Alcohol, Strawberries and Aftershave.
By Cacheli.
Chapter One -Alcohol.
Have you ever loved someone so much that she turns to be the most important thing in your life? I have, I do.
My beloved wife is the meaning of my life, she's my everything. So every night, when she comes back around three in the morning, smelling like alcohol and another man's aftershave; I say nothing, and just hold her next to me, humming to her while she sleeps. Because I love her, and she's the most important thing in my life.
I remember exactly when this nightscapades started. It was right after our first anniversary as husband and wife. I was being whipped at work, leaving early in the morning when she was still sleeping and returning home at late hours in the night, falling on the bed without even looking if she was by my side or not.
Our special date didn't make a big difference to my boss. I arrived home at two in the morning, and a strong smell of aromatic candles filled the place. I looked around, but found none of these candles. I went to the kitchen. There was a note in the counter.
Edward;
Your favourite is on a tapper over the oven: pasta with Bolognese sauce.
Enjoy your dinner darling…
Oh and by the way, happy one year anniversary. Hope you spent it better than I did.
Isabella
I sighed. I knew she was disappointed, but there was nothing I could do now. I heated my cold dinner and ate in silence. Quarter of an hour later, when I was cleaning up the table, I found the aromatic candles, there were in the garbage bag. All of them were consumed onto half way trough. I sighed again. She really did know how to make me feel guilty; she could've thrown them somewhere else but decided to throw them in the kitchen where she was sure I would see them.
I started getting undressed as I climbed up the stairs onto our room. Once I got there I threw a pair of pyjama pants on and chucked the grey suit aside. I climbed up to bed, and there she was, curled up in a ball in her side of the mattress, facing the wall, giving me her back. She shifted a little when my weight affected the bed. I lay down on my back, my face looking at her back. I heard her sigh.
"Edward?"
"Yes." I said, not knowing what else I could say. 'Sorry for being such a jackass, for letting my boss command my life, sorry, love, I love you. I promise I will put the points on my boss, I will never be late again.'
Of course, I couldn't say that. I needed this job, we needed this job. She was finishing her thesis in literature and language, and her poor job at the coffee shop just wasn't enough.
She sighed again. "Are you listening to me, or are you asleep already?" she said, annoyance clear in her tone.
I realized I was lost in thought.
"Sorry, Bells." I said "I'm just tired. What were you saying?"
She huffed, then I could see her move under the moonlight, her head turned slightly to look at me. Her brown, warm, profound eyes were now cold and dark, piercing into my soul.
She looked hesitant. Then sighed and turned again to face the wall. She shifted a little, curling up a bit more. "Nothing, Edward. Forget it." Her voice sounded just as cold as her eyes had been.
"But–"
"Goodnight, Edward." she said, in a harsh tone.
My voice was gone. "Goodnight." I'm sorry and I love you, happy anniversary.
During the next week, I tried my best to come back earlier from work, though it wasn't really necessary. During those next seven days–I worked on weekends too–when I arrived home she was always fast asleep, thrashing around a little, her hair wet from her now usual night shower.
Finally, on Monday, I was able to come back at a much more reasonable hour, around eleven.
I left my suitcase next to the door and loosened up my tie.
"I'm home!" I yelled, looking around.
No-one answered. I strained to hear possible signs of her being here; the shower, the microwave, the TV, the stereo, the hairdryer. Nothing. Not a peep.
"Bella, Love?" I looked around. The light here in the living-room was on, but the rest of the house was dark.
Where would she be at this hour?
I picked up the phone, and called to her cell-phone. The familiar ringtone came from the kitchen. I went there and turned on the light–there it was, charging over the counter. I sighed and hang up. Maybe she went to buy something for dinner.
Well if that was the case, it wouldn't be long until she came back. I stepped out of the kitchen and went to the living room and turned on the TV. I watched something during the next half hour but I couldn't actually say what it was. I turned to look at the clock every five minutes. Where was she? Finally, when midnight was gone by 15 minutes, my mind started working fast.
What if she was in danger? If she had been in an accident, or if she was assaulted, raped, or–god forbid it–killed?
I shuddered at the thought. Calm down Edward. Think rationally. Where could she be?
One word came to mind: Alice.
The acid in my stomach rising to my mouth, I dialled Alice's number desperately. A groggy high soprano voice answered at the other end of the phone.
"Hello? Who the fuck is it?" I heard her yawn, "Or, better question. Do you want to die?"
"Alice!" I said, my voice hoarse. She reacted immediately. I heard shifting at the other side.
"Ed-Edward? What's wrong?" She said, still a little groggy but a bit more awake than earlier.
"Is Bella there with you?"
"Bella?" she sounded confused. "No… Why? Isn't she with you?"
"No!" I squealed, desperate.
"Gee, calm down lover boy. You checked the bedroom; sure she's not sleeping already?"
I sighed as I climbed up the stairs. "I'm heading in, but I don't think she's there."
"Edward I swear to god that if you woke me up in the middle of the night because you didn't think of checking your own bedroom, I will go right there and kick the crap out of–"
"She's not here."
She hummed. "Her cell-phone?"
"She left it here."
"Ah."
There was silence, and it was driving me crazy.
"Alice?"
"Are her clothes there?"
My heart shrank. "You think she left me?!" I couldn't run fast enough to the closet. All her clothes where there. I breathed again.
"Are they there?"
"Yes." I sat on the bed and ran a hand through my hair.
"Good." She hummed again; I could tell she was more awake now. "Charlie?"
"You think?"
"It's always a possibility. Have you been having problems?"
I hung my head down in guilt. "Yes."
"Ah, well that explains it. She's probably flying down to Forks right now."
"But none of her clothes are missing, neither is her travel bag. Shouldn't she be taking things with her if she's going?" I ran to the bathroom. "Even her toothbrush is here."
"Well, maybe–" I heard a click and a giggle. My heart skipped a beat.
"Alice, SH."
"What?" she asked, bewildered.
"Just, shut up." I ran out of the bedroom and flew down the stairs.
Just as I sat one foot down in the living-room floor, I saw her. She was sitting against the door, her eyes closed, her smile big. She giggled a little more, apparently as a memory ran through her pretty little head.
"She's here, thank you." I said quickly as I hung up. I threw the phone aside on the couch and ran to her. I grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up.
"Bella." I breathed on her face. She shuddered and opened her eyes.
As she looked at me, her eyes were full of guilt, fear, and… remorse? Then, she hiccupped and laughed out loud. I sniffed the air. Alcohol.
I frowned. "Have you been drinking?"
She frowned back. "Well yes I have, is there a problem?"
"It is when you're doing it alone." I scolded.
"And who says I was alone?" she answered back.
"Who were you with?" I asked, bewildered. Alice wasn't. Not that Alice was her only friend, but the only one single and loosen-up enough to be out on a week-day. It surprised me to see she was sleeping already at midnight.
She hesitated, but her tone was sure when she answered, "Alice."
My heart flinched and stopped. I gripped harder on her shoulders, my face surely showing my pain.
"Is something wrong?" She asked, her eyes narrowing at me.
I took a breath to calm down. "Alice?"
"Yes, Alice." She stuttered, she was never a good liar. "Why?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Nothing, nothing at all." I said in a harsh tone as I opened my eyes and let go of her shoulders. I thought I saw a flash of pain cross her eyes, but when her brown orbs smouldered with my own green ones, all I could see was that cold, dark stare from last week.
"I'm going to take a shower." She mumbled, and staggered her way through the living room and up the stairs.
As soon as I heard the shower turn on, I fell to my knees in the same spot I've been the entire time and sobbed. There was something else I smelled in her, apart from her intoxicated breath, the strawberry scent in her hair was mixed up with something more, something else –an indisputably strong and familiar scent, a men's cologne, probably aftershave.
--
That was the night it all started. At first, she would try to come home before I was there, and take a long shower–that was why she was always asleep with her hair wet–but, after nearly a month, and realizing I didn't do a thing to stop her, even when it was obvious I knew what was going on, she stopped covering herself up.
She came back at three or maybe four in the morning, entered the room and barely took off her shoes before throwing herself into bed, not saying a word to me. Everytime, when I was sure she was sound asleep, I reached to her and held her in my arms, breathing in her new characteristical scent: alcohol, strawberries and aftershave.
Such an intoxicating combination, remembering me every step of the way that even though I got to hold her, I had lost her. She wasn't mine anymore, and I was the one to blame for that.
Now, it had been over a year from that unravelling night. She finished her thesis and graduated from literature and languages. I became a workaholic, since my only other more important addiction was slipping away from me.
I never even saw her anymore, except when she reached home in the early morning; tired and reeking of her new striking scent, and I was lying down on our bed, pretending to sleep –since I couldn't really do it until she was at my side–, and she would climb up to bed and sleep, and then I would hold her and sleep until it was my time to go to work.
Sometimes, though, in an adrenaline strike, she would grab the laptop and start typing furiously on it. She's been working on something else since her thesis. Those days she stayed up typing, rubbing her forehead when the headache became to much, and sometimes even turning to look at me, sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes a couple of long minutes, I would stay up with her, analyzing her features as she typed, enjoying her smirks, her giggles, and suffering trough her frowns and curses.
Those short two or three ours in her company were sacred for me. Those days, when she realized the time of my wake up was close, she would sigh and turn off the laptop, then heading off to sleep–like she didn't want to have to deal with me. The moment she fell asleep, I would get up, prepare for work, and as usual, kiss her forehead before leaving.
One day, she came back earlier than usual, and as she walked trough the door, she was beaming. Trough my narrowed eyes I saw her look over at me, taking in my sleeping form and biting her lip. She grabbed comfortable clothes and ran to the bathroom. A short shower later, she was on the bed, typing furiously again, smiling through all the way. At 4.30, she stopped.
Re-reading the last thing she wrote down, she beamed again and closed the laptop, heading off to sleep. Once she was down, as usual, I took her in my arms and hum to her and to myself until I was asleep. I got up again at six, and headed off to work.
Another month passed after that.
And one day there I was, pathetic old me, lying in bed, still awake at 5 in the morning, because she hasn't came back. I rolled over and looked to a wedding picture over at my nightstand. What had happened since that day?
Suddenly, I felt tears whelm up my eyes.
I let myself cry, because reality sank in finally. I couldn't let go of her. It didn't matter how many different scents she would have now, no matter how the only time we spent together was when we were sleeping, no matter what she or I did. I didn't want to let go of her, because I love her. I didn't want to claim justice, because that could mean she would leave, leaving me alone.
And I couldn't live without her.
So, stupid, pathetic old Edward waited for Bella, pathetic old Edward hum to her while she slept, coming back from lying with who-knows-who, pathetic old Edward loved his wife, even though his wife didn't love him back.
Pathetic old Edward was alone at bed at five a.m. in the morning, and his wife probably decided she didn't want to come back anymore.
Pathetic old Edward had been dumped by the meaning of his life.
After a while, six came around, and I called to work to say I wasn't coming, that I wasn't feeling too well. Truth is, I wasn't. My head ached, the acid in my stomach was revolving in my mouth, making me sick, and my head was running two billion miles per hour. Why would she leave now? Why not before? Why not later? Why not never?
I used that day to get back all my lacking sleep. Not that I really did slept a lot. I kept on having nightmares, and waking up startled as hell. Finally, after four p.m., I fell on a dreamless, peaceful dream.
What felt like ten minutes later, I heard the door click and the distant voice of Bella talking to somebody as she came in the house. My heart raced and before I could sum up what the hell was going on, I was out of the bed and flying down the stairs to meet my wife.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, dumbfounded by her. She was here. She didn't left me. She had come back. I fought the urges to ran up to her, to hug her and kiss her senseless. She was talking on her cell-phone, laughing and cheerier than usual. She had a small book in her hand and was looking intently at the cover as she bit her lip and listened to the person at the other end of the line.
"Yes, you're awesome, and you know it." she said, giggling. She waited for an answer and then rolled her eyes. "You heard me… You did." she smirked. "Yes, the most awesome man in the world and so much more… Well, Actually I can think of someone more awesome than you Seth, sorry."
My heart stopped at that. I knew she was unfaithful to me, but listening to her saying it so lightly…
She giggled again as she looked up at were I was standing. Her smile suddenly widened as she looked at me.
"Gotta go Seth, I'll talk to you later." And then she hang up, coming forward to where I was.
"Edward!" She said, cheery.
I almost fell back when I heard her. I didn't know we were dealing with each other now. I couldn't respond, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were fixated on the little book's cover.
She looked up at me now "I went to look for you at your office, but Angela told me you took the day off… That you were feeling ill?" She reached and touched my forehead. I suddenly felt dizzy and let my head fall back against the wall I was standing. "How are you feeling?"
"Well, I've been better." I mumbled, trying to form an encouraging smile, but sure that it turned to a weird face. She lowered her hand and looked back at the book in her hand again. I swallowed, my eyes fixated in the small form as well.
"What's that?"
"A new book." she answered looking up at me, her eyes dancing with… pride? "Just got out today."
I blinked. "Why would you buy such a new book? It must have cost a fortune." I said, astonished. Sure, Bella loved books, but didn't read too many of the new ones generally. She was a girl in love of the classics.
She grinned "Actually, I got it for free." One of my eyebrows shot up, and she continued. "The editor gave it to me as a gift. I wasn't supposed to get a box from these babies until tomorrow."
I was bewildered, "The editor? And why would you want a box full of the same book?"
Her smile was as wide as it could be now, as she handed me the book. "Look at the name of the author."
I took it and skimmed through the cover lightly. The title read: But I love him, and the author was… Isabella Swan Cullen.
My head shot up immediately to look at her. "You... You?"
I thought her mouth would break from how hard she was smiling. "Yes. That's my book. My first one."
I couldn't contain myself. I hugged her. It wasn't just the fact that she had published her first book, that she was being successful in her dream; writing… It was also the fact that she had put Isabella Swan Cullen. She had used my last name, our last name, too, and that raised my hopes up to the sky.
She was a little surprised at my outburst at first, but then hugged me back, moulding her body to mine, like the good old times, two years ago. She was the one to break the hug. She looked awkwardly from the book back to me and vice versa.
"Well, do you want to read it?" she asked, her eyes shimmering. I nodded vigorously, not being able to find my voice from the emotion. "Then I'll leave this copy to you." She smiled shyly. "I'll head off to bed; I'm dead on my feet." She said, and then, to my surprise, reached up and kissed my cheek before sliding beside me and up the stairs.
A few minutes later, I followed suit, climbing up the stairs. When I reached the bedroom, Bella was sound asleep on her side of the bed, her clothes all still on, except for her jacket and her shoes. I smiled and climbed next to her, with the book in my hands. I lied down and looked briefly at her peaceful sleeping form before turning back to the book and opening it on the first page.
"This is dedicated to that special person that lights up my days and nights without even needing to be next to me all the time. I hope you enjoy it love, this one's for you."
My heart clenched. Special person? Who was that special person? Was it a he? What if it was his lover–this so called Seth? I shuddered. Read the book, moron. You can worry about the dedication later.
I looked over at her once again, that familiar peace from whenever she was near filling me again.
I read "Chapter One." And I was completely off.
--
I woke up to small, soft hands shaking me awake. I opened my eyes in a dash and sat up on the bed, looking at the form of my very awake and very smiling wife sitting beside me. I heard a low thud at my other side. I looked back. The book, probably resting over my stomach until recently, was now on the ground. I picked it up and tossed it on the nightstand, then looked back at my smiling Bella. She was still dressed in the same clothes she had when she laid down, and her eyes were dancing with joy.
"Did you read it?" she asked.
I panicked. Oh, silly me. She found me, asleep, with the book closed, no signs of a marked page or anything to tell I was still reading the damn thing… So there were two options: either I hadn't read it all, or either I had finished it –and it was possible, since it wasn't a big book, and I read pretty fast. From the eager in her eyes, it was obvious she expected it was the second.
"Yes." I said, confident.
Her eyes lit up incredibly "And? Did you like it?"
I felt as my ears got distinctively hot. "Yes, Bells, it was beautiful." I said in the warmest tone possible.
She beamed; tears started whelming up her eyes. "And? Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
What kind of question was that? I shrugged and smiled affectionately at her, thinking she could only be referring to the book. "Of course, Bella."
She squealed and launched herself on me, throwing her arms around my neck, and kissing my cheek, my forehead, my jaw, my ear. She sighed against my ear and planted a last kiss there, before shifting a little so we could be both more comfortable to sleep.
"I'm so glad." she whispered, barely audible. I heard her sigh contently this time, and she nuzzled the crook of my neck lightly, her body moulding to mine.
The sensation was exhilarating. I haven't felt her this close in two years. Even when I held her while she slept, it wasn't the same than this. She sighed again before her breathing started regulating.
"Goodnight, Edward." she said, burying her face in my shoulder.
"Goodnight, Bells." I said, and felt her smile as I kissed her hair softly. I smiled too, almost unconsciously –all I could smell in her was that sweet scent of strawberries.
AN: Oh Well! Hope you liked the beggining of ASA. And, I also hope you like long chapters, cause the following ones are certainly longer than this one. ASA will have only three chapters, titled after the correspondant element, and will be completely in EPOV!
So, next comes 'Chapter Two: Strawberries' as you may've figured out. Leave lots lots lots of reviews, and you'll get something really really nice instead! You wanna know what? Well you'll just have to review to find out.
Tip: If you tell your friends to read and review too, you'll get something twice as nice! :)
Cheers!
Cacheli.