Delilah Darling's mornings were often uneventful.
She usually didn't start any embalming procedures or organ removals until the afternoon - and that was on the days she had anything to do - so she usually made herself breakfast, watched old television reruns, sometimes went for a brisk walk through the cemetery, or she would sit and read in the other red vinyl recliner she had in her study. She was doing just that this very morning, reading the newspaper, when she heard a knock at the door. She stood up and walked throughout the home, finally arriving at the front door and pulling it open, only to find John Reynolds standing on her porch. "...Oh...hello coach," she said politely smiling warmly, "Can I help you with anything?" "Can I come in?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. She stepped aside and Reynolds walked past her, into the foyer, or what passed for one in this somewhat cramped place. She shut the door again and turned to look at him, folding her arms as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and cleared his throat, turning on his heel to face her as well. "Everything okay?" she asked, "I don't normally get visitors for the sake of visiting." "Yeah, everything's fine. I, uh...look, this may be a weird or even bad idea, but we have a game this weekend, and I thought that maybe you'd like to come. Like to check in on the very thing you're funding. You know, keep tabs and whatnot." "...hm...well, it would be nice to get some fresh air," Darling said, "I've been working so much lately I haven't even had time for my gardening. I suppose that would be okay. What time would it start?" Reynolds gave her the information, they chatted for a few more minutes, and then he headed back to his car. As he climbed inside and started it up, he looked in his rearview mirror and noticed the giant skull in his backseat. He did a double take before finally looking back at it completely, furrowing his brow. "Jesus christ that's creepy," he said. It was gonna be a weird weekend. *** "I am not wearing this," Janice said sternly in the equipment shed, as Reynolds held up the giant skull. "What?! Why not!? It's perfect!" he said, looking at the head, "does it unnerve you cause it's a skull?" "No, it just looks incredible heavy and uncomfortable," Janice replied, "Why do I have to be the mascot?" "Because we need to find you an actual position that isn't just my snacks girl, otherwise you may have to go back to full time janitorial duties. I'm trying to help us both out here, come on, work with me," Reynolds said, setting the skull down on a nearby crate of gloves. "Why's it gotta be a skeleton? Why can't it be a ghost or...or something equally relatable to death but still festive and fun?" Gorey asked, and Reynolds shrugged. "When people think of graveyards they think of skeletons, first and foremost. We're called The Sixxers, we need to have a mascot that represents us in a true fashion," Reynolds said, pulling a candy bar from his coat pocket and unwrapping it, biting into it and chewing as he spoke, "come on, Janice, it's not that bad, and it doesn't weigh that much. I tried it on." "Yeah but you're bigger than me!" Gorey said. "Yeah but I had designed specifically for you," he replied. "You...you did?" "Of course, you were who I had in mind for it, so I gave them rough estimates of what I thought would be right," Reynolds said, "Just try it on." "I have to say, I'm touched, nobody's ever designed a mascot costume just for me before," Gorey said, picking up the head and pulling it over her own. She put her hands on her hips and stared Reynolds right in the face. He grimaced. "That's really unnerving," he said, "Alright, you can take it off now." "No, you must now deal with the wrath of Bojangles," she said in a deep voice. "Alright, Gorey, you had your fun, I get it, but it fits so take it off. We don't wanna ruin it before the game," Reynolds said, taking another bite of his candy bar. "There is no one here by that name," Gorey continued, "There is only Bojangles." "Stop it!" he shouted. *** The game that weekend was against a nearby private school called Weinstock, the team was The Buccaneers. The Buccaneers were the best little league team around, and hadn't lost a single game this current season, but in all honesty, The Sixxers weren't about winning. They were about simply surviving the games and trying to have a good time. Most of the kids put on the team didn't, in fact, want to be there, so they didn't care so much for being winners. Either way, sitting in her uniform on the bench with Reynolds before the game, Hawley couldn't help but feel like she should maybe care more. "Is it bad to be a loser?" she asked. "You mean like an uncool person, or just someone who loses a lot?" Reynolds asked, "I think losers are cool. I'm a loser, and I'm cool, so." "I mean is it bad to lose almost all our games? Shouldn't we care more?" Hawley asked. "Don't you not wanna be here? What do you care?" Reynolds asked. "Well, I mean, winning makes the school look better, doesn't it?" Hawley asked, "and we are being funded by a private investor. Shouldn't she worry about our wins and losses? Our reputation?" "Trust me, I've met her, she just wants you to have fun," Reynolds said. Just then Gorey sat down on the bench beside Hawley, pulling the mascot head off her shoulders and plopping it into her lap as she ran a hand through her mousy hair. She was soaked in sweat. She pulled her large oval glasses off her face and wiped them down, then pushed them back on and looked at Reynolds. "I'm gonna have a heat stroke, and then you'll have a real corpse to deal with," she said. "Well it's a good thing we have a mortician coming then isn't it," Reynolds said, lighting a cigarette, making Hawley laugh. Just then Rebecca Little, the recently hired librarian, seated herself behind the three. She was wearing a short sleeved button up salmon colored shirt and tan slacks. She smiled at them all before leaning forward a little towards Reynolds. "I'm so excited, I haven't been to anything outdoor based in a while," she said, "the last school I temped for didn't even have a baseball team, and I don't much care for football so I never went to any of those games," she finished then looked at Hawley quizzically and asked, "why aren't you on the field?" "She plays a mean bench," Reynolds said. "I'm his entertainment," Hawley remarked, "besides, I'm not very good." "But that's why you play! To get better!" Little said before looking back at Reynolds and asking, "Why aren't you pushing her to be included? Don't you want her to get exercise? To learn teamwork?" "Frankly, I let her do what she wants. She knows what's best for her, and I'm of the belief that pushing kids into things they aren't interested in or take no joy from is a form of punishment, not experience," Reynolds said, "I mean, she's good at other things, she likes other things, but she doesn't like baseball, so I keep her on the team for the credit but let her sit on the bench with me. She plays when she wants to." "That's...a rather progressive coaching technique, I'll admit," Little said, before finally looking over at Janice and asking, "...are you a skeleton?" "Aren't we all, deep down?" Gorey asked, making Reynolds and Hawley giggle. Rebecca Little didn't really understand this odd comradery she'd stumbled into, but she was happy to simply be a part of the group. She leaned back on the bench and pulled a little backpack from down by her legs up onto her lap, taking out a bag of snacks and a drink with a twist cap. The game was going to start anytime now...but where was Delilah? Reynolds continually glanced nervously around, chewing on his lip. She said she'd be here, and yet she wasn't. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyebrows, before sighing and pulling a few dollar bills from his pants pocket and pushing them into Hawley's hand. "Go get me some candy," he said, "From the machine in the hall, you know the one, the one by the bathrooms." "Anything in particular?" she asked, standing up. "Not really. Get something for yourself too, and I guess something for Bojangles here," he said, jerking his thumb at Gorey. Hawley nodded and jogged away, heading towards the school. As she entered the school, she looked at the money in her hand and smiled. She appreciated being trusted by an adult. She walked a bit, rounded a corner to a second hall and heard the gentle banging on the machine. Hawley looked up to see a woman standing there, her balled fist lightly rapping the glass on the front of the machine. Hawley continued until she was standing nearby the woman, who finally looked down at her. "Is it broken?" Hawley asked. "No, it's just jammed," the woman said, pointing at the bag half hanging off the rack, "see, it's just dangling there. I don't know what to do." "Well, if you put in more money and buy the same thing, often it'll just drop it down with your original purchase," Hawley said, "And it just so happens that I have enough to do that!" The woman smiled, stepping aside to let Hawley in front of the machine, where she began to push her dollar bills in. She then punched in the number for the womans purchase, and, sure enough as she'd said, the original bag and another came down. She knelt down and grabbed them, handing them both to her. "Oh, no you take one, I only wanted the first," she said, making Hawley shrug and keep the second; the woman then watched as Hawley started to purchase the rest of the things she'd been sent for, and asked, "you're on the team? I'm here to watch a game." "I'm on the team, but I don't really play," she replied. "You don't like baseball?" the woman asked. "I don't know, not really, but I need to do an extracurricular activity and it keeps me away from home, so I stick it out," Hawley said, fishing the last of her items from the bin below and then standing up, tucking her long blonde hair back behind her ears, "...you're here to watch?" "I'm the one who funded the team," the woman said, smiling, "I'm Delilah Darling." "I'm Ellie Hawley," Hawley said, smiling back. "I'll walk with you back out to the bleachers," Darling said, and Hawley happily accepted this arrangement. It was nice to have a woman around - a woman who wasn't Janice - that felt like a mom to her. As they walked down the hall, Delilah kept looking at the art and other projects hung on the walls outside the classrooms, smiling. "Do you have children?" Hawley asked. "I had a son," Darling said, "being in a school is...weird for me now, but...I did promise that coach I would come, so here I am. I forgot how much I missed visiting schools. Seeing all the kids, all their work, seeing the teachers. Kind of takes me back to when my son was still here." "...my mom ran away," Hawley said. "I'm so sorry," Darling said, putting her hand on Hawley's shoulder and adding, "nobody should grow up without a mother." "Sometimes I think she did it because of me," Hawley said. "I highly doubt that," Darling said, "Why would she?" "I don't know...but my dad doesn't like me much, and so I guess I just sort of assume my mom didn't either," Hawley said, "that's why I play baseball, so I don't have to go home and see my dad. He scares me." "I know that feeling all too well. My father was a strict disciplinarian, and had a mean streak at times," Darling said, "well, if you ever feel scared or need somewhere to go, just come on by the mortuary, and you can happily spend some time with me. It'd be nice to have a kid around the house again." She ruffled the top of Hawley's hair, making her blush. *** "You totally ripped off our mascot!" Coach Skylark shouted, as he pointed at Gorey in her suit, and then The Buccaneers mascot - an undead pirate - in their own suit. Reynolds merely shrugged. "I don't see the comparison. One is an outright corpse, the other is a dead pirate. They're not the same. Besides, yours has an eyepatch and a bandana," Reynolds said, "Ours is just bone." "You knew exactly what you were doing, and we're gonna kick your asses to show you up for it!" Coach Skylark said, turning and storming away, leaving Reynolds and Little alone on the bench. "Wow," Little said, "Don't you hate being yelled at like that?" "I worked in LA for many years," Reynolds said, "I'm used to being manhandled by men who can't appropriately handle their emotions." Little smirked, as they heard Hawley and Darling approach the bench, both taking their seats; Hawley sitting beside Reynolds like she had been before and Darling seating herself beside Little. Hawley handed Reynolds his candy, which he thanked her for, before tearing it open and biting into it. "You know, you eat a lot of candy, that can't be good for you," Hawley said. "I know I shouldn't, my grandfather had diabetes, but it just makes me so happy," Reynolds said, "and that's the thing about life. It's so miserable, you need to find those small little pockets of joy where you can and grab 'em, otherwise you'll never feel anything good. Candy might eventually turn on me, sure, but at least for a little while we can appreciate eachothers company." "...are you waxing poetic about sugar?" Hawley asked, sounding almost confused, making the women behind them laugh. "I'm a teacher, of sorts, I teach. Take a lesson," Reynolds said. "Oh yeah, you're a real educator," Hawley mumbled, making all the adults laugh now. After the game concluded, Hawley went with the team to celebrate yet another loss, a loss that nobody seemed to mind obtaining as usual, while Reynolds and Gorey spent their time cleaning up equipment. Reynolds put everything into the large plastic wheeled container, and told Gorey to take it to the nearby shed, which she did. He turned around and looked at the ground, realizing he'd forgotten a mitt. As he knelt down to pick it up, he saw a pair of shoes come up in front of him. When he raised up, he saw it was just Delilah. "Oh," he said, "you're still here?" "I wanted to talk to you," she said, "and unlike you, I don't enjoy just showing up at peoples places unannounced. I'd really prefer if you called ahead of time instead of doing that." "Duly noted," Reynolds said, "So, what do you want to talk about?" "When I say 'talk' I don't mean so much as to have a conversation, as much as I do mean to just thank you. Thank you for going out of your way to invite me. I don't really do social things since my son died, and it was...nice...to be included. To be sought out, especially. I had a very good time, even if the team is...well..." "Horrible?" Reynolds asked. "I didn't want to say it, but." "It's okay, they'd agree," he replied. "I may, if it's alright, come to other games as well," Darling said, "After all, I should check in on my investment, as you said, make sure my money is being put to good use, right? That kid who sat with us today, Ellie? Are you close with them?" Reynolds turned and headed back towards the equipment shed, Darling following closely. "Uh, I mean, kind of," Reynolds said, "I left behind my daughter in LA after I was fired, and I guess you could say I'm sort of using them as a surrogate for that guilt of not being there. Besides, after the things she's told me about her home life, there's no way I couldn't be a part of it. I'm the coach. I'm supposed to be looking out for these kids, right?" "That's mighty respectable of you," Darling said, "Why don't you bring her and yourself around to the mortuary for dinner one night? She could use a good meal with a set of adults who aren't cruel to her." "...that...that sounds nice, thank you," Reynolds said. "Nothing romantic about it, of course," Darling said, "I just feel like she deserves something nice." "Certainly, I'm with you on that," Reynolds said. Once they arrived at the shed, Darling said goodbye and took her leave, as Reynolds entered only to find Gorey sitting there on a crate, still in costume, the skull head in her lap as she looked at it. He put the mitt away with the others then stopped and looked at her, hands on his hips. "Hey, Bojangles, what's goin' on?" he asked. "...I feel like a joke," Gorey said, "Like a one dimensional joke. Like it wasn't enough that I have to be the janitor at this school, picking up people's trash because I'm too mentally incapable of doing anything else to provide for myself, but now I have to be the mascot everyone laughs at too?" "Whoa, I...I didn't...I gave you this position because, like I said, I'm trying to find something for you to do that would actually secure you a spot on the team," Reynolds said, kneeling down in front of her, "I don't think you're a joke. I think you're funny, yeah, but never in a laughing at kind of way. I wanna keep you around, Jan, that's why I'm giving you things to do, but if you really feel that uncomfortable being the mascot, then-" "My whole life, anytime I was included in anything by my peers, it was always to make me the punchline," Gorey said, "I remember, back in middle school, I was invited to go to a Halloween dance with a group of girls. They told me they'd always liked me and wanted to be my friend but were too afraid because I was so unpopular, and so naturally I was, like, ecstatic for this opportunity. I made my costume myself, sewn and all, and when I got there, they were dressed in the most casual, minimal outfits they could find. Some cat ears, fairy wings, all sultry looking, and there I was, dressed like an idiot." "But, that's what Halloween's about, right? Dressing up? You did the right thing. They're the joke, if anything," Reynolds said, "And we're not in middle school now. I mean, we are, but you know what I mean. I'm not a pack of mean girls. I'm a loser. Hawley asked me earlier if it upset me that we were losers, if it was bad to be a loser, and honestly, if you're the kind of people I get to hang out with because I'm a loser, then no, that doesn't upset me at all. I think that's awesome." Gorey smiled, blushing as she set the head down and stood up, turning around so Reynolds could help her out of the rest of the costume. Once it fell to the ground, she was standing there, wearing just a ballet spandex, feeling nervous. He smiled at her, then continued to put the things from the cart away into their respective places. "I'm glad that librarian stopped by," Reynolds said, "Never really got a chance to talk with her much before. She's really nice, and she's really attractive." "She is quite the looker, yes," Gorey said, putting things away in a different crate, her back turned to him. "I think I may ask her out," Reynolds said, "Much as I dislike the idea of getting romantically entangled again, it's clear my marriage is over, and I don't like being alone all the time. I do enjoy female companionship, if you catch my drift." "Oh, I do," Gorey said, trying not to let her voice crack from the upset. She was just happy her back was to him. *** Delilah Darling's evenings were also often uneventful. She'd make dinner, listen to some old radio shows she'd saved up, or sometimes she'd take a bath and then do laundry; doing general housework that always seemed to go unfinished. Tonight though, she found herself sitting in the study, looking at photo albums of herself and her son, Evan, and her former husband. She found herself smiling for the first time in ages while looking at these things. Memories hurt, she knew, but she'd never really considered the fact that they could also heal. Eventually she retired for the evening. She got herself a glass of juice, put on her pajamas and climbed into bed. As she laid her head back on the pillow, the phone on the bedside table rang, surprising her. She sighed, then picked it up and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" she asked. "I hope it's okay that I call," Hawley said, "I...I got your number from the phonebook." "...it's perfectly okay that you call, yes," Darling said, sitting upright now, "Are you home alone? Doesn't your dad care that you're not asleep?" "He works really late sometimes," Hawley said, "I spend a lot of time at night alone." "I'm sorry, that sounds lonely. I mean, I guess in your case it's not that bad, considering, but." "...I know this is weird, considering we just met, but...my mom used to tell me stories at night when I couldn't sleep," Hawley said, their voice trembling, clearly scared to ask this as she continued, adding, "and I...I guess I just...I wanted to know if maybe you wouldn't mind doing that for me? It's been a long time since I've had a grown woman be like a mom." Delilah's heart wanted to break. She wanted to scoop this poor little girl up in her arms and squeeze her as tight as she possibly could. Delilah cleared her throat and sat back in bed, nodding. "Of course I'd do that for you," she said, "I'd be happy to." And she did. She told Hawley all about a far off fantasy land, about dragons and a princess and a heroic knight. About an ancient evil curse and a flood that was soon to plague the land. Hawley drifted off to sleep with ease, and when Delilah hung up the phone, she laid back down and shut her eyes. Sometimes, she realized, we don't get to chose we wind up caring for.
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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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