Disclaimer: guess what? I still don't own it, as much as I wish I could own Chris Pratt, nope they won't let me at least not until the restraining order is expired.
A/N: thanks to my soul reviewer, though I don't know what the pairing will be, if there is one. I am moving and going on vacation (strange combo I know) so I may or may not update until around the 21 of December.
And on with the show:
I guess in a way her story is his story. Not all of it of course, just the one thing that drew them together, the one thing only each other understood. It was the guilt they felt living while their best friend died. The "it should have been me" factor of life for those left behind. I should have seen it then, the way he was the only one she could talk to. He was the only one who could make her see that it would be okay, she could live on. But let's not get ahead of our selves.
Watching her walk across the stage I think of all the people who should be here to share this moment. I think of Mom, as Delia has ages she looks more and more like her. However, Delia is more of Dad's daughter than Mom's daughter. She has his persistence, his need to have attention raining down upon him. Then there's her smile; no one can resist it. I can't tell you the number of times I have broken house rules, or lied for her because she threw that smile my way. And now it rarely graces her face, but there it is, for just a second, as the applause rises when they call her name. The town's princess. Once a tomboy who made everyone love her with her interest in their knowledge, she is now the beauty. It's not necessarily one of stunning proportions, but just a certain grace about her that makes her shine brighter than the rest.
Only Delia blames herself for that night. And only Delia really knows what happened, the whole story. What we do know is this: it was dark, snowing, and the roads were icy. The girls were walking back from a party at Charlie's, both completely sober. This is where what occurred is unclear. Brittany was walking along the edge of the train tracks while Delia walked on the road beside her. When the train started coming, Delia moved to the center of the road, but somehow Brittany ended up on the tracks. The conductor says she just stared straight at him, not scared just looking. He could have never stopped in time. The whole town knew Brittany had been depressed, she was just out of a treatment center. Whether it was on purpose, she had been on something that no one knew about, or it was a terrible accident we'll never know. Delia won't talk about that night. I guess she thinks she could have prevented it. Held on to Brittany, or pulled her off the tracks. We'll never know.
Delia pretty much stopped talking after that and the silence was deafening. Dad and I never knew how to reach her. She went to the therapy, but they said she was fine, just changed. All we knew was that you can't send someone to college when you don't know what going on in their head. Certain we had sought help from anyone who could help at all; we resigned to the fact that with Brittany that night we also lost Delia. I don't know why I never saw the connection between their pain.
It was at her graduation party that it all started. Amy always saw Delia as the little sister she never had, or maybe the Barbie doll she never had. Up until that night Amy had tried to remain out of the way and let us handle Delia the best we could. It finally reached a point when she couldn't sit by and watch any longer. So when Amy came to the party she brought the one person she felt could help. Amy saw the connection. That why I love her, she can she beyond what's rational. Pain works that way. Those who feel deep pain silently cry out to one another and so she had felt his pain for a long time.
I don't know if she asked him to talk to her, or if life drew them together. It was several hours into the party when I noticed the guest of honor was missing. Assuming she had fled to avoid hearing memories, I checked her room. Why I checked her room I don't know. Even as she was then, she could never stand to remain inside, like a wild
cat she needed the room to roam. Out her bedroom window I saw them. Something stopped me from calling out, alerting them of my presence. I think it was the sound of her laughter. It had been such a long time since I had heard her really laugh, as if she were truly happy. I don't know what he did to make her talk, but I will be forever grateful. If you were to ask me today about my happiest memory of my sister it would be that moment. Seeing her relaxed on the porch swing, legs in Bright's lap, laughing as though the world was perfect. I claim this moment as mine, but its not. It is their moment, the one that defines who they are. That night began the rest of her life and in a way the rest of everyone else's lives, because they are so intertwined.