Delilah's Tears

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter 18

"Are we dishonoring his memory?" James' words echo in my brain. Is that what we're doing? Am I so screwed up from losing John that I'm grasping onto James as a replacement?

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" I shout into the silence of my apartment, picking up a shoe and hurling it across the living room. It hits the wall with a thud. I almost laugh, recalling the last time I threw my shoe in anger and frustration. Until the seriousness of my mess of a life returns like a black cloud. Even though it's late I'm taking a shower. It's become a safe place of sorts. I can cry, scream, stomp my feet, and talk to John with no one there to judge me. Except maybe John.

I step into the steamy flow of water and let it run down my body. "John, you asshole. I hate that I'm mad at you. I'm mad at James, too. I've got Coury brothers on the brain and I can't sort it out." I grab the shampoo, squirt more than I need into my hair, and scrub hard, creating a helmet of foam. "Okay, let's do this. You. John, I loved you. Love you. I'm heart-broken that you left me. We had such wonderful plans for our future and they've gone down the drain." I rinse my hair and watch the soap swirl and disappear. Like John and me. Gone in a heartbeat. The thought steals my breath momentarily.

"An instant, John. One minute it was you and me looking at a pregnancy stick, the next you were gone. Never, ever coming back. And, I'm supposed to move on. What does that even mean?" I reach for the citrus body gel and a pouf and go at it. Scrubbing away the tension crawling through my veins while I maintain my one-sided conversation with the ghost of my husband. The act of putting it all into words is grounding, forcing me to come to terms with the tangled mess in my head. "I guess if I were to look at it from an outsider's point of view, I'd be telling myself to grieve. That I don't have to forget about you. That we made memories. That I was lucky to have a wonderful man like you for five minutes. Still, I can't live the next five, fifteen or fifty years mourning that loss." I rinse, the water cooling, a signal to wrap it up. "And I'd be right."

Stepping out of the shower, I think about what I said as I massage lotion into my legs and arms. A measure of lightness replaces the dark cloud on my soul. A layer of grief has been lifted away.

After combing out my wet hair and working it into a single long braid, I move into the bedroom and dig around for pajamas. Then I flop onto my back on the bed and stare straight ahead at the wall where our favorite wedding picture hangs.

"Yeah, so what about James? I love him like a brother, of course. Uhh...or do I? He says there's a spark between us that's more. He feels it. What about me? Am I clinging to him as a way to keep John alive? If that was all it is, why am I jealous of him dating? Why does the idea of him having sex with the woman in the bar make me want to rip her hair out at the roots?"

The memory of James shirtless a few weeks ago flashes in my mind. Of the times he held me close, either in comfort or in fun. The occasions when he brushed up against me and I felt his... An unwarranted warmth spreads through me, breathing life into sensations I thought died with John. "Oh, God. John what do I do?" I gulp, my body trembling with a realization I didn't expect. I have to say it out loud. To see what happens when I do. "What if I'm attracted to James? How on earth do I come to terms with that notion? How wrong is it? As James said earlier, it's a dishonor to you and what we had. Isn't it? And, if I am truly attracted to James, he's right. It has to be him for who he is. So, do I...we...act on this? Or do I totally cut him out of my life and go my merry way into the future while he does the same? Can I live with that?" My heart's beating like a drum and my throat has gone dry. I'm about to sit up, when another miserable thought hits me. "Even worse, what if we act on it, and it's a disaster? And we lose each other for good in every way?"