Delilah

She had been my best friend since high school. Her eyes were gold, warm and gentle. They warmed my core and lit my way during those dark days.

From the instant I met her in french class, I liked her. Her soft, subtle smile; her wavy brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders. She slowly raised her hand, correcting the teacher who had mispronounced her name.

“It’s Delilah,” she said. “My name is Delilah.”

Her voice was always light and breathy, but mesmerizing all the while as she read me her poetry out int eh court yard. Her pale, pink lips formed each letter carefully.

“You should submit it to one of those books,” I suggested. She slammed the notebook shut, shaking her head.

“It’s nowhere near good enough.”

She always giggled as we practiced our french vocabulary in the library during lunch.

“J'aime la lumière.”

“You love...light?” I mocked her. She scrunched up her nose, laughing at me sweetly.

“Non, non. Je t’aime, Gerard.” Her hand brushed mine as she took the paper out of my hand.

I smiled to myself, looking back down at the place where she had touched. “Je t’aime aussi.”

If only she had known I meant it.

The feelings never changed, even years after we had been apart She stayed in New Jersey, going to some local college, while I went on to an art school in New York City. We lost touch along the way.

But she found me again.

It was years later, at one of my band’s shows. Cartooning hadn’t worked out as I had planned, so I did the only other thing I knew how to do, I sang. People became more accepting, especially after I dropped all of my high school weight.

She was arguing with a security guard when I spotted her, though I hadn’t recognized her at all. Her hair was no short and dyed black; the shine of her eyes clogged thickly with eyeliner. But her voice was still the same.

“Delilah?” I asked, unsure if it was really her. She let out a gasp and squealed, throwing her arms around me.

“Gerard! I missed you! I can’t believe,” she took a step back, “How thin you’ve gotten! You’re all bones now!”

I smiled coyly back at her, unsure of what to say. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you on the television the other night, Mr. Rock star! I had to congratulate you.”

I ran a hand nervously through my hair. It felt greasy. “Thanks, Delilah.”

She smiled, her teeth had aged a bit since the last time I saw her. I wondered what ha done it. Cigarettes? Coffee?

“Do you want to come back to the dressing room? It’ll be easier to talk there,” I suggested, not wanting to be interrupted by anyone. She nodded, and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

I introduced her to the guys, who all smiled politely at her. She smiled back, but her eyes were cold. I handed her a beer and sat down next to her on the couch.

“So, how’s life been treating you?” I asked, leaning on one of the arm rests.

“Good. I’ve been working in the advertising department for the local paper,” she said, playing with the hem on her dress.

“Advertising? That’s kinda a rough business to break into, isn’t it?” I raised my eyebrows and place the beer down on the coffee table below us.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s helped me a lot. I’ve become good at knowing the characteristics of people in general.”

The conversation lulled as the band headed out to the meet and greet. They said I could stay behind to get ‘caught up’ with my friend.

“Oh! I’m engaged!” She interjected, thrusting a hand out in front of her. I took it to look at the ring more closely. It simple, a silver band encrusted with a yellow stone.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” I asked, my heart sinking slowing in my chest.

“Charlie. I met him at this coffee shop a while back.”

I nodded, diverting my eyes to the window. “When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, not for a while. Charlie’s always out. I wish that he were home more so we could plan it, but he’s just always busy.” Her voice was beginning to sound choked, and I looked back to see her eyes were tearing over.

“Why is he...?”

“Fuck if I know, Gerard. I’ve tried to make coming home more appealing...tried doing simple... ‘gestures’...” She paused, covering her eyes with her hand. She probably threw sex at him. I just let out a low sigh as she carelessly smiled, shaking her head.

“I even wore this rose perfume that his mother always loved. But nothing’s helped. He still goes out every night.”

Oh God, Delilah. What have you become?

We chatted for a while longer, straying away from the topic of her shitty relationship. We exchanged numbers; she made me promise to call her. It took all my strength not to call her as soon as she left.

I came back in after walking her to her car. Ray was clumsily tuning her guitar and didn’t bother looking up.

“Your friend leave?” He asked. I nodded, even though he couldn’t see.

“She’s a bit of a schizo, don’t you think?” He bluntly stated, setting his guitar back in its case.

“I think she’s just on the rag right now,” I defended her hopelessly. She had changed so much since high school.

I don’t think I’ve ever met a more impossible girl.