Letting You Know by Nora Flite Page B

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