I Can Taste The Failure On Your Lips

I was silent on the way to airport. While my brother, Daniel, cranked up the volume to the radio, I sat with my legs propped up on the dashboard, staring out the window at the blue and white sky. All I could do was think about how my life was spiraling downward at about 60 mph. I reached up and smudged away a tear that was about to escape the corner of my eye.

“Crap.” I whispered to myself. I had already promised myself that I wouldn’t cry. I had promised myself that I would just suck up this misery and get it over with. I promised myself that I’d keep these promises, and like always, I was breaking them.

My fingers fiddled with a button on my vest, and I looked at my brother. He sure was happy, seeing as; he was getting my car when I left. I couldn’t believe that he actually wanted me to go.

“So when you get there…” his sudden words surprised me. He was being just as quiet as I was. “Are you going to like… get a boyfriend or whatever?”

Danny was three point seven seconds younger than I was. We were identical twins; black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Danny also acted like my dad. He felt that since we had never really had a father, that he had to be the man in our household.

I laughed at him and he sighed. “Have I ever had a boyfriend?”

I was being serious. Danny knew the answer to this question, therefore he didn’t answer. I was the ‘weird kid’ back in Maryland. I always got second glances, dirty glances, and flat out weird glances. Delia Martin, the girl that was going to grow up to sit on a park bench and feed pigeons all day. That was me, that was my label.

We pulled up to the airport; Danny put the car in park, and pulled the keys out of the ignition. I looked glumly at the sliding double doors, and then back at my brother’s smiling face. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine in Sheffield.”

Sheffield. I hated that word by now. All day and all last night, I said it over and over in my head, trying to convince myself that this was actually happening. It still feels like a dream, a very bad dream that I want to wake up from immediately.

“I wish Grandma would just die already.” I replied truthfully. She was the reason I was leaving. She needed someone to ‘take care’ of her, because she didn’t want to live in an old folk’s home. She needed to suck it up.

“No you don’t.” Danny replied, handing me my other bag. I shifted it up over my shoulder and frowned once more. “Delia, you’ll be fine, no crying.”

He wrapped his arms around me and I only started crying heavier. “This isn’t fair.” I said. He came back at me with that signature line. That’s life, shitty and cruel. I hated it.

I walked through the terminal, blocking out all of my pessimistic thought with my music blasting in my ears. Maybe moving to England would be a good thing. Maybe, like my best friend Jordan said, I would meet tons of cute guys with hot accents. Maybe I wouldn’t be considered ‘the weird kid’ anymore. Maybe…

“Miss?” I looked up at the woman behind the counter. “Your boarding pass please?”