of my thumb and the message would be sent.

  I deleted the message and tossed my phone to the bed.

  I crashed down and touched my stomach.

  “Stupid fish,” I whispered.

  I reached for my phone again.

  I miss you, Josh. Please tell me you’re okay.

  That one I s
ent without hesitation, even though it made my heart race.

  I waited for what felt like hours for Josh to respond.

  My eyes slowly shut and I dreamed I was running up a hill. On a sidewalk.

  I knew exactly where I was.

  The old street and sidewalk where I’d run when I needed to find Josh.

  In my dream, I did find Josh.

  Except he was walking away from me.

  His arm around someone else.

  A girl his height. With long, blonde hair. I assumed her hair smelled like strawberry or lavender. Something sweet yet calming. And I never had any of that stuff. We could never afford it. My clothes and hair smelled like cheap soap, dust, smoke, and grease.

  Josh never looked back.

  The girl slid her hand down and pinched his butt.

  The girl was Delilah.

  I knew it.

  I just knew it.

  I gasped in my dream - and in real life - as I woke up.

  When I looked at the clock it was almost three in the morning.

  I had fallen asleep for almost six hours.

  I reached for my phone and saw Josh had replied to my text.

  Just after midnight.

  Miss you too. Forget about me. Once and for all.

  My stomach flipped over and over.

  I sat up and coughed.

  I looked around the room.

  I’d never moved so fast as I raced to the small trash can in the corner of my room.

  I got sick all over the ripped-out notebook pages and typed ideas of stories and books.

  This was my life.

  Puking all over ideas that could have become something.

  Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Josh.

  Or that stupid dream.

  Or Delilah.

  I sort of hated her. But it was more jealousy than anything else.

  I’d never have Josh the way she had him.

  Chapter 42

  Lonely Walks and Lonely Thoughts

  NOW

  (Josh)

  I destroyed the letter.

  And I wrote a new one.

  I didn’t carry this one with me though. This one was tucked away in a drawer where I promised myself it would never be seen.