by Nora Flite
“Bethany and I are dating, Deacon. I... look, I was going to tell you, but I just never knew when a good time for that would be.”
The sound of my own laugh was surprising; hollow, dry, it echoed out into the night air. “So, you figured telling me at Christmas around the family would be the perfect time?”
“No, that isn't—”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled, holding my temples tightly. Inside, my skull felt like it was swelling. It made sense, everything about Bethany's lack of surprise when she saw me at church... about my dad's weird behavior with her, inviting her to brunch. They'd all known I was coming, all of them knew this would happen, and not one of them had said a word to me.
It all made so much awful sense.
“Seriously,” I hissed through my gritted jaw, “in what world is dating my ex okay!?”
Whatever shame had been on his face fled, leaving behind bitter righteousness. “Mom and Dad don't have a problem with it.”
That stopped me, put a heavy, breath-stealing pause in my growing fury. Softly, I spoke, watching him warily. “What do you mean?”
“They like Bethany, they always have,” he said, shrugging. “When I told them she and I were together, all they talked about was how happy they were that they hadn't lost her from the family.”
My mouth opened, yet nothing came out. He wasn't looking at me anymore. Nicholas was staring to the side, at our old metal play-set.
Licking my lips, tasting nothing, I finally found my voice. “When?” It was a simple word, he knew what I was asking.
Nicholas looked back at me, the pity in his eyes worse than his insufferable smugness. “June, when I came down for summer vacation.”
“But... she broke up with me in June...”
His silence, so poignant, made my insides tighten like someone had elbowed me with all their strength. No, no, impossible. “You and her got together right after that? That quickly? Are you—how could she, and... and you! Nicholas, what the hell?”
“Look,” he said, lifting his palms, trying to appease me so casually. “It just happened. When I came down, Mom and Dad told me the news about you guys. I knew you weren't together when I saw her at the firework display over by the Gerald farm.”
My eyes hurt from being forced so wide. The most shallow of chuckles left me; I saw how it made him flinch, breaking his attempt at emotionless calm. “Oh, well, that's wonderful. I'm glad you knew before hand that she had left me, that really must help you sleep at night.”
“Deacon, relax, you're seriously being dramatic here—”
He didn't finish speaking; instead, he fell to the ground, knocked over by my abrupt, hard shove. Something in me had finally snapped, escaped the pacifist nature of how I had always handled confrontations.
The cords in my forearms flexed, every ounce of me fighting to keep from hitting him again, from doing actual damage.
It would have been so easy to jump on him, to hit him while he was vulnerable. It would have been so, so easy... if I just...
Nicholas was sprawled out, sitting up on his elbows, staring up at me in pure shock. In seconds, it mirrored my own expression.
What the hell did I just do? Did I really...
Unbidden, the image of Owen's crimson stained face entered my mind.
No, I thought desperately, that's not me. I'm not like that, I won't let anger turn me into a monster. Yet, even in my shame, the rage over the situation wouldn't flee. Nicholas watched me, on the border of being scared, or furious, over my explosion.
Inside, I felt a brief flicker of satisfaction. Even that, though, couldn't sober the hot, twisting guts that refused to let me relax.
It was like he expected more from me, a word or a sentence to explain away my actions. To justify what I had never, ever in my years, done to him before.
No, I thought, you don't get any answers from me. After all of this, you're not getting anything at all.
Straightening up, I turned to go inside the warm, waiting house, saying nothing else to my fallen brother.
****
The door slammed behind me, my steps long so I could cover more ground. In the kitchen, the smell of roast and onions was strong, but I ignored it.
My parents were sitting at the table, the surface covered in serving dishes, as well as containers of hot food. They were both talking animatedly with Bethany, who was giggling sweetly.
Leah was there, her chair pushed as far from them as she could get without being obvious.
All those eyes lifted, fixing on me as I entered. The cold air had made me breathe heavier, my chest burning as it adjusted to the warmth. Even the skin on my ears was tingling.
“Where's your brother?” My dad asked, hinting for the first time that he suspected something was wrong.
Before I answered, we heard the front door close again. Foot steps, more relaxed than mine had been, announced Nicholas seconds before he appeared in the doorway. “Hey,” he smiled, “did you guys wait for me? You didn't need to.”
“Of course we waited,” our mother laughed, smiling so pretty.
She doesn't want to think about what we might have been talking about. She already knows.
Leah met my eyes, her brown centers nervous. My neck felt stiff, all of my muscles tight as I moved to sit beside her. That left one chair empty, the one on the opposite side of Bethany, beside my mother.
No one was shocked when Nicholas flopped into it, arching his back with a groan.
“Sore from the drive?” Bethany asked him. My brother smiled thinly, casting a long glance at me as he answered.
“Yeah, something like that.”
I wanted to feel satisfied, but only remorse flooded my system. Being violent, it wasn't like me. Until that unforgettable day almost a month ago, I had never hit another person.
Did fighting Owen change me somehow?
The idea made my stomach bubble with discomfort. No, that can't be true. Nicholas just... he just upset me so much, my reaction was normal.
Wasn't it?
My father touched my hand, pulling me from my brooding. Praying was such an automatic thing for me, I didn't even think about the motions.
Gripping his fingers, I moved to hold Leah's palm next. Peering over, the profile of her face was enough to display her unease. I realized why when I saw Bethany had taken her other hand. In my hurry to sit, to be far from my ex, I hadn't considered how Leah would be the one to endure her touch during the meal prayer.
Oh, please just let this be over with quickly.
“Can I say the prayer?” Nicholas piped up, making us all stare at him.
“Of course, son,” our dad nodded, looking delighted by the request.
Hanging my head, trying my best to quell my irritation, I listened to my brother as he cleared his throat.
“Lord,” he started, “we thank you for allowing us all to be here this day. In this time of year, where forgiveness and family mean most, we are... grateful,” he paused, tasting the word, “to all be blessed to be here together.”
Yes, I thought soberly, grateful, indeed.
“We're thankful for this food, for our accomplishments, and hopefully many more. Amen,” he finished.
“Amen,” I whispered, muted among the rest of the words from everyone else. I was sure even Leah was louder than me, that time.
My eyes opened, a split second before anyone else but Nicholas. He was staring at me, the corner of his mouth turned down just enough in a knowing frown. He said that prayer for me.
Hands began grabbing the trays on the table, the morose mood soon blocked out by the sounds and smells of a group of people passing around food.
Noticing a bowl of stuffing, I scooped out a large serving, dropping it on my plate. My appetite was returning with the delicious spread in front of me.
“This is wonderful, Mom,” I commented, swallowing the fluffy bread and celery mixture. “I don't remember you normally making stuffing.”
“Oh, I didn
't,” she said absently, slicing some of her juicy roast. “Bethany made that.”
The blonde girl smiled at me, wide and proud. Popping a tiny bite of green beans into her mouth, she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I'm glad you like them, Deacon. I'm surprised you don't remember them, though, I made that every time we went—”
“To your parents, right, yeah.” Frowning, I poked at the clumps, suddenly not interested.
Beside me, Leah was quietly digging into the thick mass of sweet potatoes, content to stay out of the conversation.
Nicholas didn't seem keen to allow that. Sipping from his glass of milk, something he had weirdly drank with every meal since we were kids, he set those intense eyes on my girlfriend. “So, Leah, we didn't get to properly meet earlier.” His glance at me spoke volumes. “How was the trip?”
“Oh,” she sputtered, caught off guard. Wiping her mouth, far less demurely than Bethany, she blushed. “Uh, it was good. The flight was pretty smooth.” I could tell she was trying to be polite, her mouth forming into a hesitant smile. “I hear you're in school to become a doctor?”
Laughing, he leaned back, long hands curling behind his head. “Sort of. I'm hoping to go into anesthesiology.”
She lifted her eyebrows, impressed. Seeing her give him that sort of look dug at me like a rusty nail. “Wow, that's intense.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, flashing his sparkling grin. That, too, bothered me. I wanted to knock him out of his chair, to stop this forced, relaxed conversation that felt like trickery. “So, tell me, where did you go to college?”
Oh, come on, don't ask that! Furrowing my brow, I glared at Nicholas, wishing he'd stuff some food in his mouth and shut up.
Leah squirmed in her chair, visibly shrinking under this scrutiny. I knew everyone was watching her now, curious to hear. My family put, perhaps, entirely too much stock into accolades.
“Well,” she breathed. I could see her hands under the table, squeezing her knees. “Uh, I went to Venti & Fallows.”
“What's that?” My dad asked, pausing in destroying his roast.
“Erm, just a culinary school, nothing else.”
“Oh!” I saw the delight on my mom's face and winced. “That's lovely, so you got your degree in culinary? I've always thought chefs were some of the most amazing people, it's so hard to—”
Leah shook her head, hair flipping. “No, no,” she mumbled, “that... I mean, yes, I went there, but I didn't exactly—”
“She decided to become a painter,” I blurted, unable to handle where the topic had been about to go. Leah stared at me, open-mouthed and dubious. I'm trying to help you, I pleaded with her mentally, hoping she would understand.
The only hint of emotion was a flicker of sorrow on her face, before she looked down at her plate, poking the shiny yellow corn. “Um, yeah, I'm painting now.”
Nicholas was eyeing us, bird-like, curious. It wasn't a look I wanted to be on the other end of. He's wondering why I cut her off. He doesn't need to know she dropped out of college, no one needs to know that. They'd judge her harshly before understanding why.
Bethany, however, looked genuinely interested. “You paint, too?”
“Yeah,” Leah nodded, giving up on trying to eat. Setting her fork down, she pushed her hair behind her ears. “He got me a space in his gallery, to help me start.”
“That's nice,” she mused, looking at me speculatively. “I haven't seen his work in a long time.”
“He's really good,” Leah declared, as if Bethany might be subtly implying otherwise. “I've never met someone so talented.”
Heat ran up my neck, the combination of her honest words, and my ex's bemused expression, setting me on edge. “Don't listen to her, she's better than I am, honestly.”
“No I'm not,” she stated, staring at me in confusion.
She still doesn't think so, I thought silently, wondering if I should be thankful for her modesty.
Knowing how critical Bethany could be, I was simply happy there was nothing of Leah's here for her to tear apart. The last thing I needed was for my ex to give her a confidence complex.
My dad set his glass down, swallowing loudly. “Well, you'd have to be good to make it anywhere as an artist these days. It's not exactly a reliable job, if you ask me.” Smiling at Nicholas, he gestured openly. “Your brother knows what to do. How do you think you did on those finals, son?”
Nicholas chuckled, shrugging into his ears. “I don't know, I think I did really well, though. Guess we'll see.”
“Guess we'll see,” I repeated, watching him flatly. He knew how much I hated how these conversations went. Even after all this time, there was a clear belief that I'd picked the inferior major in college.
The rest of dinner went by peacefully, the chit-chat dissolving into talks about the current college football teams and who might actually win this season.
I helped my mother clear the table, before following Leah upstairs on the pretense of helping her pack back up for the trip to my grandparents the next day.
The moment we entered the room she was staying in, I pushed the door shut almost completely. Only a crack remained, simply because I knew anything else would seem inappropriate.
“Hey,” I whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Leah had been facing away when she entered, but before I even brushed her skin, she twisted and wrapped her way into my arms.
Her face rubbed into my chest deeply, muffling her frustrated groan. “What the hell is going on?” She asked, staring up at me, those emotional eyes on the verge of tears. I couldn't tell if they were from anger, or despair. “Why is Bethany here? Am I crazy, or is she actually dating your brother?”
“You're not crazy,” I sighed, holding her tightly against me until I could feel her blood pumping. “That's exactly what's going on.”
“Ridiculous,” she growled, crushing me around the ribcage, almost hurting me. “This is so ridiculous! How is this possible? Do I just have bad luck, or something?”
“What?” I asked, stunned by her line of thought.
Leah blinked up at me, her hair mussed and out of place. “Sorry, but don't you see? This is just the most unlikely thing! To have her—to have them be together, around us, for this whole trip? How is that anything but bad luck?”
Frowning, I smoothed a strand of her mahogany hair off her forehead. “That's not what I meant, I was trying to say, bad luck for you? Leah,” I huffed, exhausted from the whole mess, “this is my ex, dating my younger brother. I think if anyone is unlucky here, it's me.”
That made her pause, expression shifting from exasperation to sympathy. “You're right. Dammit, I'm being stupid... yeah, sure, this sucks for me, but you're the one really getting knocked around here.”
Chuckling, I set my chin on the top of her head. “It's pretty ridiculous, though, you're right. I just—I never even imagined the two of them together.”
She was quiet for a minute, her fingers tracing up and down my back as I held her. “Deacon,” she said gently.
“Hmn?”
“What happened when you and Nicholas went outside?”
My tension was immediate; in my grip, Leah shivered, feeling my mood change to something far more dark. “Nothing important happened.”
“Please,” she whispered, trying to dislodge herself enough to meet my eyes; I wouldn't let her, I held her tight. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.”
No, you don't. Despite my thoughts, I squeezed my eyes closed and grit my teeth. “It was just... I needed to hear him say it. That they were together.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else?” She asked, pressing me.
Glad she couldn't see my scowl, I carefully decided on my words. I was too ashamed of what I had done to let myself tell her. I couldn't handle the idea that she would think... even consider... that I had reacted like her ex had.
That I could be anything like Owen.
“He told me they started dating almost ins
tantly after she broke up with me,” I admitted, hoping the truth would be enough to keep her from prying further.
Leah gasped, wriggling free as I let her go. Reaching up, she held my jaw, staring into my face with her own full of empathy. “That's awful! I'm so sorry, how... my god, how shady is that?”
“Pretty shady,” I grumbled, looking to the side uneasily.
“Do you think... do you think she cheated on you with—”
“No,” I said briskly, shaking my head, knocking her tender hands free. “I'm positive that didn't happen. Bethany is... was, maybe, too proud of her image to have that hanging over her head. No,” I laughed bitterly. “Much as dating my younger brother before the stove was cold is crummy, it's not infidelity. That's enough for her.”
Leah didn't seem convinced, but she didn't argue with me. Reaching up, curling her arms around my neck, she gave me a quick kiss. “I'm so sorry,” she said against my skin. “I can't even imagine how this feels for you.”
“It'll be fine,” I replied, not entirely convinced. “Anyway, you should finish packing, just get everything together and take it with you. I'm pretty sure we'd have enough time to get our stuff when we come back from my Granddad's, before we go to catch our plane, but better safe than sorry.”
“You're leaving me already?” She asked, her pout too delicious to keep me from kissing it sweetly.
Inhaling her, holding her against me, I wished once more that we could simply escape into a private bubble, untainted by the actions of the people around us.
Her hand, rolling down my chest, found my belt buckle. “Wait,” I said, reaching down to stop her. My voice was husky, betraying me, making it harder to convince her I was serious.
“What?” She asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“Not here,” I sighed, my skin clammy. Her disappointment was clear, it was almost as bad as my own. “Sorry, we just, you know, my parents—”
“I know, I know,” Leah muttered. Stepping back, she let my belt go, flopping onto the bed behind her. “How much longer is this trip, again?”