Just Like That

I felt guilty. I was scared. I knew we did not do anything wrong, but still, I felt as if I did something wrong. In the midst of all the culpability, I still managed to feel happy. I was literally happy for once. I was happy because of him. I wanted to hug him for making me feel like this. I have never felt as lively before as I was now.

After weeks staying in my bed, after my body had already familiarize itself with the surface of the bed, I decided to get up and look through the window. I have been living in this house since forever, but I could never get the over the thrill of looking through the window every time I did. I was fascinated by the life that was beyond this house.

After tonight, I wanted to call Joe again. I did not care if he would see me as desperate, because to tell you the truth I was desperate. I needed him to be myself again. Pathetic. I wanted for him to say my name again.

Then I thought of Amelia, my best friend. I had betrayed her in a sense, but it was not my fault. Her boyfriend⎯ my best friend willingly, without my consent, sang me to sleep. It was his fault, completely. I tried my absolute best to sweep the guilt away from my shoulder, to convince myself it was not my fault, but I failed. Miserably.

I took my phone. It was early in the morning, about eight o’clock.

I set my phone down on my side table and went through the door. I have missed walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Frankly, I have missed everything that was outside the parameter of my too- boring room.

I wanted to feel the icy coolness down my spine every time I poured water into a drinking glass. I missed the breeze I would feel over my face if I opened the fridge. I miss fidgeting over dinner leftover, which I have not been able to get close to since that trip back from the hospital.

My mom and dad have been really unreasonably concern over my diet. They made sure I ate the healthiest food⎯ not to mention, expensive. I was sick of seeing the word “organic” on every pack of the food ate. I wanted Coke. Cans and cans of Coke was what I wanted. Screw health, I was going to die anyway,

I marched down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen. I dragged my feet across the living room and finally to the kitchen. The journey to the kitchen from my room seemed much more longer now. It anticipated me.

“What are you doing here?” My mom gaped as I walked in the kitchen.

“Um, getting something to eat. Is that a crime now?” I joked, but my mom apparently did not get it. Instead, she sighed heavily and patted my head.

“You know you can always shout my name if you want anything.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I still can walk. I want to do things for myself. I don’t want to depend on anyone. Including you, Mom,” I said and flickered her a weak smile.

“Is there anything you wanted to eat?”

“No.”

“Okay, fine. And by the way, darling, Amelia called for you. She said you wouldn’t pick up your phone.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I rushed up to my room. I figured she had forgotten about our little fight the other night.

I was torn between every thing that kept me alive, before this. Just as I decided to push love way from me, he came over, scooted himself closer to my bed. This was not fair. All the odds were against me. All of them. Just when I needed my best friend, Amelia the most, I turned myself on her, by falling in love with her… boyfriend. It killed me to label him as hers.

Of course, technically she deserved him. More than me, anyway. Because, any second now, I would die, and I would leave him all alone. Of course that would only apply if I were with him, which is obviously not the case. That gashed a deep cut across my somewhat now-fragile heart. On the contrary, that deep cut healed fast, because of him, too. It was like he was my weakness, but he was the one who filled my heart with strength- The one who kept me living.

He went over again. Every time he was around, guilt resurfaced. My room was tense and clammy with guilt. I hated this, but I loved it.

It came to me that I was not fighting anyone but myself. I was going against my feelings, my instincts and me. I could just back out from everything, because I would eventually leave them too, but the other person inside of me, was not about to back out. I was going to die. She wanted to live life to the fullest. Whoever she was, I hated her. Pathetic, I hated myself.

That night, we ate dinner on the porch, outside. Cool see breeze washed over my face, blowing my hair out of my face. I liked the air. It felt real. This felt real. I was myself, back again, in my over- worn gray sweats and over- sized tee. I had a paper plate, full of tuna salad. I just looked at it. Stared at it, peacefully.

Joe had come in his usual form. Indescribable was the only word that can describe the way I felt around him. He made me feel natural. I looked at him as he tore large chunks of healthy green cabbages into tiny pieces, with his delicate fingers. Then shoving them inside his mouth. Savage, I thought. Then I looped. A very beautiful savage, I added.

He finished eating by now and carried the plates back into the house after he told me off to finish my barely- touched salad. I had no appetite tonight.

We sat, in silence, on the white straw armchairs my mom put up out front.
“Beautiful night, tonight,” he said, after a while.

I shook my head into reality. “Yes. Very beautiful.” My eyes were fixated on a star that was shining much more brightly than the others. I reached out my hand as if to touch it. “I want the stars.”

“I don’t,” he said, flatly.

Curiosity got ahead of me. Before I could think of anything else, a small, vulnerable voice came out from my mouth, “But why?”

“I don’t know. I just they just don’t appeal to me as much as they do to you.”

“Sensible, but still, impossible,” I whispered.

“She sells sea shells by the seashore,” he suddenly said.

“What?” The melancholic wisps of S pierced through my ears.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

“Fine. It wasn’t. Whatever.” He flinched as if something was bothering him.

I sucked a huge breath and choked on air. I gasped for more air. I inhaled a lungful of air and blew out. I rubbed my palms together. Tonight was cold.

“Let’s get inside. You’re getting cold,” he insisted.

The phone rang as the door shut close. I walked over the table where the landline was and murmured. “Hello. Crozier residence.”

“Delilah." It was not a question. Is Joseph over there? I called his phone he wouldn’t answer. Is he over there?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. Can I talk to him?”

No. “Yes. Hold on a minute.” I cupped my hands over the receiver and pulled Joe’s jacket on the back.

“Yes?” he grunted.

“Your girlfriend, on the line.” I waved the phone.

“Tell her I am on my way home,” he mouthed. I did just that and hung up.

“Jeez. That girl won’t leave me alone.” He shook his head. “What do you want to do for the rest of the night?”

“Aren’t you going to head home?”

“No. Not yet. Why? Are you sick of me already?”

“No, of course not. But just now you said…”

“I know what I said.” He flashed a grin to my direction, and then his face fell. “I guess I’m going home now.” I heard his phone buzzed. God, Girl won’t leave him alone, which exactly was I was doing. I decided to let him go.

“Okay. You go. Get some rest.”

“Don’t worry about me. You get some rest.”

I twisted the knob of the door, unwillingly. He raised his right arm and pulled me closer to him. It was quite long until I decided it was a hug. Then he bent down to give me a little peck on my cheek. He awkwardly shifted away and went to the door.

“Good night, Delilah. See you… tomorrow night.”

“Okay.”

How could I manage not to tell him about the tumors dominating my brain as we spoke? I would like tell him but I could not. That would break his heart to know he was the last one who knew, but mostly that would break my heart knowing that I was going to have to leave him.

I rushed up to my bed. I was out before I could finish counting to ten.