Delila

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She had finished packing up the night before, and saved the morning for herself.

She was supposed to be at her new job at two in the afternoon; she had accepted the job as a family accountant for her long term client and old friend Tigris.

Before, she had used to help out her friend and of course, get paid for it at her regular rate, but she was doing the job from her home. Now, with Tigris leaving the family building and wandering only god knows where. Tigris had asked Delila to keep up with the family financial matters and be the official accountant of the family. She, Tigris that is,  had also explained that the job could only be done from the family house, since, with her disappearance, no one of those left living in the building was remotely accountable or interested in managing the finances.

All family members were busy doing there own thing, which most of the time, was practically useless, still they expected all their bills taken care of, and their expenses covered.

None would have the minimal interest in checking upon anything; she even had to arrange for the venues of the old city land, where the house was, to be distributed evenly and directly deposited into each member credit account on a monthly basis.

She had started scheduling automatic utilities bill payments, and schooling payments for Hulm.

She had tested her scheduling system and found that it was functioning well; still, she did not trust her dreamy family to keep up with anything while she was not there. And since she had decided not to be bothered with them anymore, she hired her old friend Delila to do the job, and asked her to move to the empty apartment in the family building in the second floor.

Delila, although, she would be paid nicely for the new job, plus the fact that she wouldn’t have to worry about accommodation, was hesitant.

The family building was two and a half hour drive from the city border, right in the centre of the city. She, if she  had lived there, would be relatively separated from her previous life, since crossing the border to that weird lonely city called “Calamity city” was almost impossible except for the original inhabitants and the people who work for them in the city. All else were not allowed in.

The city inhabitants there claimed that they would not want to be bothered by any external influence, any external morals or religion or habit; they didn’t want to be bothered with what they called the fear culture of others. They had there own living ways, whereby no one influenced the other or intruded in others decisions or lifestyle, or so they thought.

They had named their city Calamities; where only utmost depression settled, where when one is freed of all external influences and left with only one task in life, namely, exploring ones self, and uncovering dark pockets of existence, gradually lighting up there souls in order, when all is said and done, they would have accomplished the ultimate goal of existence which was the precise reason for existence. That reason for existence for them was unique for each member of humanity, and not necessarily complementary.

They knew that realisng existence, in the process as well as the outcome would only be accompanied by calamity, but for them calamity was just the other face of the same coin of the wholesome, so called, existence.

Delila was hesitant, because she did not want to leave her past life behind, her past experiences, past joy and especially not her love: Zeo.

But Zeo, had left months ago, for a humanitarian mission, and said she would be back; just like that, one morning he called, not in person, but over the phone, and said, he was leaving, for few months, “See you soon love, Bye.” Just like that.

Initially Delila, got angry, refused to say anything, fought with everyone else she could fight with. Then she calmed down, and accepted it; Zeo had been her sunshine. She felt betrayed, tried to find reasons, then settled for finding excuses for Zeo. She did not cry. She could not cry. She neither could get rid of the bitterness she had; so she buried it, deep in her soul, deep enough to allow her to keep going, but not so deep that she would not be able to dig it up later if need be, just in case.

Initially she did not want to move out from her life, into a new one. Initially she did not want to discard off all the promises, the rosy love story, the belonging that Zeo had promised her and never delivered.

Then, she changed her mind; the job was good, new life was comfortable, and by doing exactly what Zeo had done, she would revenge. She accepted the job, thought she then could dig out her bitterness, cremate it, and allow the ashes to be blown away.

She did finish packing the day before, and had gotten her stuff delivered to her future residence. She included everything she might need but did not include books, or pictures; those of the past life would best be left in the past. She had sent her laptop, makeup, necessary gadgets, only left to be carried with her, her writing pad, a pen and her diamonds.

She, on her handbag, although she would be the one carrying it, stuck a red label saying “Fragile”. She did not mean the diamonds, but rather the writing pad, which she, on irregular basis, would scribble her thoughts on and whatever her soul poured out at the time.

She had checked her car also the day before, and changed her status on the identification chip planted in her arm. Therefore all was ready, just a shower to cleanse off the leftover dust, and then off she would go, with no make up on, simple plain white shirt, simple plain slate blue skirt, and her fragile bag.

She usually wore a load of make up, black kohl, curled up elongated artificial lashes. She would emphasize the colour of her eyes by wearing similar colour contact lenses, the colour of her lips by also the same colour lipstick, and would do the same for her skin.

This time she was wearing nothing, not even a perfume. She thought she did not need to emphasize anything anymore. At her age then, which was forty one, she became to believe that people would see only what they look for. So, if they are looking for desert in her eyes, dusk in her lips, night in her hair, they would find it. No need for the emphasis it. She is not desperate anymore.

She usually had her hair combed and raised in a curious fashion above her head. Yesterday, she cut it short, design less, fashion less.

She brushed her teeth one last time with the brush she also would leave behind and was ready.

A cigarette before leaving.

Final reflections.

The phone rang, it was Zeo.

“Miss you, miss you, miss you, I didn’t know I would miss you so much.”

“Oh, Zeo, hi”

“How have you been, any news, do you miss me as much?”

“No news, only that I am leaving to the city.”

“What are you doing, yummy, smoking, I can hear it, almost taste it, I always liked the taste of tobacco in your lips and tongue.”

“I know.”

“I did not know I loved you so much, it took me all this traveling to realise that. I had to search away to realise how much emotions I had for you. Sometimes I think I should have listened to you shouldn’t have left; every minute with you was worth a million minute. On the other hand, I only felt you best when I was away, how….”

“I know.”

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