My Baby, You're My Baby

TW: car accident, substance abuse

December 1st, 1976, 2:43 P.M. The advent calendar in the kitchen had one slot already poked in. “That chocolate is far too sweet for my liking,” Virginia had remembered telling her daughter. “You eat it, Delilah.” She remembered her daughter’s sweet laugh. Delilah had always had a habit of laughing. She could never have a neutral tone or expression. It was all or nothing for that girl. Laughing or Screaming. It was always all or nothing.

“But I’m on a diet! They say fats make you, well,  fat. Chocolate is one of the fattiest foods there is!”

“But, you’re a growing girl. Besides, I’m not wasting this advent calendar! I paid good money for this, Delilah.”

That moment seemed like it was a lifetime ago, despite it only happening less than 9 hours earlier. The good times could never last between Virginia and Delilah. “I hate you!” Delilah screamed. “I do everything for you!” Virginia snapped back. She could feel her face turning a deep, violent red. “I work two jobs to make sure you eat everyday, and have a place to live! Yet you aren’t grateful at all. Do you know how many children would kill to have a mother who’s like me? You always say you want to run away with your hippie-dippie friends but they’re bums Delilah! Bums!” Her throat clenched up. “They had mothers who were neglectful, who were coked out all the time, mothers who hated them! Now, they’re going nowhere, and they’re going nowhere fast!” Virginia reached her hand out to comfort her daughter. “You have such a bright future. Stay here, Delilah.”

Delilah recoiled. “Don’t touch me.” She said through gritted teeth. In a fit of rage, she stormed towards the door, slamming it with all her strength on her way. Virginia watched as her daughter got into her boyfriend’s Volkswagen van. The car’s beautiful red shade reminded her so much of Delilah’s hair. Flaming locks of deep red.

December 2nd, 1976, 12:32 A.M. Virginia was awoken by a knock at her door. Her daughter had come back to her, she thought. She’d come back, tears in her eyes, begging for a hug from her mom. Just like she always does. Virginia would cradle her daughter in her arms, telling her it would be okay. Just like Virginia always does.

As she turned her doorknob, she felt a pit in her stomach. Mother’s instinct, one could say. “Are…” The sight of a police officer greeted her at the door. “Are you the mother of Delilah Bakker?” He struggled to get it out. Virginia felt her cheeks get hot, a sick feeling spreading throughout her body. “Yes, I am.” She choked out.

“Your daughter’s… Your daughter’s been in a car accident. We found her dead at the scene. We’re terribly sorry for your loss, ma’am.’

December 7th, 1976, who knows what time it is anymore. Everything felt the same to Virginia. It was all one awful cycle. An endless loop of people coming to send condolences, bring homemade food, and gift flowers. One of her neighbors had given her Dahlias. “They represent inner strength, you know.” They must’ve been so proud of themselves for that. What a sick joke, Virginia thought.

Words, food and flowers all felt meaningless. Her daughter would never hear anyone say anything ever again. She would never eat her mother’s home cooking again. She’d never again look at a bouquet of Dahlias and tell her mother, “Look, it’s me!”

Virginia thought back on that first December day, the day before her daughter walked out their front door for the last time. “Did I ever tell you? Michael loves to read to me.” Delilah loved to talk about all her boyfriend did for her. “He has such a way with reading. He makes the words come to life, I swear!” Her boyfriend survived the accident, of course. He had had some of his father’s liquor before he drove around with Delilah. The boy could read to her, but he couldn’t keep her safe. If everything went according to plan, Michael would go to prison, and he would do nothing but think about his high school sweetheart, Delilah Bakker, while he rotted away in his cell. It would never be enough for Virginia. it would never bring Delilah back.

Court, a funeral, all these things Virginia had to do. She wished she could stay in her house, at least until she felt okay again. Although, she knew that no amount of time in the world could ever make her feel whole again.

December 14th, 1976, 5:47 P.M. Everyone had left Delilah’s funeral. Nobody but her mother and her friends showed up. Michael and his parents didn’t have enough shame to be there. Delilah’s father had too much to even bother. Virginia’s parents had died long ago. Delilah was all she had.

As Virginia sat on the cemetery steps, she heard someone coming up behind her. A slow click clacking of heels on the stone steps. “Excuse me,” A small voice said. Virginia turned around. “I’m Lisa Schmidt. I was a friend of Delilah’s.” Virginia felt a sense of sadness looking at the girl. Her deep brown eyes looked bloodshot, as if she had sobbed and sobbed until there were no tears left in her eyes. An awkward silence fell between them. “I just wanted.. I just wanted to say I said sorry to my mom.”

“What?”

“I said sorry to her. For anything and everything I've ever said or done to her. I  wish I could’ve said sorry to Delilah too.” Virginia looked at the girl. “I know the feeling” She sighed. “It’s normal for girls to fight with their moms. Don’t feel so guilty about saying sorry. Graduate, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids. Do all the things Delilah will never get to do.”

December 26th, 1976, 2:32 P.M. “You know, I really have to thank you for coming in.” Shirley, her new grief counsellor said. “It’s not easy to talk about this kind of thing, Virginia.” Virginia looked up at the clock, her eyes glazed over. The ticking noise felt comforting. At the very least, the ticking of a clock would never disappear from her life. “You really should consider writing a letter to your daughter, though.”

“But it’s not like she can read it.” Virginia said coldly.

Shirley looked a bit uncomfortable. “Well, it lets you say all the things you never got to. You don’t have to ask her what heaven is like or anything, you can just speak to her. As if she’s there, listening.”

December 31st, 1976. The room is silent. Virginia sits at her desk, pen in hand. Shirley had been trying to call her since their last session. Virginia just couldn’t though, not yet. Not until she did this.

She took pen to paper and began writing.

“To my beautiful daughter,

Did I ever tell you what my life was like when I was pregnant with you? All my life, I had always felt so alone. I had never had a single friend in my life before you came along. My parents were so strict. To this day, neither my mother nor my father ever hugged me. I went looking for love in snake holes because of it, I suppose. My boyfriend in high school was a guy named Kenneth Brownstone. He was just awful to me. He always put me down, called me horrible names. Even with him, I still felt so alone.

Then you came along. For the very first time in my life, I felt like I had someone who was on my side. Kenneth wanted nothing to do to you. He’s your father, by the way. I never got to tell you, but it’s not like you ever cared. He’s where you got your auburn locks, though. 

Everyone was so ashamed of me. I was only 16 when you were sent to me. My parents said I could either keep my baby, or I could leave my family behind, and never speak to them again. I think you know which one I chose.

It was so hard for me those first few years. But I had you. You were my everything, Delilah. As long as you were there with me, I would be okay. I stayed at hotels, women’s shelters, friends’ places, I stayed just about anywhere. I always took you with me everywhere I went.

I don’t regret any of it. You were the most beautiful, the cleverest and the smartest person I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Our time together was so short, but it was everything to me. I wish I had just a bit more time with you, even just a second longer. I keep hoping that this is all a terrible nightmare, and that soon I’ll wake up. I’ll get to cook you your favourite meals and open advent calendars with you again. But I never do wake up, and I’m beginning to think I never will.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you now. I’m sorry for all the arguments we had. I hope you’re in some place warm and happy. I hope you got to meet my parents, and they got to see just what they missed out on.

I love you, Delilah. I’ll never stop loving you. Wait for me to get there, wherever you are.

Yours truly,

Your doting mother”