Author's Note: I've been away from Fanfiction for quite some time. I don't really know how I got back here, but here I am. Fanfiction is where my writing first found a home, and I am so beyond excited to be returning.
This story is something that's been in my mind for a while. I've found myself searching for stories to read that are just like it, but I've never found one. Toni Morrison once said that if there's a story you want to read that hasn't been written yet, then it's your job to write it. So here I am.
Thanks for joining me.
Sitting in a lecture hall that seats 147 students usually makes Bella Swan feel right at home. Her pale gray sweatshirt and average-fitting jeans have never attracted much attention, especially from college twenty-somethings in an intro class that is most commonly used to fill the "philosophy" column on their Distribution of Credits spreadsheet.
But in truth, Bella has never felt more out of place in her life.
"What can we take away from this reading, then?" Dr. Lister asks from the podium at the bottom of the theater-like hall. "What is Kant arguing for here - and more importantly, why is he arguing it?"
In front of Bella, three rows of students stare at him wordlessly, and five more rows echo that silence behind her. The girl sitting next to her has her headphones in, having thread the wire up through her sleeve and out from her shoulder. A vague, soft sound of pencils scraping against paper whispers around the room as everyone copies from the presentation, ignoring their professor's words entirely.
Bella leans over her notebook, blue pen in hand, scribbling every word before Dr. Lister changes the PowerPoint slide and the bullet points are gone forever. This class is kicking her ass, and they haven't even taken the midterm yet. She isn't familiar with this feeling of confusion, the complete lack of understanding that she feels when she listens to philosophy lectures. She has no idea what the difference between Utilitarianism and Kantianism is. She has no idea where the boundary is between ethics and logic, if there even is a boundary at all.
For Bella, a student who's lowest grade on her college transcript is a B after five and a half semesters (and that was, of course, only because she got the flu during Fall 2015 and never quite caught up in Calculus 001), Dr. Lister's class was threatening her GPA -
and her chances at a good graduate program.
Dr. Lister is apparently finished with waiting for a response. He glances at his watch. "Perhaps I'll leave you with that today," he says. "Food for thought, and what not. On Thursday, we'll be having a guest speaker. Dr. Carlisle Cullen of Harborview Medical Center will be here to talk to you about the use of embryonic stem cell research to treat things like syphilis and muscular dystrophy, and I'll be giving you a quiz on the ethical questions that come into play here."
Notebooks flick closed, backpacks zip, and students stand before he's even shutt his laptop.
Bella packs her things, carefully placing her blue notebook behind the green one she'd already used that morning. Her textbook, smaller than her notebooks in width and height, returns to its spot in front of them.
"This topics paper isn't due until, like, next Tuesday, right?" Headphones Girl asks as she stands. One earbud falls from its perch as she turns her head to meet Bella's gaze.
Bella reaches into the front pocket of her bag and opens a pocket-sized planner, complete with color-coded due dates and homework assignments. "Uh, next Wednesday, actually. It's an online submission."
Her lecture neighbor walks away, not bothering to thank her. Bella tries not to let it bother her.
The sun is shining through the windows, but it's unexpectedly chilly when Bella gets outside. She wraps her scarf around her neck. Its gray color doesn't quite match that of her sweatshirt.
"I need a coffee," comes an urgent voice from her left. Jessica Stanley is leaning against the brick pillar that holds the University of Washington's school plague.
"The food court is that way," Bella says, pointing.
But Jessica is already walking towards the parking lot. She passes her own car, a silver Ford Fusion, and tosses her backpack into the backseat. Before Bella even has her car keys in hand, she's yanking on the passenger door's handle impatiently. "I have an hour and a half until my O'chem lab starts," she calls.
The lights on Bella's red Buick Encore blink as she unlocks it, and her friend is already fixing her lipstick in the mirror behind the visor when she gets inside. Bella sighs. "What happened this time?"
"What?"
"With Mike. What happened this time?"
Jessica stares down at her hands, twisting her fingers in her lap. "He's not transferring yet."
"I thought he bought an apartment in Seattle."
"He did," she says. "We did."
"So he's just going to leave you with the rent for a whole semester?"
Jessica turns her head to stare out the window, biting her lip. Two cars drive by on their way to the parking lot's exit. "He's doing his best," she says. "I guess."
Bella carefully backs out of her parking space, head turned at an awkward angle as she strains to see behind her. "Jess, your rent is six hundred per month. How many more hours can you pick up at Red Apple before your grades start to slip?"
"I know."
Bella pauses, shifting the Encore into drive. She stares at her friend for a moment, analyzing the crease that's formed between Jessica's eyebrows. Bella tries to remember a time when stress wasn't written all over her face. "I know you don't want to hear me say it again," Bella says, "so I won't. But I'm thinking it."
Bella has lost track of the number of times she's suggested that Jessica end this one-sided relationship. She thought she'd finally gotten through to her when Mike Newton missed his girlfriend's high school graduation because a group of his friends from Wichita State University wanted to have a drunken weekend in Florida, but Jessica picked him up from Sea-Tac Airport when his flight landed the following Monday at 5 a.m.
Then came the promise of transferring back to the Seattle area to finish his computer science degree.
"I just have to wait until the lease is up on my apartment," Mike said at Jessica's backyard grad party in Forks. "Then, I'm back, baby."
As the disappointments racked up over the past two years, Bella always crossed her fingers that Jessica will come to her senses, realize that she's being taken advantage of - and worse, taken for granted. They're Juniors now, degree audits scheduled and Senior internship applications submitted. And they're both still waiting.
As they turn onto Ninth Avenue, Bella spies a parking spot a block away, but a red light forces her to break. The lunchtime traffic is always bad in downtown Seattle. Jessica jumps out and dashes onto the sidewalk when all four lights turn red and give pedestrians the right-of-way, and she's already putting quarters in the parking meter when Bella shifts into park.
The line at Cream and Crumbs is nearly out the door, but they wouldn't dream of going anywhere else. There's something cozy about the atmosphere of a privately-owned coffee shop, something warmer than the hain coffee store down the street. The bell on top of the door rings as they enter, and Sue Clearwater looks over at them from behind the counter, where she's instructing her newest employee on using the register.
As they inch forward in line, Bella's phone rings in her bag, and Jessica gives her a knowing smile. "Tell her I say hi, okay?"
Bella grins. "Order me an iced latte, please? With -"
"Sugar, but no flavor," Jessica finishes. She gives a thumbs-up. "Gotcha."
Bella's phone is already to her ear, and she heads for the exit. The bench right outside the door is empty, so she takes a seat as the green light in front of the shop turns yellow.
"Tell me all about it," her mother says before Bella can offer a greeting. Renee Dywer has never been one to beat around the bush.
Bella plays dumb. "All about what?"
"The interview!" Renee hollers. "I'm choking from the suspense! Clue me in!"
Bella watches as an elderly woman walks her pug across the street. "Well, I'm trying not to get my hopes up," she says, "but honestly, I think it was the best interview of my life."
"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!"
"She was really impressed with my resume," Bella says. "She said they only have two openings, but I really think we made a connection." Bella leans back, thinking about how welcome this caffeine will be. After an 8 a.m. interview with the layout editor of the Seattle Metropolitan magazine, she'd sped quickly to her 9:30 a.m. lecture, followed by a 10:30 class and a staff meeting with the students at The Daily, the University of Washington's student-run campus newspaper, for which Bella serves as the editor of the Features section. After two years of juggling a double-major in Communications and Journalism, Bella is finally taking steps towards her career.
"When will you hear if you got it?"
"She said she'll call me by Monday."
"Oh, Bella, I'm so proud of you!" her mother says. "Now, everytime you call me, my heart's gonna jump out of my chest, thinking you're calling to tell me you got the job. I can't wait to tell Phil."
Bella bites her lip. "He's not there?"
"He just ran out to get some groceries," Renee answers. In the background, Bella hears a microwave beeping. Her mother breathes deeply into the phone, presumably as she heaves herself out of a chair, and her breath stays shallow for a few moments.
Bella closes her eyes, scolding herself for allowing it to be so easy to forget her mother's condition. "How are you feeling today?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Renee says, but she's still out of breath. "Oh, shit. Hold on, sweetie. I have to put the phone down. My lunch is ready. I have to take this cannula off so I can get to the kitchen."
"What do you mean, take it off?"
But her mother has already set her cell phone down, and Bella hopes it doesn't get eaten by the couch cushions. For a minute and 43 seconds - Bella counts - the other line is silent. Then, "Okay, I'm back," and heavy breathing.
"Mom," Bella scolds. "How many times do I have to tell you not to take your oxygen off? Why couldn't you wear it into the kitchen?"
"Phil accidentally ran over my 50-foot tubing with the vacuum yesterday," her mother answers. She gives a little laugh, but it's with shallow breaths. "He felt so bad. OxyPal is sending me a new set, but I have to use the 25-foot spare tubing until tomorrow or Thursday."
"Mom."
"I know, I know. It was only for a minute, though. I'm sitting down now."
"When's your next appointment?"
Renee sighs. "I go for chemo again on Friday." Lung cancer has been attacking her for seven months, and while two months ago remission was in sight, now the doctors aren't so sure.
The door to Cream and Crumbs opens, and Jessica emerges, double-fisting. She sits down next to Bella and peers up at the sky, eyeing the dark clouds that seem to threaten rain. She hands Bella her styrofoam, and Bella steals a peek at the clock on her phone. "Please be careful, Mom," she says. "Especially when Phil isn't home. I don't want you falling down the steps again."
"Oh, honey, I learned my lesson the first time," Renee says. "I'm not strong enough to take the stairs on my own anymore. I know that."
Bella stares at an ant crawling across the sidewalk. A driver honks angrily as a yellow Beetle takes too long to make a left turn. "I love you," she says. "Please take care of yourself."
"I love you, too, Bella. Don't worry about me so much."
Bella wishes that Phoenix wasn't so far from Seattle. "I'm coming down for Thanksgiving," she says. "Charlie is going fishing with Billy Black, anyways."
"I can't wait!" Renee hollers. "I miss you, sweetie. But I'm so proud of you. You're doing what you love."
Bella's eyes are stinging when they hang up. She takes a sip of her latte.
"How is she?" Jessica asks.
"She's in a lot of pain, and she can't breathe," Bella says. "Not that she would ever actually say that. I can just tell."
"Do you regret staying at UDub?"
"No," Bella answers. "But yes, at the same time. But I wouldn't have had the opportunity at Arizona State, and she didn't want me to miss out." Bella looks down at her hands. "She's selfless. And I guess I'm selfish."
"Oh, you are not," Jessica says. "You're getting ready for a career, Bella. You're taking care of yourself. I know your mom, and she's relieved to know that you can stand on your own feet, without her or Charlie or anyone supporting you. Knowing that you can take care of yourself is comforting to her."
"Yeah," Bella says. "But every time she calls, I worry more."
On Thursday, Bella finds herself in her usual Ethics seat at 10:23 a.m. Headphones Girl was already there when Bella arrived, making Bella almost skip her row because she automatically looks for the first empty row in the middle to find her spot, as that has historically been the case all semester.
As she pulls her notebook and pencil out of her backpack, she hears Headphones Girl talking to the blonde who sits behind her. "I heard he's bringing his son," she's whispering. "He went here for his undergrad degree. Edward Cullen. He's the redhead in those photos outside the chemistry labs in the Life Sciences Building."
"What pictures?" the blonde gasps. "I haven't seen them!"
"His senior project was that thing with stem cell research on the paralyzed lab rats," Headphones Girl answers. "It was nominated for a Nobel Prize. He should have one that, if you ask me."
Bella pretends to write in her notebook so it doesn't appear that she's listening in. "So, is he staying in Seattle now?" the blonde girl asks.
Headphones Girl shrugs. "I heard he's joining his dad's medical practice. But his dad is a surgeon, so who knows."
On the table, Bella's phone vibrates, and she peers down at the notification. Angela Webber has sent an email to her Daily email address, asking for an extension on her feature about the newly hired advisor in the administration office. Bella quickly opens her phone and begins typing a response, but Dr. Lister's voice echoes around the room.
"Good morning," he says, pounding his hand on the wooden podium. "Today, we welcome our guest speaker, Dr. Carlisle Cullen of Harborview Medical Center. Please give him your full attention, as there will be a quiz on his discussion."
Bella, still staring at her phone, doesn't look up as the doors to the lecture hall open behind her. Everyone turns to stare at the visitor, and dress shoes click as someone descends the wooden stairs.
"Thank you for having me today," a pleasant male voice calls out. His words echo around the large and absolutely silent room. "I'm honored for having received the invitation. I've always enjoyed sharing my knowledge and experiences with young minds."
Out of the corner of Bella's eye, she sees a white lab coat drift past her. She finishes her email and looks up to see pale blonde hair, almost white, on the back of the doctor's head. He's a tall man, and he's very skinny, Bella thinks. He's carrying a briefcase in his left hand and shaking hands with a boy at the end of the first row with his right. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen," he introduces himself. "I've been a surgeon for thirty years, and my specialty is cardiothoracic surgery." He reaches the bottom of the stairs and turns around.
Bella is sure he's had some sort of plastic surgery at some point in his life. His facial structure is flawless, and his skin is the most even shade of pale cream that she's ever seen. His eyes, bright blue, Bella can see from several rows back. Underneath his lab coat, he wears a pale pink dress shirt with a white and burgundy tie, and a blue hospital badge hangs from the pocket.
"Your professor tells me that you've been talking about genetics and the moral obligations that scientists in the medical field are subject to in their work," Dr. Cullen says. He places his briefcase on the vacated podium and shakes Dr. Lister's hand as the professor steps to give the floor to his guest. "He's asked me to talk to you today about embryonic stem cell research. I do have some background on this topic, but I thought I would bring along someone with a more modern experience in this department than my own."
In a way that was both too perfect to have been unrehearsed and too casual to be scripted at the same time, the lecture hall doors opened once again, and a different pair of dress shoes clicked against the floor as it closed.
The room of 147 students lift their previously drooping, bored heads, turning collectively to stare at some spot behind Bella. She feels a blush start to creep up her neck, feeling uncomfortable that she's suddenly in everyone's line of vision.
"Oh, my god," Headphones Girl whispers. "There he is. Oh, my god."
"Many of you might know of my son," Carlisle continues, raising a hand to the upper part of the staircase that runs between Bella's section and the one to the far left. "He's a University of Washington alum. I think you have some fond memories here, don't you, son?"
"Absolutely," a charming voice says right above Bella's head. "Through grad school and my residency, I often missed the hours I spent in the laboratories here. The atmosphere is so much more relaxed."
"Dr. Edward Cullen, pathologist," his father introduces, waving his hand towards his son and breaking into a prideful smile.
The second doctor finally makes it past Bella, and she peeks up to analyze him. He does, indeed, have red hair, styled messily. He wears a lab coat that is much like his father's, except obviously newer. He is taller than his father, a fact that is obvious before the two are even standing next to each other. Bella isn't so sure about the involvement of plastic surgery in Dr. Carlisle Cullen's appearance, now, as she looks at his son's near-perfect bone structure and similarly even creamy skin tone. He's pale, though not quite as pale as his father, with a small rose tint to his cheeks, like he's been walking in the cold for too long.
Dr. Edward Cullen keeps his hands in his pockets as he descends the stairs, not engaging with students as his father did. "Embryonic stem cell research," he calls out to the room. "Well, then. Let's get started."
10/21/18: I'm anticipating bi-weekly updates through November, and then I'm aiming for weekly updates after that, but we'll see. Life happens, but it's good to have goals.
If you're hanging around, thank you. I appreciate you.
See you in Chapter Two.
