Page 50 of For Now

“Delilah?” He made my name aquestion.

“Yes, Samuel?” Ianswered.

“Do you think maybe if you hadn’t been who you were and I hadn’t been who I was, we could have been together?” heasked.

“That’s hard to say. I don’t know who we’d be if we weren’t us. Maybe we wouldn’t work out as other people either. Maybe we were never meant to work out,” Isaid.

“I don’t think I believe you,” hesaid.

“I don’t think I believe me either,” Isaid.

I snapped back to the shower, back to reality, and found myself staring at the shower curtain, water running over me. I was pruned.How long was I in the namelessplace?

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me. I didn’t really dry off. Most of me was still dripping. I walked into my bedroom and lay on my bed. When I got up, there’d be a wet print but I didn’t care. I liked the way the cool bedding felt against my warm wet skin. I stared at my ceiling, counting my fingertips with my thumb back and forth. I reached up and put my dripping hair into a top knot. I drifted back to sleep thinking of nothing but Samuel’s face, trying to catalog every detail. I’d never see it again, but it was worthremembering.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ididn’t wakeup until 1 p.m. the next day. My top knot was now a saggy knotted mess of hair on the side of my head. At some point, I had retreated under the covers and was burrito-wrapped in both a towel and sheets now. It took me a solid five minutes to untangle myself from the bed. I didn’t bother fixing my hair.Oh, great, Delilah. We are back to sleeping more than we are awake. This was so fun the first timearound.

I stumbled down the hall in the direction of coffee and heard my phone ding behind me. I didn’t care. My phone didn’t have the coffee. I poured water into the chamber, added a cup, and waited while the machine made the bubbly steaming coffee-maker noise. I leaned way over on the counter, so close I might as well have been lying on it. I had no idea how I was going to fill my day. I was only sure Emma would be part of it. If I had to wait for the movers, I would at least make the most of it and see her as much as Icould.

I heard my phone ding again just as the coffee finished dripping into my cup and I walked slowly back to my room. I pulled my phone from the mess of blankets and saw a text from Emma.Speak of thedevil.

Emma: I’ll be by in 10minutes.

Emma: Don’t beasleep.

I managed to send back a “k”. She always hated that so I kept doing it. By this point, getting dressed seemed necessary. I doubted Emma wanted to hang out with this train wreck who had been wearing nothing but a towel for an entire twenty-fourhours.

I was barely dressed when I heard her knock at the door. I walked down the hall, past the couch, and unlocked the door. I twisted the door knob and pulled the door wide open to see her standing there bright eyed and smiling. I immediately began tosob.

You know the kind of cry you have where you can’t catch your breath and it feels almost like a panic attack? The kind you feel in your bones? The kind you have to sit down for because there’s no way your legs are going to hold you up through it? That was me. Emma immediately held me to her and we both slowly collapsed to the floor. She rocked me back and forth, pushing my hair behind myear.

“It will be okay, Delilah. It will,” shewhispered.

“Everything is wrong,” I said, sniffling and rubbing my already puffyeyes.

“You’ll be away from here soon. You’ll feel better,” shesaid.

“I don’t know that I will ever feel better, Emma. You can only have your heart broken so many times before you just stop picking up the pieces,” Isaid.

Emma looked at me in the kind way she did when she was thinking something she wasn’t sure she shouldsay.

“What?” I asked as I always do when I see her doingthis.

“I just…I think this is more about Samuel than you want it to be,” shesaid.

“What do you mean?” Iasked.

“I just mean I don’t think you’re crying because he betrayed you. I think you’re crying because you don’t want to let him go but feel like you have to,” she said, shrugging her shouldersslowly.

“Since when did you become a therapist?” I asked, laughing alittle.

“Am I wrong?” sheasked.

I didn’t answer immediately. Because I didn’t know if she was or not. Instead I just sighed the type of audible sigh that let her know I didn’tknow.

“Well, what did he have to say for himself anyway?” sheasked.

---