Letting You Know (9 page)

“
Oh,
no, I flew—”

“
Ah,
so you don't have a car now. How do you manage to get around, dear?”

“
No,
no, I bought a car out there—”

Sighing,
my mother effectively kept talking over Leah, the questions melding
into one another until Leah looked ill. “I see. Y'all doing
well out there, then?”

Sliding
down in the chair, Leah looked far too pale and too small for my
liking. “Well enough, I guess. My paintings have been selling,
Deacon thinks I'll be doing even better when we get back so I can
work on some new things.”

Sensing
her silent cry for help, I set my glass down on the table loudly.
“That's right! She's doing amazing. She's super talented. Her
first gallery sold everything inside of it in its first week.”

“
Oh,”
my mother nodded, perplexed. “Is that unusual?”

“
Very,”
I assured her.

“
So,”
Dad started, folding his napkin carefully. “You're still just
painting?”

Wrinkling
my nose, I gave him a long look, trying to decide how to take his
words. I knew my father's opinion of my career, for better or worse,
so it was impossible to convince myself he wasn't dubious. “Yes.
I am, in fact,
just
painting still. Is that a problem?”

“
No,
of course not,” he almost laughed, taken aback by the cynicism
soaking into my tone. “I was simply wondering. Nicholas is
starting work in a lab after classes a few days a week, they're
paying him pretty well, considering it's a side job.”

Lifting
an eyebrow, I laughed softly. “That's nice, but painting isn't
a side job for me. It's how I make a living.”

“
I
know that,” he sniffed, the tension in the air making oxygen
feel scarce. “Still, it's good, consistent work. He's been
really pushing himself between classes and on-site experience—”

I
couldn't take it anymore, hearing him go on and on about my little
brother.
Am
I crazy, or does he turn every conversation about me into one about
Nicholas?

I
stood quickly, chair clattering back with a screech. “I'm going
to go grab some dessert. I'll be right back.”

Leah
blinked, starting to move, but I shook my head at her. “No,
sit, I won't be long. I'll grab you something.”

She
seemed unsure, yet proceeded to sink back down without a word. My gut
hurt, not from food, but from the irritation of feeling like I didn't
meet the standards of my family.

Nicholas
Nicholas Nicholas, he isn't even here, and it's all they want to talk
about.

Scowling,
I stomped away from the table, moving blindly towards the buffet
area. People were still milling around, the restaurant packed as
could be. It was claustrophobic; I was thankful for it. It kept me
from thinking too hard on what my dad had been heavily implying.

Absently,
I grabbed two plates, hardly looking at what was in front of me. The
desserts should have been exciting. Instead, they appeared plastic in
my grim state.

Why
does he always do that? I'm living in California, doing what I love,
and still he manages to make it sound like I'm out there playing
house or something.

Reaching
down, I moved to grab the plastic scoop, figuring I'd bring Leah a
slice of chess pie. I was miserable, it was true, but it was hitting
me that I had abandoned with my parents.

They're
probably making her super paranoid right now with all their
questions. I should hurry back, relax some. It isn't like any of this
is new... it isn't like my dad ever approved of what I decided to do
before...

I
wonder,
I
thought in a moment of clarity,
is
that why I never brought Nicholas up to Leah? Was I just so sick and
tired of competing with him my whole life, that when I finally didn't
need to compare myself, I just quit letting him exist as a topic
worth talking about?

My
fingers, when they moved for the serving spoon, found something else
entirely. The skin was smooth, warm; pale as a yellow rose. I touched
the hand there, fingers that had grabbed for the spoon at the same
time as me, and jerked back in surprise.

“
Sorry!”
I blurted, looking up as I spoke, “I didn't mean to do that, I
was just sort of zonking out and...” Trailing off, my voice
gone, I stared into the face of the last person I wanted to see.

“
It's
fine,” Bethany said, flashing me a sideways smile of perfect
teeth. “They should really have another serving spoon out here
for this, but they never do.”

Bethany.
Again, she worms her way in.

“
What
are you doing here?” I asked, my words coming out colder than
was perhaps fair. Truthfully, I didn't want to be so angry, to feel
so upset by the sight and sound of my ex.
But
she hurt me, and she did it so easily, it's... it's so hard to turn
that feeling off.

“
Getting
brunch,” she answered, brushing her hair back over her
shoulder. “I figured that was obvious.”

“
No,”
I frowned, glancing around in a burst of self-consciousness. “I
mean what are you doing
here
,
talking to me? What do you want, Bethany?”

“
Why
the hostility?” She balked, hands finding her hips, gripping
her dress tightly.

“
I'm
not—I'm not trying to be hostile,” I said, sliding a hand
over the back of my warm neck. “I just... what is this, why are
you talking to me?”

“
Can
we not talk now, is that a rule?”

“
You
seemed fine with not talking to me when you broke up with me,”
I said, my whisper betraying more emotion than I intended. This was
too much, I didn't want to be standing there, facing off with...
with...

Bethany
flinched, the idea that my comment had hurt her at all drove a spike
of guilt deep into my veins. “Listen, Deacon.” Those thin
fingers dug into the fabric at her sides, eyes like a deep lake
wandering from the floor, to me. “That was for your own good.
For
my
own good.”

“
You
say that, but none of what happened at the end felt good, Bethany.”

“
If
I hadn't cut contact, it would have been way worse.” She
lowered her voice, reaching out to touch my shoulder. To my shock, I
let her remain there. “Emotions would have lingered too long,
and you'd have never moved on.”

Wrenching
away, I grabbed the serving spoon, my body turning so I could avoid
seeing her. “Yeah, speaking of which, excuse me.”

She
stood there, watching me intently, eyes burning into my back. My arms
were shaking as I put two slices of pie onto the plates; I pleaded
she wouldn't notice.

“
Deacon,”
she said, halting me as I started to walk away.

Keep
going, you idiot. Don't entertain her, don't bother with this.

“
She
seems nice,” Bethany mumbled, words hardly grazing my ears.

Inhaling
deeply, my hands squeezed the porcelain trays. I looked over at the
table where my parents were.

Leah
was watching me, watching both of us. Her eyes betrayed her confusion
openly. Knowing what she had probably witnessed set my hackles
ablaze.

She
saw us talking, saw Bethany touch me.

Saw
me allow her to touch me.

“
Be
careful about her,” Bethany said, so close to me I jumped. I
hadn't noticed her move at all. “A girl like that, she could
easily break your heart.”

“
Yeah,”
I agreed, stoic. “I suppose you would know all about that.”

I
strode away from her, not once looking back. I didn't need to, I knew
she was staring at me. I knew those emotional eyes, those watery
blues, far too well.

I
could never forget those eyes.

Even
if I wished... even if
I
wished I could.

Do
I, though?
I
wondered, meeting Leah's complete opposite, darker orbs as I
approached.

Do
I truly want to forget everything?

Six
Years Earlier

Her
eyes betrayed her confusion, her voice confirmed it. “Why
didn't you practice this more?”

Scratching
at my hair, I sat back on the chair in the music room. “I did
practice, Bethany. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“
You
should be way better at these lyrics by now,” she grumbled, her
blonde hair sticking to her neck. “Ugh, I'm sweating over how
frustrated I am. Let me take a break.” Standing, she stomped
away from the piano, heading for the door.

“
Wait,
hold up,” I said, hurrying to follow her. She didn't turn, so
in my desperation, I grabbed at her wrist. “Please, just wait!”
To my shock, she stopped, those blue eyes looking up at me with an
icy fury. I released her, flinching.

“
What?”
She spat, folding her arms.

“
I—I'm
sorry, Bethany, please. I'm really sorry. You're right,” I
huffed, hanging my head in defeat. “I should have been working
at this harder.”

“
Don't
you want us to win?” She asked, anger still tainting her voice.

No,
I don't care,
I
thought,
I
just want to get closer to you!
“Of
course,” I fibbed, noticing how her shoulders relaxed. “Of
course I do, and I know we can. I'll do better, I promise.”

She
considered me, a long moment where I wasn't sure what she would do.
“Well, if you promise, then okay.” Her smile was sweet,
it made my heart flicker. “Let's start over from the top. The
show is tonight, Deacon, we
need
to be ready.”