by Nora Flite
As if summoned to break our moment, eyes fixed together, gleaming with nervous energy, the stage hand came around calling our names. “Bethany Sommer, Deacon Day! You're on!”
Stepping back, our little bubble broken, I gave a tiny bow to her. “Alright, let's go show them what we've got.”
Her nod was almost invisible. On elegant steps, she walked towards the opening in the curtains, both of us bracing for what was about to hit us.
The applause was loud, the lights melting me; my skin became even slicker. I'd performed before, so had Bethany, but this was something else. The whole room was full of excited teens and parents cheering in their seats.
They don't even care who we are, they're just excited for a show. I knew Bethany was relatively popular, but it was clear she didn't really realize, or care for, the attention.
Bethany just wanted to win.
She got to the grand piano and settled in, placing the music folder in front of her. Though I knew there'd be nothing special on the first page, my heart still jumped when she opened it.
Her eyes found me, watched me lift the mic from the main stand. She had one set up as well, elevated just out of the way so it would catch the music she made, and her voice.
Straightening up, I faced the crowd, closing my eyes. The breath I took was long, deep; it filled the entirety of my belly.
Now, I thought, as the room went silent, now, let this begin.
A well oiled machine, Bethany read my stance, knew I was prepared.
The first low, cutting edge of the piano keys hit the air. I bathed in the darkness of my lids, squeezing the mic handle to force myself to be patient. She played the music I had transcribed, shared it with a room that could not have predicted it.
I'd counted on some people knowing the song, especially after talking to Nicholas. Popular music taken in a different direction. This is what will make them remember us.
It wasn't until I started to sing that the students recognized the song.
“Cool sorrow,” I breathed, baritone, stretching into the ether. “Fall away, fall away...”
The room gasped, some clapping or squeaking excitedly. I wondered if Bethany understood why; I hoped she thought it was simply our performance, not us appealing to fans.
“Crashing like a wave,” I swooned, “sinking deep into the night. I am yours, but always just outside of reach...”
“Clear as ice”, Bethany joined in, mingling with my words for the chorus. “Drumming, crashing, losing you everywhere!”
Yes, I thought excitedly, brimming with energy, filling with glee. Opening my eyes, I tried to see the crowd; the lights glaring, blocking most of them out. Their cheers, the vibrations of their existence pulled at something so low in my core.
“Cool sorrow,” I sang, moving towards the piano, catching the flushed face of Bethany. She was pure focus, not even looking at me as she played. Those blue orbs were stuck on the music sheets. My pulse raced, far faster than our somber tune.
She's going to see it soon, oh god. She's going to know what I really want.
When she looked up, singing with me again, I glimpsed a flicker of something I hadn't seen before. The attention of someone, someone who was finally, actually seeing me.
Does she like me, too?
I had been counting on wooing her, but perhaps... perhaps it had been unneeded effort.
Bethany smiled, teeth pure white while she let the music slide down her tongue.
“Cool sorrow,” we sang, merging together, high pitch versus low. “Fall away... fall away...”
The song ended, the crowd exploded.
She was laughing, delighted, until she looked at the music sheet. Pasted to the very last page was my note, clear as day.
This is it, this is the moment.
Gripping the folder, she shut it briskly. With her jaw tight, Bethany stood, moving towards me. A fear unlike any other grew in me, so sharp it made me worry I'd faint. I watched her stand beside me. She was only a foot away, but she felt so much further.
Together, we bowed to the clapping. I was grateful neither of us could have attempted to speak over all the noise.
I was afraid Bethany would have had nothing but silence for me, if given the choice.
“Give it up for Bethany Sommer and Deacon Day!” The announcer declared, raising more cheers. I looked up, thought I saw my parents in the crowd, recording everything. It was enough of a second or two that I almost missed Bethany turning on her heel, stomping towards the stage exit.
Oh no, oh no, I made her angry!
Awash with shame, I made myself follow her, the sounds of our successful show fading in my ears. “Bethany!” I shouted, spotting her as she hurried for the school doors. “Bethany, wait!”
The night air was crisp, I saw my breath as I followed her into the quiet parking lot. In the light of the tall lamps, her hair looked ghostly. “Bethany, please, I—”
Whirling, her dress a blur, she cut me off with a sharp shout. “What is this? What is this supposed to mean?”
“I—what?” I stuttered, unsure what she was talking about.
The folder was thrown at me; I caught it, fumbling to not lose the sheets of paper. “What is that note?” She asked, shoulders hunched, small hands crunched into threatening balls at her sides.
“It's... this is just my way of...” Stunned by her confrontation, I looked in the folder, tearing the tiny square of paper out.
“Of what?” She demanded.
“Of asking you out,” I finished, eyes wide, unsure saucers of greenish-gold. “Wasn't that obvious?”
Glaring at me under hooded brows, she breathed in deeply. The air steamed as she spoke. “Read it to me.”
“But—”
“Read it to me!”
Shocked by her reaction, I looked at the note, then back to her accusing face. I didn't need to read the words off the paper; I'd memorized them in my painstaking strife over writing them down in the first place. “Bethany... I need you to know how special you are to me. I've been doing my best to get close to you, because I want you to go out with me. It'd mean everything to me if you gave me a chance...” My cheeks were boiling in humiliation.
She was quiet, a hard silence that choked me. My hand fell to my hip, the note crumbling before I let it fall. I'm so stupid, this was a terrible idea. Of course I have no chance with her.
Turning, I started to leave, thinking I'd escape the situation and save myself some pride. It stung to believe I'd read my note to her, gotten no reaction.
Her fingers grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back a step. Confused, my body twisted, finding her blue eyes staring so close. The anger was gone, her lashes rimming pools of uneasy disbelief.
“Wait,” she breathed, skin prickling visibly. I noticed how cold she had to be.
“Let's go inside,” I said softly.
“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head rapidly. “No, wait. I—your note, I just... why didn't you just tell me?”
“What?” I blurted, brows shooting up to my hair line. “What do you mean?”
“I—I like you Deacon, okay?” The red on her nose rivaled the color on her cheeks. “But you should have told me how you felt, not made me read it like that. That was... emotionless.”
Emotionless? Is that what she thinks?
Blown away by this revelation, it took me a minute to absorb her words. “You like me, too?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling shyly. I could tell she was having trouble looking at me. “Yeah, I do.”
Thrilling with joy at that fact, faced with the reality I had desired, I ran into a mental wall that made me freeze. She likes me, but now what? Do I... should I...
Reaching down, I cupped her cheeks, moving in for my first kiss.
“Wait,” she said abruptly, stepping back with her hands lifted. “Wait, sorry. Um, can we take it slow? Is that okay?”
Blinking, I rubbed my neck, laughing nervously. “Yeah, of course. Let's just take it slow.”
“Okay,” she a
greed, reaching out to hold my hand. I could feel how warm her skin was. I didn't know if the dampness was from my sweat, or hers.
I've got what I want, I thought, smiling down at her rosy face, I can handle taking it slow after all this.
I can handle anything, now.
Six Years Later
Chapter 6.
“Hey,” Leah said, pulling me out of my thoughts. We were sitting upstairs on her temporary bed, luggage open and strewn about.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, attempting to shift out of my fog of memory. “I missed that.”
Kneeling beside me on the creaking mattress, she lifted a fuzzy white sweater. “I asked if this was good enough for meeting your grandparents tomorrow. What's wrong? You really zoned out there.”
“It's nothing.” Reaching out, I stroked the front of the sweater, feeling the soft texture. “That's fine, you shouldn't worry so much though. My grandparents will like you no matter what you wear.”
“You say that,” she chided, tucking the clothing away. Something must have been obvious in my face, hinting at my mood, because she leaned in and sighed. “Is this about Bethany again?”
Gawking, giving myself away, I finally deflated with a sour laugh. “Maybe. Sort of. I don't know how to explain it.”
“Try,” she coaxed me, sitting on the bed so close our thighs touched. “I saw her chatting with you at brunch. What—um, what were you two talking about?”
How she had hurt me terribly. How she warned me you'd break my heart. Looking away from her concerned face, how the lines of her forehead made deep grooves, I took a breath. “Nothing important. I can't tell why she's even bothering with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I started, noticing how I was picking at the inside of my hand. Clenching my fingers, I made myself stop. “When she broke up with me, that was... that was it. She quit talking to me entirely. I haven't had a word with her in over six months... until this morning.”
Leah leaned away, studying me carefully. “Back up, this has been bugging me. I knew you guys split up, but... she was the one who left you?”
“Did you not know that?” I asked, my skin boiling like a jungle. The cold outside sounded very tempting just then. “Yes, she was the one that ended it.”
Her eyes were watery, jittery. It was like she was struggling to look at me, to face something that made her feel ill. “Maybe I shouldn't be asking you about this. I guess I'm morbidly curious now, though.” Her fingers coiled in her lap, so I grabbed them gently.
“Leah, you don't need to hear this if you don't want to. This isn't exactly what I was hoping our Christmas trip was going to focus on.”
The sudden bark of a laugh she gave startled me. “You're right, this is dumb. Besides, I can smell dinner downstairs. Your brother, he's supposed to arrive soon, right?”
Nodding, unable to ignore how her hand was trembling under mine, I reached out and pulled her against me. “You don't need to pretend.”
“I—pretend what?” She muttered, stiff in my arms, her body falling partially into my lap.
“That you're okay, I can tell this is all freaking you out.”
Leah was silent, her heart thrumming against mine for several long minutes. Eventually she went limp, giving in to my embrace, the wind exploding from her lungs in an awkward exhale. “I won't lie. Yes, this is... this is all really weird. Seeing her this morning at church was strange, but not awful. It was just... at brunch, when I saw you guys touching—”
My gut reaction was to stop her. Instinct kicked in, lips pushing to hers and stealing the end of her rambling worries. Don't think about that, please, Leah... Mentally, I felt anguish over the thought that I had hurt her. I tried to imagine how I would have felt, watching her touch Owen from afar.
That line of thought wasn't helpful, it only brought back the horrifying memory of bloody fists and Leah's pale, unconscious face. Hugging her harder, I heard her gasp.
“Sorry,” I whispered, pulling away, ashamed I had been too rough.
“No,” she assured me, eyes warm, inviting as she brushed her nose to mine. “No, it's fine. You caught me off guard, is all.”
Adjusting us, I snuggled her so the top of her head was in the crook of my neck. “I don't want to talk about Bethany anymore. Is that okay with you? Can this trip just be about us, and you getting to know my family?”
Not able to see her expression, I listened instead to her pulse. It was shallow, vibrating like a flute on my skin. “I'd like that,” she finally whispered, tightening her limbs around my torso.
This is what I want. I don't care about Bethany, I don't want to see her, or to remember her. None of that matters, not at all.
Closing my eyes, I saw in my mind the melting heart I had traced with my finger on the bedroom window last night. Oddly, it sent a sharp pain up my shoulder blades.
I need to know what this means... wanting to protect Leah, to keep her safe from my own mistakes, my own messy past... Is this really...
Am I really in love with her?
Something slammed downstairs, dogs barking loudly. Surprised, Leah and I pulled apart, untangling ourselves nervously. “What was that?” She asked, her lips still deliciously tempting in their half-open position.
Resisting the urge to kiss her again, I stood, dusting off my pants. “I think that was the sound of Nicholas arriving. He always slammed that back door way too hard.”
Grinning, Leah jumped up in a flash. “I guess we should go down and meet him, then.”
“Do you want to meet him, or the delicious food you've been smelling this whole time?”
Blushing, she pushed me lightly, acting more offended than I could tell she was. “Shut up, I really do want to meet him.” Pausing, she shot me a sly glance. “And, I want to meet what your mom has been cooking for hours, yes.”
Laughing, I kissed the top of her head, hurrying out of the bedroom. Together, we skipped down the stairs, the lightness in my body reminding me of how I would jump down those steps as a child.
Everything felt... easier, in that moment. Knowing that Leah didn't want to discuss Bethany took a weight off of me I hadn't even understood before. I don't want to remember. I don't want to talk about any of it.
And now, I thought, rounding the corner into the kitchen where I could hear a number of people chatting excitedly, now I won't have to.
Smiling, I looked upon a room of familiar faces. My father, grinning, my mother, hugging Nicholas while the corgis danced around his ankles.
And there, standing beside him like she belonged among all of us, was the person I seemed unable to escape.
Bethany Sommer was in my house.
Instantly, the air was thicker. I could sense the way all the eyes were on me, watching my reaction and doing their best to do what my family was so great at; pretending nothing was amiss.
“Deacon,” Nicholas said, slipping away from Mom, smoothing his short hair. He'd always had slightly darker hair than mine, it made his extremely green eyes much sharper, more electric.
Now, those eyes that had always been so indifferent, so chill, were fixed on me uneasily.
He knows this isn't right, I realized, working hard through my daze to understand what was going on. My mouth, dry as tinder, struggled to make words. “Hey,” I said, not bothering to smile. “How are you?”
“Good,” he admitted, and I didn't doubt it. “Tired from the long drive, mostly.”
“I heard you finished your finals.”
“Yeah,” he laughed, “they sucked.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly. “So, can I talk to you for a second?”
No one else had spoken, the quiet was torture. Bethany looked between Nicholas and me, before finally smiling at my mother. “I'll go hang our coats up, Jenna.”
“Yes,” she nodded, turning towards the stove. I couldn't exactly tell what she was doing, I refused to take my unblinking stare off of my brother.
Nicholas flicked a
look behind me, eyeing something else. “You must be Leah,” he said.
“Oh,” she gasped, slipping around me, deeper into the group. I glimpsed how drained of blood her face was. “Uh, yes, you're Nicholas, right?”
He opened his mouth, I cut him off briskly. “Nicholas. Outside, with me, please.”
Something akin to sarcasm, as if he were humoring me and everyone else was in on the joke, rolled across his face. “I guess I'll have to get a proper introduction later, Leah. Good to meet you, brief as it was. Well, excuse me.” Ducking his head, he shot me a frustrated glance, passing around me so very close in the doorway. Even so, he didn't touch a single fiber on my shirt.
Leah was staring at me, but I had no time to assure her everything was fine.
I couldn't have lied, and it definitely wasn't.
My legs were numb, carrying me through the living-room. Nicholas understood we needed to be alone, he didn't slow down until we had slipped out the front door, into the chilly winter evening.
I only knew it was cold because of how dark and grey it was outside, that it was December. My gut was searing too much with acid to allow me to feel the bone-aching briskness.
“What the hell was that about?” He demanded, facing me with indignation.
“Excuse me?” I snapped, steamy breath floating in the air. The bright Christmas lights decorating the rim of the house and the yard lit us both up in strange colors. “Are you actually getting upset with me? Nicholas, what the hell is Bethany doing here!?”
Rolling his eyes, my younger brother crossed his arms. It said something about my state of mind right then that I considered how that would offer him little protection. “Relax, Deacon. Jesus, you're overreacting.”
“Am I?” I laughed, lifting my hands by the sides of my skull. “I'm noticing that you aren't answering me.” My intuition was burning, warning me of what I suspected, but wished to deny until he confirmed it.
Somber, guilty eyes fixed on me in a moment of quiet. The red, flickering lights of some hanging candy canes illuminated his pale, sharp cheeks. While I had taken after my father in features, Nicholas clearly had our mother's angular nose and structure. He reminded me of a knife; as he spoke, hurting me, that thought only grew firmer.
