Authors: Nora Flite
Bethany
was the purest example of virginity and chaste; she would let me hold
her hand, but we didn't even hug until the second month.
Still,
I bit my tongue on all of it, continued to bask in her presence as we
were allowed to enjoy our time together under the watchful attention
of her parents.
In
the end, though, I craved something far more intimate with the girl I
adored.
Thus
began the process of encouraging her to stay out later and later. My
logic was that we would both be turning eighteen in a few months, so
with our senior year coming at us fast, shouldn't we be trusted to be
alone?
Amazingly,
it worked.
“
I
still don't know how you got my dad to agree to let you take me on a
day trip to the lake,” she'd laughed, watching me pack a bag
with sunscreen and snacks.
“
Because,”
I chuckled, setting a large sun hat on her head, “I'm just very
charming. Also, your parents trust me.”
“
You
think that,” she smiled, tugging the hat off and tossing it
aside. “If you push them too hard, they'll push back.”
“
Come
on,” I laughed, zipping the bag shut deftly. “We're
essentially adults, aren't we?”
“
Not
exactly yet, no.”
“
Almost,”
I grinned. “Four months for me, that's just around the corner.”
Bethany
rolled her eyes, sitting on my bed. Her feet, decorated in cute white
sandals, kicked idly. “And three months for me. It won't
matter, I'll be eighteen and my parents will treat me like I'm ten
still.”
Leaning
down, I moved to kiss her cheek, ignoring how she giggled and tried
to dodge me. “And what will they do when you go to college?
They can't control you if you're not living with them.”
She
froze, eyes sliding suspiciously to the side. I noticed she wasn't
looking at me, so I knelt down, taking her hands gently. “Hey,”
I murmured, “what is it? What's that look for?”
“
Deacon,”
she sighed, closing her eyes before staring at me uneasily. “I'm
not... sure I'm going to go to college.”
“
What?”
I asked, standing straight in pure shock. “Why not?”
“
Well,
it's just... the college I want to go to is sort of too expensive.”
“
I
don't understand,” I said slowly, puzzling over her logic. “I
thought you were planning to get scholarships?”
Bethany
tightened up, a bear trap that looked ready to close on me. Her glare
was one I had seen a number of times by then, but it still didn't get
any easier. “Planning is one thing, being realistic...”
Inhaling deeply, she curled her knees to her chest on the bed. “The
place I want to go, I don't know if I'm good enough to even get in.”
“
Where?”
I asked her, looking down at her bent head. Her face was hidden by
the waves of blonde. “Where do you really want to go?”
At
first she said nothing. Her fingers squeezed her calves, holding
tight, leaving small dents. Speaking the truth didn't calm her down
at all. “Juilliard,” she breathed.
“
Juilliard,”
I repeated, amazed. It was, indeed, a far reaching desire. That
school was known for the best, to get a scholarship of any kind there
would take work.
So
much work.
Gingerly,
I sat beside her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She didn't
fight me, but she didn't raise her head, either. “Then, you'll
have to go to Juilliard, I guess.”
“
Impossible,”
she spat.
“
Not
at all. Bethany, you're the hardest working person I know. If you
want to go to Juilliard, I believe you can. And,” I added,
forcing her to look up at me as I held her cheeks. “I'll do my
best to keep up.”
Her
wide eyes spoke volumes. “What? You're going to try and go with
me?”
“
Of
course,” I said softly, smiling sideways at her surprise. “I
want to go to college with you, so if you're getting into Juilliard,
well...”
“
But
what about your dad? Doesn't he want you to go to medical school?”
Rolling
my eyes, I gave a sardonic laugh. “I'm pretty sure he realized
that wasn't going to happen. He's been grooming Nicholas, if the
high-mark papers stuck to the fridge are any indication. That kid,
now that he's about to enter his freshman year Dad has just been—”
Bethany
threw herself against me, pushing me down and tightening her arms. I
was blown away, she'd never shown me that much brazen affection
before. Her lips found my cheek; then, too my further shock, they
discovered my mouth.
She
tasted sweet, like strawberries.
“
Deacon,”
she breathed, blue orbs wet as she leaned over my gaping face. Her
hair was hanging down, tickling my neck. “I—I don't know
what to say, but... Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”
Hugging
her roughly, burying my nose in her shoulder, I inhaled and sighed.
“I'll always be here for you Bethany, I promise. I'll always do
my best.”
Her
voice when she spoke was fragile, like she could cry any second.
“
Me
too, Deacon. I... I promise that, too.”
****
Summer
vanished before our eyes. The lazy days where we were allowed to
languish in the fields, staying out as the bugs came awake, were
quickly replaced by the impending strain of our senior year.
Bethany
had taken my words to heart. She had every intention of devoting
herself to her music, her skills, in the hope of attaining such a
prestigious scholarship.
Under
the heavy pressure of our tight time line, the difference in skill
level between Bethany and myself began to show.
She
would stay after school every day, her focus so intense it felt like
she didn't even know I was there most of the time.
My
struggles to lighten the mood, to encourage her to make time for
herself; for us... it was met with sharp words and a crisp tone.
Bethany
only had one thing on her mind.
This
was a side of her I had glimpsed, but never really allowed myself to
see. She became critical, unforgiving of my mistakes. Any slip up I
made in our musical practices would turn into her berating me for not
trying hard enough.
Perhaps
it would have made sense to pull away from her. I could have opened
my eyes, backed off; understood that Bethany had little room in her
heart for me when compared to her work.
That
wasn't me, though.
I
fought to get her attention, to ply her with gifts and sweet words. I
even started making her things, an act that put me on the path
towards a career I didn't see coming.
My
father found me painting on a canvas for Bethany for her birthday.
“What're you up to?” He asked, leaning in my doorway.
Jumping,
almost smearing my current stroke, I stared at him. Guilt I couldn't
explain flooded me. “Nothing. Just making something for
Bethany.”
His
frown was muted, but it was still there. “Music, now art. Any
chance you'll come around and decide to go into something more
practical in the end?”
“
We've
talked about this,” I grumbled, wishing he'd leave me be. “I'm
going to Juilliard with Bethany. And I'm not getting 'into' art...
this is just something I'm doing for her.”
I
was wrong, though I didn't realize it then. My simple, soulful
attempt at pleasing my girlfriend quickly became the way I escaped my
stress.
I'd
see her at school, observe the bags under her eyes, the hardness in
her tone. I'd still be sweet, kind, but inside I was hurting.
So,
I would go home, and there I found solace in my art. The routine
began to shift, my desire to escape the indifference of my girlfriend
winning out when confronted with another choice.
I
threw myself into painting with what time I could spare. Like most
things, I found I had a natural talent for this, too. It was enough
to keep me encouraged.
But
it would also be what began to split Bethany and I apart, even though
I wanted anything but that.
I
wouldn't start realizing this until her eighteenth birthday.
The
morning of, I called her, reveling in the fact that it had fallen on
a Saturday. “Hey there miss big adult,” I said when she
answered. “How are you today, feel any different?”
“
No,”
she sighed, “just tired and stressed. It's not even that big of
a deal, all it does is push me closer towards the deadline for
college applications.”
I
was glad she couldn't see my frown. Forcing a lightness into my
voice, I laughed. “You're not allowed to be stressed today.
It's a day of fun for you.”
“
How
so?”
“
I'm
taking you out to dinner.”
“
Oh,
Deacon, I don't know,” she moaned. “I have so much to do
still, I shouldn't waste a day with—”
“
It
isn't wasting,” I said firmly. “Bethany, please, let me
celebrate with you today. It'd be good for you to have a relaxing day
for once.”
She
was quiet, long enough that I got worried she might have hung up on
me. “Alright,” she agreed. “What time are you
picking me up?”
****
The
restaurant was lovely, I'd been saving up what money I could make on
the side to take Bethany out for some time.
She'd
dressed in a lovely yellow gown, perhaps a bit too extravagant; the
sort of thing a young woman who's doing her best to look like she's
mature might wear.
I
was hardly much better in my one pair of dress shoes with their
scuffed toes.
Together,
we were the quintessential high school pair. But we didn't see
ourselves that way.
“
So,”
she said, prattling on as she had been since I'd picked her up, “if
we don't fill out our applications by next week, our chances
drastically fall.”
“
Bethany,
please,” I begged, reaching out to take her soft hands. “Can
we not talk about college, just for tonight?”
“
I—but,
I just...” Sighing, she hung her head, grabbing her glass of
water. “Fine. Fine, tonight we can just stop, I guess.”
Her
frustration was obvious, yet I took her consent for what it was. “Are
your parents doing anything for your graduation?”
She
drained half of her drink, breathing out tightly. “They're sort
of waiting until they hear back about where I've been accepted.”