DELILAH
We’ve barely entered the trailer court, and already I know this was a bad idea. Why did I do this to myself? It’s so much worse than I remembered.
Time spent away gives me a clearer look at the things I learned to look past over the years. Plus, having a person with me makes me hyper-focus on all the bad. Just like when your room is messy, but you don’t think it’s that bad until someone else walks in and you see the look on their face.
A rusted bicycle sitting in a patch of dead grass. A little kid’s plastic slide, cracked and broken and faded from too many days spent sitting in the sun.
There’s a small dog on a chain attached to a stake in the narrow patch of dirt in front of one of the rusted trailers, lying with its chin on its paws, looking like it hasn’t eaten in far too long. This is it. Home sweet home.
I used to see these things every day, but I guess I learned to ignore them. Along with the sad people in these worn down, neglected trailers.
Lucas hasn’t said a word, and I steal a look at him from the corner of my eye, expecting to find him sneering or cringing.
He’s unreadable, though. I almost wish he would say something about how depressing this place is just so I could hear his thoughts. Instead, all I can do is imagine and assume. As dark as I’m sure his life has been, it’s nothing compared to the downright bleak atmosphere around here.
We pull up alongside my old home, opposite the courtyard running between the two rows of trailers. I can’t figure out the feeling stirring up deep inside as I sit here, looking out the window toward the only actual home I’ve ever known. How sad is that? This was supposed to be my solace? Somewhere to escape to after a long day? What a joke.
“Are you sure about this?” Lucas’s question stirs me into action. I open the passenger door without responding and step out. Right away, the sight of a used condom lying in the grass gags me a little. The sooner I get this done, the better. I don’t ever want to set eyes on this place again.
“And your aunt isn’t going to think the two of us showing up like this is strange?”
“She probably won’t even care. It’s time for her favorite soap opera, anyway.” I walk up the wooden steps, the slats of wood broken in places, forcing me to pay extra attention to where I step. The closer I get to the front door, the more I notice how silent the place is. No TV blaring, nothing. Right away, I’m suspicious, but Lucas’s presence behind me is all it takes for me to reach for the handle and open the door. My aunt never locked the trailer; what was the point with such a flimsy door?
“Hello?” I don’t have to say it very loudly since there’s not much space for my voice to travel through. The windows are closed, as usual, and of course, the aroma of stale cigarette smoke permeates the interior the way it always has.
“Something’s wrong.” I sniff the air, still standing just inside the door, my eyes analyzing the space.
“What is it?” Lucas nearly growls, his voice making me shiver. He’s right on my heels, the energy rolling off him tells me he’s ready for a fight at any given second.
I shake my head before it hits me. “There’s no fresh smoke. It’s usually like a fog in here.” I walk over to one of the ashtrays and find it almost empty. The trash can is empty, too, without a fresh bag in it. “She hasn’t been here in a while.”
“You can’t know that for sure. Maybe she went to visit someone.”
It’s almost cute how positive he thinks. Does he think it’s going to make me feel better? “You mean walk three trailers down to see her friends? Because those are the only people she has in her life.” Besides me. And I up and vanished.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing over there?”
We both spin around, and I recognize Mrs. Porter from down the way. I step around Lucas and outside so she can get a better look at me. She stops short, her mouth falling open. “Delilah? Is that you? Where have you been? Nobody knew where to look for you. You just got up and ran off.”
Charming as always. “It’s a long story,” I offer. “Believe me. I didn’t want to disappear and not come back all this time.”
“She was worried sick about you.”
Somehow, I don’t think that’s quite true. Annoyed, I can believe. Irritated that I was making life complicated for her, yes. But worried? That, I doubt. “Where is she? It doesn’t look like she’s been here in days, at least.”
Just when I thought her mouth couldn’t drop open any farther. “Oh. You don’t know.”
I barely register Lucas’s hand on my shoulder. “What don’t I know?” I ask.
She comes closer, her mouth pulled down in an expression of sadness. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but she’s not with us anymore. She died a couple of weeks back.”
Lucas’s hand tightens while I struggle to make words come out of my mouth. When all I can manage is a choking sound, he speaks up. “What happened?”
She’s clearly overwhelmed by him for a few seconds but pulls it together. “I can’t say for sure. I heard it was pills. She took a bunch of them and never woke up. They found her in bed after a couple of days. We all figured she was sick, but eventually, we had the owner go in and check the place out.”
It isn’t like we had a close relationship. In fact, seeing her today was what I dreaded most about this.
But I expected her to be here. Alive. It doesn’t seem right, thinking about her not being alive and in front of her TV.