Page 135 of The Sound of Temptation

“I can’t. I agreed in that stupid agreement I signed not to do anything that would damage his political prospects. I’ve come too far to fuck it all up now.”

The day I saw that fake IG account, I decided on a whim to counter it by making something real. I created 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. 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.

What started as a whim turned into a mission. And a movement. I have almost half a million followers and that number grows every day. I’ve never shown my face or revealed my real name.

But they know what I stand for. I want to elevate the discussion of beauty beyond the fleeting and unimportant conversations focused on the way we look. I want to give people a reason to speak lovingly about themselves. And to find a way to share that however they can.

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,” Dina’s loud exclamation snaps me out of my daydream.

There’s no music playing. I pour a label of batter on the griddle. Buttermilk. “What song?”

“The one you were humming a 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? I don’t,” I insist.

She presses her fist to her lips and laughs wildly. “Oh my God, are you for real? You’re always humming. And that melody you’ve been humming all week is the same one I heard on the radio right before I came out here.

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

“Since I decided Spotify is too expensive. And good thing because the song debuted today. Hold on let me find it on YouTube.”

“Okay. But I wasn't humming.”

“Here. There’s no video yet, but the song is uploaded.” She comes to stand beside me.

I sigh. “If your pancakes burn, don’t blame me.” I take the phone from her.

The screen is open to a video. There’s no sound, just a picture of an Album cover. It’s made of a tapestry of gold and blue four leaf clovers. The words Blue Clover are written in white across the center. But I can barely see it through the haze of tears in my eyes. The blood is rushing in my ears when the song starts to play.

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

I stumble backward until I reach one of the stools at the island and sit. I 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.

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.

“Are you okay?” Dina asks when it’s over.

“No. Everything is wrong. He’s the love of my life. And I’m the love of his. He named his band after me. That song is about us. And I can’t even call him to say congratulations on your dream becoming reality.”

“Oh honey. I’m so sorry.”

I walk over to her and she opens her arms for me. I hug her, breathe in the familiar scent of her almond body lotion, and say a prayer of thanks that she’s here right now. She’s got rough edges, but they’re never ever used on the people she loves. She’s stuck with me through everything. And today was supposed to be her day.

I pull out of her hold. “Thank you for playing it for me. And I’m fine. I promise”

I walk back to the stove to finish making her pancakes. And because she’s my best friend, she plays the song again without me having to ask.

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