35. Delia
Thirty Five
Delia
I wake in Langdon’s bed. It smells like him and I never want to get out of it. But I have to go home today. No school. I’m suspended. For a day. It seems slightly ridiculous. Why bother with suspension at all. It’d be far worse to have to go in anyway and face everyone the day after.
Although I won’t lie, I’d love to see what Hailie looks like. I stretch in place trying to wake myself up. The doorknob turns and excitement courses through me. Expecting to see Langdon, I check my breath, but the anticipation was a letdown.
It’s Anderson.
He leaps onto the bed and jumps. “You’re going to be late!”
I laugh out a groan. “Man, you’re perky in the morning.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m up. I’m up. ”
I toss the blankets off me and plant my feet on the floor. Anderson nods his approval and exits the room as fast as he entered. I’m not sure I could handle siblings. It’s an entirely different world. Siblings.
My mind drifts to Olivia. I run my fingers over Langdon’s desk and chair, stopping to look at a picture of him and a dark-haired young girl. Must be her. They’re cracking up at something, arms wrapped around each other. A pang of sorrow hits me smack between my breasts. And then another. My father is dead too. I will never get to know him. I will never know his laugh or what his voice sounds like. I don’t get to know if our mannerisms are the same or if I would have hated him. Anger pummels me.
“Whatcha doing?” Langdon asks from the doorway.
I spin around, startled, biting back tears, and shake my head. “Just snooping I guess.”
Langdon utters a lazy laugh as he approaches. “Find anything concerning?”
My mood improves. “Nothing, you are utterly boring.”
His grin dissolves my anger. He shrugs. “I’m good at hiding things. Oldest kid and all that.”
There’s a medal on a shelf behind him for diving. I point to it. “So you’ll be at the pool with me all season huh?”
“Mom really didn’t let anything slide, did she?” he asks, glancing at the medal.
“I would have figured it out when you showed up at practice.”
“Yeah. But the surprise would have been fun to see.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me flush with his chest. “Morning. Sleep ok?” he asks into the top of my head. I melt against him and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Like a rock.”
His chest heaves as he laughs. “I don’t get that saying.”
Come to think of it, I don’t either. “My mom always said it, though.”
“Do you miss her?” he asks, releasing me.
“I’m learning to live without her,” I say.
He cocks his head at me and raises a single brow. “That’s not an answer.”
“Sometimes I’m too angry at her to miss her. Sometimes I miss her so much I feel like it might break me apart.”
“What was it like before you moved here?”
My brow wrinkles but I think about it briefly. “Samaras, those little propeller-shaped whirlybirds that litter the ground. You know what I’m talking about?” Langdon nods. “Mom and I used to peel them apart—just slightly—and stick them to the bridge of our noses and chase after each other. "
“She sounds like she was fun,” he says.
I shrug. “Yes and no. I mean, that was fun. I was a kid. I thought all kids lived like I did with a mom like mine. But then kids started talking and I started going to other kids’ houses and realizing that most people did not live like we did and I started noticing all the ways I had to take care of her when she was supposed to be taking care of me. We were more like friends, roommates, cousins I don’t know,” I say exasperated. “It was good and weird and…”
He interrupts. “Got it.”
Anna calls upstairs asking if everyone is nearly ready to go.
“Almost,” Langdon answers. “You better get in the bathroom. ”
I give myself a P.T.A. as my mom calls it, a pits, tits, and ass bath while simultaneously brushing my teeth. After dragging a brush through my hair, I tug on my clothes from yesterday and head downstairs.
“I’m going to have Langdon drop you at home on his way to school if that’s okay with you?” James says. I nod.
We pile into Langdon’s truck, Anderson, me, and Langdon, and take off down the road.
“Did you know that right there—” Anderson points to a trail along the edge of their driveway that heads into the woods. “Is a trail you can take and it goes right to your backyard?”
“Really?” I ask.
Langdon smiles and nods his head. “Yup. Not really your backyard, but that field way behind your backyard.”
“How long is the walk?” I ask.
“Maybe ten minutes or so,” he answers.
“Mom said you punched Hailie in the face. That’s rad. She’s mean,” Anderson says.
I stifle a groan and face him. “It’s not cool to punch people. I feel terrible about it. Even if she is mean.”
Anderson’s face falls slightly. “Yeah. Okay. Still…did it hurt your hand?”
“Yeah. A lot actually. Ten out of ten do not recommend.”
Langdon chuckles as I turn back around. “You’re too nice to him. He’s going to start thinking you are friends.”
I glance at Anderson and smile. “We are friends.”
** *
Gramps opens the door and ushers me in when Langdon pulls up to the house.
“Good luck,” Langdon whispers while waving to Heath.
I brace myself for the talk that is sure to follow but he doesn’t say anything. I kick off my shoes and plop onto the couch.
“So,” I say.
“So,” he replies.
“What’s my punishment?”
Gramps angles his head sideways and jams his hands in his pockets. “No friends over for a week. And I have a gift for you.”
My jaw hangs slack. Gramps shuffles to the dining room and comes back with a small box and extends it to me.
“It’s a cell phone. So you can call me when you don’t feel…well. Maybe next time I can talk you off the ledge. It’s not a fancy one but it texts and calls.”
I stare at him, then the box, then him again. “I don’t understand. I’m not really in trouble? And you’re giving me a phone?”
Gramps sighs and sits on the couch next to me. “If I ground you indefinitely will it change anything?”
I shake my head. “Probably not.”
“If I yell at you will it change anything?” Again I shake my head. “That’s what I thought. If the next time you get sad or angry or upset about anything, and you have that phone on you, will you call me and tell me before you set out on a mission to destroy your hand?”
I bite back a smile as tears well in my eyes. I nod. “I can do that. ”
He pats my knee. “Okay then. Next question is, what should we do today?”
“Wait, seriously?” I ask as he stands.
“Listen…your mom said you are a great kid. Kind, respectful, responsible. Anna who barely knows you essentially said the same on the phone. I made a lot of mistakes parenting Jennifer that Maeve would kill me for if I repeated now. I’m choosing to trust what I’ve seen and heard about you unless you prove me wrong.”
“Gramps?” I ask.
“What?”
“Did you know my dad? Can you tell me about him?”
Gramps sighs and rubs his palms on his jeans. “I didn’t like him.” He holds a hand up. “I also didn’t bother to give him a chance or get to know him. So no, I can’t really tell you anything about him. But I know this, my judgment of his character was wrong. Any man who would dive into freezing water to save a drowning family is a good man, and I can’t tell you how much it breaks my heart to know that I wrongly judged him for so long.”
I inhale sharply and nod. I didn’t really expect such an honest answer, but Gramps is full of surprises.
“Fair enough. I think I’m going to shower. I didn’t get a chance this morning. I slept a little late.”
***
Gramps is in town running an errand. I finished setting up my new phone. It’s a cheap flip phone but I adore it. I even programmed in his number and Mom’s. Curiosity got the better of me and I tried her phone. It went immediately to voicemail. Hearing her voice telling me to leave a message messed with my head. Curled up on my bed I decide to read more of her journal.
Journal of Jennifer Brickell
April 2005
We were supposed to meet last night. One last kiss before we met the next day to marry. He left a note in our spot in the back field. I love you. Forever. I cried because I desperately wanted to see him but was happy to have his love note. The next morning I pulled on my billowy white linen dress and went to the beach so ready—oh so ready—to be his, really and truly.
I stood on the beach and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I clutched my belly where Baby Bean grew and waited some more.
When the sun set I knew he wasn’t coming. I knew I was alone. He’d abandoned us both. I sank down into the soft sand and wept so hard I thought my lungs might collapse and my eyes would drown in their own tears. Anna came to the beach, helped me to my feet, and dragged me back to my car.
Why? Why? Why? I cried over and over again in her arms. She said she didn’t know but she was sorry. I pulled myself together and sucked in a huge breath. Are you keeping the baby? She asked.
Take me to see him, I told her.
She said no.
I pushed her aside climbed in my car and drove to his house. The doors were locked and the lights were off. I drove to our house, more of a cabin really, that he had almost finished building for us. He wasn’t there either. A note was taped to the door with my name on it. I ripped it off, angrily, and unfolded it. Money slipped out and fell to my feet.
“Leave. Get out. Forget about me. "
I raced home, thrust myself through the front door, and screamed at Mom and Dad.
What have you done? What have you done?! I screeched and squealed and ranted until I collapsed on the floor. Dad told me to get a hold of myself. Mom mentioned this behavior wasn’t good for the baby.
“Screw you! This isn’t your baby! You will never know the love of this baby!”
“Jennifer, don’t be dramatic, you can’t raise a baby alone at seventeen,” Mom said.
I sniffed all my heartache and grief deep inside me and stood. I glared at my parents. “Watch me.”
My heart races. I flip past blank page after blank page. That can’t be the end. It just can’t. And then tucked near the back of the notebook is a final entry written the same month I was born.
Journal of Jennifer Brickell
August 2005
Dear D,
As I write this, we are getting quite the storm, the rain blows sideways. I used to hate storms but lately, they make me feel seen. They match my mood.
I miss you so much. So, so much since our last night together. I hold that night in my memories like a prayer and expect I will for years to come. I’ve turned that night over and over in my mind. The soft touch of your fingers. The feel of your lips on my skin. The tenderness you always regarded me with. I stare at your picture.
The picture of us, so carefree and young. So happy and in love. It makes me homesick, but not for the town or my home or family. It makes me homesick for you.
I want that picture more than anything. I want you more than anything. I wish we could be together. I wish you would come to me, join me and Delia.
I’ve never been so lonesome as I am right now. I am lost without you. Please, I beg you, come. Come be with me and Delia.
She looks just like you, to the point it’s painful to look at her sometimes. I named her after your grandmother. She is the only light in my life. This is hard. Too hard to do alone. I need you with me, with us. I never realized I could miss someone so much. Please, I will do anything, please come to me.
A sob rips through me. I’m named after his grandmother. Maybe his mother is still alive? Maybe I could find his family and get to know them? My mom’s written words are so full of sadness and despair and suddenly I’m angry at a father I never knew. For abandoning my mom. For giving in to fear. For not being there for us.
To get my feelings out, I pull out my own notebook and begin writing.
I used to feel shiny and magnetic. I miss the feeling. I want to radiate contentedness and sparkle. I used to.
I used to feel love and safety and now I feel like I’m hanging by a thread—untethered.
Inch worms hover in the air on invisible strings hanging suspended, twirling from branches in the shade and sun, doing what?
Waiting for what? What is their purpose?
Am I an inchworm? Just floating in the air waiting for a sign? Hoping and praying a passerby doesn’t disturb my thread and send me hurdling to the ground?
Am I a dash of complacency mixed with inaction, abandonment, and daddy issues? Is that really what I am?
I want to trade in my scowls and skepticism for smiles and carefree delight. I want to glitter again. I want Mom to come home and I want her to glitter again too.
I put my notebook on my nightstand. Self-heated eye masks are little luxuries. They also help with red-rimmed tearful eyes.
I have one left from my stocking last Christmas. I turn off my light then loop the straps over my ears, letting the warmth soothe my eyes and sinuses.
I wonder if anything will ever be the same as I drift to sleep.