A Man Named Steven

Trigger Warning: Scenes involving death and chronic illness

DELILAH

“Don’t you remember me?” I ask, hurt. I mean, I get that we hadn’t seen each other in years, but the short time we shared—it couldn’t have been just me. Could it?

“I’m sorry, no,” the man replies flatly. He stands tall, but a look of concern sweeps across his face.

“Delilah?” I frantically point to myself. “Rome?”

He’s got to remember Rome! I reassure myself. Steven and I had shared an intimate time together—usually frequenting a lovely coffee shop owned by an older woman and her husband. Sometimes, we would hold hands as we walked down by the fountain. He would give me a small coin and I would toss it in, making wishes.

“I’ve never been,” the man shrugs. “You must have the wrong person.” He reaches up to pat my shoulder.

Ugh! I shove his hand away in frustration. I do not have the wrong person. I can’t.

“Steven,” I gesture to the man in front of me. He turns to look behind him for a moment, then turns back to me. Reaching up, he points his own finger to himself.

“Dale,” he corrects. “Listen, lady—”

“Delilah,” I remind him.

“Delilah,” he tries to smile, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s starting to get frustrated. “You seem very sweet. And I hope you find Steven again—soon. But I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

My breath becomes shallow in panic as I try to register what he’s telling me. Lies. He’s telling me lies. He’s changed his name and made up a backstory. It’s the only possible explanation. A truck blows it’s horn by us and I realize that Steven… Dale… whatever his name is—starts to turn and walk away, but I grab his arm quickly.

“Wait, I’ll prove it to you.” I whip out my phone and start scrolling through old pictures from social media. Finding the one I’m looking for, I shove the phone into ‘Dale’s’ hands.

“See? Steven, you don’t have to pretend. I know it’s you. If you’re in hiding, or whatever your reason, just tell me.” I lean closer to whisper, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Just before Steven had left me, he explained that “Steven” wasn’t even his real name, but he couldn’t divulge any more. Often, I would imagine I had met some super-secret spy—off to save the world—and dreamed that he would return, arms open, and give me his true name.

DALE

I had just exited my loft and begun my trek to work. Work is just a few blocks down the road, so I never bothered with transportation. I felt it was highly overrated.

I was zoned in—to the point I barely even noticed the woman running up to me.

“Wait!” she shouted. She ran up and got right in my ear, shouting again, “WAIT.” It made me jump.

“Jesus, woman!” I turned, frustrated. Looking her up and down, I could see she was in a sort of hopeful panic. She might be on drugs, I thought. When I declined remembering her, her panicked expression deepened.

“Rome?” she asked. I had never been. She was starting to worry me, but I tried to reassure her—told her I wasn’t this ‘Steven’ character she was looking for. I tried to leave.

But then she insisted and pulled out her phone, scrolling desperately before prying my hands open to shove her phone inside.

I didn’t even bother looking at the picture the first time.

“I’m going to be late for work. I promise, I’m not the person you’re looking for.” I tried to hand her phone back to her, but she grabbed my hand once more and pushed it back.

“Please,” she begged. “Just look.”

I rolled my eyes. If this will get her off my back, fine, I resolved. I looked down at the phone. There, in the picture, was a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to me—sure—but luckily for me, the man in the image had on a tank top which revealed a very prominent scar on his left shoulder.

“Ahh, that’s not me. I can prove it too,” I told her confidently. I handed Delilah’s phone back to her and reached up to my sleeves to reveal my own shoulders. “No scar.”

The old woman looked me over for a moment, then back at her phone.

“I’m aware they make laser surgery to help cover any blemishes,” she said slyly—a smile forming. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

This woman is nuts. I’ll never get to work on time because some crazy old lady has decided I’m her long-lost love. I left out a loud grunt.

“Ugh! I’m not entertaining this anymore. I’m not him—get help.” I started to turn to leave but quickly added, “If you continue to bother me, I will call the cops for harassment.”

She didn’t stop me this time. Instead, she sat right in the middle of the sidewalk, sobbing. I groaned but kept going. I won’t let this woman ruin my day.

DELILAH

I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me. That old scar made no difference to me. I thought it made him look more defined, but he’s a grown man and can make his own decisions to get surgery if he wants. But then… he left me—here—on the sidewalk.

Could I really be wrong? Tears stream down my face as I try to grasp what just occurred. He swore he’s not Steven, but that smile. Those eyes? They look exactly alike!

He must be getting followed, I decide. My poor Steven is being followed by some secret agency, and he must be worried I’ll blow his cover. My tears instantly dry up as I succumb to my inner thoughts. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I take a deep breath and start frantically looking around.

Where did he just come from? I recognize the flats across the street and rush over.

DALE

Work was long and grueling. Working as a Client Service Consultant for Steely International has me working with clients most of the day, usually, but today was especially hard since, for some reason, our whole system bugged out the night before, causing all sorts of delays with shipping and receiving. I was ready to get home and take a long, well-deserved shower.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My mother had tried to call earlier while I was working. I promised I would call her back, but given the complete wreckage I’d been dealing with, I hadn’t found the time yet. I dialed her number, and the line rang only once before she answered.

“Hi, sweetie. How was your day?” she asked.

“Hi, Mom. Today was rough. A lot of unnecessary chaos ensued, and I was dealing with clients non-stop,” I moaned.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. But I know those clients are so thankful that you’re there to take care of their needs. You’re such a wonderful young man,” Mom replied. She’s always known what to say to make me feel better.

“Thanks, Mom. So… what’s up?” I asked, referring to her call earlier.

“Oh, not much concern. Your grandfather is heading into town for some business and, I hate to ask, but I also hate the idea of him being cooped up in some small hotel room.” I immediately realized what she was asking.

“When is he getting into town?” I muttered.

“Tomorrow evening,” she informed me. I sighed. At least I have time to get the place cleaned up for him tonight.

“Alright, Mom. Grandpa Chuck can stay with me. I’ll take the couch, and he can have my bed.”

“Oh sweetie, you’re the best, thank you so much!” We spoke for a few more minutes as I approached my flat.

“I’m almost home, Mom. I’ll let you—” I paused. “Oh Jesus Christ. What on earth.” There—in front of my flat—stood Delilah.

DELILAH

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I hear Steven shouting behind me. I turn with a bright smile on my face.

“It’s okay! I understand! You’re worried I could blow your cover. But—I promise, your secret is safe with me.” I try to reassure him, but he just backs away from me.

He speaks into his phone and only says, “I’ve got to go. I’m calling the police.” Hanging up, I see him dialing 911.

“Please,” I plead. “You don’t really have to do this, Steven.”

“MY NAME ISN’T STEVEN!” he shouts. Others around stop in their tracks and watch us. I don’t like their eyes on me. My face flushes, and I crouch down—shielding myself from their vision.

“No! Stop! Stop! Please!” I shout back. I can’t understand why he’s doing this to me. We love each other.

DALE

It doesn’t take long for the police to arrive, along with an ambulance. The entire time, the old woman just sat in the fetal position, trying to wave them off. She had to be strapped down and taken away. One of the officers walked over to me to get more information.

“How do you know her?” he asked.

“I don’t. She says I look a lot like someone she once knew—Steven. She keeps insisting I’m him and refuses to leave. I’m very concerned for her,” I tell the cop, and he nods. “Could she be on drugs? Or perhaps she has some mental illness?”

“We’re taking her to Saint Mary’s,” the cop informed me.

At least she’ll get the help she needs, I justified—even though I still felt horrible for calling the cops. But she left me no choice. I had to. The cop thanked me before leaving.

I took the next day off to get my flat together for my anticipated guest. With all the commotion Delilah had caused the night before, I’d had no time to get it ready otherwise.

When my grandfather got there, I helped him get his belongings inside and made us both a small meal for dinner. We sat down, and for a moment, the table was silent.

“Your mother tells me you had an eventful day yesterday?” Grandpa Chuck broke the silence first.

“Yeah, work was slammed,” I began, but he interrupted me.

“I meant after work,” he chuckled.

“So glad my misfortune is a source of amusement,” I deadpanned.

Grandpa Chuck let out a hearty laugh at that. I proceeded to explain how this older woman insisted I was some man she once knew in Rome.

“Rome?” he asked curiously.

“Yes. Thought I was some guy named Steven.” I twisted my face at the name. Since yesterday, I’ve decided that I now hate the name Steven - forever. But Grandpa Chuck’s eyes lit up at the mention.

“My God. What was her name?” he asked, leaning forward – excitement seemed to fill his gaze on me.

“Delilah,” I answered. “Grandpa, what’s this all about?”

He grabbed his own phone from his pocket and opened his social media. I peered across the table and noticed Grandpa Chuck had his social media account a lot more organized than the old lady’s.

“Aha!” he exclaimed when he found what he was searching for. Opening a folder labeled Rome 2017, he turned the phone toward me. One of the photos showed the same young Steven the old lady had shown me—with the scar on his shoulder. I started putting two and two together.

“Grandpa?” I asked. He smiled.

“Delilah was a wonderful young lady,” he began his story. “She and I were lovers long ago.”

“2017… That was before the big outbreak, right?” I asked, and he nodded.

Back in school, they showed us those eerie photos—empty grocery stores, people wearing makeshift masks. Our teacher called it ‘The Great Disconnect.’ Even then, it felt more myth than history. But, that was before my time.

“It’s been nearly 40 years since I last saw my Delilah,” he reminisced. “I think we would have both been in our mid-20s.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, you see,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “your grandmother and I had been married for several years – your mother was about 6 at the time, but I had been sent to Rome for work.”

The realization began to creep up inside me.

“No, Grandpa, you didn’t,” I begged.

But he nodded. “I did. I was there for several months,” he said, looking up as if recalling something long buried. “I decided to check out this little coffee shop down the road. And there she was—boy, she was a mighty fine specimen back in the day,” he grinned. “Beautiful wavy hair… and the body of a model.”

I listened in horror as my grandfather described his beloved time with Delilah. Ultimately, he was going to return to the States—to my grandmother. So, to avoid any issues, he had given Delilah a false name, never actually planning on staying with her.

“Grandpa, that’s horrible!” I told him when he finished. He shrugged his shoulders.

“It was a different time,” he said.

“Grandma June must be rolling in her grave,” I muttered.

“She knew,” he said bluntly. I froze.

“She knew?” He nodded.

“She and I had spoken prior to my trip. She was aware that several months apart could create strong—” he paused, searching for the right word, “—desires…”

“Ahh, Grandpa, I don’t need to know this!” I waved my hands to stop him. He chuckled.

“I’m just saying, we spoke. She and I agreed that whatever happened during that time, we would return—open, honest, and devoted to one another.”

When he told me that last part, I remembered something Grandma June would always say when Mom and Dad had their spats: “The key to a successful relationship is to be open, honest, and devoted to one another.” I never fully realized how literal she had been.

“But you lied to Delilah,” I said. “She thought you were in some sort of trouble and had to change your name and everything!”

Grandpa gave a side smile.

“Yes, true. But tell me, Dale—do you believe it would have been better if I’d been honest with her?”

I considered the question for a moment. This lady had been completely smitten with him—to the point of obsession. Given her reaction, she may have even stalked my grandpa long ago. Resigned, I shook my head.

Grandpa Chuck placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Sometimes, a little white lie can save someone from a lifetime of heartache,” he said softly. “Tell me, where is she now?”

“I’m not sure. The officer told me they were taking her to Saint Mary’s, but I have no clue if she’s still there.”

Grandpa Chuck stood at once.

“Let’s go find out.”

I drove him across town to Saint Mary’s Hospital. Grandpa had somehow remembered Delilah’s last name from their time together and asked the attendant about her.

“Are you family?” she asked dryly.

He shook his head.

“No, but could you let her know Steven is here to see her?” He smiled sweetly at the attendant.

She looked up at him.

“Steven? My God—you are real.” The woman looked thunderstruck. She stood and hurriedly grabbed a passing doctor.

“Doctor Roy!” she called, then whispered something in his ear while pointing at my grandfather. I clearly read her lips form the word Steven. The doctor gave Grandpa Chuck a shocked look, then walked over.

“Steven,” Doctor Roy said, holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Grandpa Chuck took his hand firmly and gave it a good shake.

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine. I’ve missed Delilah so much and was amazed to find out she was in the area. She confused my young, dashing grandson for me,” Grandpa said, tapping the doctor’s shoulder jokingly.

The doctor smiled—then the smile faded.

“Steven, I wish I were greeting you with better news,” he began, his face full of sorrow. Grandpa Chuck and I both leaned in. I wasn’t sure I was looking forward to whatever “news” this was going to be.

“Her memory’s been slipping for years,” the doctor said gently. “She comes here after every episode, insists it's still 2018, then leaves again when she feels stable. Without family, we couldn’t keep her.”

“2018. That would explain why she confused you with me,” Grandpa Chuck said, rubbing my shoulder. I frowned.

“Where is she?” I asked, even though I already felt I knew the answer.

“She’s gone,” the doctor explained. “It happened late last night. I’m so sorry.”

Grandpa Chuck sighed, and I could see a small tear well up in his eye before it finally fell to the ground.

“Ah well, I s’pose that’s that,” he said, shrugging sadly.

The doctor offered to let Grandpa see her for a final goodbye. I decided to wait in the other room – not wanting to revisit the memories of the day before. Before long, Grandpa returned, and we headed home.

We spent the rest of the night reminiscing about his time in Rome with Delilah. He truly made her seem special to him—even if it had only been for a few months. The stories allowed me to grieve her passing as well.

In the end, she was just in love—in love with a man named Steven.