Faith: Delilah

Chapter 14: Phase Two

Chapter 14

Phase Two

"Breathing is easier tonight than it has been in over a week." I sighed to Messy as I collapsed on my bed... in my most comfortable pajamas. I let my whole body relax into the mattress.

"Uhh..." I groaned out loud. My shoulders unwound themselves and I could feel my lower back sinking deeper into the cushion. Arms and legs sprawled out, I cleared my head.

"The stress has been too much. I don't feel like myself in the least." I knew Messy was looking at me even though my eyes were focused on the run-of-the-mill ceiling they put in all these housing additions. "Something is changing in me, I can feel it. I don't know what it is, or if its good or bad, but I'm not the same as I used to be. I feel lost... that I know for sure." I inhaled as much air as I could, filling my lungs to capacity before letting it all out.

"What do you think about Bartholomew?" I asked, changing the subject. Messy growled a deep, throaty growl. It actually alarmed me a bit before I blew it off as over-protective dog- as if he could actually understand me. "What are you so upset about? He's young, successful, and handsome."

Messy growled again.

"Ah! Don't be jealous!" I playfully scolded him. "I'm just talking. I'm going to work for him after all." I elbowed him in the ribs. He huffed in my direction and I knew he had turned his head away from me.

I fell asleep picturing myself gracefully gliding in between tables, smiling and laughing with dinner guests while beautiful music played in the background.

The next phase of my life.

A forceful bark woke me up before the sunrise. I jumped out of bed, scared out of my wits.

"Messy? What is it boy?" I asked, not moving a muscle. "Messy?"

His nose was pressed to the glass of my window. Even through the dark, I could see him steaming up the pane.

"Messy!" I commanded an answer. I was starting to get fearfully hysterical from his growling. He looked at me, whined, and barked at the window again. This time his tail wagged just a little. Taking it as a sign of safety, I slowly walked towards the window he was growling at. The sun was just beginning to peak through the tree branches.

"The tree branches? They're moving." I looked even more closely and then laughed out loud. "It's the wind, Messy. We're in Chicago. It blows every day!"

He growled and barked again.

"Come on, I'll let you outside so you can chase the wind."

Laughing still, I walked downstairs. Oscar had already left for the day. I wasn't yet hungry, so I made myself a cup of hot tea.

How long will it be hard to be in the kitchen?

I looked around, still seeing the scene from that horrific night. For a period of time, I just stared at the linoleum floor. When my eyes started to sting from tears, I averted my focus to the cabinets with a deep breath.

Tea...

brown sugar and honey.

It's what Mom used to always make for me when I needed to settle my nerves. One morning I had been so worked up over a speech in my younger years, I nearly threw up before school. She made me sit down and drink hot tea before she would take me to my classes. I would always remember that morning.

I walked out to the patio figuring since I was up, I might as well enjoy the morning outside. The sound of the sliding glass door excited me somewhere down deep inside. I had always loved being outdoors. I stepped out onto the cold, rough cement. It was still slightly damp with morning dew on my bare feet. The air was warm and mixed with the chill under foot, it was somehow soothing.

Messy was still sniffing around the tree, growling every now and then.

Must be something interesting.

 I've never really seen him pay so much attention to a tree.

 Who knows.

Maybe it's a squirrel... or a cat.

I gingerly set my tea on the uneven patio table, it rocked back and forth slightly from even the smallest bit of weight. As I sat down, the cold of the wrought iron chair gave me a start. I jumped back up too quick for comfort, and went inside to grab a blanket to sit on.

The perfect throw was tossed a skew on my mother's favorite chair. As I bent down to grab it, I looked sideways at her bookshelf. There, ragged from over use, was my mom's Bible. Feeling a pull coming from the center of my body, I hooked a finger on the abused binding.

Ecclesiastes chapter three.

I hadn't forgotten what the doctor had said. While my faith wasn't strong, I gained comfort knowing I wasn't alone and strength in knowing someone else had suffered too. My mom's Bible was bound to become my new most precious possession. I clung to the book while I laid the blanket over my chair. As I sat, I pulled my feet off the spiteful cold surface below them.

I opened the old Bible, trying to remember the last time I had even touched it. I hadn't touched many Bibles, but I was familiar with what they all had in common- thin paper. I never understood why. If you were supposed to makes notes in your Bible, why is the paper too thin to write on? My mom's Bible was marked up all over the place. I flipped randomly through the books, reading a passage here, a thought of my mother's there. It didn't take me long to find Ecclesiastes.