James
My whole body seemed like it was scowling. I wasn't sure I'd ever erase the molten black cloud which hung over me as I boarded the last plane back to the Middle East. I've lost my brother. Forever. I felt like a traitor leaving Delilah standing alone on the cold white tile of the airport as I made my way through security and out of her sight. From the other side of the scanners I peered through the crowd at her, still and blinking and totally lost. She couldn't see me. Delilah simply stood there as if the last person on earth had been taken away from her.
If there was anyway I could have pulled the plug on the rest of my tour, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. In the days after the funeral, Delilah's red-rimmed eyes turned into dark circles. Even I could tell she'd lost weight. She wasn't eating much. I coaxed a few small meals into her, though not nearly enough. I worried she would stop eating and breathing altogether without me to watch over her. She declined the strongest arguments to stay with her parents for a while. Delilah wanted to be at home where she would constantly be reminded of John. His presence in the condo was everywhere. My brother's spirit didn't die with him. It even touched me while I was there.
My last full day in LA, Delilah returned to work. She went in around five in the morning and didn't come back until well after eight. In the late afternoon I went to check on her. Claiming a back-log of work, she refused to leave. Her assistants, Tami and Matt were clearly concerned. Tami mentioned Delilah had refused anything but coffee all day. If I weren't to leave the next day, she'd have repeated the process. But, Delilah had insisted on seeing me to the airport. I wanted to kill whoever made it impossible for me to stay. The dark thoughts plagued me the whole damned trip.
Finally back on base, I head straight to my tent and get to work shining my boots and doing a thousand other small, insignificant tasks. Tomorrow there will be an early briefing I'm sure will end in a strike or other mission. My heart isn't in it, which is a dangerous thing out here.
An alert beeps on my computer. Delilah sending a FaceTime request. I can't open the laptop fast enough.
"Hey, D-doll. You doin' okay?" She looks like shit. I probably don't look any better.
"I'm all right. I wanted to be sure you got back safely." I calculate the time. It's four-thirty in the afternoon here, making it around four in the morning there. Delilah isn't sleeping. Jesus.
"Doll, it's too early there. What are you doing awake at this hour? You need your rest, babe."
She shrugs and turns away from the camera. "I slept for a few hours. I'm good. It'll be time to go into the shop soon anyway."
I sigh. From halfway across the world there isn't much I can do but provide moral support. "Are you eating, Delilah? Please tell me you're eating."
She shrugs again. "A little. Food doesn't taste very good." Her eyes meet mine this time. "Honestly, I'm trying. I had soup for dinner."
"Did you really? How much did you eat?"
"About half. Got full. Fell asleep in front of the TV again." The only time Delilah is able to sleep fairly well is on the sofa. The bed she shared with John is big and empty. If she passed out on the sofa, she probably got in a few hours.
"Do me a favor, D-doll?"
"What's that James?" A little spark of curiosity flickers on her face.
"I have to focus while I'm here, babe. You're on my mind 24/7. Work on eating and sleeping. For me. For...him." I can't bring myself to say my brother's name. If I avoid it, it isn't so painful for either of us. "He'd want you to take better care of yourself. I want that too. When I come home in a few months, I want to see the Delilah I know and love." Yeah. Love.
The request earns me a small grin. Good. "Sure. You're right. It's...hard. Everything reminds me of him, which reminds me that he's gone." She pauses and I can tell she's collecting her thoughts. "Thank you, James. I couldn't have gotten through this week without you by my side. I don't mean to be a burden. You lost your brother, yet you've been a rock for me. I have to remember how difficult this is for you, too. Look, I gotta go shower and get out of here. I promise I'll have breakfast first, okay?"
"Sure thing, babe. I'm glad you called me. I'll be back before you know it. It's my turn to call tomorrow. Be safe out there. Lock doors and all that shit. Got it?"
"I do, James. Thanks again. I love you, big guy."
"Love you, too, D-doll."
If only she knew how true that statement was. Spending the last week in their condo was wonderful and horrible. Being in Delilah's presence was amazing. Even under the worst circumstances possible, we got better acquainted. We became pretty damned close, leaning on each other when we were overwhelmed by loss, sharing stories about John. Talking. We talked a lot. Once we got past the paperwork and settling up John's life, it was a matter of spending time together.
For me, it was a double-edged sword. I loved being with Delilah as much as I hated it. I hated how every minute with her tacked on a new layer of inappropriate desire. I really hated how many times I was compelled to jerk myself off in the shower. On top of that, it sucked that I had to beg my dead brother's forgiveness for blatantly coveting his wife while his damned body was barely cold. Guilt upon guilt upon guilt piled on my conscience. I felt so dirty afterward I almost looked forward to going back to Afghanistan. Almost.
"You're back."
"Troy, observant as always."
He glares at me as if he'll find a deep dark secret lurking in my brown eyes. Yeah, there are plenty of secrets there. I'm not sharing them, though.
"How is she?"
I want to ask who he's talking about. Which is stupid. Instead, I grunt and busy myself with refolding my socks so I won't have to face him. The envelope the attorney handed me stares up from inside my duffle bag. Nope. Not ready to read it. I zip up the empty bag with the letter trapped inside. "Not good. Killed me to leave her there all alone. She's barely eating and not sleeping enough."
"Alone? Aren't her parents nearby?"
"Yeah. She doesn't want them doting on her. She's afraid they'll make her move back home."
"Would that be so bad, under the circumstances?" Troy plops down on his bed, next to mine. The heat of his stare burns.
"No. But I get it. Staying home keeps her connected to John. The guy is everywhere. At least with me there, I could get her to eat something other than toast and yogurt." I scrub my hands down my face. "Fuck. My fucking brother is gone, Troy. Jesus." The devil himself has reached inside my chest and squished my heart and lungs, the blood leeching out and all air sucked from me. For the first time, I am alone with my own thoughts of John's death.
"Dude. It hasn't hit you yet, has it? You've been too consumed with taking care of Delilah."
I want to sob like a baby. Everything inside me aches. If I can't break down and cry, I want to tear apart this tent and shred every damned thing in sight. The storm inside is growing, and I'm not sure I'll be able to contain it when it blows.
Troy's hand slaps down on my shoulder. "Let's go, man."
"Where? I don't wanna go anywhere."
"There's a punching bag in the gym with your name on it. Let's see if you can bust that fucker open."
****
Every damned muscle in my shoulders, arms, and torso was on fire. I'd beaten the shit out the punching bag for two solid hours. When I thought I couldn't hit it anymore, a new wave of rage and anguish surged and I was at it again. I couldn't tell the sweat on my face from the tears that were there. I didn't care if anyone saw it, either. I was exhausted afterward, but nowhere near satisfied. I did, however, sleep all night. I didn't dream of John. I didn't dream of my parents. I didn't even dream about Delilah. It was a blissfully black, blank night.
After breakfast and morning workouts and duties, I find myself back in my tent around nine, glaring at the laptop. I want to check on Delilah. A angry, nasty part of me doesn't. I don't want to see her or talk to her. Perhaps never again. I'm drowning in misery and desperately want to continue wallowing in my own personal cesspool of grief.
Much like the Army, my sense of duty to Delilah overrides all that. I pick up the laptop and dial in to her. It rings. And rings. No answer. Fuck. Is she all right? Did something happen? I'd never, ever forgive myself if anything happened to Delilah while I was having a pity-party. I pace the room for a good fifteen minutes trying to decide what to do. Call again? Yeah, asshole. Call again. Maybe she's asleep. My racing pulse calms. Of course. Delilah isn't sitting next to her computer waiting for me to call.
This time she answers. Her hair is still wet from a shower, and she's wrapped in the black silk robe I'd covered her with the day of the funeral. Best of all, she's smiling. My heart slams around.
"Hey D-doll. I tried calling a while ago. Were you in the shower?" Visions of her in the black lingerie return, and my sick-ass brain takes an eraser to the bra and panties she'd been wearing, replacing them with what my rampant imagination is sure she looks like completely naked and wet from the shower. My dick turns to iron.
"Hi James. Yeah. Long day. Guess what?" Delilah is still smiling. She's gorgeous.
"What's that babe?"
"I slept through the night. In bed. I had a great dream about John. He talked to me."
Oh, fuck. He probably told her to stay away from me because I'm a lecher who wants in her panties. Great. That does not help the condition in my pants. "What did he say?"
"He said he loved me. He told me to take better care of myself—just like you did. He said you were right, and to listen to you." A swath of sadness interrupts her little bit of happiness. "He said he was sorry he left me. And you. And for us to stick together."
John said that? Is he insane? No, asshole. He's dead. It was just a dream. Or was it? "Wow. All that, eh?"
"Yeah. Today was a little easier." Delilah peers at me through the screen. "You don't look good. God, James. I've been so self-centered..."
"Don't Delilah. You have every right to be self-centered. I'm still jet lagged, and had to hit the ground running as soon as I got back. It'll take a few days. Then, I'll be in a rhythm again. I beat the crap out of a punching bag last night, so I'm good for a while." I grin like it's a joke.
"James, you asked me to take care of myself. I expect you to do the same. Stay safe, too. I want you to come back whole. We...we need each other. Ya know?"
If she had any idea... "I will doll. I promise. Hey, I gotta go. Sleep well tonight."
"I hope so. Love you." She hangs up.
My dark mood lifts, leaving me empty. I almost wish it were back. I'd have something to hang onto then, other than the memory of Delilah's smile.
For the next few weeks, we either FaceTime or email daily. At first, it was FaceTime, but once the initial angst and grief ebbs, we settle on mostly emails with a weekly call. Honestly, it makes it easier on me. I love seeing Delilah and hearing her voice, but it's torture, too. The more time we spend together virtually, the stronger my feelings for her grow. I can't allow this to happen. I'll be going home soon and she doesn't need a lovesick puppy yapping at her heels. Especially if that mutt is her brother-in-law. Each night I lay in the darkness begging my dead brother for forgiveness. Perhaps I should have re-upped. I'm afraid to go home.
Every day I work out my frustration on the punching bag. No less than two hours in the gym. I return to my bunk a sweaty mess, Duane and Troy shaking their heads at me. In the field I have a sharp-edged focus, my instincts clearer than they've ever been. On at least two missions, I saw, felt or heard something which made a difference in the life or death of my brothers. No matter how rough it is, though, I hit the bag, then lift weights. It helps stow the thoughts of all things John and Delilah. I worry about how I will keep a lid on them when I'm back in the States playing secret spy man for Neil's security firm. I'll probably have to live at the gym there too, in order to have enough of a distraction.
What makes the idea of going home worse is Delilah's expectation I'll live with her until I find a place. I don't have the heart to say no to her. However, I'm damned well getting an apartment fast.
My laptop comes to life. Delilah.
"Hi babe."
Her smile lights up the universe. "Oh, my God! I can't believe you're coming home tomorrow, James. I can't wait to see you."
Hell. "I won't actually get there tomorrow. I have a few stop-overs. If this trip is anything like the others, it could take a damned week for them to get me home."
"I know. But you're leaving tomorrow." She claps her hands like a child in a candy shop. "Are you gonna miss it? I mean, like Troy and Duane and those guys?"
"Some of it. Mostly the guys, yeah. Not so much the strikes or the possibility of getting my ass blown to hell every day. I can do without that." I've been counting down the days for the past two weeks or so. It's weird that I won't be coming back after so many years. I'm ready for a change, though. I glance around. My bags are packed and sitting at the foot of my bed. My single shitty bed. First thing I'm buying for my apartment is the biggest damned bed and the softest damned pillows money can buy.
"I've got your room all fixed up for you, James. And steaks. I bought big steaks to grill. And beer. And ice cream."
Fuck. Steak, beer and ice cream. "What flavor?"
"Caramel swirl."
"You know I love you, right, D-doll?" It sounds like I'm joking. I'm not. Troy scowls at me from his bunk. Delilah giggles. She still cries when we talk, but overall she's come a long way in two months.
"I gotta go. Early flight in the morning. See you soon, doll."
Delilah blows a kiss at me. Fuck that. Now I need to go take another damned shower. "Be safe and get here as fast as you can."
"You got it, babe. See you soon."
"You're a damned idiot, JD."
"Fuck you, Troy."
****
I've dated a lot of women. Not a single one has turned me inside out like this. Never have I been nervous to set eyes on them. I'm terrified Delilah will see every damned secret in mine the second she greets me at the airport. I pray I can conjure a good poker face.
The last two times I came home I was practically sprinting through the terminal, late for my brother's two biggest life events. This time, it's a leisurely pace designed to prolong the inevitable—coming face-to-face with Delilah. I spot her the minute I brush past the TSA agent.
Dammit. She's grinning brightly—a marked difference from the ruined woman I left behind. Delilah hurries toward me, jumping up, and throwing her arms around my neck, forcing me to wrap my huge arms around her petite waist, lifting her off the ground. She feels so fucking good I can't help but spin her in a circle. Anyone watching the two of us would expect we were lovers who had been long-separated while I was overseas. I was required to wear my fatigues this last time, so I hope no one is taking pictures of the soldier and his girl.
"You smell fantastic D-doll." She does. Like flowers and rain and powder and vanilla. Everything that's not sand, sweat, and stinky GI socks. I bury my nose in her hair and plant a kiss on her neck without thinking. A dab of moisture hits my neck.
Delilah's tears.
They're likely a mixture of happy and sad. Grief and relief. Sweet Jesus, please allow me to one day make every tear she sheds a happy one, while making the sorrowful ones a mere memory.
"Oh, James I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. Are you sure it's only been two months? Not two years?" I set her on her feet, take her hand, and we head toward the baggage claim escalator.
"Seems like a few years, doesn't it?" We make our way through the crush of passengers crowding the carousel. "I've got one bag. They're shipping the rest." I glance at her for a moment. Her straight blonde hair is sleek down her back, laying against a tight Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt that's snugly tucked into a pair of jeans. Goddamn. She's perfect. How the hell am I gonna live with her and keep my hands to myself? I study her face, brilliant blue eyes gazing up at me like I'm a savior. No, babe, I'm not. Just a man. A horny man. With my thumb I rub away the small streak of mascara under her eye made by her tears. I force myself to turn away and pay attention to the carousel.
"There's my bag." Thank God. Or not. Now we have to go home. Just the two of us.
Once we're settled into her car and merged onto the freeway my nerves kick in again. Can I trust myself with Delilah? I'd like to think I'm a gentleman, sort of. This is definitely going to test my limits, no matter how much I want to do this for John.
John. John. John. John. John.
Maybe if I repeat his name all day every day, it'll keep me honest. Still...
"Hey D-doll, maybe I should crash at Neil's place. I don't want to be under foot. I'm a big guy, kinda clumsy too. I'll be in your way, making a mess and all that."
She takes one hand off the steering wheel and slaps my thigh playfully. Which, of course, sends a sharp electrical current directly to my ready-for-action dick. "Don't be silly. The condo's too quiet. I need a distraction. Besides, John would spank my ass if I left you out in the cold."
Fuck, woman, don't say things like that. Distraction? Ya think? Spank your ass? I'd love to. My dick actually hurts and my balls sting as if they're being poked with a thousand needles. I can't speak so I clear my throat in what I hope sounds like agreement.
"Good. It's settled. You're living with me." Her smile is smug. I'm doomed.
Fortunately we don't talk much more, because I turn up the volume on the radio in an attempt to drown out pretty much everything having to do with Delilah and me in any kind of close quarters, car included. I force myself to focus on the freeway ahead of us to prevent my traitorous eyes from tracing the tempting lines of her full breasts under the tank top. Living with Delilah is going to be impossible.
At the condo, Delilah fits the key in the lock and swings open the door. "Here ya go. Home sweet home."
I step inside. It's exactly the same as it was last time. "I'll go ahead and throw my shit in the guest room." Without waiting for a response I make a beeline, shutting the door behind me. Wrong. This is so wrong. Except for the parts where it's right. Huh. Both are the same. It's both wrong and right to be here. Not sure which outweighs the other.
Dude. Get your ass together. You're a soldier. You've shot and killed men. Seen your brothers go down in bloody, messy battles. Spending a few weeks with your brother's wife shouldn't be a hardship. You're making this far more difficult than it needs to be. Quit focusing on lust and love, and it'll be fine.
Good. A talking to. Exactly what I needed to give myself. Take a deep breath and go out there and be a brother.
Delilah calls to me. "JD you want one of those beers I promised?"
Yep. About six of them. "Sure, babe. Be right out." Start by not calling her babe anymore. I draw in a deep breath and leave the safety of the guest room.
Delilah hands me a beer. John's favorite. Then she starts chattering a mile a minute while pouring herself a glass of Chardonnay. "Everything okay in there? Holler if you need anything. I hope you like the beer. I don't drink it, so I got what John liked. If you prefer something else..."
I press a finger against her lips. "Slow down, D-doll. All's good. Do not wait on me, okay? This beer's fine. I'll get my own from here on." As soon as I realize where my finger is, I pull it quickly away.
"Sorry James. I want you to feel comfortable here. It's weird being by myself. Empty and quiet."
Crap. "I get it, babe. Don't go overboard, though. Think of me as a cat. I'm here to keep you company, but very low-maintenance. The beer's really good, by the way. Good choice." I can't help but wink at her. "I'm looking forward to the big steak you promised, too."
Delilah brightens and spins to the fridge. "Yeah. I should get it out and marinate it for later." She pulls out two huge steaks and slaps them on the counter, then begins gathering an array of spices and herbs. I watch, fascinated as she combines a bunch of ingredients and rubs it into the steaks, covers it with plastic wrap, and returns it to the fridge.
"That's gonna be awesome D-doll." My stomach decides it's seen enough and lets out a loud growl. Not surprising since it's been about eight hours since I last ate anything.
"Hungry? I've got platter of cheese and crackers ready to go. I wasn't sure if you would need a snack before dinner, so I prepped it."
I shake my head. "Delilah..."
She glares at me. "No. I want to spoil you. For a few days, at least." Her gaze falls to the floor, and her voice softens. "You were so wonderful through all of this. I want to take care of you for a bit." She glances up at me. "John would want me to, also. Let me have my fun, okay?"
I get it. "Sure. For a few days. Get out the damned cheese and crackers, woman." Delilah giggles, and a rush of warmth spreads through me. I made her happy.
****
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***I'd like to thank James from for the cover to "Delilah's Tears."