Hey There Delilah, Chapter Ocho (8)

Previously:
"Yes, Delilah. I want you to write to her. You can still write whatever you would like, but it has to be to Delilah." I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Don't cry! Don't cry! a tiny voice shouted from within me.
"I-I-I can't!"
"Maybe you don't think you can just yet, but you will. You will."

COOKOO! COOKOO! The sound made me drop the book on the floor. "Eeekkk!" I screeched.
"Sorry about that," Leila said. "You'll get used to it." The alarming noise had come from a cookoo clock near Leila's desk. As I caught my breath Leila showed me to the door. "I'll see you next week!" she chirped as I walked out.
"Yeah, okay," I said, still in shock. I could see my mother waiting for me by the door.
"You can tell me all about it in the car," she said before I could open my mouth. "We're late for your appointment."

It was 7:30 later that night. My windows were open, letting the cool breeze dance across my cheeks. I had my radio on, but I wasn't paying attention to it. Mindlessly, I was stroking my kitten, DJ. Delilah had given her to me for my birthday a few days before "it" happened, so it only made sense that she was present for this moment. "Alright DJ. Here goes nothing!" I slowly opened the tie-dyed journal from Leila. As I did, a wave of familiarity washed over me. There was something about the book that I couldn't describe, not then, not now. As my palms softly rested on the first page I felt a surge of energy rush through me. It felt like I had been electrocuted, but not enough to kill me. The music coming from my radio came to a stand still as I scrawled out the first words that came to me:

Hey there Delilah, it's me: Jolie.

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 7: Part II

Previously:
With my eyes fixed on Leila, I slowly opened the package. I had no idea what it could be. As I pulled off the last bit of paper, though, I found out.

Laying in my hands was what appeared to be a notebook...I least I think that's what it was. It was a medium sized book, about as tall and wide as a Harry Potter book, maybe a little bit bigger. There were a lot of pages bound into that litle book. I'd have to guess around 500. The outside of the journal looked like it might have once been a composition notebook, but it wasn't anymore. Leila had wrapped the outside in the most special wrapping paper I'd ever seen! The only way I can describe it is that it looked like an artist had taken five different paintbrushes and twenty different colors and whipped the brushes at the paper. It made a beautiful spiral pattern with all of the colors winding in and out of each other. On the spine of the book was written Happiness in swirly-curly handwriting. When I flipped the inside open, the cover had a name plate that said:

"Happiness is the only true color, the rest are just shades of joy."

Underneath this was my name, in the same twirly handwriting that was on the spine.

"Do you like it?" Leila said softly.

"Oh yes!" I breathed. "Very much!"

"Now, I must tell you that this book is for a very specific reason. As you've probably guessed by now, it is a journal. You can write whatever you want in it and no one has to know what it says...except for one." I looked up at her with a questioning look in my eyes.

"Who?" I asked.

"Delilah." Utter silence fell onto us like a thick woolen blanket, itchy and slightly irratating.

"Excuse me?" I squeaked.

"Yes, Delilah. I want you to write to her. You can still write whatever you would like, but it has to be to Delilah." I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Don't cry! Don't cry! a tiny voice shouted from within me.

"I-I-I can't!"

"Maybe you don't think you can just yet, but you will. You will."

Hey There Delilah, Chapter Seven

Previously:
"Oh, hello!" I jumped at the sound of her voice. It was soft and silky smooth, almost like honey. "You must be Jolie." I nodded, not knowing what else to do. "My name is Leila."

I didn't know how to reply. It was as if my mind froze up like wet hair in mid January. My tongue felt feathery and dry in my mouth. No sound came out.

I had been so nervous about this day, meeting this person that I would have to pour my heart and soul into for the next couple of months, maybe longer. A therapist was not my best friend, was never going to be! How could I tell a complete stranger about every little thing that went on inside my brain? It would never be the same! But as I blinked at Leila, something about this theory seemed slightly ridiculous. She seemed so nice, so innocent, so trustworthy--NO! I thought to myself. I couldn't let this happen. I didn't want too get close to anyone ever again, because in a split second it could all be over...

"Hi." The quiet croak that I mustered up from somewhere deep inside me seemed miniscule in comparison to Leila's strong don't-worry-about-a-thing voice.
"Hi!" she replied cheerily. "Come have a seat!" She brought me over to an armchair opposite her and poured me my own cup of herbal tea. After she settled herself in her chair, Leila took a deep yoga breath and looked at me with her electric blue eyes. "So," she started. "You know my name is Leila and I know your name is Jolie and we both know that I am your 'therapist.'" She air quoted the word with her fingers. "But I'd prefer we not think of it that way. Instead I'll be your...healer...or adviser. Sound okay with you?" Silently, I nodded. Note-to-self, she's also a bit kooky.
"Your mother told me that you have to go to the orthodontist, so our visit today will be cut a little short, so I'll give you your 'present,'" Again with the air quotes! "first." Leila stuck a bangle-covered hand into a larger-than-life canvas bag and pulled out something covered in lavender and silver wrapping paper. "Go on!" she coaxed. "Open it."
With my eyes fixd on Leila, I slowly opened the package. I had no idea what it could be. As I pulled off the last bit of paper, though, I found out.

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 6

"Jolie Anderson." I quickly looked up. "Jolie Anderson." A heavy set woman with a boring monotone voice was sitting at the front desk of the waiting room. She lazily let her watery, blank cow eyes wander around the room in search of me. My mother beckoned for me to go to the desk.
"Have fun," she whispered to me as I walked off. Ha! This would be anything but fun.
"I'm Jolie Anderson," I said to the woman. She continued flipping through her stack of files and pointed to a door marked #2 close to the opening of a dimly lit hallway. I took her simple gesture to mean "Go in there and let me get back to work." As I made the short treck to the office, I could feel my heart start to beat a little faster. I grasped the cold, golden door knob, palms sweating and hands shaking. Being nervous was one of the things I was best at.
Ever so slowly, the door creaked open and instantly I was bathed in a warm bright light. The strong scent of tropical flowers washed over me, flooding my senses. It made me feel completely at ease, almost as if I was lying on an exotic beach in Jaimaca surrounded by cococut trees and clear turquise water.
Quickly I realized that I wasn't alone. A young woman that looked to be in her early 30's sat comfortably curled up on a cream colored armchair. She was sipping what smelled like herbal tea. In her other hand was a small paperback book titled "Swimmingly Fishy." Her completely serene expression was framed by soft golden curls that lay traquilly on her shoulders. The woman's outfit silently screamed that she was a colorful and energetic person. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad afterall.
"Oh, hello!" I jumped at the sound of her voice. It was soft and silky smooth, almost like honey. "You must be Jolie." I nodded, not knowing what else to do. "My name is Leila."

Hey There Delilah, Chapitre Cinq (Chapter Five)

At twelve o'clock exactly my mother and I arrived at the therapist's building. I pushed open the door to the hideous boxy building. It looked like the 80's and a gray hairball got mixed in a blender and spit out in the form of a huge trash cube. Not exactly my idea of calming, but if you thought the outside of the building sounds nasueating, you obviously haven't begun to think of the inside.
The walls had once been painted a pretty sea foam green, but it presently looked more like bog water. The shag carpet was a deep green, straight off the soccer field. There was a small clutter of child sized plastic chairs clustered around a matching table. The table was piled high with markers, crayons, colored pencils, and old Chuggy the Choo-Choo Train picture books. Oppposite this side of the spacious room sat a love seat, some-what matching couch, and five mauve colored plastic arm chairs. I chose the safest route and sat in the only chair that seemed to be gum free. I breathed in the crisp scent of Febreze, hoping to calm my nerves. My mom perched placidly on the chair next to me, flipping through the lastest issue of People Magazine. I sighed to try to get her attention. "Sigh!" No response. "Sigh!" Still nothing. I tried once more, and this time it worked. "What?" she said looking at me.
"Nothing," I responded, even though I knew this wasn't true.

Hey There Delilah, 1/27-2/2

This week's entry is being postponed for next Sunday. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Sincerely,

The Weekly Harold Maintenance Crew

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 4

The rest of the summer was a complete blurr to me. I don't remember a single thing except the long nights alone in my room. I'd lie awake for hours replaying the car crash over and over again in my head, trying to find the split second where I could have done something to reverse the situation. My parents were very worried about me. "Honey, we need to talk," my mom was constantly saying to me. I'd just shake my head and walk away. My dad tried bribing me into talking by buying me snowcones at the mall. "So, how's that chunk of ice?" he'd start out. I'd look at him with a stare that seemed to say nothing but everything at the same time, so he decided to leave me alone.
Everyday I would go for a walk around my block and sit staring at the pond for hours on end, not moving a muscle. On my way home I'd check the mailbox, always finding the occasional sympathy card from a friend at school or a smelly casserole. People knew Delilah's death was as much a tradegy to me as it was to her own family.
Around the beginning of August my mother was completely fed up with me and my constant zombie walk. She was tired of giving out love and getting nothing back. Time for her revenge: a therapist.
"I'm not going." I stood in the kitchen staring at my parents with a frown on my face. It was the only way I could keep from crying.
"Sweetie, we've given you the chance to talk to us, but you won't. So you can talk to a therapist instead," my mother said. She stood facing me with her arms crossed, a determined look on her perfectly make-uped face. My father on the other hand was the kind of guy that didn't like to intervine with mother-daughter face-offs. He slouched in a corner flipping through his lastest issue of Car and Driver mindlessly. "Your father and I both agree that this is the best thing for you at the moment, right Harold?" She shot a look at my father that plainly stated, "Agree with me or you're sleeping in the doghouse."
"Yes dear." He sounded like a young schoolboy that was terrified to give the teacher the wrong asnwer. "I agree."
"Well, it's settled then. I'll drive you over to the therapist's office after lunch tomorrow," my mother said very matter-of-factly. I tried to give her the death stare, but her years of practice penitrated through my force field.
"Fine!" I shouted in her face. I stomped out of the room, a single tear sliding down my cheek. I must admit, I was scared.

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 3

Chapter 3
7/13/07
Delilah's Funeral
"We gather here today in memory of a very special young girl, Delilah Gloria Williams. Her tragic death has brought sadness and heart-break to us all." I heard a faint sniffle coming from behind me at the pastor's last words. It was Delilah's mother. She was wearing a long black dress that covered her ankles and the tips of her shiny patent leather funeral shoes, bought especially for this occasion. Her shoulders were hunched over in depression under the weight of a heavy woolen shawl, even though it was a week after the Fourth of July. My mother told me this made Mrs. Williams feel more secure. She was holding hands with Mr. Williams, who had been like a second father to me ever since my own parents got divorced when I was four. His piercing blue eyes were glistening with tears. It was the first time I had seen him cry.
People all around me were crying, sniffling into tissues, and holding hands with loved ones. My mom stood beside me, clutching a Kleenex in one hand and mine in the other. Suddenly I felt a squeeze in my palm. “It’s time, Sweetie,” she whispered in my ear. I smoothed my skirt and headed up to the casket.
Earlier that morning Mrs. Williams had asked me to make a short speech about Delilah before her coffin was buried. I had been trying to figure out what to say all day, and I still hadn’t come up with anything.
“Ummm…hi. My name is Jolie. I was, I mean am, Delilah’s best friend.” I saw my mom smile through her tears and the words just started pouring out of my mouth. “Delilah and I were more than friends, we were practically sisters. The two of us did everything together. We had sleepovers every Friday night, we went to the same summer camps, and we bought all the same clothes. Delilah taught me a lot of important things about life.
She taught me how to be brave and confident, how to believe in myself and how to see the bright side of life, but best of all she taught me how to love.”
I stopped there, not knowing what else to say. I suddenly got very choked up, so all I could muster was a faint “thank you”. I was about to step back into the small crowd of people, but I changed my mind. I unclasped my friendship necklace and placed it gently in Delilah’s casket in her right hand. Her transparent milky white skin was the last thing I ever saw of my best friend, a sight that would haunt me forever…

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I screamed. All I did for ten minutes was scream. After five minutes of trying to calm me down, the nurse (whose name turned out to be Cindy) left to go get my mother from the waiting room and some headache medicine for herself. When my mother came in she looked exhausted, broken down, and just plain happy to see me. She rocked me back and forth as best she could from the side of my hospital bed while my breathing started to slow down and my screaming was reduced to occasional whimpers. When I looked up from my mother’s tearstained shoulder, a tall black man was standing in the corner of the room.
“Well, well, well. I see Miss Jolie is finally awake.” I scowled at him. I’m not two, if that’s what you’re thinking!
“Oh, she’s wide awake,” mumbled Cindy, rubbing her head. The doctor shot her a look, then turned towards me once again.
“Let me introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Dr. Smith and this is my nurse Cindy.” He nodded towards Cindy who was busy putting on rubber gloves. “So, how are you feeling? Maybe it’s time we took a look at those bandages of yours.” I looked down at myself and noticed for the first time that almost the entire right side of my body was covered in plaster and gauze.
My right arm was wrapped tightly to the side of my body, clearly broken. I gasped, but choked because some of my ribs were broken, making it difficult to breath. My right leg was also in a cast, much to my dismay. I sighed a deep sigh of pity for myself. Things couldn't get much worse. The entire right side of my body was broken and my best friend was...well...I didn't know if I was ready to talk about that quite yet.
* * * * *

Later that evening I lay in my hopsital bed, willing sleep to come to my troubled head. The window next to my bed was open slighty, allowing a calming breeze to drift into the room. Twinkling in the midnight sky sat hundreds of tiny stars, each one shining brightly as if it held a special secret of its own. I breathed in the warm summer night air, filling my lungs as best I could. My pillow case was sparsely dappled with sweet tears of fear and great sadness. Looking up at the biggest and brightest star I could find I whispered, "Delilah? I know you can hear me. I know you're not really gone, not for good. I know you can see me, even if I can't see you. Please help me. I miss you so much already. Don't go, please don't go!" After I choked out my last few words I felt as if a warm spot in my heart floated away, out the open window, up towards the star. I knew she was gone now, knew she had no choice but to leave me. I couldn't be mad. Not now. She was where she belonged. Instead I just turned away from the window and wept until my heart was as cold as ice, the last bit of warmth sucked from my body...

Hey There Delilah, Chapter 1

Chapter 1,

6 Days after prologue

6/29/07

Beep. Beep, beep. Beep. I turned my head, blindly searching for my alarm clock to shut it off. “Uuuggghhhmmph,” I groaned.
I slowly opened my eyes, still groping around trying to find the source of the beeping. My bedroom wasn’t like I remembered it. Where had my night table gone? In its place was a large machine with a monitor covered in squiggly green lines. Where my pile of last week’s laundry should have been was a large mass of colorful balloons and a dozen stuffed animals. One of the balloon’s read “Get Well Soon!” and a giant purple teddy bear was holding an over-sized card covered in a bunch of signatures. What was going on? Where was all my stuff? Why did it smell like----
“Good morning sunshine!” said a sugary voice. I quickly looked around. The voice seemed to be coming from a young looking blonde woman with a clipboard in her hands. Her perfectly manicured fingers were gripping a bright pink pen that was whizzing across her paper. It made my head hurt. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Better?” I said, puzzled. “I was never bad! Why would I be---” All of a sudden everything came back to me. The graduation day dance, the thunderstorm, Delilah’s smiling face right before the car crash, everything. My head suddenly felt very heavy. I looked at the nurse and said, “Where’s Delilah?”
“I’m sorry honey but---“
“Where’s Delilah?” I said in a quiet, firm voice.
"Honey, she's.....gone."

What do you think of the story so far? Have any suggestions? Leave a comment and check back in next week for Chapter 2!!!

Hey There Delilah Prologue

Check out the prologue of The Weekly Harold's first story, Hey There Delilah.

“Hurry up Jolie! It’s pouring!” my best friend called out to me through the maze of raindrops falling all around us.
“Hold on! This stupid umbrella won’t open!” I fiddled with the darn thing for a few more seconds, until I decided to give up. “My mom is gonna kill me!” I mumbled as I hurried along side Delilah. My blue silk dress was already dripping with sweet rainwater and we had only gotten out of the school auditorium three minutes earlier. I could feel my feet slowly sliding out of my new strappy black sandals. I scrunched up my toes, praying they would stay on.
“Come on! I can see my mom’s car up ahead! Just across the street in the extra school parking lot!” A huge clap of thunder sounded above our heads, closely followed by a streak of lighting as we dashed into the street. The storm was quickly growing worse. The lightning lit up the night sky and Delilah’s smiling face. At least I thought it was lightning.
It happened so suddenly. Delilah’s smile quickly faded as her face turned an eery orange in the flood of headlights. I turned around just in time to see the car come racing towards us. The last thing I remember was the long, drawn out beep of a car horn and the flashing red and blue lights of a siren…

"Hey There Delilah" Preview

Below is the preview for The Weekly Harold's story "Hey There Delilah". It may be kind of confusing now, but when you read the prologue on Christmas Eve, it will all make sense.

Has something ever happened to you that changed your life forever? Did you wake up the next morning hoping it was all a dream? And then the giant wave of pain and guilt crashes down on you when you realize that it actually happened. That feeling can make you melt. Inside and out. Maybe I'm still staring into her face, watching Delilah smile for the last time. I don't know. Time has passed but it's stood still. This is my story and I want you to listen...

Remember- CHRISTMAS EVE="hEY tHERE dELILAH pROLOGUE"!

harold;)

Serialized Story

COMING IN JANUARY 2008!!!

This page will be home to my weekly serialized story (a story written in pieces) titled "Hey There Delilah". Check back in a couple weeks to read the preview!