The Death Date

chapter two

"Delia?"

After clicking the apartment door shut, I sucked in a breath and padded down the main hallway to the living room. My mom was lounging on the couch donning a pair of sweatpants, her chestnut hair pulled into a messy knot. I couldn't yet see her eyes, and this was why I kept my distance. Her eyes would tell me all I needed to know.

"Delia?" she called again, summoning me towards the couch. I hesitantly approached.

"Hi, Mom." My mouth tightened as our eyes collided. They were like two blue marbles, deep and intricate, and my shoulders sunk a few inches in relief. They weren't dull or void.

"Were you at work?" she asked, propping herself into the corner of the couch.

I sat beside her. "Yeah, now I've got to walk the neighbor's dog and head to IB to walk another one." Apart from coffee, dog walking was my specialty. I had collected a few clients over the years, many of which were in IB, or Imperial Beach, which was Nick's neck of the woods, so I spent a couple nights of the week with him.

"Oh, okay. I thought we could watch a movie tonight or something." My mom's gaze fell to her lap.

Guilt filtered into my bloodstream, and I drew a hand to scratch my temple. "Maybe tomorrow? I'll be home after work." When it came to my mom, I wasn't certain what I would come home to, but it wasn't often I caught her on a good day.

"Sure," she said faintly. "Tomorrow then."

"Well, I better get going." I stood up and laced my hands together. "Diablo's been locked up all day."

Through a weak smile, my mom said, "And he's been barking his tail off since Tomas left this morning at the crack of dawn."

A subtle quip. When was the last time she had tossed one of those around? More guilt pumped through.

The next question I asked was one programmed into daily conversation, and even with its constant repetition, it never became easier to ask. "Did you – uh – did you take your medication today?"

The sigh that left my mom's mouth could have propelled a sailboat. "Yes, Delia. Yes."

"Okay, just checking," I added quickly. "Be home tomorrow after work." I tread from the living room while wringing out my hands. Before I turned the corner, I stole another glance at my mom, who now seemed a permanent fixture on the couch.

"Have fun with Nick," she called.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." I reached for Tomas's spare key hanging on a hook by the front door, slunk my backpack over my shoulders, and headed next door to walk Diablo.

xxx

When I entered the small bungalow later that evening, the rich, salty smell of cheap pizza punched me in the nose. A few voices tangled together into a soft mumble from the kitchen. Stepping through the living room and avoiding a series of obstacles such as beer bottles, video game cases, and strewn shoes (how Nick lived in such clutter was beyond me), I made it to the kitchen without a scratch. Nick and his friends were huddled around the vinyl counter each with shoving a different sized slice of pizza into their mouths.

"Hey," I said.

Nick flipped his attention towards me. "Delia, hey. Want some pizza?"

I shook my head. "No, I've gotta go walk Rocco."

Nick's slate eyes drifted to the guy beside him before he erupted into a fit of laughter. Aquino joined in. Apparently, I had missed the joke. I took a silent inventory of the rest of the guys inside the kitchen and was relieved to see I knew each of them from Nick's shop on the USS Carl Vinson. No death dates. I had received them all when we all first met; they would each be living a long time, as would Nick. I then wove my way through the mass towards the sink and pulled open a drawer. The keys to the Mercado's house were stored inside.

Nick slipped an arm around my waist and squeezed my butt as I snatched the keys from the drawer and plastered on a smile. Trying to break free from his grasp, I said, "I've got to go. See you later."

"I see who gets all the attention. That stupid dog's got you wrapped around his finger."

"Paw, dude," Grayer said, chewing. "Dogs don't have fingers."

"Whatever."

"I get paid to give Rocco attention," I jabbed.

A few of the guys let out a series of amused whistles as I plaited between them to escape the kitchen.

"Oh, you want paid for your services, do you?" Nick shouted above the noise. "Why don't you run to the store and grab us some Redbull so we can mix. I'll make sure you get paid later."

I rolled my eyes, but it didn't deter the bile rising in my throat. "Fine. Be back later." I then tore from the house and stepped into the warm, September air. The sun hung low in the sky, and in the distance, I could see the faint outline of the ocean. Walking next door, the sunlight adhered to my every contour. It was what I referred to as the golden hour, a short window in time where the sun was placed just right so it cast everything around it in a shimmering, vibrant shade of gold – almost as if it brought another layer to life. It was magical.

Rocco was waiting by the door when I stepped inside. His tail swiped back and forth along the floor while his tongue lolled out. He was part lab part German shepherd and had the sweetest temperament of all the dogs I walked. I didn't pick favorites... most days of the week.

"Hi, Rocco," I greeted, stooping low and scratching the top of his head. His tail was now smacking against the floor. "Ready for your walk?"

Barking, Rocco spun in a circle as I grabbed the leash from beside the door and attached it to his collar. The two of us then stepped outside into the golden afternoon.

Imperial Beach was a small neighborhood southwest of San Diego. It was lined with blocks of bungalows and condos with a few palm trees speckled between. The breezy ocean air swept through the structures and brought with it a light dusting of sand as Rocco and I edged the walkway separating the neighborhood from the ocean. His golden-brown coat was vibrant.

In the distance, a person was on path towards me. Her frame was encased in the warm, soft light, and I blamed the golden hour for my continued steps in her direction, making no attempt to dodge her. I was an insect to a flame.

With sights set solely on the emerging form of the woman, space and time diminished. She was on path towards me, and I was on path towards her. And at any second we were due to collide.

The woman seemed to glow from the inside out. When she came to a halt before me, I did the same. Another force had taken over in my stead. She was elderly with crinkled skin and graying hair secured at the nape of her neck. Her eyes drew me in, as though they were miniature black holes. They were misty, incomprehensibly deep, and they transported me to another plane where she and I existed alone on the boardwalk.

Vibrations erupted all over my skin, but the air didn't buzz, and the clear, distant voice didn't infiltrate my ears. Instead, the woman said in a tone tempered and cold, her eyes locked on mine, "January eighteenth, two thousand and eighteen."

The world stopped spinning for a single second.

Then the moment was gone. The woman blinked. And blinked again, this time shaking her head and taking a glance around her as if having just awoke. She smiled, said, "Hi, love," and continued walking along as if the last few moments had never occurred.

I was left a statue in the middle of the walkway.

A date had been given to me after all, one unlike any I had ever received, and though I tried to deny it, though I tried to justify it, everything in my core knew the truth as though I had been waiting for this moment. I had been given a death date, my death date. January eighteenth, two thousand and eighteen was the day I was going to die. And it was less than five months away.