Delilah | H.S

008

h a r r y

The movie had finished long before either one of us decided to speak. Delilah still had my one of my hands within hers as she placed with the tips of my fingers. I watched she run her hands up and down, stopping once they came into contact with my rings. Then, she would start again.

I felt comfortable in this position. Usually when I was in the comfort of woman, I felt uneasy, stupid almost. I never knew more than then their name when I brought them home, or went back to their place. But, I knew Delilah and that made me feel at ease to be so close to her.

The sound of her voice alongside the words that she said took me by surprise, "Do you ever wish to be someone else?" She spoke.

There was something in her voice.

It caused me to look away from where I had been staring over her shoulder at our fingers interlaced. I sat up slightly and sat at the way she laid deep into the pillow. Her eyebrows were furrowed downwards and there was a frown etched across her lips.

"Someone who is well-put together, without any faults of their own." She said.

"Delilah," I spoke. "There is no such thing. Everyone faults at least once in their life."

As those words fumbled off of my lips, she sighed. It was as if she knew that I would say that, but still unsatisfied with my answer— as if she had hoped that I would just agree with her and tell her about my dreams as well. Truth be told, I did think about being someone else sometimes— someone who did not require a therapy session every week, someone who other people wanted to be, and someone who I liked being. But, I did not want Delilah to feel that way about herself, as selfish as it sounds. I liked everything about her and I did not want her to change.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Everything," she said, letting out another small sigh before leaning further back into the plush pillows. "The question is what is not wrong."

"There cannot be fault in everything," I said, "I mean, I am here. And, I am quite the sight to see."

She began to laugh— but it was not the laugh that I had known her to have. It was slightly less than. Her hair fell into her face and I watched she let go of my hands to brush it away, then to only grab one of my hands this time.

"Talk to me." I said, this time having a seriousness in the way that I spoke. We talked about any and everything during the times that we spent together, but it was hardly ever about something as serious as this seemed to be about. We talked about movies, our favourite colours, our hobbies, but never anything that really shifted our relationship.

"I found out today that my mom has wanted to be in my life since the moment that she left." She said. "And that it was my father that kept her away from me."

My heart fell. She placed her head further into my chest and sighed some more.

"I went years thinking that I meant nothing to her— that she regretted the time that we had once shared. When really she had wished we had more moments." She said. "She called my dad today and I overheard them on the phone. I have not heard him say her name since the day that she left. She was crying and asking him when he would finally left her talk to me. After he hung up, we got into a huge argument about it."

"Delilah, I am so sorry." I responded.

"That is why I called you earlier. I did not know who else to talk to." She spoke. "I do not have anyone else." She added only this time her voice fall quieter.

I ran my hand along her arm comfortably. She leaned into my touch. "I am glad you called and that you are here."

"I just left him sitting there. I walked out the door with absolutely nothing in my hand. I knew that nothing he could have said in that moment would have changed how I felt." She said. "I do not know how I will face him."

"You take it one step at a time." I said. "You are more than welcome to stay here until you are ready."

"Thank you, Harry." She says. "You are too good to me."

"Do you plan on calling your mother?" I started. "We could do it together."

"That is the funny thing, I don't know. Despite the fact that she had wanted to keep in touch with me all these years, she still left— without even a goodbye." She said. "She still hurt me and my dad, and I do not know how to move past that."

It was silent between us for a moment.

"You do not owe anyone anything, Delilah. No one but yourself. If calling your mother is what you want to do, you do it." I say. "You can call her tomorrow, next week, or never. It is only your decision to make."

"I have never been able to make my own choices." She started. "I was always forced to do things that other people wanted me to do, or expected me to. With my dad, he wanted me to be the perfect daughter— the one who was great at every sport, was the smartest in every class, and the one who would always need him. With Matt, he wanted me to simply just be his girlfriend— the one that was always silent and looked pretty."

I had seen it since day one— she did not know who she was. She was the girl that was once never seen without a dress that two sizes too small, showing off more than she should. She was the girl that would sit at the cafeteria table with her boyfriend and his friends wordlessly. And she was the girl that everyone wanted her to be.

Apart of me wished that I could tell her that she could be absolutely anyone she wanted to be with me— she could be the girl that only wore sweatpants, the girl that never combed her hair and wore makeup, the girl that swore in every sentence she spoke, and the girl that did not have to hide how sad she was. But, it was not that easy. She had spent her entire life molding into everyone's vision of her that she did not even know what she looked like in the mirror.

"I like being around you, Harry." She said into the darkness and silence of the night.

I listened as the television whirled on a blank screen. The white light illuminated the entire room.

"I like being around you too, Delilah." I responded.

"You are the only one that calls me Delilah— not Del, or any other nickname. Before you, my mother was the only one that referred to me by my given name." I listened as she continued to speak. "I guess that it why my father can no longer bring himself to say it."

Although it was the last thing that I wished to do I said, "I can stop if you would like." Allowing her to make her first choice.

She rustled underneath the blankets until her body was facing mine and her eyes were staring directly into mine. We just started at each other for a moment. I had not realized until now that she had been crying— her sobs being another quiet part of the night. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were visibly redden. Her pink lips were pulled into a small smile.

She brought her hands up to my hair and began to entangle her fingers in it. With every overpass I could feel her shift closer and closer, until her body felt as though it was a part of mine and our breaths were one.

Her blue eyes then fell down to my lips. She stared at my slightly chapped lips. I began to feel uneasy for the small indentation that I had in the right corner of them. I got it during one of my drunken nights. My friends said that I had took a swing my broken beer bottle and that it nicked me on the first sip— my lip was bleeding for twenty minutes straight.

She brought her lips to it, her cold lips encasing the indentation whole. She laid her lips there for a moment, as if afraid to see the reaction in my eyes once she pulled away.

I did not know what to feel. Here Delilah was kissing me for the first time and I just laid there like a fish out of water. I have kissed my fair share of women, but it had never felt like this. In the past they were just warm lips that smelled like mint and alcohol, but Delilah's were different— they were cold and smelled of strawberry chapstick. They were exactly how I had imagined them to be, but different at the same time. A good different.

She pulled away shortly after. I had expected to see a look of fury, or sadness in her eyes, but there was one of delight. It was as though she was happy that I was not so forward with kissing her— that she knew I wanted to take my time with her.

"You can still call me Delilah, Harry." She said.