I Wish You The Best

9 - Delilah

He's okay.

    But why doesn't that make me feel any better? Up until two months ago I had almost all but forgotten about his existence with the occasional reminder every time he played a home game that my dad and I would watch.

    I was moving on, and now I felt as though I was stuck in mud gripping onto what could've been. Not to mention the reminder that he'd be coming home for his recovery, a very impending thought. The night before, I had seen in the news that he'd take up resting at home and then physical therapy with a specialized trainer at the local hospital.

    The hospital I was employed at.

    It's as if I was in some crazy storybook, someone was writing my life as a joke at this point.

    "Did you check on room 208?" Tish pulls me from my impending thoughts. I look up at her and nod. "Yes, I'm heading out at ten. Need a ride?" Tish has been a friend from PA school and happened to do her residency years in town as well. She was from Pennsylvania and wanted to live in the ocean state for some as her mother once lived here.

    "No thanks, Nick is picking me up!" Nick is just her friend, that's not so much just a friend. Everyone who knows her knows that fact, well except her. They met a year ago in town at a coffee shop and I had told her that couldn't be more book worthy of the start of a perfect love story.

She laughed in my face.

"You'll see," I told her. I knew it was only within the time they'd get together and when that day comes I will make my way down to the local grocery store, purchase a cake and write in big bold red letters: I Told You So.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

I make my way out to my car, cursing the cold weather and wishing I lived somewhere warmer. I did love this time of year when it came to the holidays but when the holidays are over it is just dreary, bare, and cold.

A reflection of how I feel.

I had promised to grab groceries for dad on the way home so I did just that. He claimed he was going to be making my favorite chicken noodle soup for no reason at all, just that he wanted to. Deep down I know that isn't true and he's just trying to make up for the disaster that was Christmas Eve dinner.

We still hadn't talked about what happened and it was better that way. Until he was ready to come to terms with mom's death in a way without breaking, it would be impossible to talk to him.

I still struggled daily with her loss. I see it everywhere, in everything I do. I see it when I'm cooking dinner and am reminded of how much she just hated to cook. I see it in her favorite movies that I pass when deciding what to watch.

I see her everywhere.

But she's not here.

I finish up the grocery shopping and rush home as safely as possible to soak up the warmth of my heated house. Once inside I put everything away and plan to do some studying and catching up on different things I was unsure of. I try to take notes on shift so that afterward I can do more research and get a more well-rounded understanding of what I'm seeing.

"Delilah you here?" My dad's voice breaks through the silence.

"My room," I answer by closing my laptop. He steps around the corner and through my open door.

"Clara is at the door." He says. I look at my phone to see no missed calls or text messages and head to the front door. Clara stands there in her snow jacket and signature red beanie wearing a guilty expression on her face.

This can't be good.

"You didn't call." I close the door behind her and follow her into the kitchen. "Everything okay?" It seems like every time Clara calls unannounced or in this case shows up unannounced there is going to be some sort of bad news.