Runaway Hearts

The hot water embraced me, its hold was calming. I felt myself relax beneath the heat of the shower, and for a moment I was fifteen years old again, getting ready for bed. The past three years never happened, I was a Freshman and the small-town High School where I spent my days studying and my nights at basketball games, and that school on the east corner or town was the farthest place I would go from home. My best friend never turned on me and no one had ever broken my heart. My mom still made decisions for me and I was still my father's little girl. My biggest concern in the world was what color dress I would get for the Homecoming Dance.

I heard the door open and close. Footsteps. Shuffling. I half expected him to call out to me, but instead he was silent. Not that he needed and reassurance where I was, I’m more then positive that he could hear the shower running from the other room, it would have just been reassuring to me. Reassuring that he remembers I’m here. I shook my head, my hair slapping against my neck. It wasn’t him. He never forgot I was here, even though I wish he would.

I am the definition of a paradox.

His attention used to be my favorite thing. When his eyes were on me I felt inevitable. I felt indestructible. When he smiled on me those feelings intensified. But now when he looked at me I wanted nothing more then to disappear into thin air. I didn’t want him to see me anymore. What did he think now? Looking at me? Did he see the scared little girl that I am? Did he see the end of happiness? A box that I had become, trapping him in a future he never wanted? A shiver took over my body. The water was still hot, but my body suddenly felt very, very cold.

Sometime later I extracted myself from the heat of the shower. Grabbing the towel I had found in the closet pre-shower (it was folded on the shelf, I figured it was safe) I wrapped myself up. I was shivering now full force. My teeth chattered, my red hair trembled on my shoulders as if it were dancing to an unheard song. I kept my eyes on the floor, avoiding the mirror. I heard the door to the bathroom open, then a moment later close. I looked over my shoulder, the door was shut, but there was a pile of folded clothes sitting on the edge of the sink. I smiled, just a little bit. Wrapping my hair in the towel, I pulled the pajama pants on up over my hips and pulled the shirt down. In this ensemble my.. situation.. was evident. I pressed my hands into my stomach, as if by some magic force I could make it all go away.

It was then that I noticed I was crying.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and then I was sobbing. It was a chain reaction kind of thing. I stood there, looking down at the bump in my shirt and in that moment, in that moment I felt every single thing that I had been numb to for so many months. All the pain, all the fear. It wasn’t little bits and pieces that I had been feeling every time my thoughts had gotten too deep, it was the full forced burning sensation of lies on my skin, the razor blade edge of secrets on my heart. My legs gave out, and I gave way into the floor, my back pressed against the sink, my knees drawn to my chest. I couldn’t do this. I can’t do this. I thought to myself. I was crying harder now. I could see my mother standing at the door to my room, terrified of why it was so late in the day and I still hadn’t gotten out of bed. I can see her reach for the door handle, hand trembling because she has no idea what she’ll find on the other side of the wood. I can see the relief and fear when she see’s my empty room. I see her reaching for the note on my bed, all it said was “I’m sorry, but this is my decision.” I see police, my little brothers face as he hears them say his big sister is missing. I can see the realization hit my parent’s as the news of Luke’s disappearance is shared. I can see our small-town deputies face as he tells my parents that because I’m over the age of eighteen, a legal adult, there was nothing they could do without any indication of foul play. My handwritten note, proof of my consent, gave them no reason to suspect. I wasn’t missing. I was a runaway.
I saw Luke’s hopes and dreams get erased and washed away. I saw his life become nothing but a prison cell. I saw him, he was smiling, but his eyes showed anger and hatred. He hated me. He had to.

The door to the bathroom flew open, and Luke was there, in an instant his eyes were level with mine.

“Delilah?” He begged, “Delilah talk to me, please.”

I looked at him through my tears. I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. I was gasping for air and sobbing uncontrollably. I leaned, laying my head against his neck. My arms found my way around him.

And then I found my words.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I sobbed, “Luke I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. All of it.” I pushed away from him. “Why are you even staying? Why won’t you just leave already!?” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
He didn’t say anything at first. He sat there, his hands had made their way to my arms. “Why would I?”

Why? I thought to myself, why? I could think of a million reasons why, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. Not right away, at least.

Finally I spoke, “Because if you had any sense you would have left when you met me. I’m destruction, I am a prison sentence.” I had never admitted this to him, and now that I had started I couldn’t stop. “I’m nothing like those girls you used to talk about. I’m not kind or caring, I can’t even take care of myself, let alone someone else.” I took a breath. “I can’t be the woman you’ll ever need me to be, and you shouldn’t have to be stuck with me now because I’m carrying your baby. You should still be able to live your life.” The crying had subsided now, the sadness had disappeared. It had been replaced with anger.
“Why can’t you just admit that? Admit that’s why you’re still here. You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to pity me. I got myself into this mess, you shouldn’t have to be drug down too.” Everything inside me was white-hot. I felt like I was going to explode, rage burning inside me. “I ruin everything,” I concluded. “Why didn’t you get out when you had the chance?”

After a moment he spoke, his voice careful and measured. I couldn’t find his emotions in his tone, so I peeked at his face.

“Delilah, if I wanted to leave I would have by now.” He grabbed my hands in his. “You don’t understand. You have no idea what you mean to me. You’re my whole world.” He paused.
“And no.” This isn’t what I wanted-”

I opened my mouth to protest, to say that was why he needed to go, but he cut me off.

“Yet.” He said. “This isn’t what I wanted yet. I wish it would have gone differently. More traditionally. I wish I could have asked you to marry me, I wish we could have said ‘I do’, moved in together and then gotten the news.” He paused. “But that isn’t what happened. Instead I found the love of my life early on, and God decided that we were anything but traditional.” A smile.

I turned my face back to him, eyes locked together. I couldn’t speak.

He continued.

“And I wish our families could have accepted it. I wish we didn’t have to have left. I wish we could have all been happy together, everyone playing the role they were made to play. I wish I could do so much more for you, Delilah, but all I can do is my best. In truth, you deserve more then me. You deserve someone who can be there, someone who can provide for you and a baby. Someone who can pay the bills and keep you safe at night - “

“You make me feel safe.” I interrupted.

“And you make me happy.” He said, “Happier then you can imagine.”

I looked back down at my hands.

“And I know you want to think that I’m just doing this to do the right thing, because ‘that’s how us southern boys are raised’ but I’m doing this because this is what I want to do, and you’re right Delilah, it is what I’m supposed to do, but that only makes it better. You aren’t a prison sentence, you’re the chance at a life I could have never dreamed of.”
He tilted my chin up so I had no choice but to look at him. “And you know what? When this baby is born, when everything is settled and we’re on our feet, well, then I’m going to make you my wife. And you won’t have to worry about me going anywhere, not that you ever should, anyways. I love you Delilah Genevieve, I always have and I always will.”

With that he pulled me into his arms and I gave in. He smelled just like I remembered, like copenhagen and leather. It felt like it had been forever since he had held me in his arms, and in a way - it had been. I leaned deeper into him, and I felt his lips against my forehead. I hadn’t realized just how tired I was until I fully relaxed in his arms. “I promise.” was the last thing I heard before I drifted into sleep.