SUMMARY: This is a songfic to the song "Let Me Sign" by Robert Pattinson. It's kinda sad, spiritual, etc. E/B
RATED: T. Although there is no sex, or curse words (that I can remember) the subject matter is a little touchy and I don't think is positively okay for preteens, however it's not horrible, either.
DISCLAIMER: I, obviously, do NOT own The Twilight Saga; any characters, events, places, scenerios, etc. all belong to Stephanie Meyer; I, also, do NOT own most of the places used in the story.
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The sun was low in the sky when Edward Anthony-Mason Cullen entered the Rosehill Cemetery in Chicago, Illinois on September 19, 2012. He walked briskly, his gray peacoat protecting him from the chill of the wind, the light from the sun glowing off his coppery hair; he swung his arms jovially – a dozen yellow tulips in one hand, and a dozen blush roses with pink tips in the other – whilst humming the tune to Led Zeppelin's 'Dazed and Confused'.
He came up to the crypt on the East hill, clearing out the old flowers, and replacing them with the new before he neatly dusted off the marble bench, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his jacket, he pulled up the music playlist entitled MUM; it wasn't until the soft crooning of 'Hey Jude' began to fill the quiet surroundings that he cleared his throat, and, finally, spoke.
"Hey pretty lady," he smiled, "Thought the good Lord could use a break," he chuckled. "Ali couldn't make it, she had some big project to work on – she sent the tulips, though, and promised to fly in after her finals before turkey day. Gobble, gobble, right? Ha!"
Edward rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet, deciding to talk a little more about Alice – never one to talk about himself much. "Ali made me a damn scrapbook for our birthday this year," he lit a cigarette, smiling as Bon Jovi filled the air. Edward liked coming later in the afternoon when he visited his mother, he liked to play his playlist of 70's and 80's rock that was Elizabeth Cullen's beloved; it helped him to feel closer to her, again.
"I'm still, like … blah, ya know?" He sighed, heavily, as he ashed his cigarette onto the ground behind the bench. "I graduated, it seems like, forever ago, and I'm co-owner of two amazing restaurants, but I do nothing ma. Nothing! I don't know," he smiled as he rose from his position on the bench. "I better get going mama, it's getting cold. I love you, pretty lady – I'll see you before I go home."
He walked to the crypt that would, one day, hold his entire family, the words 'Cammini sopra qui alla tonalita amara, lo spostero nelle miei e saprete che siete conservato' etched above the entrance, and leaned forward, gently placing a kiss on the plaque.
Elizabeth Ann Mason-Cullen
May 1, 1962 – September 19, 2010
Beautiful daughter, granddaughter, wife, and mother.
On his way out, Edward noticed the young brunette standing in the distance under an old, twisted, and broken tree; he had seen her last year when he visited his mother, and the year before when he stopped in the day after his mother's funeral. They never spoke - he didn't even know her name – but every couple of weeks he dreamed about her; he couldn't get her out of his subconscious. He was almost to the gate when he looked up and noticed her watching him – her long brown curls blowing around her face, her eyes illuminating from the light from a nearby lamp post; she was wringing her hands nervously, twisting them back and forth – she lifted her hand into the air, waving to him.
Edward waved back, before turning around and exiting the cemetery gates.
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That night Edward dreamed he was back in the cemetery, he could see the woman, yet again, standing in the distance by that rickety old broken down tree; such a monstrosity, really. When he saw her this time he waved to her first, instead of her returning his wave she raised her arm, pointing out to him, and spoke.
"Walk on over here to the bitter shade," her voice was like smoke curling out and around him, and as she continued, the once calm sky began to take on a more angry tone. "I will wrap you in my arms, and you will know you have been saved."
For the first time in Edward's dream, he began walking to her – the young woman's hand still pointing out at him as he drew closer and closer. When he finally stopped in front of her, she would not look at him, only turning her head back to the headstone sticking out of the ground. At this point the sky had opened up, and the storm was getting worse, but it didn't bother him as the mystery woman who had bewitched him years prior slipped her arm in his, leaning her head against his shoulder and pointed to the headstone as she wept softly. He looked down at the headstone in question, reading the etched calligraphy with no problems,
Renee Marie Swan
May 16, 1966 – September 20, 2010
Beloved daughter, wife and mother – gone to her heavenly Father's arms.
Edward woke with a start, whispering to himself, "Let me sign."
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All throughout the next day it was very hard for Edward to focus on any task at hand. The fact when he woke up from his dream there was a raging storm outside didn't help matters much either, and he couldn't shake the ominous headstone that featured in his dream. He had never wondered the cemetery, there was no way of knowing who this Renee Marie Swan was, or if anything on that headstone from his dream was truth.
Still, by late evening he couldn't shake the images from his head, and decided a drink before bed would do the trick. He dressed in a pair of destroyed jeans and a fitted tee, pulling his gray pea coat on as he exited his hotel room; upon entering the lobby of the hotel his stomach started to flutter, an uneasy feeling creeping in as he stepped out into the night – the wet air sending a chill down his spine. He walked two blocks south, entering a small blues bar that he frequented quite often when in Chicago for work.
He ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and hunkered down into an empty booth towards the back, the mellow sounds of blues floating around him; he lit a cigarette, even though by the looks of the cigar smoke-filled room before him, he probably would receive enough nicotine to last him a week. As he puffed on his cigarette he scanned the bar, not knowing what for, but knowing something was here, and that's when he saw her – the mystery girl from the cemetery. She sat at a high top across the room, nursing what looked like a martini; had she seen him, too? Edward sat, frozen to the spot – what would he say if he approached her?
"Hey, how are ya? I'm Edward Cullen, I've seen you at the Rosehill cemetery every year for the past three years … Oh yea, and yesterday you waved to me."
It sounded foolish, even to him, but he had to know her; she haunted his dreams constantly for three years now. As he watched her, he noticed the red in her hair, the poutyness of her lips, her creamy white skin, and her eyes were brown and full of sadness. Suddenly, as if he had called out to her, the woman snapped her head up and looked in his direction, tilting her head as if for a better view. Edward should've felt embarrassed at being caught ogling this woman, and in a way he kind of did, however he was unable to take his eyes off of her as she rose from her seat as fluidly as a ghost might, and made her way to him.
"Hi," Edward stated once she made it to his table, gesturing for her to sit down.
"Hello," she spoke quietly, as if not wanting to disturb their surroundings.
"I'm Edward Cullen," he offered his hand, smiling when she shook it.
"I'm Bella," was all she offered in return.
"I've seen you before, at the cemetery," he stated; might as well get it over with.
"Yes. That's why I came over," her voice was just like in his dream from the night before and it startled him for a moment. "I thought you looked familiar."
The night carried on, the two of them talking about their lives since college and what they really wanted to do with it. It was nearly two a.m. when they rose from the table, she reached for his arm, but he gave her his hand instead.
"Come back to my hotel with me, Bella. I dream of you all the time, ever since the first time I saw you – please, come home with me tonight, lay me down easy, let me understand."
"Can't fight the devil," was all she said, smiling shyly, as they left the bar and headed back to his hotel.
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The next morning Edward awoke in his hotel room alone, there was no note from Bella, no explanation as to why she left without waking him. He was extremely upset by this, trying to think back to anything she might have said the night before concerning her and her plans today, but nothing came to him. He opened the curtains to his hotel room, the sun shining brightly through, not a rain cloud in the sky – which was good since he would be going to say 'Goodbye' to his mother today; maybe Bella would be there and he could give her his number, maybe.
As Edward hopped in the shower, he thought back to the night before – to bringing Bella back to his hotel room. After letting them in he realized he was out of ice and quickly went down the hall for some more, unable to think about anything other than her the entire time. She was like a plague on his brain, but now he finally knew her, finally had her. He smiled to himself as he washed the shampoo from his hair.
"I'm as smitten as a schoolboy."
As he walked back into his room, towel secured around his waist, he stopped to stare at the bed, wishing he had walked out of the bathroom with the sight he was gifted with on his return from the ice machine. She was laid there, in his bed, propped up on her side with her legs folded beneath her, wearing nothing but the black slip she had worn under her dress – she looked irresistible. She reached out for him, and at that moment Edward knew he was spiraling down in her spell, not wanting to return.
"Can't fight the devil," she had purred, and he agreed with her as he climbed onto the bed, her body warm and soft and molding to his.
Edward finished packing his things, taking one last look back at the bed he noticed something black peeking out from under the bed. He walked over quickly, grabbing it up, it was Bella's slip; he raised it to his nose, inhaling her earthy scent and tucked the slip into his suitcase in hopes he'd be able to return it to her. His walk to the cemetery that day was surreal; everything seemed right and in its place.
When he reached the crypt in which his mother was buried he told her all about his night before and promised to keep her updated on the situation before he gingerly kissed her plaque and began making his way down the hill. He looked over to where the tree was, hoping to see Bella there, but to no avail; he began to walk closer to the gates when he stopped and turned around, heading to the headstone in which Bella always visited.
"I gotta know if it says Renee on there or not," he muttered to himself.
As he reached the small clearing where the headstone sat, close to the twisted tree, he knelt down, running his trembling hand along the headstone – it was, in fact, Renee's. He felt ill for a moment upon seeing it confirmed. He made to stand, but noticed a second headstone spaced a few feet from Renee's, further in the shade of the tree, he knelt to see who it belonged to. As soon as he did, he had wished he hadn't; it felt like someone had sucker punched him right in the gut, his mouth filled with saliva as the feeling of nausea washed over him.
"No," he choked out.
Isabella "Bella" Marie Swan
September 13, 1987 – September 19, 2010
In loving memory of a daughter lost too soon.
"Can't fight the devil, let me sign" – Bella Swan
"Did you know Bella?"
Edward jumped, not having realized someone had joined him, but continued to look down, silently, for a moment. If ever a Twix moment, this was it.
"I knew her very briefly," Edward spoke quietly, trying not to let the emotions break him.
"I'm Charlie. Charlie Swan, Bella's father – you look familiar, who are you," he asked as he watched Edward closely.
Edward swallowed, his throat feeling rather dry all of a sudden. "My name's Edward, we … uh … we actually went to high school together, very briefly … before my father was transferred to Seattle."
"Really," Charlie exclaimed. "Were y'all close?"
It all came flooding back to him, the mousy freshman that watched him from afar in the cafeteria – Alice had tried to convince him to go talk to her, but he never had the nerve. "She likes you Eddie – as in likes-likes you." What the hell had just happened to him?
"No. Not really … she was a freshman, my sister and I were sophomores – we kind of had crushes on each other, would say hello in passing, but nothing serious," as Edward spoke he continued to stare at the rose colored headstone in front of him. "Could you tell me what happened, how she passed away?"
Charlie stood quietly for a moment, rocking back and forth on his heels before he spoke, had Edward not been waiting with baited breath he might not have heard him at first, but after clearing his throat, he began to speak louder. "Her mom, Renee, had just picked her up from the airport – Bella had moved to Port Angeles, Washington to work as a journalist for some new paper. I had wanted to be there to pick her up, I hadn't seen my babygirl in a year, but I wasn't able to get out of the office."
Edward closed his eyes as he listened to Charlie continue his story. "Renee and I had been separated for about two months at that point but we hadn't told Bells, yet – I just couldn't make Renee happy, you know? She had taken up drinking and taking Xanax, everyday it was an endless cycle," Charlie sniffled, wiping his nose with his handkerchief. "She was drunk, according to the doctor at the hospital … They were coming up over La Push Drive, where it crosses with Black Avenue and she didn't stop at the red light. She hit a small SUV, who had the right of way, they were turning left and she hit them doing 75 mph. Other cars were involved, but it was mostly due to aftermath, slamming on breaks to not be involved."
Charlie stopped, taking a deep breath, but Edward didn't need him to finish the story, he knew it all too well. The SUV that had been t-boned slammed into a brick wall, engulfing the car in flames, the driver stuck because of the steering block breaking off into her lap; the other car, Renee's car, fishtailed and hit a lamp post head on … causing the passenger to be ejected from the car, dying before EMT made it.
"She …"
"You don't have to finish the story, Mr. Swan – I know how it ends … my mother was the driver in the SUV," Edward wiped the tears from his eyes as he leaned forward, kissing Bella's tombstone just as sweetly as he would his mother's.
"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Swan," Edward continued as he stood up, offering the man his hand. "Perhaps I'll see you, again, sometime."
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A/N:
Thank you all for reading - Idk what made me kill off Bella in the end - originally she lived, but at the very end I just decided to flip it. In my way, it kinda makes this story one of those that makes you not want to wait until it's too late to do something you want or go after someone you like. We never know what tomorrow might bring.
The Rosehill Cemetery is a real cemetery located in Chicago, Illinois - it looked very beautiful from the pictures that were posted online. xxxxxxx