The Truth About Love

CHAPTER 25: COLLEEN

Holy smokes! It is almost seven at night!
I think I drifted off sometime around nine in the morning when I heard Delilah tip toeing back to her room.
I really need to get a set sleep schedule and stop drinking.
This is so out of the norm for me.
Plus I have a major hangover.

After a much needed shower, to scrub off the evidence that last night existed, I head downstairs.

Delilah is laid out on the couch in sweats watching the history channel.
She never ceases to amaze me.

After pouring a cup of coffee and plopping down at her feet she smirks up at me,
"long night, hey?"
"You can say that again," I mumble sarcastically.
"So is my baby sister a woman now?," she asks with a devilish smirk, while muting the television and sitting up to hear all of the details.
"In some ways I'm more of an adult than I ever was, but not for what you're thinking," I say wincing at the memory of last nights events.
"Oh, I'm sorry sis, what happened?"

So I tell her.
Every single detail.
From the seduction to the walk of a different kind of shame back to my room in the early hours of day.
I tell her about Martin and Gina.
About our show for all of her neighbors.
And about my run home.

At some point I'm crying hysterically, but it's funny because I didn't even think I had the strength to cry.

"I'm so sorry Colleen, but I really think you should talk to him," she says tenderly.
"Maybe, but not now. How was your night?"
"Well I met up with Xavier. I don't know if you remember him from last week? Do you? Well I used to date him years ago, but when I moved we ended things. I think if I stay, we may give it a go again."
I just nod. It's nice to put a name to the face of the guy she ditched me for last week. As selfish as it is, I don't have the patience to hear about her love life blooming. I think she understands because she quickly changes the subject.
"Well your dad called. He was a little disappointed you were still sleeping. He said he would be a gone a couple more days," she says.
"Did he say where he was?"
"Nope."
Figures.

After no response and realizing I'm not in the mood to talk she lays back down and turns the volume back up on the show she's watching.
And I sit and stew.
I find myself thinking of my mother actually, avoiding thoughts of my love life that should be the least of my worries if we're being honest.
And an ache forms in my chest for the woman upstairs who I still haven't even faced.
I forgive her, I love her, I accept her, so why can't I find the courage to go see her?

"Do you think mom is going to pull through?," I ask Delilah.
"No. She won't pull through. She had a stroke due to a blood clot. A severe one at that. The prognosis is never optimistic in such cases. Even if she were to wake, she will likely still be on that ventilator. She won't be able to walk or talk, won't even be able to feed herself. We're just prolonging the inevitable here and it's really making it tougher on the family. But you're father insists," she says as if it is normal to just state something like that so nonchalantly.
I just stare ahead soaking in her words.

"Your so much like your father."
I didn't mean to acknowledge it aloud, and by the look on her face she doesn't find it appropriate either.
"Excuse me."
"Its just that your so smart. You know all of this stuff, and you're so upfront with it. Couldn't even sugar coat it for me."
"How would you know about my father? Mom talked about him with you?," she asks quietly.
"You can say that."
"Well she never mentions him when we're in the house, so I really just thought he was banned."
"He was, well is, I don't know. But I've learned a lot about him recently."
"Oh."

I can literally feel her collected exterior crack, and the anger radiating off of her.
But we both ended the discussion and sat in more silence.

After a few minutes she grabbed my hand, "you're not the only one mad at her you know."
I look up at her confused. What kind of strain could there possibly be in their relationship.
Answering my thoughts, "I grew up in a home where talking about my absolute favorite person in the world was almost forbidden. She never said it but she made it known. I mean, we talked of plans and schedules involving him but that was it. I had to pretend he was just part of an itinerary in the comfort of my own home. I love your father, and I'm glad he and mom are together, but why couldn't my father be in the mix. It was like she rid of him when behind these walls. No pictures, stories or anything."
"I mean, he's my father. But when I'm home he's a stranger. I don't know, it just wasn't fair of her to do that to me. But I forgave her for it. Probably because my father told me to. So don't think you're the only one mad at her, Colleen. Because I'm livid. But I forgive her. And I love her. So whatever your feeling towards her, let it go. It's just holding you back."

My skin burned in response to her words.
How could I have not realized this?
Delilah probably has more of a reason to be angry at my mother than I do.
Yet here she is, giving me the encouragement I don't even need anymore.

I don't even tell her that I had already forgiven our mother.
For some reason I feel the first person who should know is the woman herself.
But I do feel raked with guilt for assuming I'm the only one here with hard feelings.

After a minute or two she gets up to leave the room to go upstairs.

"Delilah, wait."
She stops short of the stairs to look back at me.
"I have something for you. I'm not finished, but when I am, I think you'll appreciate it."
"What is it?"
"Something of mom's that I think you'd like to see. Maybe it would help you come to terms with why she didn't speak of him much."
She walks a little closer to me as if to ask more. But then she stops and peers outside the front window.

"I think your opportunity to talk to Martin has come."
I look at her confused.
"He just pulled up in your car."

Fuck. I forgot about that. My car.
I threw my keys and ran home.
I guess I tried to believe it would magically just appear.

"Good luck," she says sympathetically before heading up the stairs.

"Delilah?"
She stops mid step, not turning around.
"I'm proud to say your just like him you know, it was a compliment. Your brilliant, funny, and rough around the edges in the most remarkable way. I love you more for it."

With that her shoulders shake with a silent cry.
A cry I don't know how she's held in through all of what she's been going through.
And I watch as she retreats up the stairs, silently praying for her.
Because for once, I realize she needs strength more than I do.

And she was right.
Martin is outside leaning against my white, Nissan Altima.
He's standing there, freshly showered with wet hair, in a pair torn up jeans and a black hoodie.
He looks as distressed as I feel.
And I feel the odd need to comfort the man I love.
Even if it's just for a minute.

As if feeling the heat of my glare, he looks up into the window, to meet my eyes.
And I swear my world stops.

As it always will for Martin Jager Walen.

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I know this was short, but I wanted you's to get to know Delilah's position a little bit.
She really plays a big part in this story, and it may be obvious soon.
Plus you'll see she may in fact need the journals more than you think.

And of corse Martin showed up and I had to end it there, I'd love to hear what you think will come of it.

But anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please continue to vote and comment.

Love you all!