Delilah's Tears

Chapter Fourteen

Delilah

For the second time in less than a year, my condo is like a mausoleum. The only life here is me. Alone. JD moved out several weeks ago. How I held back the tears and pulled myself together long enough to help him set up his kitchen, I couldn't say. If anyone deserves an acting award, it's me. Slap on that smile and force out a few giggles. Tease JD about his stark bachelor pad. I've been over once or twice since, but it's hard. I miss his ugly mug around our place. I want him to come home to me. I won't admit this, even in my own head, but there are times I miss him more than John. Even thinking about thinking about that mortifies me.

As I flip on the shower and immerse myself in the hot spray, I slap a steadying hand onto the tile.

"Oh my God, John. What am I doing? You've been gone the better part of a year, but still. I'm mooning over your brother as if he was a high school sweetheart who broke up with me. I'm so sorry, baby." Tears spring forth like a fountain. I've been tear-free for a few months—mostly—but admitting whatever the hell I'm admitting to John still seems like I'm cheating on him. That's when I truly understand why JD moved out. He figured out we had become too dependent on each other. I'm not done grieving John. I have no place moping around over JD's leaving. The tears stop, and I swell with anger.

The phone rings four times before there's an answer. The whole time I'm tapping a foot on the floor and drumming my fingers as I stand in my closet sifting through outfits.

"Finally. What took you so long?"

"Well, hello to you, too, Del." Meghan sounds a bit out of breath. I sigh at my impatience.

"Hi. I'm sorry. I just need...my best friend."

"Aww. Still missing the boys?" Wow. Interesting way to put it.

"Yeah. It's crazy, but I'm not even sure who I miss more at this point. You up for going out?"

"Do you have to ask twice? Where to? It's Saturday night. I'm sure nightlife is a-buzzing."

I grimace. Crowds of people. Ugh. "What's the most sedate place you can think of?" I want peace. Meghan laughs, and I can practically see her shaking her head at me.

"I got just the place Del. Put on a dress. I'm picking you up in an hour. Makeup too. No cheating. It's time to get out there, have some fun, and quit moping."

"Meghan..."

"No. Sweetie, you're still sad. I get it. You miss James. I get it. You're not on the prowl for a new guy. I get it. Going out doesn't equal finding a hookup. One hour." Click.

All righty then. I pull out a little black dress that's not too sexy, but does fit well. Nope. Too funereal and depressing. Red? Nope. That one yells sexy at the top of its lungs. Pink? Gah. I'm not a little girl, either. I finally decide on a white dress that falls mid-thigh. It's a little clingier than I'd like, but I love the trendy black and silver metallic strip that runs down each side. Even though it is sleeveless, the straps are a decent two inches wide—passing the old lasagna noodle width test from high school dress code—and the scoop neck dips down the right amount without showing too much cleavage.

After drying my hair and partially pinning it up, I apply makeup. As I'm dabbing on mascara it occurs to me that I haven't touched any cosmetics other than that in more than a month, not giving a rat's ass about my appearance for the most part. I zip myself into the dress, slip on black heels that aren't quite stilettos, and turn toward the full-length mirror.

Staring back at me is a woman I haven't seen since John died. I look fantastic. That's a sucker punch. I shouldn't be doing this. I should stay home and... The doorbell rings, followed by furious knocking. Meghan has arrived. There's no backing out.