Immortality
By Laura Schiller
Based on: The Twilight series
Copyright: Stephenie Meyer
Isabella Marie Black, née Swan
*1990 – +2072
The headstone was very plain, a smooth grey slab of granite, a mound of earth still fresh on top of it. There was no epitaph, no label of 'beloved wife, mother etc.'...it was just what Bella would have wanted. She had always hated fuss of any sort made about her; no doubt she had insisted to her husband and children to make the funeral as quiet as possible.
Edward tipped back his face and let the rain fall, plastering his hair to his head and dripping down his collar. He was immortal, after all; he could not catch pneumonia if he tried. His off-white trenchcoat was more 'off' than ever, spattered with raindrops and mud. His hands were in is pockets. In the misty gray half-light of evening, an observer standing far enough away might easily mistake him for a human.
Suddenly he paused and sniffed. There was a human nearby, smelling of blood, sweat, gasoline, tears and a flowery shampoo. He turned around to see a young woman, walking up the hill past a tall granite angel; she carried a pale pink umbrella, the only touch of bright color far and wide. Her long black hair was damp and wind-tousled, bouncing around her pale face with every step. She wore a long brown parka glistening with wet, and jeans three inches deep in mud.
(Damn this weather...I knew coming back to Forks was a bad idea...at least Grandma's flowers should grow in this. Too bad she'll never see them...wait, who's that guy?)
She caught sight of him and her mouth fell open; her winged eyebrows shot up like birds.
Underneath them, her eyes were brown.
The brown of fertile earth, cinnamon, tree bark in the rain. A shade of brown he would never forget even if he could.
Bella's eyes.
"Who are you?" whispered the girl. Edward Cullen?! No way!
Having had centuries of practice, Edward was the first to regain his composure.
"I'm Edward Cullen...Junior," he fibbed. Perhaps you're talking about my great-uncle; he and his family used to live in Forks. I'm told there is a strong family resemblace."
To his dismay, she snorted. "Yeah, right." she said, raising an eyebrow. "Think I can't smell a vampire when I see one?"
Of course. If Bella had married Jacob Black, their descendants must be werewolves. He backed away, tensing, ready for a fight.
"Hey, relax! I'm not gonna hurt you." The brown-eyed girl held up her hands, her face softening into a smile. "You just startled me, that's all. If you're Edward Cullen, that means you're...one of the good guys, right? So you're not gonna eat me or anything."
Edward relaxed – a little. "I must say, you're pretty tolerant for a descendant of werewolves," he said, considering that their races were sworn enemies.
"I know your story, you see,"she said, her face softening as she glanced toward the headstone. "Grandma told me about how the two of you fell in love...how you left her for her own safety because her blood was just too tempting and she was too fragile for the vampire world. That's when she met Grandpa Jake, you know...he was her best friend, they really loved each other, and he helped her when she was depressed about you. I always wondered what you'd be like, and now you're really here...it's incredible."
Her brown eyes were huge with a kind of awed pity, as if he were an old war hero with medals on his clothes and scars on his body.
I always loved that story. It was so romantic...sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of the girl he loved. And oh, how heartbroken he must feel now she's dead...
Those eyes brimmed over; she brushed them away.
"There is no need to pity me, young lady," said Edward. "I...I did what was right, and I do not regret it. Only...will you do me a favor?"
"Sure." Aww, he really is old-fashioned. Just like she described him. Young lady!
"Answer me one question: was Bella happy?"
The young girl twirled her umbrella, her memories fast-forwarding past like a VHS rewinding. Bella as an old woman, grey-haired and fragile as a little bird, walking arm-in-arm with an equally aged Jacob Black. Bella scandalizing her sons and daughters by riding a motorcycle well into her seventies. Bella reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to her grandchildren in a plummy British accent. Bella cutting a mountain of chocolate cake at her retirement party, having taught English and History at Forks High School for forty years. Bella staring out the window in her rocking chair with a dreamy, melancholy look on her face. Bella and Jacob shuffling through a waltz at their oldest grandson's wedding, teasing each other about their clumsiness, and later, her head resting against his chest.
"Yes," she said finally. "Not all the time, of course, but that's normal. Grandpa Jake helped her a lot – 'putting her back together', she said. By the time I came around, she talked about you as if you were Prince Charming – once upon a time in a land far, far away."
In the girl's mind, he caught another memory of Bella.
"Come here, Jaci, sit down and listen to me. I know it's hard and I know you're in a lot of pain right now. But you must understand, it won't always feel like this."
"But – but I loved him so much...I thought he was The One, you know? How could he take her to the winter formal after he promised to go with me?
She hugs me, her warm scent of cotton, baking bread and freesias calming me almost in spite of myself.
"That's the thing about being human," she says, stroking my hair. "We change. Our thoughts change, our feelings change. When I was your age, I felt just the same – like I'd never get over Edward, and I didn't even want to. I was in denial about Jake for the longest time, telling myself I could never love anyone, that it would be a betrayal when it was just my human nature. But the human heart is a lot tougher than it looks, Jaci; it will heal, and it will look out for happiness, and when someone leaves you, you have to remember – at the risk of sounding cliché – it's not the end of the world, sweetie."
"But what about werewolves who imprint? Or vampires who stay with the same mate forever? Doesn't that mean there's only one true love for each of us?"
She smiles. "It's not about whom you love," she says, "It's how you love – whether or not you choose to commit to a person, to share your life with him for better or for worse. Vampires aren't like us – they don't grow, they don't change, like living ice statues of themselves. Once an emotion takes hold of them, it's stuck there. We humans are different – we choose to love each other, one day at a time. True love, as you call it, can happen more than once – Lord knows it happened to me. When it does, you should treasure it, but whatever happens, never lose hope."
The girl, Jaci, wiped away another tear.
Grandma...I hope, wherever she is, there are plenty of books and rowdy werewolf kids to chase after. I miss her so much.
Edward felt reassured, and at the same time, deeply grateful for these glimpses into Bella's life. She really had changed, grown wise and perceptive in a way he had never known her. If he had turned her then, as she had begged him to do, she would still be the Bella he remembered – reckless, impulsive, by turns self-absorbed and self-effacing. A girl who whined and complained at the idea of giving her a birthday party, who once walked into a vampire's lair with nothing but a can of pepper spray, who fell in love with the monster who thirsted for her blood. An eternal teenager, doomed to that same soul-burning torment in Edward's throat, which he would not wish upon his worst enemy.
"It was the hardest thing," he said softly. "The hardest thing I've ever had to do...but I know it was right. It was all for her sake."
Jaci nodded. "I know," she said. "And...I want to thank you, Mr. Cullen. Thank you for...for letting her go. If you hadn't, none of us Blacks would be here today," with a wry smile and a shrug.
"That would be a loss, indeed," he replied, with a sudden rush of warmth for this child. "And I thank you, Jaci. For your memories. Take care."
She stepped forward to hug him, but then stopped herself, out of consideration for his vampirism. Better not test his self-control too far. Instead she nodded and waved, and he watched her trudge back down the hill, trailing her scent of warm blood and flowers as she went.
He pictured Forks and La Push overrun with a whole clan of Bella's descendants, and smiled a bittersweet smile to think that this was a better, purer immortality than any he could have given her.
He remembered her blush, the softness of her skin, the thrumming of her heartbeat, the warm caress of her breath. She's immortal to me, he thought.