Jerome with Delia started to move toward the front door, but as soon as the children stepped onto the porch, one of the three Jehovah's Witnesses Delia had seen at the table walked out of the house. He was thin, wore glasses, and looked a little too calm and peaceful for someone who had just arrived at her parents' house.
When he saw them, he slowed down and waved as if to say hello, as if he were an old friend. His smile was wide, but his eyes were too attentive, as if he saw not just people, but some secrets in their gaze.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, coming a little closer.
But Delia, not expecting such attention, only looked at him with bewilderment, her eyes narrowing slightly. She did not answer. Instead, her gaze was sharp as a knife, and full of some strange doubt. This was the very man who, in her opinion, had no right whatsoever to interfere in her life.
"Some strange people... What do they want from us?" she thought, remaining silent and constantly glancing at the man, who seemed to be trying to understand her reaction.
He waved his hand again, but Delia didn't react.
Jerome, who was standing next to her, noticed her displeasure. He realized that the girl did not even want to see this man, and smiled back, also shaking his head slightly.
"You take all these people too seriously," Jerome said, not hiding a slight grin.
"I don't know anything about him, but I don't like it when someone tries to gain my trust, especially when I don't invite them," Delia answered, her voice was firm, but there was also a slight weariness in it.
Jehovah's Witness stood before them, his good-natured face slightly gloomy. He seemed slightly discouraged, but still did not give up.
"It's okay," he said with a smile. "I just wanted to say hello. You know, we're all a little different here. Sometimes we end up in places where we're not wanted. But that doesn't mean we don't want to be good neighbors."
His words sounded like abstract phrases, something like an apology, but Delia couldn't shake the feeling that this man was simply using phrases to hide his real intentions. Whoever he was, she didn't want her life to become part of his game.
Jerome, noticing her tension, stood a little closer and touched her shoulder, as if showing support.
"Let's not waste time on empty talk," he said, a little rudely, but with a sincere desire to get away from unnecessary meetings. "We've already left."
Delia nodded, her face serious and somewhat thoughtful. The Jehovah's Witness stood there for a few seconds, waiting for a reaction, but seeing that the conversation was not going well, he waved his hand again and walked away.
"Goodbye!" he said, turning his back to them.
When the man disappeared through the door, Delia breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she wouldn't spend too much time wondering who these people were or what they wanted. But her intuition told her to be wary. She always trusted her feelings at times like these.
"Come on," she said to Jerome, and they headed toward the gate without looking back.
Delia felt her tension ease a little. They were beginning to let go of the weight of thoughts and tension that came with the sudden appearance of Jehovah's Witnesses. But as she turned to head toward the street, she noticed her mother, Karen, coming out of the house. She was standing on the porch with the characteristic expression on her face that usually appeared when she was displeased or worried about something.
"Deedle!" Karen shouted, raising her hand. "Come here, now! Daddy wants to show you something!"
Delia didn't react right away. She quickly glanced around, as if trying to figure out what to do next. But she still didn't want to go back into the house - she had just gotten outside, and her plans were disrupted. Jerome, standing nearby, also noticed that the situation was changing again.
Delia turned and headed back toward the house. But as soon as Karen noticed Jerome next to her daughter, her gaze became a little wary.
"What are you doing here?" Karen asked, narrowing her eyes and turning her attention to Jerome. "Why aren't you home? Why aren't you with your parents?"
Jerome, not at a loss, came up with an answer rather quickly. He smiled a little nervously and said:
"I was just walking down the street and saw that you had some, well, interesting things going on here, so I thought I'd drop in," he replied, trying not to show his embarrassment. He didn't want Karen to know the real reason for his visit. "I didn't mean to bother you, I just thought it might be interesting."
Karen didn't hear anything unusual in his answer. She just nodded, raising an eyebrow, but still didn't ask how exactly he ended up at their house. Displeasure flashed in her eyes, but she quickly hid it under her usual smile.
"Okay then," Karen said, sighing slightly. "Just don't be late. Deedle, hurry up, your daddy wants to show you something important."
Delia could hardly contain her irritation. She wanted to object again, but seeing her mother's stern look, she chose to remain silent. Jerome stood next to her, giving her a sign that he would not interfere. He understood that her mother would now have the situation under control.
"Okay, Mom, I'm going," Delia said, although she wasn't sure she really wanted to go. The feeling of frustration about everything that was happening didn't leave her. Jerome, noticing her mood, tried to add optimism.
"I'll wait for you here," he said quietly. "Everything's fine. I won't disturb you."
Delia nodded without answering and went into the house, leaving Jerome outside. She was sure that her mother would soon forget about this date and everything would return to normal. But for now, at least, she could not and did not want to tell Karen that her meeting with Jerome was not just an accident.
Delia stepped into the house and froze for a moment. The hallway smelled fresh, as if the floors had just been washed and were still damp. She saw her dad, Gene, standing there talking on the phone. He was wearing a robe and a big red cap with a tassel on his head. Delia didn't immediately understand what kind of outfit it was, but then she remembered that her dad had just taken a shower-that's when he usually looked like a kid with nowhere to rush off to.
"Dad, what's wrong with you?" she asked, frowning slightly.
Gene, noticing his daughter, quickly closed the phone receiver and, moving towards her, whispered:
"Go to your room, dear, I'm talking to someone important here. It's about your breakfast... oh, your birthday. Do you understand? I'm preparing a surprise for you."
Delia raised her eyebrows. Surprise? Eighth birthday! Her eyes lit up with curiosity.
"What surprise? Can you at least give me a hint? I might not tell my mom!"
But Gene shook his head and put his finger to his lips:
"No, Deedle, you must not know. This surprise must remain a secret until tomorrow. It is not for your eyes, especially not for eyes as curious as yours."
Delia glanced at his hat, then at his face, where a hidden smile was visible, and realized that he was clearly hiding something. But her desire to know everything at once could not overcome humility. She took a step back and, shaking her head, went to her room. But her heart could not calm down - surprise! What could it be?
She closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed. Her brain, full of assumptions, could not come up with anything convincing. Maybe it would be a new bike? Or a doll? No, she had long outgrown dolls... She sighed and sat down on the floor, deciding not to waste any more time guessing. Dad had always been secretive, and she and Mom only revealed all his surprises on the day of the celebration. But the fact that this time someone else was participating in the preparations made her head work even faster.
A few minutes passed, and Delia couldn't stand it any longer and went to the door again. She opened it slightly and listened. Dad was still talking on the phone, his voice low and soothing, his sentences punctuated with slight pauses, as if he were waiting for someone. Suddenly, Delia heard Gene say a name she hadn't expected to hear:
"Yes, I think she will understand everything. Everything will be fine. She will definitely be delighted tomorrow," said Dad, continuing the conversation.
Delia froze, listening. What name? Who was this man he was talking to? And why was Dad so sure she would be so excited?
Not daring to listen any longer, she quietly closed the door and sat on the bed, hugging the pillow with her arms and staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet, only the sound of her parents talking in the hallway. The girl sighed and turned her head to the window, through which the evening light was visible. Time passed slowly. Her birthday was tomorrow, but for her it seemed far away and not as important as the surprise that, according to her father, was supposed to really surprise her.
She turned her head towards the small clock on the nightstand and ran her finger along its glass surface, watching the hands slowly move around in a circle.
"When tomorrow comes..." she said out loud, almost in a whisper, as if someone heard her, although she was the only one in the room.
As time dragged on, Delia felt her nervousness growing. She couldn't wait to see what her dad had prepared. He always knew how to really surprise, but this time he was especially mysterious. And this conversation with someone she couldn't see only added to the mystery.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
"Deedle, can I come in?" came the voice of Karen's mother.
"Come in, Mom," Delia replied, trying to hide her impatience.
Karen walked into the room, her face calm but her eyes still showing concern. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to her daughter and looked at her with a slight smile.
"Are you already thinking about a surprise?" she asked softly.
Delia winced slightly, surprised that her thoughts had been so obvious. She nodded quickly.
"I can't figure out what it will be," she admitted. "Daddy won't say anything. But he's so mysterious that I can't wait to find out!"
Karen smiled, her eyes filling with a warm light.
"You need to learn to wait a little," she said, winking at her daughter. "All good surprises take time. You know Daddy will never leave you disappointed."
Delia looked at her, then back at her watch. Time was ticking, and her anticipation was growing more and more impatient. But she tried not to show it. Instead, she stood up and walked to the window, looking out again.
"Are you sure it's something really special?" she asked, without turning to her mother.
Karen stood up and walked over to her, placing her hand on her shoulder.
"Of course I'm sure," she replied. "You know Daddy always does incredible things for you. Now go and relax. Tomorrow is going to be an amazing day. I promise."
Delia looked at her mother, feeling her anxiety ease a little. Her mother was right. All they needed was patience. Tomorrow, on her birthday, she would get her present, her surprise, and it would be truly amazing.
She nodded and smiled, though there was still a moment of unease inside. The secret was still hidden, and in a way it was even exciting.
Karen quietly left the room, and Delia returned to the bed. She sat down and looked at the ceiling again, imagining all the possible surprises. But no matter how hard she tried, there was only one thing on her mind: what about Jerome? She couldn't shake the feeling that she had missed something. He had climbed into the trunk of her dad's car just to see her. And now that she hadn't run out to him at the last minute, what would he think?
"Is he really mad at me?" Delia thought and got out of bed.
Her anxiety was growing. She felt uncomfortable. She felt that she had done wrong not to respond to his persistent attentions. She could not shake off this feeling of guilt, although she tried to justify herself by saying that her father and mother clearly expected her to stay home.
Delia went to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out. Night had already enveloped the house in its dark veil, but the street lamps still illuminated the garden and the road in front of the gate. At first she saw no one. Her heart sank, but then her gaze caught on the empty space by the gate where Jerome usually stood. He was no longer there.
"He must really be tired of waiting," Delia thought, feeling disappointment fill her.
She closed the window and returned to the bed, where she lay down again and closed her eyes. But her thoughts were still spinning. Maybe she should run to the gate, apologize for her inattention? But then she remembered that tomorrow was her birthday. Tomorrow, according to her dad, there was a surprise waiting for her, and if she decided to run to Jerome, she could miss something important.
"He won't be offended, he'll understand," Delia repeated to herself, trying to calm down.
After all, she needed to be prepared for tomorrow, not worry about what happened today.
She struggled out of bed, groped around on the table, resting her hand on her favorite stuffed animal, a teddy bear. It always made it easier to fall asleep. Delia sighed, wiped the last traces of worry from her face, and lay back down. This time, her body seemed to relax. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would be her birthday, and maybe she would finally figure out what to do with Jerome and what was between them.
She closed her eyes and decided that it was time to let go of all her thoughts and go to bed so that she could be happy tomorrow. With that thought in mind, she changed out of her evening dress and into her pajamas with pink bunnies that she adored. The dress she had worn for dinner now seemed too bright and uncomfortable to fall asleep in. She took off her shoes, feeling her feet touch the soft carpet gratefully.
Walking over to the bed, Delia straightened the blanket and carefully climbed under it, stretching into the warm, cozy corner. Her room was small, but she loved it - the walls painted a light peach color, the shelves where her favorite books and toys stood. In the corner stood a lamp in the shape of a large pink star, which softly illuminated the room with its warm light.
She settled back, put her favorite kitten pillow under her head, and thought about Jerome again.
"He's probably already gone, like everyone else," the thought flashed through her mind, but then she clenched her fingers, biting her lip.
The room became quieter, and the same question that had been bothering her all evening arose in her head: what was going on between them? Why did he keep showing up despite her attempts to hide from him?
"Maybe he just doesn't have enough friends?" she tried to justify his behavior, but deep down she knew that her feelings for Jerome were much more complicated.
Her pity for him easily gave way to irritation, as if he were part of some game she didn't quite understand.
Then she simply exhaled, closed her eyes, and tried to focus on something else. The sounds of the night-the rustling of the trees outside the window, the light creaking of old furniture in the next room-helped her relax a little.
"Tomorrow will be my day," Delia thought, looking into the darkness. "I don't want to think about Jerome now. I have to be happy."
She liked the thought and, smiling slightly, she settled more comfortably under the blanket.
There were still residual thoughts about Jerome in her head, but they were becoming fewer and fewer. It was already completely dark outside, and the warm light of the lamp had almost gone out. Delia, feeling her eyelids growing heavy, nevertheless calmed down and began to fall asleep.
Eventually, she fell asleep, and in her dream, there was no Jerome, no blocked feelings. There was only a world filled with laughter, light, and the anticipation of a celebration-her birthday.
Meanwhile, Jerome had already entered his house, hiding his gaze and feeling the tension in the air become almost tangible. His parents were sitting in the kitchen, both with clearly frightened faces. His mother was sitting on the edge of a chair, clasping her hands, and his father, standing by the window, was pressing his lips together and looking at his watch. When Jerome crossed the threshold, all eyes were instantly directed at him.
"Where have you been?" his father asked first. His voice was firm, but there was a hint of worry in it. "We looked for you all over the garden, called all your friends... The teachers said you just disappeared!"
Jerome lowered his head, feeling his heart beat faster. He knew his parents would have a hard time understanding his actions, but it was too late to back out.
"I... I was at Delia's," he said quietly, feeling his words echo in the silence of the room. "At her house."
Jerome's mother raised her eyebrows in surprise. She stood up and came closer.
"Delia's? How did you get there? You were in kindergarten! Where is everyone else? Why didn't you say where you were going?" Her voice was full of confusion."
"I..." Jerome rubbed his forehead nervously. "I climbed into the trunk of Gene York's car, the lawyer. She's his daughter... Delia. I wanted..." He paused, unsure how to explain his feelings. "I just wanted to be near her.
Jerome's mother sat back down in her chair and looked at her husband. Jerome's father frowned and came closer, looking at his son with confusion.
"Climbed into the trunk? Are you crazy? Don't you understand how dangerous this is?" His voice became tense. "Gene York is a famous lawyer! You could have gotten into big trouble! Why didn't you tell us where you were?"
Jerome took a deep breath and tried to justify his actions:
"I didn't know where to go, and I wanted to know more about her. I'd only seen her a couple of times, but I kept thinking about her. I... I think I like her, and I needed to talk to her. So I decided to do this."
Silence hung in the air. Jerome's father shook his head, and his mother sighed, clasping her hands again.
"You can't just do that," she said, struggling to find the words. "You can't barge into someone else's life, even if you like them. That's not how it's supposed to be."
Jerome looked into their faces, feeling his own thoughts becoming confused.
"I know, I was wrong. It was just important for me... important to see her. We talked about all sorts of things. It was important for me."
The father finally broke the silence, glancing at his son as if trying to understand him.
"Mom and I will always be there to help you figure things out. You are not alone. But you must remember that what you did was unwise. You cannot follow your desires so recklessly."
Jerome nodded, looking down. He felt ashamed, but inside he couldn't help but think how good it had been to talk to Delia, how calmly she had listened to him. Her face appeared in his mind again, serious and mischievous at the same time.
Jerome's mother added more softly:
"We were worried, and you, you see, arranged everything. But next time, if you want to visit someone's home, tell us first, okay?"
Jerome nodded, knowing they were right. He couldn't just ignore his feelings, but learning to communicate and trust his parents was important. He knew that.
"Okay," he said quietly. "I promise I won't do it again."
Jerome's father sighed, walking up to him and placing his hand on his shoulder.
"We all make mistakes. The main thing is to learn from them and move forward. Don't worry, son."
Jerome felt relieved. He wasn't sure if his parents would fully understand his actions, but he knew he would be more careful now. He walked into the bathroom, turned on the water, and stood in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection. The room was silent, only the sound of the running water filled the space. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Today's situation with his parents had exhausted him, but he knew that tomorrow would be important. Tomorrow he had to see Delia. He had a plan.
He took a towel and wiped his face, thinking about how to arrange everything. In the morning, as soon as his parents left for work, he would quietly leave the house. He knew that his parents always left around nine in the morning. They would not be there at that time, and he could simply leave through the back door without attracting attention.
Jerome wasn't sure what Delia would do, but in his mind he could already see her hand in his as they walked down the street. Walking arm in arm was the ideal. He wanted her to be there, to see that he could be important to her, that he could care for her, be her friend, and even more.
"How am I going to do this?" he thought, leaning his hands on the sink. "How do I convince her to go outside and not come home too late?"
He knew he had to be careful. Delia wouldn't just follow his orders - she was stubborn and always wanted to be in control. He had to come up with something that would keep her interested. Jerome ran through all the possibilities in his mind, but one thing had to work.
The details of the plan began to form in his head: he waited for a moment when her parents were not home, he had to find a way to not attract attention. He thought of a way for her to leave without arousing suspicion.
After he finished washing himself, Jerome walked out of the bathroom and felt the house become quiet again. Except for the quiet steps of his feet walking down the hallway, nothing could be heard. He walked to the dining room, where his parents were already waiting for him. This time, the atmosphere was a little strange - either tense or awkward.
Morris, his father, was sitting at the table, apparently with some inexpressible, slight smile on his face. When Jerome entered, he noticed it at once and did not even hide his joy.
"Well, son, you've finally arrived!" he said, pronouncing each word with a slight accent, as if to emphasize the importance of what was happening. "Today we're having French roast with mashed potatoes for dinner," he continued, glancing at the dishes on the table. "I think you'll like it."
Lily, his mother, was sitting opposite her husband, but her gaze was somewhat absentminded. She looked up and, noticing that Jerome was already standing next to her, added:
"And a salad," she said, as if to clarify that the menu for this dinner was not limited to roast meat.
Her words sounded mechanical, as if she were saying them out of habit, without any emotion or joy. She looked at her husband, and both of them suddenly began to laugh - quietly, almost inaudibly, as if it were some kind of inside joke that only they understood.
Jerome stood still, watching them. He felt uneasy about the way they laughed and looked at each other with such strange expressions on their faces. He sat down on his chair, ignoring his parents' strange behavior, and picked up a spoon. His thoughts were occupied with something completely different - Delia and what he was going to do tomorrow.
But his attention couldn't help but notice how both parents suddenly raised their heads at the same time and looked at the ceiling, as if there was something incredibly important there, in the white and empty space. They fell silent, and their gazes became so focused that Jerome felt as if they were seeing something that he couldn't see, and that this something was absolutely mesmerizing.
He tried not to look at them, but he couldn't. There was something strangely unnatural about their behavior, as if they had forgotten about him, about their son, and were absorbed in something that only the two of them could understand. Jerome felt his heart begin to beat faster. He couldn't understand what was happening, but something in his chest told him that this was more than just strange behavior.
"Is something wrong?" Jerome finally broke the silence, trying to keep at least a drop of indifference in his voice.
Morris and Lily immediately lowered their heads, returning to reality. It was as if they had woken up from some vision and focused on dinner again. Their father began talking about the days they had spent together, returning to normal conversations again, as if nothing strange had happened.
But Jerome sat there, staring at his plate, with the same fixed, articulate thought in his head. He knew he couldn't relax, couldn't understand what was happening to his parents, and why their behavior seemed so alien to him.
He lifted the spoon to his lips, tasting the food but not feeling it. All he could think about was tomorrow, the plan he had made, his meeting with Delia, and most importantly, how he would finally deal with this strange feeling that had been bothering him since he had entered Gene York's house.
During dinner, Morris suddenly stood up, straightened the collar of his shirt, and looked at Lily with a slight, almost imperceptible expression of concern on his face.
"I need to go on a business trip," he said, putting his plate aside and hiding his gaze from his family. "Urgently."
Lily sighed, still cutting her salad, and then slowly looked up. She clearly hadn't expected this turn of events.
"Where to?" she asked, not hiding the anxiety in her voice.
Morris paused briefly and then said:
"For three days and two nights. Official business..."
Lily nodded, still keeping her composure, although her face showed that her thoughts were clearly far from the usual dinner.
"Well, then I'll go and get supplies for you tomorrow myself," she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. "In the meantime, watch TV and read the newspaper, as usual."
She tried to say it as if there was no regret in her words, but Jerome saw her eyes dim for a moment. Morris, grinning, stood up and headed into the other room, hiding his reaction behind his back.
As soon as he was out of sight, Jerome, feeling an inner unrest, turned to his mother with a question that had long tormented him.
"Mom, what is a business trip?" he asked, looking at her with curiosity.
Lily didn't seem to be expecting the question. She paused for a moment, considering her answer, and then smiled softly at her son.
"It's when you're sent somewhere to do whatever you're told," she said, choosing her words carefully. "It's like you're going somewhere else to do an important task."
Jerome thought about it. He tried to imagine his father going away, leaving his home and family to do someone else's bidding.
"What did you tell dad?" he asked, unable to hold back another question.
Lily sighed quietly, her face becoming a little more serious.
"You're too young to understand this," she replied, stroking his head. "But when you grow up, you'll understand everything yourself."
Jerome felt a little disappointed. He was no longer as little as he would have liked. He was interested in many things, but the answers to his questions were always vague, as if the adults thought he was incapable of understanding. However, he did not argue with his mother, knowing that she had explained everything to him with care more than once.
Lily noticed his thoughtfulness and smiled tenderly, trying to dispel his melancholy.
"Don't worry, dear, everything will be fine. Dad will be back soon, and everything will be like before," she said, hugging her son.
Jerome nodded, but his eyes were hurt. He didn't like it when things were hidden from him. But his mother was so kind and gentle that he didn't dare express his hurt out loud. He looked at his plate, continuing to rearrange the pieces of potato on his plate. An idea was already floating in his head, and with each new piece of roast it became clearer.
Dad's business trip... That was exactly what he needed. Dad was going away for three days. So tomorrow he definitely wouldn't be in the way. Jerome quickly remembered how he had been planning his little adventure for the last couple of days. He was going to get away from home, spend the day outside with Delia, with whom he seemed to have something special. His plan, which had seemed impossible before, suddenly became reality.
He put the spoon back on the plate and, looking closely at his mother, who was, as always, lost in her thoughts, wondered how best to carry out his plan. Dad would be far away, and Mom was always too busy with household chores to notice that he was missing. Jerome could sneak out in the morning and be at Delia's house until evening. He would be with her, walking, and maybe even spending time in her room while all the adults were busy with their own affairs.
When his eyes met Lily's, his heart skipped a beat. She had noticed something. He quickly turned away and looked down at his plate again, as if his plan had been ruined. But Mom said nothing. She continued eating, just as calmly.
"Jerome, what are you looking at?" Lily suddenly asked, noticing his strange silence. "You don't like dinner?"
He, not wanting to show his true thoughts, restrained his inner excitement and answered with a slight smile:
"Everything is fine, Mom. I was just thinking about something..."
Lily nodded and, seeing that the boy had given in under her gaze, did not insist any more. But Jerome already knew that tomorrow would be his day. In the morning, as soon as his father left, he would be able to slip out of the house without noticing his absence.
He imagined Delia meeting him at the gate when he approached her house. She always had such a serious look, but he knew that she was already waiting for him. Jerome himself could not explain exactly what connected him with this girl. Perhaps it was some invisible magnet that drew him to her, or the way she looked at the world. He did not know, but he would definitely remember this day with her.