Electric Avenue • [h.s]

chapter one

San Francisco , California

May 22nd 1976

Delilah settled into the cracked leather seats of her fathers beat up Impala, the salty ocean breeze giving her hair the appearance of having had a cheap blowout.

She was a long way from her quiet life in upstate New York, and God was she ready for it.

Kitted out in her favourite thrift store disco pants, she'd chassé across the tired wooden floors of her Mothers apartment. "Tubular, maaan" She mimicked the hippies she watched on television, tiny oval sunglasses resting right on the tip of her freckled nose.

She'd done nothing but think about this trip for the past year. Sandy beaches, downtown bars, sipping sangria while watching the sun set over the bay.

The wind in her hair, the sun on her face- she closed her eyes for a moment as she let her head fall back on the headrest.

"Should be pulling up home in about 5 minutes Lil" Her father flickered his eyes from the winding coastal highway to Delilah in the passenger seat with a smile swept across his reddish cheeks.

In that moment all she could offer him in return was a quick nod of the head. She was too enthralled in the sound of rolling waves hitting the rocks along the shore beneath them.

That changes though, when the familiar chords of The Lovin' Spoonfuls 'Summer In The City' pricked the attention of her ears. She reached forward and turned up the volume of the bulky car stereo. It had cost her father nothing short of a small fortune, but hey- a stereo built into the car? Doesn't get fresher than that.

As the chorus came in she made a point to dangle her arm out the window and drum against the outer side of the car, occasionally holding it out to feel the air sift between her fingers.

It wasn't until they pulled up on the driveway of her fathers house that reality began to set in. The place was a mess. The once crisp white exterior had faded to a grim, dirty yellow.

The house stood still, and apparently so had time.

Whatever was left of the yellowing paint was peeling off at every corner, and the windows seemed to stare back at you as if they were challenging you to clean them.

The grass was dead; no longer a vibrant lime green but rather a dull sage crunch in patches along the front yard.

It was clear that her Dad had let the place go downhill since her Mom left.

Suitcase wheels screeched across the cracked driveway as Delilah used her free hand to push her sunglasses up to rest in her wind-tousled hair. That heavy feeling in her heart remained as she reached the front porch, though she gulped it down as her father unlocked the door.

"Well, welcome home!" He exclaimed, looking like an excited labrador in the doorway. She hadn't seen her father so jolly in years. A smile tugged at Delilah's lips as she watched him motion for her to enter.

~~

Inside, the home was still filled with old family film photographs. Her mom and dad's honeymoon, family photos in matching pyjamas, Delilah's toothy grin on her first day of school.

All entirely untouched, collecting dust.

After a glass of iced-tea at the kitchen island, Delilah insisted she had to go unpack. The brown leather suitcases holding the outfits she'd planned weeks in advance was promptly dragged up the creaky staircase by the duo, right down the warmly lit hallway, and propped up outside her childhood bedroom.