Sweet Delilah

ONE~IVORY GREEN

~DELILAH~

As I look in the mirror I struggle to admire the person in front of me. 

Long brown hair, and green eyes.

Freckles are randomly placed as if they weren't meant to be there at all.

I look like my mom, except not as beautiful.

At least not to him...

I hold back my tears as my mind wanders to her.

It's been five years and still, the thought of her hurts.

The simple memory that she isn't here anymore, hurts.

If she were here, she would know what to do.

Ever since her death, my dad hasn't been around much. When he is around, he's just angry, angry and bitter. I didn't know it at the time, but my mom's death left me without a mother, and eventually, without a father.

So I left. There was nothing left for me in the place I called home.

Nothing and no one.

I shake my head and continue to get ready.

I pull my hair up and tie it back. A few strands still hang in front of my face. I shrug and put my hair back down. Half of it pinned back.

I was a mess. I am a mess.

As I make my way out of the door, I grab my apron and pull it around my waist.

I take one last look at myself.

You look good, I tell myself. Pretty. But I know I don't believe the words I tell myself. No matter how many times I say them.

Because every chance he got, he would say otherwise.

I look down at my hand, feeling the absence of the ring sting. I don't miss him. Just what we used to be, who he used to be. Before...no, no Delilah. Don't go there. Not now.

I brush off my apron, grab my keys, and hurry out the door. I didn't want to be late to work again.

---

As I enter the cafe, the rain starts to drizzle down, creating small water droplets on the windows. I like the rain. It's always been calming to me.

"Delilah, you're late, again." I hear my boss call over my shoulder as I walk to the back and place my things in my locker.

I mentally scold myself for not being on time, and for getting distracted by my own thoughts.

I look down at my watch. It was my mom's.

I'm only two minutes late. But still, late nonetheless.

"I'm sorry Joe, It won't happen again," I say as I turn to face him.

He stands in front of me in his tall stature with his arms crossed.

His hair is short and getting closer to grey than black. He has a large figure and always smells like old shoes and cigarettes.

The smell makes me feel sick.

Joe is never nice to me. But I really need this job, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Keep this up and you won't have to worry about being late again." He says scoffing and shaking his head as he walks back to his office.

I take a deep breath before I head out to the counter.

As I make my way to the front, I look around the room to see a man sitting in a booth with two other men in the corner.