45. Delia
Forty Five
Delia
H alloween. I am super excited. I love Halloween.
I love scary vibes and costumes and just thinking about the day makes me sad because it’s also my mom’s favorite holiday outside of Christmas. I’ve called her phone every day just to listen to her voice on her voicemail recording.
It’s been two months and literally no one seems concerned that she’s gone. It makes me wonder if Anna or Gramps actually know where she is or have talked to her. But if they have, why can’t I know about it? I’d take an explanation over secrets any day of the week.
I’m supposed to meet Langdon and Anderson to trick or treat at six-thirty tonight and I’m currently at the one and only thrift store in town trying to create a costume. I don’t care if Langdon thinks it’s lame—Anderson will love that I dressed up. I used an old pillowcase in Gramps linen closet to make me and Anderson sacks for candy with our names written on them.
Gramps pokes around the store waiting for me. Every once in a while he smiles at me and asks how it’s going and I tell him I’m not quite there yet. I end up grabbing a long red sparkling evening gown and then I make Gramps stop at the drug store so I can grab some fake wound and fake blood makeup.
I’m going as Meryl Streep in Death Becomes Her. I’ll have to wear the dress backward and do some funky special effects to my neck to make it look twisted on backward but I think I can pull it off. Again, I wish Mom were here—she’s the best at the gruesome makeup for my crazy costume ideas. It doesn’t help that Death Becomes Her was one of her favorite movies to watch on rainy, cold days.
At home, I painstakingly apply the latex into ropey chunks of skin around my neck until I get the look I want. For fun, I give myself a little extra makeup under the eyes to make myself look more dead and I top off the look with some fake blood dripping from the corner of my mouth. I pull my hair half up and pin it, then loosely curl the parts left down. They fall in glamorous waves around my collarbone. I use mom’s trick of fashion tape to keep the dress covering my breasts because the back of the dress plunges almost to my belly button and I don’t need any accidental nip slips with Anderson in attendance .
I smooth the dress down my body. It fits nearly perfectly. Gramps hollers up the stairs to ask if I’m almost ready.
I holler back, “two minutes,” while I tug on my converse. At least the dress is long enough that you don’t see them.
I hear the front door open and close and wonder why Gramps is so anxious to leave—he said the driveway’s too long to get trick-or-treaters anyway—but I hustle my ass downstairs to meet him regardless. I turn on the landing and scoot down the stairs but stop short two steps from the bottom.
“Delia,” Mom sighs, a dreamy look in her eye.
Contentment. Home. Peace.
I swallow my shock, it slides down thickly as rage bubbles in my gut. “You’ve outdone yourself this year. We need a picture!”
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. How the hell is she able to act like she didn’t just disappear for two months? My fingers ball into fists at my sides.
“Gramps,” I call out.
He steps out from the dining room and looks at me. I can’t read his face. It’s a little bit confusion, a little bit sad and a little bit something I can’t figure out. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to be late,” I say. I take the last two stairs and snatch the two pillow cases from the side table. Mom raises a brow at me curiously.
“Late for what?”
“I’m ready, Gramps.” I clutch the candy sacks to my belly. I cannot deal with her right now. I’m angry but relieved. Hurt—so hurt—but it’s not Mom I want to comfort me this time. I’m breathing hard, trying to stay calm .
“I think you should let Langdon know that something’s come up,” Gramps says. “You two have some talking to do.” He glances between me and Mom.
A tiny cry of betrayal squeaks out of me. Why? How is he not pissed at her too?
“I don’t want to,” I tell him.
“Delia,” Mom says and reaches for my arm. I yank it away as tears threaten to explode from my eyes. “Delia,” she says more sternly. “Come here.”
I refuse to move but Mom doesn’t. She gets right up in my space and wraps her arms around me tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. I remain rigid, not willing to give in too easily. She smells like my mom. Earthy and wild flowery. She feels like my mom. Safe and comforting. But she also feels like a traitor somehow too.
Gramps mumbles something about making tea and shuffles into the kitchen. Mom tries to move us into the living room as I break down in tears.
“Why?” I sob.
She rubs my back in tiny circles—the kind that used to make all my fears or sadness disappear. “I’d never miss Halloween with you or your swim season.”
“Seriously?” I squawk. “Who the fuck cares about Halloween right now?!”
“Language,” Gramps says and sets down two mugs of tea before leaving again. His slow heavy footfalls echo up the stairwell as he retreats. Coward .
“I know you’re upset, babe.”
“You don’t know shit,” I whisper hiss. “You abandoned me with a strange old man. You left me without saying anything. You disappeared. I thought you were gone! Or worse.”
Mom folds her hands around her mug of tea. “When I was young the world felt smaller. Cities were bigger and full of endless adventure. I felt stronger. I was stronger. I didn’t need anyone but you after… after Daniel left. Not my parents, not my friends and not this town. But life has a way of delivering incredible things mixed in with sourness. I lost Daniel but gained you, Delia. And then we came back here. And I worked up the courage to go see him. I brought pictures of you and honestly, what better day to do it than on your last first day of school?” She twists her fingers together around the mug.
“But the cabin was empty. Rotting from the inside out . And so I went to Anna’s work to see if she knew where he might be. Life teaches you things you’d never imagine, baby.” A tear slides down her cheek. “She told me everything. And it felt like all the pieces that made me into the woman I was were painfully removed until I was just as messy as rotten and empty as that cabin of his. And I panicked. But for the first time, I knew you were safe without me. You had Dad and friends and were at home. So I let myself fall apart alone and away. I let myself feel emotions that I never dared to let in before because if I crumbled you’d suffer. And I’m sorry Delia, I’m so sorry. But I was seventeen when I left and I had seventeen years of hurt and trauma and pain and heartbreak to heal. I made a mess of our lives and I’m truly sorry for that.”
“So you went on some personal growth journey and left me as collateral damage?” I feel so lost that I’m barely existing. I’m cold with disappointment, crippled from emotional exhaustion and sick with apprehension. Tidal waves of anger rip through me.
“Delia,” she pleads.
My chest heaves with my breaths. “I read your old journal. I talked to Anna. I’ve been to Dad’s house. He loved you. Waited for you. For us. You just couldn’t come back here to make it work,” I spit. “I hate you for abandoning me. I hate you for not answering a single call from me. I hate you for not bothering to call and say you were safe.”
Standing, I metaphorically limp away from a fight that I won by just a hair as Mom lets out a sorrow-filled sob. I run right out the back door, through the yard, and into the back field, tears blurring my vision. It’s dark, but I manage to find the trail that cuts over to Langdon’s house and I don’t stop moving until I get there.