The Death Date

chapter sixteen

The darkening night settled in, casting us each in shadows. The moon was absent, and I noticed how much brighter the stars looked without its presence.

"Delia, let's go paddleboarding."

I snapped my head to Vi. "You want to?"

"Yes."

Grinning at Meghan, who was beaming at Vi between us, I leaned back in my camping chair and said, "Well, alright then. Paddleboarding it is."

Screw the sharks.

Meghan did not remove her beaming smile from Vi, who was watching the ocean as if it contained a wealth of secrets.

Xxx

Day two of my mom's stable mood continued. Sunday morning I awoke to the smell of bacon seeping under my door. Jolting out of bed, I rushed to the kitchen and found a spread of breakfast food arranged across the table. The image seemed unreal.

"Hi, honey," my mom greeted, nibbling on a bite of bacon. "Hungry?"

"Yeah. Very." I sleepily found my way to the table and placed a serving of eggs, waffles, and bacon on a plate. My mouth watered and I focused on this reaction in lieu of pinching myself.

"What's the occasion?" I asked between bites.

My mom peered over the steaming mug nestled in her hands. "No occasion. Just felt like you deserved a good breakfast."

I shoveled down another forkful of food. "Well, thanks. It's delicious."

Early morning light poured inside the kitchen window. Blue skies and sunshine waited outside, but I could always count on that. What I couldn't count on was the moment happening right now. As my mom slowly read the newspaper spread before her while chewing on breakfast, I settled into the present. With my life so focused on the future and past, the rare occasion to enjoy not thinking about either was a gift.

For a moment, my worries dissipated into the flooding light.

But the future came knocking. With the instability of my mom's moods came the necessity for handling situations when she was leveled. The letter from my father, though torn and discarded, weighed on my chest. I had to tell her, I needed to tell her, and her current state was as good of an opportunity as I would likely get.

Clearing my throat, I said, "Hey, Mom, I, um, I need to tell you something."

"What is it, honey?"

Her eyes were clear. I double checked to make sure.

"I got a letter. It was from, um, well, it was from my dad." The words tasted poisonous coming out, and though my mom appeared calm, she sat still, as still as stone, and I knew the venom was setting in.

"Is that so?" she asked, mouth tight.

My throat constricted, so I nodded.

"What did he say?" she breathed.

"Um, he said," I inhaled a shallow breath, hoping it would see me through, "he said he wanted to come visit."

Silence.

"Mom?"

More silence.

"Mom, I didn't write back or anyth –"

"That sleazy, two-face bastard!" my mom erupted, shaking the contents of the table as she flew out of her chair. "Who does he think he is? Leaving all those years ago – leaving me to fend for myself, no word – NO WORD – in years apart from the measly checks he sends every month and now he writes to you? Telling you he wants to come visit?"

"Mom, I –"

"The nerve! How dare he? How DARE he?!" She slammed her fists, dishes clanking. "He left me. He left me!" Her voice snagged. "That bastard left me for that woman – he left his daughter for that woman, and now he wants to come back." The quivering in her voice spread throughout her body.

Unsure of what else to do, I stood up, but she smacked my outstretched hand away.

"No!" she cried. "That bastard!"

"Mom, listen, I didn't –"

"I gave him the best years of my life, and look how he repaid me? He left me. He left me!" Her voice cracked and so did my heart.

Again, I lifted an arm to comfort her, but she evaded my touch.

"Mom, calm down, okay?"

She rounded on me, eyes like two pits, deep and empty. I took a step back to avoid falling into them. My gut compressed as it made room for the swelling anxiety.

"Don't tell me to calm down," she snarled. "Your father is a bastard!"

"I know, Mom. I know."

"A bastard," she croaked. "A bastard." Hunching over, she brought her hands to her face and wept. Shattered breaths escaped through her fingers.

Shaking, I finally wrapped my arm around her shoulder which I rubbed as she leaned her entire weight into me.

"Come on, Mom," I said. "Let's go lay down. You'll feel better once you lay down."

She nodded, still sobbing, and let me guide her to her bedroom. It was dark inside. The thick curtains were drawn and the lights were off. Any indication it was sunny outside was masked. I warily laid her down on the bed, tucking the covers around her trembling frame as she sniffed into the pillows.

"Just sleep, okay. You'll feel better." I rubbed her back, smoothly and softly.

After shutting the door, my mom safely tucked inside a room as shadowed as her eyes, I pressed my back against the wall. I slid down, hands cupping my face, as the turmoil finally came to a head. Hot tears poured from my eyes, my hands incapable of keeping them at bay. Silently I wept, all composure lost.

Damn my father for doing this to my mom.

And damn my mom for doing this to me.

It wasn't fair. Who was I supposed to turn to? For so long it had been only me and my mom. She was my caregiver, but I was also hers. She needed me, but I needed her too, and though she was always there, it didn't mean she was always present. Some days she was an outline, one that lacked color or dimension.

I needed someone right now.

My sobs ebbed away as I thought of who I could turn to. Nick. My face felt stiff from tears, but I didn't even bother fixing myself for him. I needed to see him. I needed him to take care of me. I ambled to my feet, stumbled to the front door, snatched my keys, and drove to IB.

xxx

I slept with Nick that night. When I arrived at his house, my features appeared ghostlike in the mirror by his front door-- the mirror he used to carefully check himself and his uniform before he stepped out the door. I wanted him to examine me just as carefully-- to really see me and how much I needed him. But as always, he didn't notice. He looked at me, but his eyes didn't focus on me-- it was as if he was looking right through me.

He didn't ask how I was. He didn't ask what was wrong.

Instead, he offered me food. He offered me a drink. And then he offered me his bed.

I often escaped reality when in bed with Nick. This was both a comfort and a hardship: it allowed a fleeting period of removal from my mind and body, like I was floating in the air, free and nonexistent. The problem was coming back down. Once it was over, adhering to myself again only left me empty.

Even in this supposed act of love, he left me feeling invisible. I had to remind myself that I was a three-dimensional figure. As Nick snored beside me, I thought again of those parallel lines. How could we be so intimately together, but a universe apart? 

A/N:

Hi! If you're reading this, thanks for sticking with this story! I hope those of you who are have been enjoying it so far. The next chapter will include another interaction with Delia and Warner which are my personal favorite, so stay tuned!  Also, if you are liking this story, please don't forget to vote! I would be forever grateful :)