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Screaming Infidelities: chapter one
"Your hair, it's everywhere.
Screaming infidelities
And taking its wear."
-Dashboard Confessional
Edward:
"I'm so tired, why am I always so God-damned tired?" She whispers, and her head falls onto my shoulder. Her hair brushes my cheek and the television is muted on a station with static.
I put my arm around her small body and rub my hand up and down her arm, she has goose bumps. She turns towards me and the mattress moans in protest.
"Life?" I offer. She looks at me and her eyes are emotionless, like there's nothing there. I run a finger along her cheekbone and then trace the dark circles under her eyes.
"We were so good, weren't we?" Her eyes fill with water; she tilts her head towards the ceiling and blinks hard. I can't help but notice that she's using the past tense, and in my gut there's a sharp pain that insists this whole relationship will soon be in the past tense. She grabs my hand that's rubbing her arm and puts it on her chest. I want to say something, I want to tell her that we were never good, but she shakes her head.
"We can do this," she tells me, and her bottom lip is trembling and she is still staring at the ceiling and her eyes are sill nothing. "We can do this," she whispers again and then puts her hand over mine and squeezes.
"Please," she begs, but she's still not looking at me and there is no desperation, there is no longing.
I take a deep breath and pry my hand from hers. I sit up. She makes a quiet sound that rests at the top of her throat and I can't believe I ever thought we were good.
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask my hands, they're sitting in my lap patiently, twisting and untwisting. When did my life become so complicated? It's not even my life anymore – my eyes have become a gateway to some else's world. In my life I have no problems; I am perfect because everything is perfect.
"No," she answers after a few seconds and I know that when I look at her eyes, there will be nothing.
I look at the carpet-covered floor and her clothes that blanket it. She crawls to the foot of the bed and looks at the window, the blinds are closed.
"You're going to leave anyways, aren't you?" She asks, and her hand clutches the comforter to her chest.
"I don't give you enough credit." I note; after all this time I finally realize how intuitive she is.
"Enough credit for what?" She mumbles like she doesn't care, but her eyes are on my face.
"Anything," I pause. "Everything."
I push myself out of the bed and grab my crinkled jeans from the rocking chair her grandfather made her. I put on my navy shirt and she gets off the bed.
Belt.
Wallet.
Keys.
Cell phone.
"Do you know where I put my jacket?" I ask and my voice is thick, the kind of voice that's comes with being sick, except I'm not sick.
"You took it off in the car," she replies, and I know that when I find it there will be strands of her hair on it.
I nod and start towards the door, her hand wraps around the top of my arm and I turn back towards her. She has the comforter wrapped around her like a towel.
"Tell me you loved me," she commands, her voice is strong in a way it hasn't been for months.
"You know I never loved you," I can't look at her lifeless eyes, so I look down.
She drops her hand like I've brunt her and takes in a sharp breath. She twists the ring on her finger back and forth, a nervous habit.
"I loved you," she admits and I nod, because I know. "I love you," she revises and then shakes her head and wipes under her eyes.
"You should love your husband," I tell her and this time it's her who nods, because she knows.
"Will I see you again?" She asks, but before I can answer she shakes her head, "No, I know."
"I'm going to buy you a new comforter." I tell her and she doesn't ask why, maybe because she already knows why. I don't care; I just want the screaming infidelities to be gone.
"Where will you go?" She wonders and I shrug because I don't know where I'll go, all I know is that I'm going.
"Not sure, but I can't stay here." I answer.
"Because of me? You can't stay here because of me?" She wants me to say it aloud; she wants to be the reason behind my actions.
"Yes." I laugh without humor and then turn to leave again; I'm not going to turn back this time.
"New York," She says quietly and I stop, but don't turn. "You'd like New York; it's a lot like San Francisco. You told me once that you love San Francisco, so you'd probably like New York," she babbles.
"Then why wouldn't I just go to San Francisco?" I ask and stare at the door handle.
"Because I know you, and you're going to go somewhere you've never been before," she tells me and I almost smile.
"Bye Tanya," I say and wrap my hand around the door handle. It's cold.
"I'd say goodbye Edward, but it's not good," she tells me and I walk outside, the door shuts behind me. I hear the deadbolt slide home.
"No, it's not," I whisper and walk to my car.
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and then call information; I get connected to the airport after a minute. I book a flight for New York, it leaves tomorrow afternoon.
AN: Like it, hate it? Let me know what you think! Next chapter is in Bella's POV.