Page 26 of Between Now and Always

They all dress in pink and most of them are blond. And according to their posts, they’re miserable because no matter how hard they try, they don’t have anything like the life they see emulated in the pictures on my account.

I didn’t wantthatto be what my name is synonymous with. I tried to log into the account, but found all the permissions changed.

When I talked to Porsha about it, leaving out all the details about Carter, she suggested I started a new account.

I could counter it by making something real. That same day, I created a new account and called myself @TheFreeBeth.

My first post was a video. I didn’t show my face. Instead, I held up the picture I’d painted of myself - a replica of the one I’d made when I first got back from my grandmothers. I just introduce myself and offered to paint them a mirror, too.

I’d been scared to post it. But as soon as it was done, I’d felt nothing but a sense of rightness. And, I was sure no one would ever see it.

I was wrong. People saw and responded. I got a lot of requests. I’ve painted three “mirrors” since then – and only because that’s the most I can make time for. I love it, and I’m excited to see where it takes me. But, it feels good to make other people feel good.

The last two years have a been trial by fire. But what’s been revealed as I walked through it, is a girl who has learned to trust her wings so that when she falls, fear is the last thing she feels.

“Oh my God, I knew that song was familiar,” Porsha’s loud exclamation snaps me out of my daydream.

There’s no music playing. I pour the buttermilk into the mixture of eggs and vanilla. “What song?”

“The one you were humminga second ago.”

“I don’t hum,” I say, frowning as I beat the batter into a fluffy wet cloud.

She gives me her incredulous wide eyed stare that she gives the guys she dates when she catches them in a lie.

“What? Idon’t,”I insist.

She presses her fist to her lips and laughs wildly. “Oh my God, are you for real? You’realwayshumming, Beth. And Iswearthat song you’ve been humming is the same one I heard on the radio when I was getting dressed.

“Since when did you lower yourself to listen to the radio?” I ask, and ladle two dollops of batter onto the smoking hot griddle.

“Since I decided Spotify is too expensive. Damn! What’s it called? It was beautiful, kind a tragic, but so romantic.”

She snaps her fingers and her brows furrow like she’s thinking really hard.

“It’s not that serious. You look like you’re about to bust a blood vessel. Chill.“

“No, hold on, I know…” She pulls out her phone and scrolls through it.

She shimmies her shoulders and presses play. “Here it is. The band is called Blue Clover…the song isBetween Now and Heartbreak. They’re calling them the next Coldplay. And they’re all sexy as hell. Look.”

She turns the phone around to show me the album cover which is a tapestry of gold and blue four leaf clovers. But I can barely see it through the haze of tears in my eyes. The blood is rushing in my ears when the song -our song -starts to play.

I vaguely register Porsha’s loud exclamation when I drop the spoon I was using to mix the batter.

I stumble back to the chair, sit down and close my eyes while Carter’s beautiful voice covers me like a blanket woven from every good thing in the world. I’m transported back to a place where every day felt like flying.

When I close my eyes, I can feel the vibration of his voice against my ear, the way I did on the many nights he sang me to sleep.

Joy and pride burst through the dam of denial and deprivation I put between my heart and all of the memories we made. I can’t hold back the happy tears shed for my best friend and the dream he’s made come true.

“What happened?” Porsha asks and rushes around the counter, pulling me into an embrace. I breathe in the familiar scent of her almond body lotion and marvel at the turn my life has taken in the last three months.

She’s a safe place. She’s proven that in the few months I’ve known her. She’s got rough edges, but they’re never ever used on the people she loves. I can trust her And Ineedto tell someone.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is so right. I’m just where I should be. And so is he. The man singing that…he’s the love of my life. And I’m the love of his. That song is about us.”

“Theloveof your life?” she repeats slowly.

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