Delilah was thinking about James again. She thought of his calming presence, his brave and caring nature. She thought about how charming he was, about how one glimpse of his smile was enough to comfort her, for just long enough before she was anxious to see him again. She thought of his strong arms and imagined the way he would hold her, with so much love, so much so that all her concerns would just fly away, far away like the birds that migrated before the arrival of the cold season.
Delilah walked over to the window and looked out onto the streets. She had always hated the idyllic, clean appearance of the city, with all its bright lights that shone gloriously at night, the man-made parks where people walked their pesky little dogs. She hated the way people walked so busily past one another, without a care in the world about anyone else. She hated the way the heels of women clicked against the stones, the way the men talked on their phones. This was a place that encouraged her anxious thoughts.
Then she saw someone in the distance, walking calmly while observing the city around him, hands in his pockets. It was James. Delilah anxiously gulped; her head tilted downwards and her eyes landed on her toes peeping through her tan sandals. She fidgeted with the pretty gold bracelet James had given her for her birthday last year, unclasping and re-clasping it. She rarely wore jewellery, but it immediately became a favourite. She had dressed up nicely today, put on her favourite white flowy dress with blue flowers. It was a perfect fit, and the light breezy material danced right above her ankles as the summer wind lightly blew through the windows of the small coffee shop.
She wondered what James had wanted to tell her. It was unlike him to ask her to do such an odd thing, to come to the coffee shop so late in the evening, seven o’ clock to be exact.
She had arrived there at exactly six thirty, with sweaty palms and a pounding heart. A few strands of her hair had stuck to her forehead despite the cool summer evening. Then she found a small, empty table in the back corner and sat there. She sat and waited for half an hour, lost in her own thoughts, clueless to her impending future.
That happened sometimes – Delilah would become so utterly lost in her own thoughts that she would forget to lock the door behind her, or forget her wallet in the car, or leave a beloved sweater behind. Delilah always did that. She always left behind her valuables.
Delilah began to grow concerned as clouds now began hovering above the city, the wind blowing a bit harder now. A few workers began shutting the windows, leaving her feeling claustrophobic. Just then, James walked in through the café door, his soft hair disheveled by the wind. But Delilah couldn’t help but swoon at the way he ran his fingers through the dark strands, trying to fix the mess that sat atop his head. Nonetheless she thought it looked beautiful; she longed to run her own fingers through them.
He was wearing a dark blue denim jacket today. Underneath was a black t-shirt and black jeans. It fit him perfectly. Delilah wondered how James managed to always look so good, regardless of what he wore. Her heart hammered now as she observed his bright brown eyes circulating about the room, looking for her. She forced her eyes off of him, her sight landing in her lap. She began to shake one leg anxiously, then stopped as she remembered her mother’s comments about how a lady would never shake her leg like that.
She jumped slightly as she heard thunder. That’s when James noticed her and began walking towards her table, a fast smile on his handsome face.
“Hi Delilah,” he said, stopping right in front of her, his muscular arm reaching behind him to scratch the back of his head.
“Hi,” Delilah smiled timidly.
James sat down on the chair in front of her, its legs scraping against the floor as he pulled it out from underneath the table. Delilah cringed at the sound.
“Delilah.” James gently took her hands in his, forcing Delilah to look up at him, at his big brown eyes that made her feel like he could see right through her, see all her anxious thoughts, but still be willing to stay. His eyes held hers and for a moment they sat in silence. “Delilah…”
She loved the way he said her name, the way that the lah rolled of his tongue, his soft lips opening as if he could breathe again each time he said it. She looked at him now, and she could see that he was terrified, just like her.
He looked at her with so much sincerity she thought she would faint.
“Delilah, I’m in love with you.”
They looked at each other; one with relief from having said the unspoken, hope now rising in his chest, and the other with sadness, feeling mute, like a small mouse.
He stared at her for what felt like hours, his hands still holding hers, his thumb rubbing circles on her knuckles. Delilah observed him, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry James,” she began, “but I don’t feel that way about you. I just don’t love you James.”
Just then another loud bang of thunder struck, and Delilah jumped again. James held her hands tightly, feeling the need to protect her – despite what she had just told him.
James looked calm, his emotions unreadable. He stood up, and for a moment Delilah thought he was going to say something by the way he looked at her, the way his eyes bore into her – with so much sincerity and now, love. But he didn’t. James remained silent. And then, his head cast down after one last look at her, James was walking away, out the door, and into the distance.
Then it started to rain.
And Delilah just sat there, she sat there until closing time. She sat there as the raindrops raced down the windows, as the people outside ran for shelter, some carrying newspapers above their heads, others jumping into taxis. A few came into the café, ordering coffee and biscuits, chatting with their friends and coworkers. Delilah sat alone in the back, watching them. When it was finally time to close, when a worker came to her and told her it was time to leave, Delilah got up and walked out the door, dragging her feet as the rain hit her.
Delilah didn’t even think to look back at the forgotten bracelet that lied hopelessly on the table.