I spend the rest of my Delilahless days getting as much information on Lucy as possible. Here's what I've found out about her:
She was born in Los Angeles and moved to Colorado a couple of years ago. Her full name is Lucyfer Mourningstar. And I thought my name was crazy. She has no classes with me so it's hard to keep track of her, but the times I did see her I observed her nature. Even though she was soaking wet and smelled like a dirty river on her first day at Hawkins, she was making friends left and right. It would go like this: She would approach a crowd of students, join the conversation effortlessly, and get their social media tags and phone numbers, then rinse and repeat with the next group.
Most of us have social anxiety. But it would be safe to assume Lucy has none. She even brings a smile to the shy students when she talks to them. She knows her way around the art of speaking, that's for sure.
Delilah might have a rival for the most popular girl at Hawkins High.
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Tomorrow is Saturday, and that's when Delilah returns from her trip. I'm excited, but I've been trying to hold back from texting her all day. I don't want to come across as desperate.
The last bell of the day rings and we all get up from our desks. Like blood flowing from a vein, we exit the classroom and pour into the halls. I'm thinking about Delilah's blue hair shining in the sunlight when someone in the crowd grabs my left wrist. I turn to whomever it is to see it's Lucy holding onto me.
"Just the disciple I was looking for," she says, "We need to talk."
"About?"
"Prefer not to say it here. Let's go somewhere a little more private. How's my house sound?"
Going to Lucy's house doesn't sound like a good idea—
"Or I could just tell everyone about how you've been stalking me the past four days."
She knows about that? And here I thought I was good at stalking people.
"What choice do I have," I tell her.
"Believe me, you won't regret this one, Judy. Shall we?"
She passes me in her black suit that was clearly made for her. I follow her out of the school and we begin to walk the same path I did four days ago.
The school day just ended, so there are plenty of students around us when Lucy says:
"I've learned a lot about the characters of this school these past four days."
"Yeah? Whatcha learn?"
"Tiffany Belcher gave a blow job to a boy last year at a party. Her braces got caught on his foreskin and he bled. He promised not to tell—"
"But you know."
She smiles, "Stacy Flannigon is insufferable. But everyone wants to be on her good side because of her endless amounts of money. Which I'll need for my plan."
"A plan?"
"Mrs. Durnumn is having an affair with Mr. Cunudeson. They meet in an abandoned mining cave connected to the school near the far end of the school. Did you know this school used to be a mining facility? Daniel Martinez isn't the smartest, but he'll work for what I want. And Delilah. I see why she's dating you. Do you see why?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you. It's a mystery to me why she likes me so much. Though, I think she's already getting bored with me."150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU3pvoRw7Bo
"I could never be bored with you. Because you, Judas, are the key to it all. Or should I say, Jesus Freak?"
"I'd prefer Judas, actually."
"Is he here? Right now? What's he doing?"
"Yes, he is here and he's just walking with us. What, did you want me to walk with you? So you could make fun of me?"
"No, no, no, no, no, my sweet Judy. You're situation completely and utterly fascinates me. I mean seeing and hearing the Son of God? That has to be—like—like—"
"Crazy?"
"Ironic!"
I lift a brow in confusion. Her red eyes are wide as she says: "For as long as I can remember, I've heard the Devil's voice in my head."
I stop and she continues to walk for a bit before stopping herself. She turns around and I observe every inch of her wondering if she's telling the truth.
"What does she sound like?" I ask.
"I don't know. Like a woman. A calming, sultry voice. One you like—"
"To listen too. Instead, mine is a dude. And not sexual. You can feel him inside you. Before—"
"She speaks. It's like she has a physical presence."
If God can live inside a man like me, then maybe it's not far-fetched to assume that the Devil can in woman named Lucy.
"Judas. I'm going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer honestly."
"Okay."
"Do you think the Devil can be redeemed?"
The question catches me off guard. I've never really thought about it before. Would a thing like that even be possible? The first sinner. The symbol of rebellion. The punisher. Evil incarnate. Is a beast so wicked as that redeemable?
Then I remember what she had done four days ago. The things she said before plunging herself into the river. Lucy thinks she's the Devil. I went through a similar thing in my earlier years of school. I just recently snapped out of it for my senior year. At least, I hope I did. So is she asking 'Do you think the Devil can be redeemed?' or is she really asking, 'Do you think that I can be redeemed?'
"Our whole religion is based on redemption," I start, "And to be honest, I do believe that the Devil can be redeemed, but only if she wants to be."
We stare into each other's eyes for a while. Still. Quiet.
"Out of all the people I've asked, your answer was the first that has satisfied me."
"I'm glad you think so."
She snaps out of a trance-like state and tells me her house isn't too far away. I continue to follow her. At first, I was skeptical of Lucy. But now that I understand her a bit more, I see a lot of myself in her. In a way, it would be selfish to not be her friend and help her with what she's going through.
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Her house is in the neighboring neighborhood to mine. Which is about a ten-minute walk from my house. When we arrive, she tells me her father is at work so we have the house to ourselves. She takes me up to her room and I feel like I've stepped into a Christian goth nightmare. The walls are painted black with metal band posters covering almost every inch of the wall. Upside-down crosses, all made from a variety of materials hang on the walls and from the ceiling. All of her bedding is black. The walls are black. Darkness everywhere. She takes a seat on her bed and then pats the side next to her. I set my backpack down and sit next to her.
"So what did you want to talk about?" I ask. My phone vibrates.
"You wanna know why I have so many friends?" She asks. My phone vibrates again.
"Sure."
"I grant favors. I've done it for as long as I can remember honestly. Somebody asks me for something, and I give it to them."
"Right. What sort of favors are we talking about?"
"Oh, it can be as minuscule as twenty dollars to life-altering changes."
"Alright. What's the catch?"
She smiles, "No catch. No wavers. No signing on any dotted lines. I don't need your soul. That's all propaganda. You're in control here, not me."
"And you're telling me this because?"
"Because I know you need me for a favor."
My phone buzzes again. I take it out of my pocket but Lucy snatches it out of my hands.
"Hey!" I cry out.
"You'll get this back when you take this conversation seriously. Now, Judy. Out of everything you could ever want, what is the one thing you want right now?"
I stare into her eyes. Delilah's green ocean eyes show in my vision. Her smile. Those dimples. Her hand holding mine.
"I... want—I want Delilah to be with me forever," I say, "I want her to be with me until the end of time—and more."
"And that's all you want?"
"That's the only thing I want."
She tilts her head, then extends her hand. I slowly lift mine, hesitate, and then shake hers.
"Consider it done," she says. She hands me the phone back and I read the screen.
"Oh my God, I have to go," I tell her, running out of the room and grabbing my backpack. I sprint out of the house and make my way toward mine.
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When I get to my house, there's an ambulance and a police car parked outside of it. I sprint down towards my mother, who is crying in the front yard as they cart my dad into the back of the ambulance. I stop to catch my breath in the driveway. I pick my mother off the ground, get her into my car, and follow the ambulance to the hospital.
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My Dad had a brain aneurysm. There are different kinds of brain aneurysms. The slow and painful kind and the quick and painless kind. I asked the nurse which one it was, and the doctor assured me it was quick and painless. I then wondered if they just always said that.
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I'm sitting next to my mom in the waiting room when a familiar blue-haired woman enters through the sliding glass doors. When she sees me, I stand up and she practically tackles me with her hug.
"I'm so fucking sorry," Delilah says, "Are you okay?"
"I—I don't think so. No. I'm not. I just talked to him this morning. He was fine. We even laughed together."
Tears are forming in her green eyes, "I'm such an idiot."
"Whoah, whoah, hey," I take her cheek in my palm, "No you're not. Why would you say that?"
"I almost didn't even go on this stupid vacation. I just thought I was coming onto you too hard and I was being too easy and I was feeling self-conscious about dating someone everyone calls 'Jesus Freak'."
My heart flutters. Discouragement rears its ugly head, its claws clenching at my spine. I knew my past would be a challenge for us.
"But I'm not anymore," she continues, "I'm sorry. Judas, you may be a complicated man but you don't deserve this."
I hug her again. I can't believe this happening now. How does God play into all of this? And I haven't seen Jesus since my walk with Lucy. Sometimes, he disappears. For a few hours to a couple of days. He always returns, but he never explains what he was up to.
I fear that one day, he won't return. And I'll forever be alone.
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We leave the hospital late. When we arrive home, Delilah checks if she can stay the night at my place. My mom and her parents agree to it so I spend the rest of my evening in my room talking to Delilah.
We're lying in bed, facing each other. The bed's barely big enough for the two of us, so our foreheads are pressing against each other.
"Judas?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever get angry at God?"
"Of course I do. Any Christian who says they don't is a liar."
"What do you get angry about with him?"
I sigh, "I guess I get angry about the unknown. Why did that have to happen? Why did my biological mom have to lock me in a room and starve me and force me to read a bible every day? Why did she have to die? Why did my biological dad abandon me when I was two? Why did my adoptive dad have a brain aneurysm? Why do I hear the voice of God and see his son? Why was I named after the guy who betrayed him? Why me? Wouldn't it be better if everyone could see and hear Jesus? Then everyone would be at peace and the world would be awesome! And the Devil! I've just recently been asked this—can the Devil be redeemed?"
And then I remember the deal I made with Lucy. I don't think it's possible she gave my Dad a brain aneurysm, right? She's just a person who thinks she's the Devil. Yet, I'm a person that can see and hear Jesus. So it's not out of the realm of possibility to assume that Lucy might be the actual Devil. If that's the case, I hope I can redeem her before she hurts anybody else.
"Well, you know my stance on it all," she says, "I guess I would just want to ask why he hates me so much."
"You think God hates you?"
"Why else would my life be like this? I mean—I have you. But there's a lot you don't know about me Judas. And honestly, I'm not sure if I can ever tell you."
I take her hand, "Well, if you ever feel like telling me, just know I won't run away."
She smiles, and I wish I could take away all her pain. All her suffering. Her doubts. I wish I could introduce her to God and show her that he doesn't hate her. That he loves her and wants a good life for her.
But there's nothing I can think of to do or say that will persuade her otherwise. Instead I trace the top of her hand with my thumb until I drift into sleep.
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