Glimmers (8 page)

All of a sudden, a man's voice catches William’s attention. It's getting closer, "William, William! Over here!"

A shadow slowly falls across William's face. Quietly, he says, “Brace yourself; you’re about to meet my parents.”

A bolt shoots through my stomach and my insides wrench. I may have wanted to meet his parents before, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to anymore!

“Good evening, Father, Mother,” William addresses them, and for the first time, I am face-to-face with Mr. and Mrs. Berringer.

“It’s good to see you out, son,” his father says. “I suppose now I know why I haven’t seen much of you this summer.”

William introduces me to his parents. They shake my hand graciously and we exchange polite greetings.

“You look familiar, Delilah. Have we met, before?” William’s father asks. “Perhaps you are staying at The Greenbrier?”

William places his arm carefully around my waist and answers for me, “Actually, she works at the resort.”

“Of course, I have seen you,” his mother says. “How could anyone miss you? What, with your gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair.”

Although the woman is saying one thing, her frigid expression says something entirely different. I don’t take her for the sort of woman to be cruel to your face. Instead, I believe she would prefer to stab you in the back. I wonder what she’ll say about me.

William quickly redirects the conversation, “Mother, I’m surprised to see you and Father here. I wouldn’t think the fair would interest you two.”

“Normally we wouldn’t entertain the idea of a fair,” says Mr. Berringer. “However, some of the other guests spoke highly of the event. We had to see it for ourselves. Besides, there is little else to do in this small town.”

“Actually Father, Delilah has shown me how much there is to do here. Perhaps we should take you out with us, sometime,” William says.

Mrs. Berringer adds smoothly, “William, you should bring your young lady
friend
by to see us before we return home. You realize, Delilah, we are leaving in just two short weeks. Sad really, but I suppose summer has to end at some point.” The corners of her mouth pull back slightly, showing the faintest impression of a smile.

William rests his hand on his mother’s shoulder and says, “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll be back later tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”

“It is nice to meet you,” Mrs. Berringer says, shaking my hand and an uncomfortable chill flows through my veins. “You are truly lovely.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you, too,” I mirror her sentiment and fake smile.

William walks in an opposite direction as his parents. I simply follow. Right now, I’m just too stunned to do anything else.

William’s the first to break through the tension. “That went well.”

I say nothing. I’ve lost my voice for the moment . . . maybe forever.

We stay at the fair for a little while longer, but I can’t find any joy in it. My happiness has literally been sucked out of me. The world around me feels different, wrong somehow. Perhaps William and I are wrong, somehow.

The air is thick, and it takes a while before I can speak. When I finally do, my voice quivers, “William, could you take me home? I’m not feeling so well.”

“The concert starts in fifteen minutes. Are you sure you want to miss it?”

“I’m sure,” I mumble.

I can’t look at him, so I stare at my boots instead . . . all the way to the parking lot.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

He opens my door, but before I can enter the car, he blocks my way.

“You know Delilah, my parents act like that with everyone. Please don’t take anything they say personally.”

“It’s difficult not to. Especially, when on some level, I know they’re right.”

“They’re right about what?” William says somewhat agitatedly.

“It’s pretty obvious about what they thought about me. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“So you have the ability to read minds?”

“You know as well as I do, what they’ll say to you later.”

“What exactly will that be?” he questions.

I bite my lip and hold back from saying something I’ll regret. And although I attempt to look away, I know he has seen my eyes and the tears they hold. Finally, I am able to say, “That I’m not good enough for you.”

“Delilah, you are more than good enough for me. You’re everything I could ever hope for in someone.” William places his hands on either side of my face and gently raises it. He positions his mouth next to my ear. “I’m in love with you. Haven’t you noticed? Who cares what my parents may or may not think?”

My mouth hangs open, as if waiting to catch flies. Night after night, I have dreamt of hearing him say these words. Why is it so impossible to feel anything at this moment?

He’s waiting for me to respond, but a lump has formed in my throat, and I remain quiet.

“Delilah, you don’t have to say anything now. Just know, I care deeply for you, and my intentions have never been to hurt you. Can you please believe in me? I don’t have to live by my parents’ wishes. They have no influence over my decisions.” He places his forehead to mine and looks deeply into my eyes. “I’ll be with the person of my choosing, not theirs.”

For some reason, I become angry, and suddenly, I see him as a hypocrite. My temper gets the best of me, and I speak without thinking. “I’m curious, William, have they already chosen someone for you? Perhaps that girl, what was her name? Camilla? I’m sure they would be proud if you were seeing her!”

His lips tighten, and the lines across his forehead deepen. He doesn’t say anything . . . not one single thing. With his shoulders slouched, he walks to the driver’s side of the car. Silently, he sits behind the steering wheel.

This ride is lasting forever. I can’t believe I said those things about Camilla. Truthfully, I know William hasn’t been hanging around with her. There’s no point saying anything about it now. Maybe I can fix this mess in the morning.

Suddenly, reality hits and knocks the wind right out of me. My throat squeezes shut, as if I’m being choked by invisible hands. Dramatically, I reach for the door handle. William’s not paying any attention to me; he’s staring at the road and seems to be a million miles away. I’m right next to him, suffocating to death, and he doesn’t even notice!

I lean my seat back and close my eyes. One, two, three . . . I can’t relax! I’ll imagine all the colors of the rainbow: red, orange . . . green, no yellow, then green . . . this isn’t working either. What am I going to do? I should probably keep quiet for the rest of the night. If I say anything now, I’ll only make matters worse.

Up ahead, light from my porch illuminate the darkness. In just a few short seconds, I’ll leave William’s fancy car and enter my safe harbor.

As soon as the car comes to a halt, I leap from my seat. I run for my front door, determined to leave my feelings behind. I can’t believe it! William’s letting me go. Why is he just sitting there? Did I really expect for him to stop me? His tires are rolling backwards! He’s actually leaving! Wait a minute, I can’t allow the night to end like this! I run for him, shouting for him to stop . . . and finally, he does.

I reach the car. He rolls down his window, but doesn’t say a word.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Don’t go,” I plead.

“I need some time. Can I just see you later?” Darkness has fallen across his face, and he looks different.

“Please don’t leave like this!” I shake my head, as tears stream down my face.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” I say meekly, and he begins to drive away.

In desperation, I try to stop him! Only, he isn’t slowing! I freeze in the center of my driveway. I shout into the night air, “I love you!” and I wait.

After what seems like an eternity, he stops and gets out of the car. His stare penetrates deep into my soul.

“I love you, too,” he declares.

William pulls me into his arms, and I can feel his heart beating, pounding through his chest. He releases me from our embrace. I tilt my head back, hoping for a kiss…he complies, but his lips are tight and void of emotion.

“Goodnight, Delilah,” he says solemnly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” I say, and I could just kick myself for sounding so completely pathetic.

Again, he hugs me. Only, I’m not so keen on how this feels. I am reminded of how it feels to say goodbye, not goodnight. I’m thinking like a crazy person. Tomorrow, we’ll talk and everything will be right as rain. Although it’s difficult, I let him go.

“See you tomorrow,” he says and heads for his car.

I watch as he leaves and finally, the lights from his car disappear.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” I whisper and look up at the stars.

Maybe I should wish on the biggest one. It may sound silly, but the way I see it, it couldn’t hurt. So I search the heavens for the brightest and most beautiful star, and I wish with all of my heart . . . with all of my heart.

Gloomy shadows are cast across my bedroom walls. Desperately, I toss and turn, yearning for comfort and sleep. No matter what I do, my mind won’t calm down. The thought of losing William is devastating. We’ve shared some of the best times of my life. I’ve never met anyone like him and most likely never will again.

For the first time, I taste heartache—it stings.

I can’t take anymore of this. I get out of bed, grab my robe, and fling it around my body. I know what will make me feel better.

A light glows from above the stove, reminding me of a lighthouse. Perhaps it will help steer me through this torrential storm. I wander to the fridge and pull out an armful of ingredients. The only thing missing is shrimp.

“This may work,” I say, staring at a can of crabmeat.

All summer long, I’ve spent endless hours trying to perfect the shrimp etouffee recipe. Every time, I can tell there’s something missing. My father thinks I’ve lost my mind. He keeps telling me I’m wasting my time, that it is already perfection, and maybe it's time to ‘move on.’ I simply let him know it will turn out to be one of my best dishes.

Gradually, I am absorbed. My hands enjoy the texture of peppers, dicing them into tiny squares. My senses are heightened through delicious aromas from the broth and spices. I should play some jazz music and wear a few green and purple strands of beads, New Orleans style. Come to think about it, I need to visit New Orleans. I could learn how to make something fun and zesty.

When my creation is finished, I tantalize my taste buds with succulent flavors from my
shrimp
crab etouffee. And again, I am aware I still haven’t gotten it right. I did use crabmeat instead of shrimp, but that’s not the problem. The flavor of the broth is just sub-par, lacking somehow.

After a few hours of cooking therapy, I’ve relaxed enough to go back to bed. And sometime in the early hours of morning, I am able to drift off to sleep.

~ * * * ~

Although the morning sun has washed away the foreboding shadows, there’s little comfort in the brightness of the day. My stomach is twisted into knots, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to untie them. I don’t want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll pull the covers over my head and stay here all day.

I close my eyes and it is William I see.

“Ugh!” I grunt in irritation, as I am forced to leave my bed and face the day.

~ * * * ~

I keep myself busy with meaningless tasks. The phone still hasn’t rung. With each passing second, I fall into deeper despair. I could call him, but that would be a mistake. William told me he’d see me later. I just wish I knew when.

By the end of the day, there’s still no sign of William, and I have to get ready for work. I stare in the mirror. Although I’ve used tons of makeup, dark circles are still visible.

Lydia’s here for me, just as she always has been. I stagger to her car, gravel crushing under my working pumps.