Authors: Nora Flite
Together,
we slid into the pew, settling in comfortably. My parents found us
soon enough, sitting behind us, still whispering with friends.
“
Good
morning,” the pastor started, his familiar, smiling face taking
us all in. It amazed me that it was still the same man, Pastor James,
that had led the service since I was a small child. “I'm
pleased to see so many warm faces this beautiful morning.”
There
was some light laughter; the mood in the room was one of relaxed
deference. Beside me, Leah sat straight. There was likely no one else
in the church that had never been to this service before. The town
didn't get many new people moving in, it was just one of those
places.
She
can't tell he's joking about how cold it is. Hopefully the Christmas
songs will relax her.
As
if hearing my mental plea, the pastor spread his arms. “I'd
like to open this holiday service with a song, to set our mood and
spirit in the right direction. Let us rise, and we will begin.”
There,
on stage, the choir members filed into place. This, too, was a step
into the past.
The
past, back when I was part of the choir. Back then, when I was...
when I was pursuing... Oh, no.
Even
as I felt the first twist in my stomach, the first hint that I knew
what was coming, I still wasn't truly prepared.
All
my memories, all my nostalgia, and yet I'd still managed to bury this
one obvious outcome so deep I hadn't acknowledged it.
How
could I have been so stupid?
Gold
hair shimmered, her steps light; balanced and demure. I knew her
movements, I could never forget them. The girl who'd first stolen my
heart, then broken it so effortlessly.
She
parted her lips, the beautiful rolling waves of lyrical perfection
dancing free. The piercing soprano found my ears, wormed in deep with
a mixture of pleasure and pain as the d
éjà
vu
kicked in...
And
I remembered.
Seven
Years Earlier
It
had been seven years ago, the day I first noticed Bethany Sommer.
Maybe it was because I was just starting to notice girls; notice them
seriously, anyway.
I'd
been fighting with my father recently, going through the stages of
understanding the Bible in my own way. This way was, apparently, not
in agreement with how he wanted me to view our religion.
That
day, though, even as I had come into the church with frustration
brewing in my heart, the moment the choir began to sing, I'd
forgotten it all.
She
was lovely, voice clear as a bell and unbelievably pretty especially
to a boy who's sixteen. I couldn't look away as she sang, rich hair
shimmering, her expression one of content joy. My heart swelled, my
stomach hurt, and I realized I was smitten with a girl whose name I
didn't know.
When
you live in a small town, you tend to know everyone just a little
bit, at least.
Bethany
was vaguely familiar, but we had never talked to each other. There
was little to attach us, outside of belonging to the same church. I'd
never even seen her at school.
That
was when I realized what I had to do, what I
wanted
to
do.
When
I told my father that I was going to begin singing in the church
choir, he was ecstatic. The debates about religion were forgotten. In
his eyes, I'd accepted his point of view, and this was a sign of
that.
I
didn't bother to argue his logic.
The
church welcomed me into the fold, the pastor eager to let me sing
along with the rest. To my credit, I stunned them all with my
ability, made all the more impressive with my casual claims of having
not had a single lesson.
Grinning,
full of the pride of youth, I was let down as everyone fawned over me
except the one person I wanted.
Bethany
looked my way, once, then returned to reading over her sheet music.
Thus,
the game began, with me trying ever harder to catch her attention
while I worked my way up the ranks.
Everyone
liked me. I was proving myself to be charming, funny and gifted.
Still,
she never talked to me.
Each
night I would go home, pacing my room, striving to understand how I
could catch her attention. I didn't know her name, I didn't know why
she wouldn't give me the time of day, but I was desperate for both.
I
could have asked anyone for her name, it would have been easy, but in
my head I had planned out my grand expectations. I acted out the way
she would swoon over my voice. How I would introduce myself, while
she blushed the whole while.
My
brother came into my room one night, asking me if I wanted to
practice with him.
“
Thanks,”
I said, distracted, “but I'm fine. I've got this.”
“
Are
you sure? I think I could really—”
“
Nicholas,”
I snapped, “I've got it. Don't worry about me.”
I
went back to brooding, my brother leaving without another comment.
The
fourth day, not even a week, I was going crazy with stress. That day,
I'd decided I would take the initiative. If I couldn't get her to
come to me, I would go to her.
As
we were setting up for the service, my knees trembled. Not from fear
of the performance, but nerves over how I would finally talk to
her
.
On
heavy legs, my bones seemingly melted and untrustworthy, I made
myself walk until I was standing beside her on the stage. I knew my
place was further away, I was counting on her to notice my
displacement.
Those
blue eyes found me as she turned, so close I could see the spattering
of freckles on her nose; light as cinnamon on cream.
She
sees me. She finally sees me!
“
Excuse
me,” she said, her words sending lightning straight to my core.
“You're in the wrong spot.”
“
Am
I?” I asked, forcing words around my tongue that felt swollen,
huge.
This
is it, this is it.
“Oh,
sorry, it just looked much nicer over here.” I smiled; the
biggest, brightest smile I had ever cultivated in all my life.
She
stared at me, not at all blushing or giggling like I expected. In
moments, my chest was beating, a sourness in my throat.
Oh
god, what was I thinking? I'm so stupid!
Before
I could open up, try to salvage my pride, her peach lips curled into
an unsure smile. “You're kind of weird, Deacon.”
My
jaw fell open, giving me a far more idiotic expression than I would
have desired. Certainly nothing like what I'd portrayed in my
daydreams while imagining that scenario over and over. “You
know my name?”
“
Of
course I do,” she laughed, brushing her blonde hair from her
forehead. “How could I not?”
I
was on a cloud, sick and excited all at once.
She
knows my name, I didn't... I never...
“
Wait,”
she blurted, breaking my foggy dream into chunks. “Do you not
know
my
name?”
“
Oh,
uh, well,” I scrambled to find a smooth sentence. My palms were
humid, I couldn't casually wipe them on my pants. “Honestly? I
don't have a clue, that was sort of why I came over here.”
Oh
my god why did I tell her that!?
Her
laugh surprised me; it was as beautiful as her singing, it eased the
tension in my neck. “That's amazing, why didn't you just ask
me?”
Smiling
sideways, I ran my eyes to the far wall, away from her sparkling
vision. “I
suppose
I'm asking right now. What's your name?”
“
Bethany,”
she answered, positively glowing. The blush I had envisioned in my
numerous walk-throughs of that occasion finally blossomed on her
cheeks. “I'm Bethany Sommer.”
For
an unfortunate while after that, perhaps two months, Bethany and I
had little in the way of interaction. I'd see her at church,
sometimes at youth activities, but never anything structured.
Still,
it was fantastic, more than I ever hoped for.
As
the summer ended and school approached, I became infatuated with her.
I wanted to make her laugh, to see her smile; to sing with her and
never stop.
She'd
told me the reason I'd never seen her around much, was because her
parents kept her home-schooled. But, they'd decided the music
curriculum offered by the high school was very good, and since their
hope was for her to do well in her last two years and gain
scholarships to somewhere noteworthy, she'd be joining me that time
around.
I
couldn't have been happier.
Quickly,
I became involved in every musical class Bethany was. I asked my
parents for instruments, for lessons, and continued to keep up my
determined quest for Bethany Sommer.
No
matter what I did, though, I was unable to get
closer
.
In every class we shared, I'd sit next to her, or behind her, feeling
the distance of a few inches like it was an endless canyon.
She
knew my name, I could make her smile.
I
could make her laugh.
But
I want more,
I
thought one day, watching the sun lazily give her hair a soft halo
while she sat in front of the window in English.
I
want much more.
The
school year passed incredibly fast. Part of me hated that, knowing
there was a chance I'd see less of Bethany without classes to keep us
together. Her parents had a firm hold on her outside of school. She
hadn't even been allowed to come to my seventeenth birthday party.
My
chance to cement a closeness with Bethany arrived during our final
semester of our junior year.
****
I
found the flier stuck to my locker, along with every other locker in
the hallway. Frowning, I tugged it free, scanning the cheaply printed
front to better understand what it was.
This
is... this is perfect.
Gripping
the paper so hard it crinkled, my legs carried me down the hall
towards where I knew Bethany would be.
She
was only just settling into her desk in Geometry, her books neatly
arranged. When I slapped the flier down in front of her, she jumped,
startled hard enough that she squeaked. Those blue eyes found me;
confused, sparking with a hint of anger.
“
What
are you—”
I
cut her off, leaning in close. “Look at this.”
Scowling,
Bethany reluctantly stared at the paper, smoothing it to read the
surface. “What, a talent contest? Why did you give me this?”