Back Home: A Beetlejuice Story

Chapter 12

BJ

Delia invited me to hang out with her today since she didn't have to work and Lydia was still pouring her time into studying. The basement was, besides storage space, dedicated to being a workshop of sorts. "Now, here is where I do my sculpting. It isn't much, but then again, I don't sculpt much," Delia exclaims, gesturing to a small, tarped area of the basement.

"Delia, as much as I appreciate you offering your time to keep me company, which is kind of insane, art isn't my thing," I stay on the bottom step.

"That's why I have a TV down here. That and because when Adam is down here working, the sound of the chisel against stone drives him crazy." She turns on the TV and plunks down a chunk of dark stone on the table that sits in the center of the tarped area. I summon myself up a beer and sit on the stairs, and take a sip. Delia flicks through the channels before settling on one.

"Wrestling?" I ask, nearly choking on a mouthful of beer.

"Yea, I can't stand it but it's loud enough that my ears aren't ringing from the hammer and chisel by the end. Now, I know art isn't your thing, but when I ask for your opinion, I want you to give it to me honestly."

"Sounds good," I say, shooting her a thumbs up. She begins chiseling away at the stone, and I get why she listens to wrestling during this process.

"I don't think I ever thanked you for bringing Lydia back home," Delia says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I wasn't about to actually watch wrestling, I have some dignity. Not much, but it's there.

"It was implied," I shrug. "You never really had to."

"No, no, I do. I hate to think what would've happened to her if she hadn't summoned you. You saved her. Thank you," Delia smiles at me. "I know me and Charles haven't been the best to you while you've been here. It's hard for Charles, you know, he still thinks of you as this creepy guy that tried to marry his daughter and attacked people. He's not good at accepting that people change. Don't hold against him though, he's warming up to you, even if he doesn't show it."

"I haven't been holding it against him. I was a dick to all of you five years ago. I'm doing my best to prove that I've changed."

"You have, I can tell. And you make Lydia so happy," She smiles at that. "You've been a great friend to her, much better than that Christian, kid."

I roll my eyes. "I should hope so. I can't stand him. Especially since Lydia came home a few days in tears because of that prick."

"I know. I told her she deserves better than a friend that makes her cry like that, but she's stubborn. She definitely gets that from her father. I'm just glad I'm not the only one that can't stand the kid. I always try to see the best in a person, but he just hits a nerve."

"Thank you. I thought I was going crazy. Well, crazier." Delia and I laugh over that. She then sighs and picks up her sculpture.

"What do you think?"

"It's," I pause. I tilt my head to look at it from a different angle. "I hate it," I say, my voice inclining at the end to soften the blow.

"That's okay, that's okay, art is subjective," Delia sets the sculpture back down and smiles at it like it's her child. "Okay, I'm done down here," Delia turns the TV off and puts the sculpting supplies back. Upstairs, Charles yells that he's home. Delia responds that we're downstairs. I stand up and move out of the way so that Charles can come into the basement. He comes downstairs.

"Hi, honey," He greets Delia with a kiss and stays standing next to her, an arm around her waist. "Betelgeuse," He greets me with a polite nod.

"Chuck," I nod back, taking a sip of my beer.