The Death Date

chapter twenty-seven

My mind hadn't rested since my conversation with Melanie. It was like I was living in a different world, or maybe an alternate universe. My life looked the same, but nothing seemed the same. It was as though the golden hour set upon my surroundings and never left. My world was cast in glowing light that gave it more dimension and depth; everything appeared to have more meaning.

Considering all I had going on, the thought on the forefront of my mind surprised me: what to do about my father. I'd heard a proverb that if you can't stop thinking about someone, it is likely they can't stop thinking about you, and when I called him that afternoon, a decision I hadn't made lightly, the saying proved true.

"Delia," he answered. "I'm so happy you called. I haven't stopped thinking about you."

I already knew what I wanted to say. "Just listen to me, okay? I forgive you, but I haven't forgotten. And chances are I never will. What you did was wrong, and it hurt me."

"I know, Delia, and I'm so –"

"– No," I said, cutting him off. "You listen to me." Silence occupied the line. "Like I said, I'm not going to forget, but I know you tried to reach me after you left. Mom told me. And for that...." I inhaled. "If you want to stay in contact with me, you can. You can call me and I will answer. But if you're going to pull the same stuff – if you're just gonna disappear again – I don't want any of it. You understand? I won't forgive that. I will cut you off and never look back."

"Delia, I swear to you –"

"I don't want your promises. Just tell me now, are you going to stay in contact?"

"Yes."

"Okay. No third chances."

Voice cracking, he asked, "Delia, I leave the day after tomorrow. Can I see you before I go?"

I didn't want to see him, not today, but--though I highly doubted it-- this could change come tomorrow. "I'll call you later and let you know."

"Okay, Delia. I love you."

"Bye." I hung up the phone and plopped onto the couch, and with that action, the giant weight that had been crushing my organs before the call blew away like dust in the wind.

xxx

"You spoke with your dad?" Meghan asked before shoveling a forkful of food into her mouth.

"Yeah, I called him a couple of hours ago."

"What did he say?" she asked.

A couple walked past our booth and were guided to the table adjacent to ours. After the waiter had them seated, she rounded on our table and asked how our food was. I had received her death date upon meeting her, although, for the first time, I wasn't as affected by it; it just seemed like a normal part of life.

"The same shit," I said, chopping into my enchilada. "But I gave him an ultimatum: either keep in contact or don't."

"So will he stay in contact with you, then?" Meghan asked.

"We'll see," I said.

"I think he'll keep in contact," Vi stated. "He wrote you a letter, flew here, and tried to call you every day. It doesn't make sense that he would stop."

This was my thought process too. After this short experience with my father, I liked to think he had turned a corner and was going to put in the effort to keep in touch and build our relationship, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. We were laying the foundation, and if he decided to call it quits soon, I wouldn't have to endure the same degree of pain that I'd felt when he first left.

"Oh, um, Delia, have you heard from a guy named Warner?" Meghan asked as I stopped chewing.

"No."

"George Warner?" Vi asked.

"Oh, I don't know. He just told me Warner." Meghan's eyes bounded between Vi and me. "He came into The Morning Grind yesterday and asked me if you were working."

"Warner asked about Delia?" Vi said. "No, that doesn't make sense. Warner hates Delia."

My continued silence gave both Meghan and Vi cause for concern; Meghan's brows stitched together and Vi stopped eating.

"I saw you walking out of the shop with him that one day. I assumed you knew each other."

Nervously, I combed my hair with a few fingers. "We do know each other. We have a, um, complicated history, I guess."

"Delia's boyfriend in high school was killed in a car accident after leaving a party. Delia made him drive home with another person instead of driving himself home. Warner blames her for his death." It was the briefest summary I had ever heard of the incident, and yet, up until recently, the most correct.

"Jesus, Delia. That's awful. I had no idea..." A hand flew across Meghan's open mouth. "What an asshole. How could he possibly blame you?"

"That's Delia's favorite word for Warner," Vi piped in.

"He's not an asshole," I said, before thinking. "Well, okay, not really."

"Yes, he is. You say it over and over again," Vi added.

Sighing, and wondering how I was going to explain this without really understanding it myself, I said, "He's changed. We've talked about it."

"You've talked to Warner?" Vi asked.

"Yeah." I nodded, trying to stem the sudden influx of emotions. "We've talked."

Meghan was now watching me with an eyebrow raised. "What did you two talk about?"

I hated that warmth crept towards my face and desperately tried to disguise it by scratching at my neck. "Nothing. I just – he just gave me some, uh, backstory."

"Vi," Meghan said through a wide grin, "I think Delia has a crush."

Vi and I both erupted into a series of arguments, although mine grew increasingly less persuasive as I continued. Over the last few months, I had started to see Warner differently; the fire I felt when thinking of him had turned from anger to something else: a slow, deep burn in the center of my chest that was impossible to quell.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Nothing'll ever happen."

Meghan leaned across the table. "Never say never."

I swiped a hand across the air. "How're you two, by the way?" I asked, eager for a change in subject.

"Oh," Meghan started. "Good, really good. We're, uh, taking it slow."

I was happy to see that Vi flushed crimson.

xxx

A/N: Thanks for the reads, votes, and comments! I will be uploading another chapter here shortly :)