Runaway Hearts

It wasn’t ideal. Falling in love with a girl almost four years younger then you, that is.
It wasn’t ideal starting a family with her before she was ready to leave her own, either. I looked at her now, her red hair spilling out of her attempted-pony tail, she was beautiful.
As if on cue she turned and looked at me, her blue eyes wide.
“What?” Her tone was tired, as if she was fighting a war inside her head.
She was.
I shrugged, turning back to the road. “Nothing. I can’t look at you?”
I heard a sigh, and I peeked at her again.

When we first met she was so full of life. She was always smiling, even when her eyes were tearing over she found herself a reason to smile.
She told me once that her main reason was me. I never believed her. A girl that happy had to have hundreds of reasons to smile.
I haven’t seen her smile for weeks now. Not a real smile, at least. Not one where her eyes lit up like fireworks or her smile was bigger then one anyone had ever seen. If she did smile now, it was a halfhearted attempt at a half moon made by her lips.
It was no longer magical, it was downright depressing.

Delilah was the first. No, she wasn’t my first girlfriend, or my first crush, but she was the first girl who I ever looked at and couldn’t see a life without her. She was the first girl I ever loved, and I wanted her to be the last.

She said she loved me, and maybe once upon a time she did.. but I couldn’t see it anymore. It was obvious in her eyes.

God, her eyes.

The semi in front of us pulled off to the side of the road. For a moment I contemplated
stopping, making sure he was okay. But I didn’t. I didn’t for the simple fact that I couldn’t even fix my own problems right now, how could I be of help to anyone else?

I think Delilah started to realize that, too. The man who she once saw as her ‘Knight in Shining Armour’ (as she claimed I was) couldn’t save her now. Instead he whisked her away to a new kingdom, one where she’d have no choice but to.. well.. just to get by. I didn’t have the money to give her everything she deserved. The means for a house, a home.. a family. Hell, I could barely take care of myself. Let alone this beautiful girl.. and a baby.

I shook my head. This must have caught her attention, because she spoke up.
“What are you thinking about?” She asked. For a moment I was taken back. Back to the summer when everything was okay. When we sat in the bed of her truck and her fingers lazily ran through my hair. When I had sighed and she asked me, in that beautiful, innocent voice of hers, ‘what I was thinking about’. Back then I had had an answer. Right now, I did not.

“Just thinkin’.” I finally said, taking my eyes off the road for just long enough to see she had been staring at me.
“Just thinkin’ about what?” She was persistent.

I thought for a moment. “The mountains.” It was a lie, one I hoped she couldn’t see through. “I miss them. The views..” I paused. “I know the circumstances aren't great, but I can’t wait for you to see them.”
Delilah looked down at her hands. “Oh.” was the only thing she could say.

What felt like hours later, the Blazer rolled into the parking lot of an old looking motel.
I turned to Delilah, who had fallen asleep with her back against the door, knees pulled against her chest. I didn’t want to wake her yet, so I left the car running and went to the front desk.

It was $75 for the night, one bed, one bathroom. I had carried Delilah from the car to the door, where she was stirred awake enough to demand I set her down and let her walk on her own. She stumbled, I caught her by her elbow. She pulled away and I shook my head.

The new Delilah was tiring.

I watched her stumble the rest of the way to the bed, where she sat on the corner rubbing
her eyes. In this moment she looked so innocent, like a little girl woken up too early in the morning. She murmured something, but I couldn’t hear it. I asked her what, but she didn’t respond.

As a matter of fact, I don’t know if she even realized I spoke at all.

It was cool outside, but not unbearable. The man at the front desk had said we were in Rockford, Illinois. Fourteen hours from home for her, twelve hours from home for me. It was a constant struggle for myself internally. On one hand I’m the closest to my family that I’ve been in years, I’d see my mama’s face, listen to my sisters.. The thought alone would make a smile break across my face. But on the other hand.. Delilah.

When I first met her I never imagined this would happen. I knew immediately that some day I wanted her to meet my mother, my family.. but I never once thought these would be the circumstances.

Circumstances they still didn’t know about.

It was my decision, my choice. I told Delilah that I had taken care of it, but in reality my family still had no idea that we had driven almost thirty hours cross country because of.. the circumstances.

I unlocked the Blazer’s doors and reached around for a few things we’d need for the night. I grabbed a change of clothes for myself, and a change of clothes and pajamas for Delilah, even though by the time I made it back to the room she’d probably be asleep.

I pulled a cigarette out of the pack she tried hiding in the console. I hated that she smoked, but it was a hypocrital request from me when I had asked her to stop. I lit it and leaned against the door frame. It tasted like her. Metaphorically, at least. It was a pull to the past. Everything was nowadays, everything was a reminder of a memory.

Delilah used to always sing. It didn’t matter what she was doing, she would always be singing too. Her voice would carry over the shower on nights she’d spend with me. We never discussed it, but I’d always act like I didn’t hear her. I was always afraid she’d stop. At work she would sing during close, while she was cleaning the lobby and out from underneath tables. She was quieter then, and I’d have to strain to hear her, but I’d always listen. She had the most beautiful voice. I remembered the summer night when she sat on the roof of her truck and played guitar. The chords were no match for her voice, it stole the show every time. My family and I sat in awe, and I remember as she sang the words to that song I had fallen even more in love with her then I had ever been before. That was the last time she played guitar, for me at least. It was one of the last nights when everything was still okay.

It was another ten minutes before I made my way back to our motel room. I heard the water running as soon as I stepped foot in the door. There was no singing.