d e l i l a h
"Yes, I understand why things had to happen this way. I understand his reason for causing me pain. But mere understanding does not chase away the hurt. It does not call upon the sun when dark clouds have loomed over me. Let the rain come then if it must come! And let it wash away the dust that hurt my eyes!" ― Jocelyn Soriano
They say that tears are words that the mouth cannot say nor the heart can bare. That is not even the half of it. Tears are our insides pouring out and a piece- the smallest of smallest- breaking away, finding it's place wherever it now feels necessary. Tears are not a part of the healing process, tears are what the mind can no longer hide or the fact that you cannot pretend to be "okay" any longer than you have already had to. Tears are pain.
Then, you have your happy tears. The ones that spill down your cheeks when he proposes to you, when you pass the test with flying colours or when you hate how much you love him. The love you have for him, the way you can no longer function without him because he has become a part of you. A place in which you would rather die than live without. That's how much you love him. How much you need him. The tears are not only happy because you finally found the one, but because you feel complete in some sort of sense.
I fluttered my eyes open to find that he was already watching me. The paleness of his features still remained. Along with the heavy, dark bags that situated themselves underneath his eyes. His collarbone, much more prominent. He seemed as though he was a body of skin that sat there staring right back at me. No bones. No strength. Nothing of which he needed to survive. To be strong enough to stand up and walk over to me. Hold me, kiss me- just to be how he used to be. His eyes pierced through me and my heart ached more and more as the minutes rolled on. As the time ticked by without my wanting of it to.
For a moment, we sat there watching each other. He waited. I waited. But, what he was waiting was something different than what it was that I found at the front of my mind. I waited for his suffering to be bestowed upon me. I waited for it to be me that was slowly but surely dying. I waited and waited but came up empty handed every single time. He waited for me to snap. He waited for any sudden movement that I could make. He expected me to be mad about him not telling me or that fact that he made Harry lie to me about his well being but I was not mad. I do not think I have in me anymore to be mad. No more strength to pull my face into a frown and allow the worry lines to take over my features. I have nothing left but that thin string left of my father's life.
"I'm sorry, Del." He said, the pain in voice evident. Looking away, I took my bottom in between my teeth as I tried my hardest to think about the positive. That he was apologizing for nothing because we will be walking out of here with a smiles on our faces and heading to our comfort serum, the race tracks. The fact that the string left of his life will mold itself into a sweater. One that will hold a little less sadness than my mother's ratty, old cardigan. Different because, his could be framed. One that people would pay millions just to catch a glimpse of.
"P-please say something." He stuttered, his voice sounding gentle.
"Don't go. Do not leave me here. Take me with you, dad, please." My voice cried but the tear were dry. Gone. Empty from the amount of times of I had spent crying these past couple of days.
"This is why I did not want you to find out-" He started by my need to get my words out, over powered his voice.
"You were just going to die and not bother to say goodbye? You were just going to let me find you unconscious and leave me to figure out where I went wrong. Think about what I could have done to save you and eventually myself."
"You should go home and get some rest."
"Don't." I said trying to be strong but my voice wavered as I glared in his direction.
"Darling-" He started but I cut him off.
"No, you don't get to push me away."
"I'm not. I'm not, I just want you be okay without me. I need that okay? Because not being able to see you everyday is bad enough but you being unhappy would absolutely crush me, Del." He said, his voice pleading.
I walked over towards the bed that he laid his back against, the bed that was made for one but fully ignoring that logic, I climbed in beside him.
"I need you to go and live with your mother." He said after some time. My instincts were to lash out, to overreact but I knew that he was trying. "She has stable life, with a stable family that she can support you with."
ONE WEEK AGO
My eyelids felt heavy as I tried my hardest to open them- failing miserably. Pulling the excess blanket closer to my body- inducing the radiated heat- I focused on the sound of my slow breathing in hopes to fall asleep once again.
The door creaked loudly, causing me to groan as loud footsteps walked towards my bed.
"Del." My father said as I hummed in response. "Someone is on the phone for you."
"Tell them that I'm sleeping." I said, my voice extremely raspy and frankly, unrecognizable.
"Del, please. It's important." He said, his voice pleading.
I glanced up to see that he already had the phone stretched out for me to hold. I eyed it slightly before taking it within my grasp.
Who knows. It is probably Harry being his normal obnoxious self.
My father walked out, looking back at me a few times. I frowned before bringing the house phone towards my ear.
"Hello?" I spoke.
"Del. Oh my. It's me." A woman's voice spoke.
I furrowed my eyebrows slightly as the voice sounded foreign.
"Who is this?"
"It's me. Your mother."
My instincts were to hang up but instead I decided to carry on the conversation further in hopes to get her point of calling across.
"What do you want?" I said, the annoyance laced in my voice.
"I just want to talk to you. Please, it will only be for a few minutes. Talk to me."
"Okay."
"I've missed you, Del. A lot. Do you know that?"
"No."
"Oh. Well, I have, darling. Anyways. That is not why I called. I wanted to tell you that I got married. It has only been three years but I could never have been more happy. He's a great man. You would love him. We live in a beach house in California with our son."
"Our son? How old is he?" I said, raising my eyebrow in question.
"He's twenty years old." She said, her voice shaking slightly.
"So you kept him from me and dad?" I said, my voice becoming a higher pitch.
"Delilah-"
"No. Don't you dare call me Delilah. You no longer have the right."
"But that's your name. What else am I supposed to address you by?"
"Anything else." My voice wavered. "Before you left, you refrained from calling me Delilah because you knew that dad was the one who named me and if you saw how attached I had become to you, if you saw the effect that calling me Delilah had on me, like the way it made me feel like a princess, like I was on top of the world, you could never leave. You could never leave me lonely. And you never would have left."
"I am so sorry. You have to believe me when I tell you this. I need you to forgive me."
"No."
"Listen, darling-"
"You listen. All those times that you have called and dad lead me to believe that you no longer cared, that you I was no longer your daughter, I was so mad because I missed you and I wanted an explanation. But now, I understand why he did what he did. It was to protect me. To make sure that I would not have my heart broken over and over again. And for that, I thank him. I praise him because without him doing that, I would have fallen back into your trap only to be let down. So don't you dare call me saying that you miss me and that I have to forgive you because I don't. And you don't. Because if you really are sorry and you miss me as much as you claim, where are you now that I need you?"
"We will be seeing each soon and I will make it up to you then-"
And with that, I hung up.
PRESENT
I glanced at my father. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady but I knew that he was still awake.
"You planned this all along? You wanted me to forgive her because you knew that eventually, you would die and she would be all I had to rely on." I said. My words were not filled with anger. Or strained. Just, understanding.
"I wanted to make sure that you would be okay without me."
"I will never be okay without you."
He stayed silent, like my words had caused him to forget how to speak. How to think. How to react.
He leaned up in the bed and reached behind me in hopes to open the bedside drawer. Once succeeding, he pulled out an envelope that he in return handed to me.
"What is this?"
"Open it." He said, gesturing to the white paper that sat in my hands.
One way ticket to California.
"One way?"
"Yeah. Your flight leaves tonight."
"What? I can't leave you. W-why? You are still here. You are still breathing. You can still-"
"Delilah..."
He said for the first time in seven years. The very first time in which he had addressed me by my full name in so long.
I could remember the first time my mother told me that I was named by father and the reason for being so. Her face lit up as she mentioned the story she told me more than once.
I remember her saying that right after she had given birth to me, she was so tired, much more tired than the average woman giving birth. Her eyes were heavy and her pain was unbearable. Her strength, non existent. She could not even hold me, tell me how happy she was to have me or how much she loved me.
So, my father- the first to hold me care for me for about a week without my mother's help or guidance as she stayed bed ridden our town's local hospital.
Me being his first child, it was hard for him. I cried and cried and my father had not clue as to what he was supposed to do.
As he held me one night as I whiled in his arms, he spoke the words, "What on earth could I name you? You're loud, adorable and absolutely languishing when hungry."
"Delilah." He whispered- although no one was around-his voice filled with question. With those words, it was said that I stopped crying. With those words that I smiled. An eyes open, toothless smile. "You like that? Or should we try Annabelle? Cindy? Quinn?"
My smile had supposedly fallen. And with that, he knew the answer. Who I was destined to be.
I hummed in response, my heart pounding in my chest at the calling of my name.
"I can't hold on much longer." His voice, his words, lacked the strength that he had once had. When I was younger and he told me to be anyone that I wanted. The one that said that we will try again as I failed over and over again with every sport or activity that he put me in. The strength that he had when he was able to take care of me as my mother was still recovering in the hospital. The strength that he had passed down to me.
I cried whilst my warm tears fell on to his skin. My hands shook as I reached to take ahold of his cold, clammy ones.
"It's okay to let go. You don't have to struggle anymore." I said, my voice shaking. "You were one of the good ones. You loved me even when you didn't have to. You made me feel as though I was the only girl in the world just by being there for me and I'm sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry for the fact that I have made you question how much I love you. How much I need you. Don't struggle anymore, dad. Please. J-just, have a good sleep."