My mom hums the entire drive to Chick-fil-A. It's ten pm, the movie starts at eleven, and the drive there is about five minutes. We'll have time to talk before the movie, and I can walk her home because the theater is close to our houses. I just hope my mom doesn't embarrass me on the ride there.
"Is that her?" she asks, her eyes fixed on Delilah in her work uniform. It doesn't matter what she wears. She would still be stunning dressed like a homeless person wearing five different dirty jackets and matted hair.
"Yeah. That's her," I say, grinning.
"She's gorgeous. You said she's sixteen?"
"I'm as surprised as you are. She skipped a grade."
"Smart and beautiful. That can be dangerous."
"Mom. C'mon."
We stop in front of her and she looks up from the glow of her phone. I get out of the car and open the back seat for her. She gives me a look that makes me feel gooey, then slides into the left back seat. I sit on the right, and my Mom begins to drive us.
I move my attention to Delilah and she locks eyes with me. I then realize I've been staring for a while now and I should say something. I open my mouth to speak—
"So, Delilah," my Mom says. And here we go, "Why my son?"
"Mom!"
"Oh relax honey, I'm just asking."
Delilah laughs, "You really wanna know why?" she asks. The car falls silent "Well what if I couldn't tell you precisely why? Maybe I just like his blue eyes. And how excited he gets when we talk about certain things. Maybe it's his front left tooth being a little crooked. Maybe it's because he is kind to the people who treat him like shit. Maybe it's because he's the first person in this town to talk to me like I'm a person, not some 'goddess'. I feel like I'm a person to him. And maybe because I think he's attractive."
I look over at my mom to gauge her reaction. She looks in the rearview mirror at Delilah and back at the road. We park at the curb in front of the movie theater.
"Honey, why don't you go on ahead? I got to have a talk with your date before you go in."
"Mom, please don't do this."
"It's fine," Delilah says, her hand resting on top of mine, "You don't have to worry about me."
I scan her face and for some reason I trust her. I get out of the car and when I close the door I can't hear what they're saying but I can see them. My mom starts to talk, then stops. Delilah answers with one word. Then my mother starts speaking again. Delilah's eyes widen and she leans forward and asks a question.
They have to be talking about me. I'm certain of it. Delilah then says something, to herself or to my Mom, I'm not sure, and opens the door, making her way to me. I'm unable to read her until a smile creeps on her face.
"Your mom is awesome," she says, "I wish mine loved me that much."
"Yeah. I'm a lucky guy. What did she say to you?"
Delilah stands on her tippy toes and leans into my ear.
"I promised not to tell you," she whispers. I look at her and she winks. She takes the lead and walks us up to the movie theater.
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The movie is a blast. I wasn't expecting much but it's delivering so far. Delilah was invested as soon as it started. When Chris Pine's character came on screen, Delilah leaned over and whispered to me, "That's my future ex-husband." I laughed a little too loud. Then as the movie progressed, my attention moved toward Delilah. Little by little, until all I could think about was her. She took her shoes off to get more comfortable. Her attention is solely focused on the movie. I look towards her armrest and see her hand resting on it.
"Go for it," Jesus says from the empty seat to my right. I start to inch my hand toward hers. Then she takes her hand away suddenly to put some hair behind her ear and I abort the mission.
"Why does this look so easy in the movies?" I whisper.
"I know right," Delilah whispers back. I realize I just said that out loud. I decide that maybe it's early to hold hands. I don't want to come off as clingy. Instead of trying to make a move, I enjoy the rest of the movie with Delilah.
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We watch the credits, talking about the movie. After the post-credits scene, we leave the theater room and walk in the halls. She's talking about everything she loved in the movie, which is practically everything. I hate to admit it, but I'm not paying attention to what's being said. I'm admiring her. The way she looks when she's talking about something passionately.
"Judas!" she says.
"Huh? Yeah? It was cool!" I say. She tilts her head in confusion.
"You weren't listening, were you?"
"I'm sorry—I just—I was—"
"Are you gonna answer my question?"
"Question?"
She takes a quick step toward me and naturally, I back away. I back away until I'm against the wall and she's right in my face. Her hands caress my chest and her fingers ease their way to my collar. I gulp down some spit, my body becoming a fiery, trembling, beacon of nervousness.
"Do you really see Jesus?" she asks.
"What? Who—"
"Don't be koi. I was doing what you just did with me. Acting like you're a part of the conversation when really you're off somewhere else. I did that at school today."
So she wasn't as interested as I thought?
"And instead of listening to you," she continues, "I was listening to what people had to say about us. How it didn't make sense that we were getting along so much. And how I was too pretty for a boy like you. And how if I only knew the truth, I wouldn't like you. And when I heard somebody say that you can see and hear The Son Of God. Well, I didn't know how to react."
I don't know what to say. What to do. I wanted to keep it a secret from her. But it seems you can't outrun your past. Will I lose her if I tell her the truth? Or should I lie?
"So?" she asks, "Is it true? Can you see and hear Jesus while the rest of us can't?"
Even if I try to lie, she'll know. I have no choice but to tell her.
"It's true," I tell her. She gazes into my eyes and hers sparkle again.
"I believe you," she says.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
We stay silent for a moment. Still and together. Her eyes look down at something on my face, then she makes eye contact again and leans in a little.
Is she... gonna kiss me?
"We're closing soon," a familiar voice says. We both turn our heads towards the owner of the voice; Stacy Flannigon in a black work uniform.
"We were just leaving," Delilah says. She then grabs my hand and pulls me away. Her palm is sweaty, but I don't care. I let her guide me out of the theater and into the crisp night.
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She doesn't let go of my hand the entire walk home. We're quiet as we enter our neighborhood. She sometimes looks up at me and I pretend not to notice. What's her motive? Why is she so into a guy like me? What would've happened if Stacy didn't interrupt us?
"How long have you seen him for? Jesus I mean," she asks.
"Ever since I can remember. I didn't have a lot to do when I was a kid. The only form of entertainment I had was a bible. I read it every day. And still do. One day while I was reading, I heard a noise in the closet. I opened it, and there he was. Jesus Christ. I didn't know how to react. But he told me that he was there for me. And we've been together ever since."
"Must be nice. To actually see and hear The Son Of God."
"It is. But it has its moments. I can't turn it off, so sometimes it can get awkward. Especially in the bathroom."
She huffs some air out of her nose, "That must be challenging. But in a way, you're lucky."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. You've never been alone. You've had God. I wish it was like that for me."
"It is. He's always here."
"For you, sure. I'm honestly not sure if I believe in that stuff anyway."
This surprises me. I thought she was a believer because of her necklace.
"But that doesn't mean I don't believe in you," she continues. We round the corner and our houses can be seen at the end of the street.
"So do you think you can do it?" she asks.
"Do what?"
"Date somebody that's faithfully challenged?"
I think about it. The church I go to expresses how important it is to find someone who believes in what you believe. To be equally yolked. But I've never met a woman like Delilah before. And throwing that away just because her beliefs are different from mine feels like a mistake I would always regret.
"I don't want to lose you, Delilah. I think we were meant to cross paths."
"Me too."
We stop in the middle of the street, our houses to our backs.
"Thanks for taking me to see a movie. And not being weird about me paying for my own ticket," she says.
"Thank you for seeing me," I say. She smiles and then steps on her tippy toes. She places her hand on my left cheek and her soft, smooth lips on my right.
"See you at school," she says, turning around.
"Yeah. See ya," my hand is rubbing the spot she kissed me. I watch as she enters her house and closes the door behind her.
"Not what you expected?" Jesus asks. He's standing behind me.
"No. Not at all. At first, I thought she was perfect. Made for me even. But I've realized she's a person. With her own past and beliefs. This world doesn't revolve around me."
I see the top left window of Delilah's house light up. And for the first time, I'm excited about school tomorrow.
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