The Death Date

chapter thirty

I was wearing the same dress to the Christmas Ball that I had worn to the Navy Ball. The black fabric hung nicely around my waist giving way to flowing skirts over my hips and legs. For what seemed like the first time in years, my copper hair was tamed; it was curled loosely and fell around my shoulders, tickling my back when I swished it. I had applied a thin layer of makeup, just like last time, paying close attention to my eyes. A few extra swipes of mascara had been added to make my oak eyes pop.

Leaving my bedroom, I found my mom seated on the couch. When she turned to find me, her expression was lit by the dim, starry lights of our Christmas tree.

"Delia," she said, standing up. "You look beautiful."

I didn't search my mom's eyes. I didn't need to, not anymore. "Thanks, Mom."

"Nick's going to be beside himself."

My chin drifted to the floor.

"Oh," my mom said, "are you not dressed for Nick?"

To disguise this truth, my chin dipped lower. I wasn't dressed for Nick. I hadn't thought of him when I curled my hair, I hadn't thought of him when I strategically applied makeup, and I hadn't thought of him when I slipped into my dress. In fact, I had told Nick I was going to drive myself to the hotel housing the Christmas Ball.

"Well," my mom continued, "whoever it is you're dressed for, I don't think they'll know what to do." She lifted my chin with her hand. "And Delia, you can always dress up for yourself, you know. You don't need someone else to be the reason."

I nodded into her warm palm.

"Have fun, Delia."

xxx

The people in the ballroom were a blur. Shades of blue, black, and a few bright colors blended as though looking at a Monet painting. I was too close. Nothing made sense. My life was spinning around in a massive flurry. Maybe if I backed away and watched from a distance, I would understand the scene in front of me.

Nick found me ten minutes after I arrived and was quick to pull me to our table. Garrett, Grayer, Aquino, and a few others were dispersed around it talking amongst themselves. I plopped down into the first chair I came to.

"What do you want to drink?" Nick asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Okay. I'm gonna see if I can sneak some champagne or something. Be right back." He departed and was absorbed into the whirring mass.

My head had been filled with Warner and my death date the entire drive to the hotel. I hadn't registered the lines of the road, stoplights, or any other traffic. Auto-pilot had gotten me here safely, and though the music blasted and people chattered nonstop around me, it wasn't enough to stop either of the two topics from making their continual loop.

My eyes roamed the vicinity, but I didn't see Warner. Not that I had much of a chance; everything was still blurred.

Sighing, I folded my arms on the table. Copper hair spilled over my shoulder and tickled my skin. I was surprised it still maintained its curl.

"What's wrong with you?"

Garrett had taken the empty seat beside me. His expression was jovial: wide grin, full cheeks, and eyes as round as ever.

"Hey, Garrett," I said. "How are you?"

"Well, that has to be the sorriest attempt at a fake smile as I've ever seen." He edged closer. "What's wrong, Delia?"

Everything, I thought. Everything was wrong.

"Just had a lousy couple of weeks is all," I said.