This Dark Salvation

VII.

The funeral was dreadful and boiling hot. Every inch of the catholic church was adorned with lilies and the flowers gave me allergies. My nose was red and runny, so everyone assumed that I was crying. After three hours of enduring wailing women and stiff men, many of whom I couldn't care to remember, I retreated behind the church and smoked several cigarettes. The air was liquid smooth even though there was a light rain fall. The swollen clouds were thick and greying. I sat on a cement block and dipped my head towards the warm dirt letting the thick breeze dry my sweat soaked button down.

"Bummer that you're all sticky. I'd hug you but..."

I glanced up at Delilah. "Nice dress."

She smiled while doing a spin. The black sapphires flashed across the hem and neckline. "Specially made," she said before quickly lowering her excited spirit. She squinted at the rainfall saying, "Do you think I should be getting this wet?"

"No, I suppose not."

I hauled myself up and took her arm leading her to shelter under the hanging roof. I continued smoking as she crossed her arms and leaned backwards against the wall. The rain clung to the edge of the roof and slowly dripped off splattering my shoelaces. There was a pleasant silence and I was glad that Delilah was conceited enough to not ask about me or my parents. Maybe she was just doing that out of respect, I don't know, she's hard to decipher at times.

"When are you leaving?" she asked.

I dug my shoe through the drooping grass and took a long breath. "Two days."

Delilah hummed.

"When's you're wedding?" I asked taking the last of my cigarette.

"A couple of months..." she trailed off. Delilah abruptly turned to me; her eyes squinted small. "I don't think it's going to work out."

"Whys that?"

She stared at me before biting her lip. "He's busy," was all she breathed.

Delilah looked into the sky before leaning on my side. She took my hand, clutching it between both of hers.

"Manson, I close my eyes and I always reimagine lying next to you behind the summer cottage. Do you remember that day?"

"I do," I whispered. "We snuck out there for a weekend."

"That was a year ago. It feels as if it were only a week ago." Delilah was resting her cheek on my shoulder. "I want to be back there. In the solitude of that lake, the air was so pure there, far from the city," she laughed to herself before continuing, "and swimming naked like heathens."

I cracked a smile.

"He doesn't care for me, Manson," she said about her soon to be husband. "And I don't really care for him. I know he's seeing other girls, it's obvious."

"I'm sorry," I said. Trust me, I said this out of sincerity.

"I am too," sighed Delilah.

I flicked the cigarette into the dirt. Both of us didn't wanted to admit defeat in our perfect lives. Instead, we stood beside each other in seamless quiet. The drizzle stayed consistent giving us no excuse to break it. So, we kept it that way.