by Nora Flite
“He isn't.”
We both turned, spotting the owner of that honey-sweet voice that had broken into our conversation. A conversation I had thought was private.
Looking into Bethany's eyes, seeing that well of blue sadness, I knew it hadn't been. She'd heard the important parts, if her face was any indication.
Carlo jumped to his feet, taking the pasta bowls from me. “Uh, I'll just... go take care of these.” I didn't fight him, my body felt weak. He fled into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
Bethany was standing on the staircase, the only light illuminating her was the tall lamp in the corner. I'd been unable to sleep anyway, so I'd left it on. It made her appear tired, the shadows deep under her eyes.
“How long were you standing there?” My question seemed so small, in light of her reveal.
“I heard everything that mattered,” she said sadly.
My head couldn't get her words out. He isn't, he isn't, he isn't. That was what she said.
He isn't wrong... I'm not what she wants.
“Let's get some air,” she said.
“Okay.” We moved to the door, slipping out into the dark hour of a new day that had yet to blossom with a sunrise.
It was early, too early; the world was still asleep. Even in LA, the parties died after two a.m. She walked beside me, our shoes keeping rhythm down the quiet road.
Bethany said nothing, I knew I would have to start. If I start, then it will be over.
No, it's over already. It was over long before this, and I just never saw it.
“Why did you bother to come here?” I asked, stopping to stand beside a bus stop bench.
She hesitated, looking like she was tasting her words carefully. “I thought you deserved me doing this in person.”
“You could have saved yourself some money, and me some trouble, by calling. I wouldn't have cared.” It was a horrible lie. It would have been impossible not to care. It would have hurt even more, perhaps.
Bethany bit the inside of her cheek, looking down at her hands, fidgeting. “It didn't seem right. That's all.”
“'Right'? What seems right to you? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Deacon...”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I twisted away, battling with fury and sadness all at once. “Was I really just not good enough for you?”
“You don't want these answers, Deacon.”
“Oh, but I do,” I snapped, eyeing her over my shoulder. She was watching me, that lovely face contorting with despair.
Stop! You're not the victim here!
She reached out to touch me. Quickly, I moved away, trying to soothe the guilt that flared as she flinched. “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what I did wrong, at least.”
“Nothing!” Lifting her hands, she seemed lost. “You didn't—I'm not judging you, nothing like that. I just don't think you're...”
“What? What am I not? Not rich enough, not talented enough?”
“Stop it,” she said, low and seething. She wasn't amused by me, but the pain in my core burned too much to let me care. It was all I could focus on.
If I let myself feel anything but sour resentment, I would fall apart.
“Bethany, I've done everything for you. Isn't that obvious? How is that not enough?”
Her gold hair flashed when she shook her head. “I'm telling you, it isn't that. Can't you let it be? Why do you want me to rake you over the coals?”
“I need to know what I did wrong!”
I need to know why I'm not good enough.
Why I'm never good enough for anyone.
Not my parents, and now, not you.
My thoughts were almost as bad as my reality.
She hung her head, hiding herself behind a yellow wall. “I won't. Leave it alone, Deacon.”
“I need to know—”
“Fine! Fine already!” She whipped her head up, blue eyes blazing at me. “You need to know so badly? The distance, it's too hard! I can't keep paying to come out here, and I don't want to live here, either. Don't you get that? Isn't it obvious by now? I hate that you want to live here, Deacon. This place isn't me. LA isn't me, and I don't want it to be!” The fury that was there, hints I had seen through the years, soon melted.
Her sadness was worse than her anger.
Tears fell down in rivulets, dancing to the ground. Wiping her face, Bethany looked straight at me. The pleading expression cut deep, eroded the anger I had built up.
“What if—what if I moved back home?” I begged, my voice straining. “Is that where you want to live? I could maybe do that, just... just go back, and...”
“No, Deacon. I don't want that either. It's more than just the distance, but... Let it rest at that,” she whispered. “Please.”
I couldn't say anything. I was scared if I opened my mouth, tried to speak, I'd only join her tears with my own.
Hugging myself, I began the walk back towards my apartment. Bethany waited before following, her steps soft, skittish.
This is really it, I thought. It's over. Tomorrow, I'll take her to the airport, and that will be that.
She's leaving me, and I don't even understand why.
She doesn't want me to move back, she doesn't want to try and work on this. Was it even possible to make this successful in the first place? Or was it...
Was it just because of who I am?
I'd loved her more than anything. I still did, right then. Nothing was worse than this, I was convinced of that. To want someone so fully, and in the end, to be rejected...
I was terrified of ever experiencing such a thing again.
Six Months Later
Chapter 13.
It was a startling realization.
Whatever imagined spite I had created, an agenda for Bethany to have where she hated me, or worse, Leah... it didn't exist.
I'd made it up, and understanding that filled me with a wash of confusing pleasure.
I was making her into some awful person, just to handle being around her. What she did to me hurt, it hurt terribly, but... but it doesn't even matter.
I don't love Bethany anymore, I know that. But it isn't because of what she did to me, it isn't because she broke my heart.
I don't love her anymore, because I...
Because I...
Leah looked at me, her teeth sparkling in the glow of the white weather. She'd been unaware of the silent exchange I'd had with Bethany, of my tumble down memory lane that left me feeling like I understood everything, now.
Her laugh was so real, so clear, it sank into me and took hold. It filled up a place I had been struggling with for several days, ever since I had finally become aware of it.
I knew it then, standing beside Leah; across from the sad face of another girl I had once thought I'd move the world for.
This was something else, something stronger. Something vibrant and powerful that made me question so much about myself.
Something that made me understand my emotions and what they really meant.
I looked into Leah's eyes, saw her watching me, seeing me in a way no one ever had before.
In that moment, I knew without a doubt...
I loved her.
I loved Leah with every fiber of my soul.
“What's up?” She said, a flash of uncertainty marring her expression. “Did I do something weird?”
Shaking my head, I relaxed my body, reaching for her hand. Such a sudden, overt sign of affection in front of my brother and Bethany made her flush pink. “No, not at all.”
“Everything is really okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, my smile reaching my eyes. “Everything is just perfect.”
Nicholas was observing us, only slightly stealing the joy out of my moment with his scrutiny. He was clearly wondering what had happened, what unspoken thing had occurred while we had all been standing there in such idleness.
Let him wonder, I thought to myself, I don't care what he thinks right now.
It was the truth. I di
dn't care what anyone else thought about my feelings for Leah. I knew what they were now, I could sink into the comfort of understanding the deep emotion of love.
I love her, I love her more than anything. Let everyone see, let them say what they want. It won't change how I feel.
Only one person could honestly have affected my feelings on the matter. That person was right in front of me, looking lost and unsure over my sudden display.
She's the only one who matters... I love her, but it still comes down to letting her know that. Letting her know, and hoping she feels the same.
The idea that she might not was one I refused to consider as we stood together in that cold winter air.
****
“What are those?” Leah asked as we were driving back across the fields.
All of us looked out the windows, spotting a series of trees dotting the ground. They were almost leafless; small, round things hanging down from the branches and littering the ground.
“That's a pecan tree,” my grandfather said.
“A pecan tree?” Leah asked, emphasizing the 'pee' part of the word.
Everyone gave a little laugh, making her look around in confusion. “Did you just call those 'pee-cans'?” I asked, “It's a pecan, peh-cahn.”
Frowning tightly, she wrinkled her forehead. “Huh. I always called them pecans. Like pecan pie?”
That set everyone into another fit of giggles and laughs, including my grandfather. Leah was blushing, but she smiled with us in good humor.
Sometimes her accent came out, and when it did, I honestly loved it.
I might just love everything about her.
“Did you want to go see?” Grandaddy asked, already steering the truck across the rough terrain. Leah nodded quickly, staring back out the window as we pulled up.
Leah was quick to jump out of the vehicle, her boots crunching on the ground. “Are these shells? Can you eat these things, just like this?”
“Yup,” my grandfather said, digging in the truck. He offered her a small coffee can, motioning to the earth. “All of 'em that are whole and not rotten, just scoop those up. We'll mix 'em up with some salt and cinnamon, real good.”
Her eyes went big and round at the idea. Eagerly, Leah began crouching in the grass, picking up the tiny hard ovals. Amused, I followed beside her, grabbing them as well. “He's right, they do taste really good like that.”
“The best ones are usually on the branches still,” Nicholas said, kicking at the dirt. “Most of these have worm holes in them. Come on,” he said, motioning to the blonde girl. “Let's go check the base of those bigger trees.”
Bethany moved further across the field with Nicholas, filling up a can of their own. I watched them as they circled a particularly thick trunk.
“Hey,” Leah said, drawing my attention. She'd cracked open one of the pecans, holding up the meat inside. “It's okay to eat them like this, right?”
“Of course.” Taking one of the chunks, I chewed it up, swallowing with a smile. “They're really good, even just like this.”
Eagerly, she ate the other half, looking amazed. “Oh my god, and these are just growing on trees here? Kentucky is amazing, Deacon.”
Laughing, I picked up more of the pecans, filling the can. “We do grow some amazing things here.”
“I'll say.” Her words were low, teasing. Glancing up, I saw the implication in her sparkling eyes.
That was when I heard the scream.
Whipping my head around, I found the source, even though my ears were already realizing it had been Bethany. She was standing by the tree down the hill, gaping at something on the cold ground in front of her.
I was already running. I didn't need to see better to know what she was looking at.
It's Nicholas, oh god, what happened to Nicholas!?
Stumbling, my knees skid on the dirt, ruining my pants; I didn't care. My brother was on his back, but as I approached, I saw his eyes were closed.
No no no no no.
The sinking feeling I had experienced the day I'd found Leah, when Owen had been straddling her bloody body, hit me full force. The adrenaline pumped, keeping me from feeling the pain of my scrapes.
Keeping me from vomiting in fear.
Dropping down beside Bethany, I saw her look at me in terror. “What happened?” The hard edge to my voice made me sound far away to my own ears.
Nicholas opened his eyes, looking up at me with a grimace. “It's okay, I just... I just fell and...”
“He was climbing, trying to shake more pecans down,” Bethany blurted, words rushing out like water. She pointed up, I saw the broken branch.
He fell from so high...
“I'm really fine,” Nicholas said, forcing a tight laugh. He went to sit up, a wince of pain contorting his face. “Shit, I think—”
“Stop it, stay still,” I growled, hearing feet pounding down the hill towards us. I knew it had to be Leah and my grandfather.
My eyes trailed over my brother's body, finally settling on the angle of his wrist. “Nicholas, your...”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I think I broke it. Dammit, that hurts.” The color of his face was like old cheese, green eyes watching me with honest fear. “I can't have a broken wrist, Deacon. I can't, I need my hands for the lab work at school.”
“Don't worry about that now,” I said, shaking my head rapidly. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“What happened!?” My grandfather shouted, coming to a halt beside us, dropping to his knees. “Nicholas, are you alright?”
A hand touched my shoulder. I didn't look, I knew it was Leah. “We need to carry him to the truck,” I said, bending down to gather my brother in my arms.
I heard the hiss between his teeth, was sure he was in awful pain. “This is embarrassing,” he said in my ear, chuckling bitterly as I cradled him close.
“Shut up.” I spit the words, thinking instead about just standing with his weight. My muscles ignored the heft of him, adrenaline still keeping me strong and on edge.
“I'll call your father,” Grandad said, hurrying up the hill with a cell phone to his ear. “He can meet us at the hospital.”
“Nicholas,” Bethany murmured beside me, her frail looking hands over her mouth. Those blue eyes were welling with tears, ready to fall any second.
“I'm fine,” he said, balancing his injured arm against his chest. “Deacon, you been working out?” He asked, that grin twitching on the edges.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, just for you, actually. Knew you'd need me to carry you somewhere eventually. Aren't you lucky?”
He felt weightless in my arms, all the way up that slope. Below my boots, pecans crunched sharply in the air.
It wasn't until I had put him in the truck, the wheels squealing as we all drove towards town, that the exhaustion began to hit me.
My knees were raw, bleeding through my pants. The muscles in my neck felt hard as ice; knotted and cold.
Leah, beside me in the backseat with Bethany, gripped for my fingers. When she found them, I pulled her close, hugging her to my side for a moment of comfort I desperately needed.
****
The house was quiet, tense.
After we'd taken Nicholas to the hospital, my father meeting us there with clear distress, the situation had been out of our hands.
“You guys go home,” Dad had said, explaining that Nicholas would be fine. “He's just got a fractured wrist, there's nothing you can do for him. I'll take care of this and bring him home later.”
That had been hours ago, and still, no one seemed able to break the morose aura. I sat beside Leah in the living room, my pants still ripped over the knees. Leah had insisted I wash my wounds, going so far as to drag me into the bathroom to do so.
I'd sat there, numb, as she applied the bandages.
The entire time since we'd arrived, Bethany had sat, hugging her legs to her chest by the Christmas tree.
My mother was fussin
g with my grandmother over the food cooking in the kitchen, acting as best as they could like nothing had gone wrong that day.
How did this happen... how did I not see him in the tree? Why wasn't I watching?
Inside, I knew it wasn't my fault. It was so hard to shrug off the sensation of being responsible for my younger brother, though.
Responsible... as if what he does somehow reflects on me.
“He'll be fine,” Leah said suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. She was staring fixedly at me, her small fingers squeezing my arm. “You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. I—it just feels weird, waiting for him to come back, knowing he's hurt.”
“It was my fault,” Bethany muttered.
Blinking, I sat up stiffly, watching the blonde girl as she looked at her hands in her lap.
“No, Bethany,” I argued, “it was no one's fault. He just fell.”
“I should have stopped him,” she said, so quietly it was hard to hear. “Should have told him not to climb the stupid tree.”
Leah spoke before I could. “It doesn't matter, Bethany. Should have, could have? It already happened... and,” she added, not halting when those blue eyes stared at her, “he's fine. A fractured wrist sucks, but it's better than a broken one. He'll recover.”
A sudden 'bang' stopped our conversation, the source the front door shutting.
All of us jumped up, eager to see who had come back, and no doubt, all of us hoped it would be the same person.
Nicholas walked into the room, his right arm in a sling. The sheepish look on his face was such a strange thing to see, for me. “What?” He asked, staring around at us. “No welcome home banner? You guys are awful at this.”
Bethany restrained herself from jumping on him, but just barely. I could see the tears falling, a split second before she buried her face in Nicholas's shoulder.
He leaned in, whispering in her ear over the sounds of her muffled crying. Hugging her with one arm awkwardly, he untangled her gingerly. Bethany stood back, rubbing her face, cheeks crimson and wet.
