Delilah was sitting at her dining table, small and compact but when sat at primarily by herself it seemed enormous, as she dipped her teabag into her mug a few times, sighing. Why did she let herself believe she could be happy again? Why did she so easily let her naivety take hold? She dealt with something serious - death - on a day to day basis, and yet, despite being so close to logic and reason almost every waking moment, she still let her hopefulness get the better of her, and she hated herself for it. Delilah lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip, when she heard a knock at the door and sighed, rolling her eyes. Probably Jeff, trying to explain his situation more, and frankly she didn't want to hear it. Delilah stood and walked through the kitchen, to the small foyer and opened the front door, surprised instead to see this unexpected visitor wasn't Jeff at all, but Ellie Hawley. Hawley's bike was leaning against the front porch steps, and she was unstrapped her helmet when Delilah had yanked the door open.
"Um, hello," Hawley said, waving politely as she tucked her helmet under one arm, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders, "um...do you...do you know who I am? I play, well I don't play but, I'm on The Sixxers, the team you sponsored?" A thin smile broke on Delilah's face, her door opening wider now. "Would you like to come in? I just made some tea," Delilah asked. "Um, that would be nice, thank you, yes," Hawley said, walking past Delilah and into the funeral home. Delilah shut the door behind them as they headed back into the kitchen so she could prepare Hawley a cup. Hawley, standing nervously in the doorway to the kitchen as she watched, couldn't help but feel strange about being here. Delilah, as she pulled another mug from the cabinet, looked over and smiled warmly. "You can have a seat, dear, it's okay," she said, so Hawley sat down at the table; Delilah continued as she started to heat more water on the stove, "so...what brings you here of all places?" "Well," Hawley said, placing her helmet on the table and anxiously tapping her fingernails on it, "actually...I wanted to go to my coach about this, cause we're friends and...and he's letting me live with him, but he's not really around lately, and I don't know many other adults except the janitor at my school and she's busy too, so I...I came here. I..." Hawley looked down at the table as Delilah finished making the tea and set the mug down in front of Hawley before seating herself. "You can talk to me, I'll listen," Delilah said. "...my mother called last night," Hawley said. "And this is unusual?" "Well, I haven't spoken to her in over a year, so...yeah," Hawley replied, "it's unusual." *** "This coffee is awful," Reynolds said, pulling the cup from his lips and furrowing his brow at it. He and Gorey were sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot, both cross legged, as they drank coffee and shared a sub sandwich he'd split for them. "Well, to be fair, it did come from a place called 'Bean There, Done That' so I don't expect quality from a name that favors puns over neutrality," Gorey remarked, making Reynolds chuckle. Reynolds lifted his half of the sandwich to his lips and took a big bite, chewing as he watched Gorey continue to drink her coffee in large gulps. "So," Reynolds said while he chewed, "how's the theatre work going? Should I prepared to wowed, dazzled, in awe?" "John, it's local community theatre, we don't wow, dazzle or awe anybody, it's actually in our contract," Gorey remarked, "but it's going okay enough, yeah. Laura Lee is finally kind of feeling more confident in herself, and work on the place is going really well, so it's all looking pretty promising at the moment. How about you?" "...I had a date with Rebecca that went a little south," Reynolds said, sighing, scratching his forehead while Gorey took a bite of her half of the sandwich now. "Like, sexually, or?" "Why is that automatically what you go to?" Reynolds asked, laughing, "no, not sexually. I mean that did happen to, I am a master at...ya know what, that's a different topic for a different time, alright? No, I meant, like, emotionally. Like...we had to 'talk' about things." "Ew," Gorey said, screwing her face up. "I know, right?" "Women, always with the feelings," Gorey said, making him smirk. "Anyway, it...it didn't go well, exactly, and we haven't had a date since," Reynolds said, "I feel bad. I want to call her, I wanna talk more about it, but I'm afraid I'll just exacerbate the issue if I do that, and then I'll really feel bad. Regardless, I know at some point we're gonna have to reconnect and discuss all of this." Gorey finished chewing and put her sandwich back down on her napkin, looking up at Reynolds who took another long sip of coffee. Gorey sighed and tossed her head, her extremely bushy hair, pulled back in a large bun, jiggled behind her. Reynolds smiled at the sight, loving her hair so much. Gorey then adjusted her oversized frames and leaned back on the hood on her palms. "I have to go to the theatre today actually," she said, "Laura Lee needs help with replacing the seats, and so we're gonna go over, ya know, chair material and stuff. Should be fun. You should talk to her, John, I think communication is the most important part of a relationship. The minute you stop being honest about things with eachother, whether those things are minor or major, is when it all starts going to shit." Reynolds nodded. "I know, I know, and you're right, it's just so hard, I don't wanna be an adult. I wanna just be a kid and play in the sandbox and poop myself," Reynolds said, comedically whining. "Well, you can do those things right now, you'll just probably be arrested for them because, let's face it, it's creepy for a grown ass adult to do that," Gorey replied, the both of them laughing. It was nice, she realized, that they were able to still be fairly cordial despite the differences in their lives lately. They still made time for one another. This was, to her, what a relationship, platonic or otherwise, should be. It somewhat eased the pain of it not being more than that, in many ways. "Well," Reynolds said, wiping his hands on his jeans and then adjusting his tie, "I guess I better get to it then. Gonna go home, get cleaned up and then head on over. If it doesn't work out, honestly, I don't know that I'd be that upset. Lately it feels like we haven't really been interested in the same things, and I haven't really been enjoying myself when we go out." "Oh that's key," Gorey said, spinning on her butt and throwing her legs off the front of the car, standing up, "you need to be able to do things you enjoy together. Why do you think so many couples become serial killing teams? Because it's just good bonding time, frankly." "Why do almost all your fictional examples have to do with serial killers?" Reynolds asked, also hopping off the car and wiping crumbs off his pants. "I'm a woman in my late twenties who lives at her with her mother, you dig?" Gorey remarked, and Reynolds cracked up, which made her smile. Yes, they had to make the effort to see one another now, but if nothing else, that made the time they got together all the more special, and frankly...each was gonna miss it when it was gone. *** "I just...I don't know how to feel about it all," Hawley said, sitting in the kitchen, carefully sipping her tea while Delilah listened carefully; Hawley continued, "she's been gone for over a year, and all of a sudden she calls me, and...and I don't even know how to react to it. All I wanted was my mother to come home, and now she's talking to me again, and I should be excited but-" "Can I tell you a story, Ellie?" Delilah asked, crossing her legs and leaning forward, Hawley nodding slowly as she sipped from her teacup; Delilah smiled and cleared her throat, "when I was first getting into this job, I had a mentor, her name was Hailey, and she was at least twenty years older than me when I started training. Hailey used to tell me that the number one thing people often say when they come to her is 'I just wish they were still here', or some variation of that. 'I wish they could come back' or 'I wish we had more time'. Really though, in the end, what they aren't realizing is the time they got was the time that's important. They always want more without treasuring what they were given. But then, one year, we got a client who had never met her mother, and yet was still responsible for funeral services upon her death." "Really?" Hawley asked, sounding surprised. "Mhm, it happens quite often actually, more often than you'd think," Delilah said, chuckling, "and the funniest part is, she had the exact opposite reaction. Instead of wishing she could've gotten to know her, she instead said 'Why would I want to now? She made the decision not to be around, so why should I want her around?', and I've always thought that was a fascinating insight. Why should you actively put in work for people who didn't actively put in effort for you? That being said...you don't know why she left in the first place, do you?" Hawley shook her head, grimacing. "Well," Delilah said, "maybe she has a good reason. Who knows. Did she say anything else?" "She just wanted to talk to me," Hawley said, "and I would like to see her again, but at the same time I'm worried it'll be just as bad as having my dad around. What if she hates me the way he does?" Delilah nodded, chewing on her lip. "Ellie," Delilah said, "...I know that society often tries to guilt you into loving your parents, regardless of how awful they are towards you. But the truth is, you have every right to reject them, just as you would anyone else, if they treat you lower than you feel you deserve. There's nothing wrong with setting boundaries for oneself. I used to have a son, and I loved him to the ends of the earth and back. But if I ever had screwed up, had he not died, I would've accepted full responsibility for the way he felt towards me and done better after the fact to make sure I didn't do it again." "Do you wish you'd had more time with him?" Hawley asked, and Delilah leaned back in her chair, thinking about it for a moment. "Well doesn't everyone?" she replied, "I'd be a hypocrite to say you should appreciate the time you got with someone only to reverse on it when it comes to my own feelings, but I'm a hypocrite I suppose. I wanted to see everything he would've become, and not just as a career, but moreso as a person. But yeah, I do. The thing is, my son is gone, your mother isn't. You don't want to see her, that's fine, it's understandable, but you have a choice. I don't. There is a difference there." Hawley nodded slowly, looking down into her near empty teacup. She did want to know why her mother had left. Had her father been abusive to her as well? Had she just not wanted to be a mom that much? Or, as Hawley had always suspected, had her mother somehow known she was queer, and was embarrassed and left as a result? Maybe, Hawley thought... ...maybe it was time for some answers. *** Gorey excused herself as she passed by some of the workers heading through the theatre interior doors that led to the auditorium proper, when she looked up from her paperwork and saw Laura Lee sitting on the stage, crying. Gorey sighed, set the clipboard down on a nearby armrest and headed towards the stage, hopping up on it and sitting beside Laura, who wouldn't even look at her. "Worrying about another aspect of this endeavor?" Gorey asked. "No, uh...my grandmother died," Laura said softly, wiping her eyes with her knitted sweater sleeve, "and um...and I need to help my mom go settle her estate and stuff, and it could take a while, so this project has to shut down for an indefinite hiatus. We have to go out of state and everything." "I'm sorry," Gorey whispered, putting her hand on Laura's back and rubbing gently before asking, "...were you close?" "Grandma's the reason I love theatre," Laura said, smiling weakly, "yeah, she's...she was amazing. When I was a very little girl, she used to take me to the theatre where she lived, all the time too, not just for special occasions, and it was always such a magical experience. Nothing since has ever come remotely close to capturing that same sense of majesty that childhood seems intimately capable of capturing. But the feeling never left, and it made me want to work in theatre. I guess, in a way, I was doing this for grandma." "Well, when you come back we can honor her somehow, put a little memorial spot for her in the theatre," Gorey said. "...that would be nice, actually, thank you," Laura said, wiping at her eyes again and smiling before hopping off the stage, "I guess I should go fix my makeup and start getting packed. We're supposed to leave tomorrow." As she watched Laura Lee start to walk away, Gorey felt something itching inside her ribs, and she suddenly shouted after her. "Take me with you!" she yelled, stopping Laura in her tracks and making her turn back around to face her, a look of both confusion and laughter on her face. "What?" Laura asked. "Yeah," Gorey said, sliding off the stage and walking up to Laura, "I'm your friend, you're gonna need support, and it'll give us a chance to see how well we get along if we decide to continue to be business partners and leave town later. Take me with you." "I might be gone for months, it could take a while to-" "So? What do I have to stay here for?" Gorey asked, shrugging, "look at my life, I live with my mother and my best friend is an alcoholic little league coach. What would I really be walking away from? Honestly, it could do me some good to get away for a bit." Laura smiled and nodded, pulling Gorey into her and hugging her tight. "You're such a good friend," Laura whispered, "thank you." "You came and checked on me in the hospital," Gorey replied quietly, "this is the least I could do." *** Hawley, standing back on the porch and adjusting her helmet on her head before clipping its bands together tightly, looked up at Delilah, who was leaning in the doorway, just smiling at her sweetly. Once she was sure her helmet was on good enough, Hawley turned and looked at Delilah directly. "Thank you for the tea, and for letting me talk to you," Hawley said, "I guess I'll probably talk to my mom, because if she were to die, I would be forever haunted by what could've been if I hadn't tried at least, you know? I'm sorry about your son. You shouldn't have lost him." Delilah smiled and looked down at her shoes, her arms crossed. "Loss is just a part of life, goodness knows that's why I'm even in this industry," Delilah said, "because I recognize, understand and accept that fact. But that doesn't make the loss hurt any less. It might make it slightly more manageable, because in this line of work you develop coping mechanisms for working with the dead, learning to be slightly detached, but when it really hits home...yeah, it still hurts, even if the coping mechanisms work well. I made your team in his honor, you know? He loved baseball so much." "I guess we should try harder then," Hawley said, pulling her bike upright and climbing onto it, Delilah laughing. "I think he'd be happy just knowing others were enjoying themselves, quite frankly," Delilah said, "You just keep doing what you do, and you'll honor him regardless of how well you do." Hawley smiled, got off her bike and raced back up the stairs, throwing her arms around Delilah and hugging her tightly. Delilah, surprised by this sudden show of affection, slowly hugged her back after getting over the shock and smiled. Delilah shut her eyes and, for just a moment, enjoyed hugging a child again. "Thanks for being here," Hawley said, "...you're a good mom." "And you're a wonderful daughter, and I hope your mother recognizes that," Delilah said back. The hug broke seconds later and Hawley ran back down the stairs, climbed on her bike and, waving, began to peddle off. Delilah, watching her go, could only think of one thing. Her naivety. Her penchent for hope in even the dumbest of moments. How she so desperately needed that again. Her thoughts turned to the last person she had wanted to think about, but now, having discussed the idea of loss and regret, of wanting someone back, she couldn't help but think of them and smirk. Maybe she'd been too rash. Maybe she needed to think it over again. Delilah went back into the house and her thoughts turned to the woman she'd been preparing for burial in the downstairs. The dead have no regrets, and maybe regrets are how you know you're still alive. Delilah needed to find her shoes. *** Jeff opened the hotel door, surprised to see Delilah standing there, and she wasn't even dressed super nicely. She instead was wearing a very casual outfit - she was wearing a turtleneck and brown slacks with her black loafers - and her hair was pulled up into a quickly braided bun. Jeff stepped aside and allowed Delilah to come in. As she entered, she noticed his bags were on the bed, half packed. She turned and faced him, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. "...are you going somewhere?" she asked. "Well," Jeff said, "I was going to go home, get ready for this wedding, cause I may as well, right? Millions of others have survived unhappy marriages, why not add myself to the list." Jeff walked past her and spit into the sink, putting his toothbrush back in the plastic cup on the sink counter. "What if...you didn't have to?" Delilah asked, and Jeff looked up in the mirror at her. "What's that mean?" he asked. "...I spent a long time believing I wasn't good enough to be loved," Delilah said, "like...like my marriage dying was a direct punishment for my son dying, and that, as a result, it meant I myself wasn't good enough or worthy of love. But...what if I am? You love me. You seem to anyway, and that-" "I seem to? I do. Yeah," Jeff said, turning away from the sink and facing her now, "Yeah I really do. At first when I heard from John and learned where he'd landed after exile, I thought to myself how could he possibly be happy there, and then when I came here I thought to myself it's not that bad, but still, how could he be content with such mediocrity? But...after being here a bit, after meeting you, mediocrity IS the dream." "Wow, thank you," Delilah said, laughing, causing Jeff to laugh. "No, please, you misunderstand," Jeff said. "Enlighten my small female brain, sir," Delilah remarked. "It's like...people like John and I...we spend our whole lives chasing something that is either unattainable or once attained unsatisfying. Big cliche thing to say, right? Oh no, Hollywood and fame isn't all it's cracked up to! What a shocker! I'm so original! But you buy into it regardless because it's so alluring. It's...it's like gambling. I've talked to so many actors trying to land something and they all inevitably say the same thing, that if they just stick it out, get one more audition, then maybe they'll hit it big. But the chances are so slim, and so many others are trying to beat you to the same thing, and in the end, why struggle for something you're so unlikely to achieve when you could achieve so much more with so much less effort and pain? You're not mediocre, Del, hell, you're anything but. You're exceptional-" Jeff said, approaching her, making her blush as he continued, "-but even then there's nothing wrong with mediocrity. It's just that everyone's been so brainwashed into thinking they need more. But they don't. They need just enough. You are just enough." Delilah smiled, sniffling, as Jeff reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're more than enough, for me, but just enough in general, and you know why? Cause you're here. Cause we exist at the same time. Cause you exist AT ALL. So yeah, I love you, and if you tell me not to go, I won't, and I'll stay, and we'll make it work, and I promise I'll never want more, because you are more." Delilah slowly nodded, and leaned up, pressing her lips to his and kissing him. They didn't leave the hotel room for hours. Meanwhile, Reynolds himself was standing in front of a door, anxious and waiting or it to be answered; when it finally was, Rebecca Little was surprised to see him, but smiled at the sight regardless. She stepped aside and allowed him to enter her apartment. Once inside, Reynolds turned to look at her, and she walked to him, put her hands on his chest and tried to kiss him, but he pulled away a bit, leaving her confused. "...what is it?" she asked. "...we need to talk," Reynolds said.
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GRAVE INNINGS is about A funeral home that has sponsored a local little league, the coach who is a disgraced reality show host, a young transgirl and the odd family they create for one another. Archives
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