Obsession One-Shot Contest
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2337304/Obsession_Contest
Title: Revolving Door
Your pen name: klutz82
Characters: Jasper, Alice
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. Also, there is mention of physical abuse.
Lyrics that inspired you: The Kills - I Hate the Way You Love
I, I, I can't get full
Please could you take my shakes
And would you hold them still
ob-ses-sion [əb sésh'n, ob sésh'n] – the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.
"Don't go," she begs me.
I look into her tear stained face. I have to get up early the next day for work. My girlfriend has already called me twice, and I can feel the phone in my pants pocket vibrate again. I need to pick up dog food. I haven't ironed my pants for tomorrow yet. I think I have to stop by the ATM. But none of that matters as I look into her dark, pleading eyes.
"Another hour," I nod.
She smiles and jumps onto me, her arms wrapping around my neck and her legs wrapping around my waist. I slowly move my arms around her small body smelling of alcohol and listen to the last of her hiccupping sniffs wrack her body as I move to the couch.
"It was…just an argument. It was an…accident. I just…I just pushed him too far."
I rub circles into her back, but my mouth stays shut; she doesn't need to hear how I told her so. The guy she was dating, James, never sat well in my book, even during the good times. Then they started fighting, and what little credit I gave him fell into the hole he made in the wall just high enough to miss Alice. I opened my mouth then, and she opened the door and kicked me out. We didn't talk for six months after that.
It turned out she tried to leave him, but after a big expensive apology, she took him back. I refused to attend parties where I knew I'd see them together until the Christmas party our mutual friend Rosalie hosted. Bella, my girlfriend, pushed the both of us to talk. We fell right in step; it was just like old times, except when I realized the old times didn't involve an abusive boyfriend. No, they involved forced upon chick flicks.
And now, just two short months later, here I am, trying to mop up the mess. Again.
She leans back to look at me and I can see the bruise starting to form around her left eye. "You're right." I raise an eyebrow, confused. "But I can't. I need him."
"I…didn't…"
"I know, but you did, and I know you're thinking it again." She gives me a sad smile.
I let one of my arms release her and softly wipe away the drying tears. "You deserve someone who treats you like the princess you are," I say, smiling back.
"Like you."
She is confusing my nice guy, boy next door manner with something else. I can see her working it out by the look in her eyes. Should she kiss me softly like that warm summer night we were dared by Emmett when we were thirteen? Should she smash our lips together roughly like New Year's Eve 2004 when celebrated downtown? Or should she just forget about it and let me go back to Bella, the woman I met three months before she met James.
Her eyes close, and I watch her move forward. I don't stop the kiss. It is soft, but it tastes like whiskey.
She hates whiskey. I hate her.
I don't. I hate what she's become.
She was a carefree, laughing, creative woman on her way to becoming the famous fashion designer she always dreamt she'd be. Then, in 2007, she changed. I asked Bella out at the beginning of the summer after many previous failed attempts. Toward the end of the summer, she became involved with James, a man who followed her around like a puppy dog most of her undergraduate years. She said it was cute but a little creepy. I never asked her what made her change her mind. I already knew.
She withdrew, got lost in the world as mine took off. She tore up most of her designs. Or he did; I never figured out which. She got a job at a local restaurant as a waitress and started routinely drinking. Every time I saw her, her eyes dimmed more. And then the bruises started popping up. Stupidly, it took me a year to realize what was happening. Then it took me half a year to say the words that got me kicked out of her life for the other half.
She leans away as the phone vibrates against my thigh again. "Go back to Bella." Her voice is dead. Her eyes are hollow. If I leave, she'll finish off the half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the kitchen table and move on to the one hidden behind the cleaning products underneath the bathroom sink. If I stay, Bella's accepting nature will start to slip and the ring I have hidden in the glove compartment of my car will never get to feel her soft finger.
Alice makes the decision for me and pushes herself off my lap. Walking to the kitchen of the small apartment, she rakes her hand through her short black hair. She looks thin and her skin is pale. I almost move to follow her, but Bella flashes in my mind. "Go," she smiled, softly and understandingly, the first time Alice called upset, "she needs you." Now, she doesn't even look at me when I tell her I'm going to Alice.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. "Hello?" I speak, hoping to catch Bella.
"Are you coming back?" she asks, soft and scared.
I look at my watch. It's ten-thirty. "Shhhh, yeah." I run my free hand through my blond hair. "I just have to stop and get dog food, but I'm leaving now."
"Okay. I ironed your pants for you."
One side of my lips curls into a smile. "Thanks. I'll be there before you know it."
She whispers, "Okay. I love you," and I can see her brown eyes looking up at me, asking if I know that.
"I love you, too," I answer and flip the phone shut.
Alice is standing by the door with a cup in her hand half full of the amber colored liquid. "Sorry. I'll try not to call next time."
I sigh and stand up, making it to the door in three strides. "You can call me anytime."
"You're such a liar," she smiles, and then laughs. The sound is void of the joyful tenor it used to have, and she opens the door. "See you around."
"Are you coming to my mother's dinner party this Saturday?" I ask, stalling.
"Yeah, J-James won't be there."
"Good." I take one last look at the cup and then move to her face. Biting my tongue, I place my lips on her warm forehead. "I'll see you then."
"Tell her I'm sorry," she whispers.
I nod and walk out the door. I walk slowly until I hear her latch the door. Then the anger boils over. It doesn't leave me until I throw the large bag of dog food down my basement stairs.
88888
"We have dinner with my friends tonight at seven, so try to get home before six," Bella calls from the bathroom as she brushes her hair.
"Okay," I call back, watching myself adjust my shirt in the mirror. My mind isn't on the shirt but on Alice. I left her Monday night. It's now Thursday morning. It isn't unusual for us to go days without speaking because it's post-James, not pre-James. This is now normal. But I want confirmation; I want to know she's finally walked away from him. Hearing Bella walking up to me, I try to push Alice out of my conscience.
"Stupid shirt," I mutter.
"You look fine."
I turn toward her with a smile. "Why can't I just wear the same t-shirt and jeans I wore as an undergrad?"
"Medical school rule," she says, placing her palms on my chest and rising on her toes to kiss me.
"Stupid rule," I say after she rocks back.
We eat breakfast, rinse out our dishes and place them in the dishwasher, feed the dog, and run out of our house into separate cars parked in the garage. Bella waves as she backs out of our suburban driveway toward her job as an Assistant Editor for a small publishing company, and I follow, heading the opposite way toward my full time job as a medical school student.
In traffic, I look at my glove box. Three days. Bella will kill me, but I don't care. I'm going to propose in front of our family and friends. I pull out the box and flip it open to reveal a simple solitaire diamond on a small gold band. A honk from behind pulls me out of my reverie and I stuff the ring box back in the glove compartment as I move forward to meet the traffic in front of me.
School is crazy, leaving me little time to think about anything else. This is a good thing as I already have too many thoughts running through my overfilled brain. Lunch comes, and I look forward to the break only to remember I said I would go to the emergency study session with my colleagues. When the day finishes, I sit in my car for a good ten minutes, letting everything wash away before I go home.
My phone rings.
"I know. I know. I have to leave," I say to it as I pick it up off the seat next to me. I am about to flip it open when I see the name. Alice. I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I flip it open and place it on my ear. "Hel–"
"Jasper! Flaming Bats is at the Rusted Nail! They just showed up and started playing!"
I hold the phone away from my ear as she continues to yell nonsensically about a band we loved to listen to. I don't need to smell her to know she's already had more than her fair share of drinks. I ram the back of my head into the headrest a couple of times as I try to decide if I can take her away from the bar without being too late for dinner.
Fuck it.
"Alice. Alice! I'm coming!" I don't wait for her to answer me.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I call Bella. Her voicemail picks up. It's as if she knows I'm about to lie to her again, disappoint her again. "I didn't get out as early as I wanted to, so the traffic is bad. I'll be there as soon as I can. I shouldn't be too late. Tell your friends I'm sorry."
I head toward the bar. I know it well. It was our regular haunt from high school up until I got accepted into medical school to study psychiatry. I smile despite myself as I remember Tony, the bartender who would sneak us drinks when we were underage. I briefly wonder if he's still there.
Before I know it, I'm driving past the red brick building with the big black letters spelling out the name of the bar. It takes me ten more minutes to find a parking spot before I'm walking inside and showing my ID to the bouncer already stationed just inside the door. My eyes first go to the bar, but the people hanging out there are too tall, too male, or too heavy.
"Wooooo!" I hear as the song comes to a crashing halt.
I can hardly see her, but she's in the front of the growing crowd, her arms in the air. A drink in a small glass is in one hand and a cigarette burning down to her fingers is in the other. One thick black bracelet is falling down her emerald green cotton covered right arm. There are sunglasses barely noticeable on her perfectly styled head and large thin black hoops hang off her ears.
People are staring. The band is laughing. I am frowning.
I push my way through the crowd and end up on her left side. "Alice," I say, my lips near her ear. I startle her and some of the liquid in the glass falls into my hair. She drops her arms, and I take her small bicep in my hand. "Come on."
Her wide, scared eyes look up into mine. One of them is doctored to look like the other. My heart stops. I immediately let go and kick myself. She thinks I'm him.
Shit.
Her eyes soften as she smiles. She brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag. "You came!" she exclaims after blowing the smoke near my face.
"We're leaving," I say as the band starts to play again.
"What?"
"We're leaving," I yell louder.
"Leaving? I just got here!"
"Sounds like you've been here for a while."
She shrugs her shoulders and finishes what is left of her drink then hands the glass to me. "Whiskey, please!"
I take her by the wrist lightly while stepping back and pull her toward me, trying not to feel like him when he touches her. She yanks her arm back and lets go of the glass. Her other hand comes up to make contact with my cheek. My hand instinctively lets go, and my eyes look for the cigarette she was holding. It's on the floor, and I step on it, pushing it into the concrete.
"Don't touch me," she says through pursed lips, and I have to bend close to catch her words.
"Then stop acting like this."
"Like what? Myself?" She smirks and stomps past me. I whirl around to watch her walk to the bar and order three shots of something along with a glass of her precious whiskey.
By the time I reach her, she's finished it all. She goes to order another drink and I look at the bartender – still Tony – and shake my head. He ignores her, and she spins around knowing I'm there. Her alcohol soaked brain can't handle it, and she sways backward into a fall.
I try to stop her and fail. Her head hits the wooden bar. I can hear the crack over the music, or at least I believe I can. She laughs. I catch her body before it slumps to the floor. She moans. I check her head for blood. There is none.
I easily pull her into my arms and tell Tony I'll pay the tab tomorrow before walking out of the bar into the dark evening. She moans. I marvel about how light she is while avoiding the stares of strangers for one and a half blocks. She moans again when I place her into the passenger seat and strap her in.
"Remember when we first came here," she mumbles as I place my coat over her.
A sad smile is placed on my face as I run my thumb over a red cheek and place a kiss on her forehead. "I do."
Driving to the hospital, I keep glancing at Alice and ask her questions about the night we found the Rusted Nail. We were fourteen and she just had another fight with her foster parents and wanted to find something to take her mind off it. We tried our usual hotspots, such as the diner and the park, but she only stayed for five minutes before deciding they weren't the place. We went to Rosalie's after that. It was nine, and her parents were still away at some event we didn't care about. The three of us broke into the liquor cabinet and started drinking her father's gin.
Rosalie was the first to go. As she slept, Alice and I finished the bottle and left. We rode our bikes around town, laughing each time we swerved too much and fell off. Eventually, we made our way to the Rusted Nail. To this day, neither of us knows how we got there, but once there we saw a large group of people waiting outside. A band was playing, Flaming Bats. Both of us shrugged and snuck inside through the back door they kept propped open with a plastic crate.
We laughed. We danced. I went into the dirtiest bathroom I had ever seen and puked. It was the best night of our lives up to that point. Neither of us made it back home until two in the morning, brought to my front door by a cop after watching us on our bikes for a few blocks. Alice was supposed to spend the night in the guest room, but she tiptoed into mine after an hour of quiet fell over the house and wiggled her way into my bed.
"Thanks for the great night," she said.
"No problem," I said. "I'll always be there for you."
"Promise?"
"Of course."
And then I kissed her on the forehead for the first time.
We arrive at the hospital before we get to the end of the story. I help her from the car and, after I place my coat around her arms, we slowly walk to the emergency room door. Inside, she leans against me as I tell the receptionist why we're there. She puts it into the computer along with other information. Alice shrugs out from under the coat as the woman places a plastic bracelet on her wrist. Then the secretary tells us to have a seat. As we wait to be called, we finish our story.
"Tell her I'm sorry," she says.
I realize, after patting down my pockets, I left my phone on the front seat of the car. I want to get it, but I don't want to leave Alice. "I will." She leans her head on my shoulder.
We sit like that for forty-five minutes before she's called back. Alice grabs my hand and pulls me with her. The random worker – a nurse, perhaps – tells her to sit on the bed. He tells me he'll get a chair, and I place my coat temporarily at the head of the bed. The nurse doesn't see her for another hour. I'm left standing, watching Alice sway in the breeze of the air falling from the vent above her.
My blue eyes stare at her while the nurse asks her routine, procedural questions, willing her to turn her dark brown eyes to mine and give them just one quick glance. Instead, she picks a spot on the floor to watch as she continues to sway while they take her temperature and blood pressure. My eyes are forced to look away when the nurse smiles and tells us the doctor will be in shortly. I politely smile back and offer a short nod. She mirrors my nod and smiles, then leaves, closing the curtains around the bed to give us a false sense of privacy.
When the doctor comes in, he examines Alice quickly and tells us he would like to order a CT scan just to make sure there is no brain trauma. He hands her a thin gown and tells her someone will be in shortly. As she starts to open it, I slip out.
"Can you help me?" she asks a few minutes later.
"Yeah," I say and walk back in.
Her back is to me and her head is bowed. Besides the gown, she's wearing black underwear, white socks, and purple bruises, which dot across her back in a line. I clench my teeth and stifle a growl. My hands reach up to tie the small cloth string hanging from her neck, and I notice how many goose bumps are covering her skin.
"You're cold," I say, my hands now moving to the string hanging near the small of her back.
She snorts. "Thank you Captain Obvious."
Finished, I turn her around with soft hands. She still refuses to look up at me. "Get in the bed."
She does as she's told, and we wait in uncomfortable silence for someone to come back for her. In twenty minutes, she's wheeled away and I'm left alone with my coat in one hand and her clothes and accessories in the other.
With each passing minute, anger grows. Flashes of Bella remind me how I messed up our quiet evening with her friends. They remind me of the ring I want to give her to let everyone know she's the person in my life who comes first. They show me how frustrated she'll be when I finally show up. Flashes of Alice from tonight remind me how she was never the bright and cheerful girl I always made her out to be. From the day I met her, she was mischievous, hurt, stuck in a never ending cycle of loneliness brought on by the knowledge her parents didn't want her.
But she used to smile with hope. Now she smiles with disbelief.
It's almost an hour when she is wheeled back in. The silence makes it easy for the anger to grow inside. An hour later, the doctor comes back in and tells us nothing is wrong, but she should take it easy for the next twenty-four hours.
"Watch for unusual behaviors," he tells me before shaking our hands and wishing us a good night.
Alice laughs once we hear the doctor walk away. "I'm one giant unusual behavior. Looks like you'll have your work cut out for you tonight."
I take a huge breath in, hold it, and then blow it out in one quick gush. I turn toward the bed, her small form working on sitting up. "You don't get it, do you? I'm taking you home and then going back to Bella. I was supposed to be having dinner with her friends, Alice. I was supposed to be showing them the ring I bought when she left the room and getting their blessings. I wasn't supposed to watch you make a fool of yourself and end up in the hospital." I throw the clothes at her side. "Put your clothes on so we can leave."
"If you were supposed to do all those things," she yells as I walk through the opening in the curtain, "then why the hell did you come?"
I don't answer her.
Our irritation with each other follows us to the receptionist we saw before. Alice hands her the discharge papers and slides her credit card across the counter when the woman asks for payment.
"I'm sorry, but your card has been declined."
As Alice digs through her wallet, I hand my card to the woman.
"I didn't ask for help," says Alice under her breath.
"Call it a loan," I snap back.
When the bill is paid, we head back to my car. I start to place my coat on her shoulders, but she shifts away. "I'm not cold."
"You will be once we step outside," I speak, annoyed at her, at me, at the world.
She defiantly stomps away from me and out the door. Following a few steps behind, I watch her head in the opposite direction, muttering to herself about me and shivering. When I have enough of her pouting, I close the gap and place my coat onto her shoulders. She waves her arms, making the coat fall onto the pavement. I try once more even though I know it's futile.
"That's enough," I say, picking up my coat again. I reach for her purse strap crossing over her back, not wanting to be slapped for the second time tonight because I grabbed her arm.
She reels around, making me let go of her purse, and glares at me. "I'm not going home with you."
"That's enough," I repeat and step closer. I'm too close. I'm using my size to push her back toward my car. I'm just like him.
My demeanor softens for a split second. "I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows push together in confusion. I take that moment to grab her hand and pull her with me to my car. My large strides mean she's practically being pulled along behind me. My grasp hardens.
"Lemme go." She yells in frustration. "I don't need you to help me anymore."
I finally let her go when we reach the passenger side of my car. I whirl her around so hard she staggers into the car door. Her left shoulder hits the window along with her right hand.
"Next time, hold onto my upper arm. That's what he does. Works better too." Her hollow voice is back.
My eyes widen. I step back.
She unfolds her body and stands tall, but even in the dark her eyes don't look at me.
Two steps; all it takes is two steps for me to reach her. I lift my hands, and she flinches. I place them softly on her cheeks and lean down to place a kiss on her bruised eye. With her eyes closed, I tentatively brush my lips across hers before deepening it. She is hesitant, and I can feel her try to decide whether or not I'm like him, whether or not she should trust me.
She shouldn't.
Because Bella is waiting for me.
I taste her lips – it's bitter, not sweet like it was before James tainted them – and feel my tongue against hers. Her scared hand takes a hold of my shirt and pulls it into her small fist. It's only a matter of time before we both have to let go. When we do, my hands are wet with her tears.
88888
I stand in her living room, watching her move in the kitchen for a glass of water. I refuse to look at the phone I placed in my pocket before we walked up the two floors to her one bedroom apartment, but I keep a hand hovering over it. When she is finished, she places the cup lightly on the counter and pulls open a drawer to take out a sharp knife. The hand hovering over my phone flinches up as I take a step.
She sees this and laughs. The knife is placed under the hospital bracelet. It slices through it easily. She places the knife back in the drawer and shuts it with her hip before picking the plastic off the floor.
My hand goes back to my side as she says, "If I was, I wouldn't be aiming for my wrists."
"That's not funny."
She looks up from watching the plastic fall in the trash can. "Wasn't supposed to be."
"That's not funny either."
She merely shrugs and walks to the bedroom, stopping only when she reaches the three-drawer-tall oak dresser. I follow, seeing the smiling faces of her friends, family, and him lining the short hallway. A few of the frames are cracked. I refused to let myself think about what could have caused that. I only need two guesses, though.
I stop just inside the door and watch her as she takes off her bracelet and earrings first. Then she grabs the bottom of her shirt and unabashedly pulls it off. It falls through her fingers to the ground. Her simple white bra blends into her pale skin. That and the bruises – some fresh, some fading – make her look like a member of the undead. She turns away from the mirror over the dresser and toward the unmade bed behind her to pull off the old black Radiohead t-shirt I bought her the year we graduated middle school. Her body brushes against mine as she walks past me toward the bathroom.
I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding and move to sit on the edge of the double bed. I run both hands through my hair but keep them hanging off the back of my neck as I look up at the ceiling. When they drop, I finally allow myself to get my phone. It tells me I have sixteen missed calls and nine voicemails. All but three are the same person. I quickly type out a text to her. "I'm fine," I say with my thumb. "Sorry. Be home soon. Love you."
As soon as the phone is in my pocket, she returns from the bathroom. She's wearing the t-shirt with red, green, and black flannel pants, rolled a couple of times at the waist. Her makeup is off, and the eye looks worse than I let myself believe it was.
I see something in her eyes. I think it's hope. Alice walks around to her side of the bed. My eyes follow. She crawls onto the bed as if there's a heavy weight stuck on her back.
"You," I start, twisting around, and she looks up at me as she slowly falls onto her stomach across the rumpled black, white, and red comforter and the white sheets. Leaning on one hand, I reach out with the other. Alice pulls away and flips onto her back, closing her eyes.
"I think the statute of limitations has passed."
"Huh?" I ask, confused.
"On your promise."
"Huh?" I say again before my brain catches on and shows me the memory we revisited earlier. "Oh. Look–"
She cuts me off, "It's okay. I'll remember to lock up after you."
88888
When I get back to Bella, it's after midnight. I hear the TV on in the living room around the corner, but the dog comes to meet me by the door. He's not happy with me.
"Sorry, boy," I say, patting his head as I walk by. "How is she?"
He rushes past me to show me my sleeping girlfriend curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her and, miraculously, a coffee mug still clutched in her hands. I gently pry the cup from her and lean down to kiss her on her cheek.
"Not now," she groans.
I find the remote next to her and click off the TV before heading to the kitchen to place the mug in the sink. My hands rest on the side of the basin as I stare at the tea still left. There is something dark to the left that catches my eye. I turn my head to see a broken phone lying on the counter. I reach for the two pieces and roll them in my hand.
"Turns out I have quite the pitch."
I whirl around.
"I was worried," she continues. "You told me about being stuck in traffic and then you didn't turn up. When you didn't pick up, I started to panic. Then I got angry when I realized the only reason for your behavior was her." She glances at the phone still in my hands. "So I threw the phone."
"How long…"
"They stayed until ten."
"I'm sorry. She… I…" I shake my head. "I'm just sorry."
She sighs. "I know. And I don't want you to feel bad for helping a friend. But she always needs help. And you always go to her. Am– Am I the only one?"
Her eyes are starting to tear up, and she's beating herself up for it. I know because I know everything about her. I know her history, like how she broke her hand when she punched the boy who stole her first kiss. I know her worries, like how she visits her father every Sunday and Wednesday to check up on him. I know her insecurities, like the reason she runs to the bathroom for the toothbrush when she wakes up is because she thinks I care about morning breath. And I know her feelings, like she loves me and always will.
I understand what I must do.
"Wait here." She goes to open her mouth, but I shake my head while trying not to smile. I toss the broken phone onto the counter and head back out into the garage to my car. Reaching over the driver's seat, I take the black box out of the glove compartment. I take one last look to make sure it's still there then head back in, the box in a fist behind my back. She's still standing in the same spot, but she's rubbing her eyes. I vow to make the next tears one of joy, not disappointment.
"Bella," I whisper, my voice deciding to fail on me at that moment. "I wanted to do this on Saturday, and I" – my hand comes to fall between us, the box open – "I had this flowery speech for you, but all I can remember is: Will you do the honor of being my wife?"
She stares at me for what seems like eternity. I add, "I know this might seem like bad timing, but it feels right. Alice is nothing to me but a friend I promised to take care of years ago. Let her take care of herself now. I want to take care of my wife."
I nod at the ring and her face scrunches up. Her head bounces up and down like a bobble head doll, and I place the ring on the third finger of her left hand. As she sniffs back sobs, I kiss both her cheeks. I go for her forehead, but change direction and head for her lips instead.
88888
My mother's party starts at five, but I arrive at my parents' at one. Bella agrees to join me at four with her friends in tow. I let them know about the proposal and how Bella accepted. I leave out the part where we called in sick the next day and spent our free time in bed. The smile I have fades when they tell me they've invited the foster parents Alice loathes. I ask if Alice is still coming. They tell me they haven't heard either way. I reach down to my pocket but stop before I get to the phone.
I'm supposed to be backing off. Alice is nothing to me.
Time flies and soon Bella joins us with Edward and Angela with her boyfriend Ben. Angela and Ben smile as they greet me. Edward gives me an icy look. He doesn't like me. I don't need to read his thoughts to know he's already tried to talk Bella out of the marriage. Seeing the way he looks at her, I wonder if it's because of my baggage or his.
Five o'clock rolls around and the rest of the party starts showing up.
Six o'clock, Alice shows up.
Not meaning to, I look up in her direction when she walks down the hallway into the large kitchen where most of us are congregated. She's wearing a red, short sleeved dress with a large black belt around her waist. I smile. She smiles.
"You asked her?" shrieks Rosalie. "I thought you were waiting 'til today!"
Alice's eyes move from mine to the hand held in Rosalie's heavily manicured one. Her smile fades. I look away at Emmett, who gives me an all knowing look. I turn my gaze down to my feet but look like I'm staring at my fiancé's hand.
The both of us stay away from each other, but every now and then we sneak a peek. Sometimes, I hear her laugh. It's the same bubbly one from my past, but I can hear the counterfeit tones threading through it. I start to wonder if it's always been faked. When she disappears, I flinch, and Bella holds me back.
After a couple of hours, I kiss Bella's cheek and excuse myself to the bathroom. On the way there, I pass the open double doors of the study, a small rectangular room with built-in cherry bookshelves filled with books on one length of the wall and two brown leather chairs next to a small circular table, which always holds a chess set, along the other. I hear Alice's laughter accompanied by a low chuckle I can't place. I stop just outside the doors and close my eyes to concentrate on the room instead of the buzz coming from the party.
"It's your turn," she says.
"More like yours," the unknown voice says.
"I can't move because I know what you're going to move."
"I can't move because I'm already two steps ahead of you."
"I'm three."
"Four."
"Five."
"Six."
"Play that chess game!"
They laugh again over the sound of rapid moving chess pieces.
"Checkmate!"
There is the sound of someone moving on leather before the deep voice speaks up, "Looks like I owe you that kiss." Silence. "Sorry."
"Th-that's okay," she stumbles. "They discontinued my favorite makeup, so I had to go with this stuff. I hate it."
"What's–"
"I walked into a door. I wasn't looking where I was going. Ironic, right." A nervous chuckle.
"Did you want me to look at that?"
"That's fine. It's on its last legs." Silence. "So, where's that kiss? A deal's a deal, right?"
The silence is long until something falls onto the rug and rolls onto the hardwood floor underneath it. I lean back against the wall, anything but relieved.
"I didn't think you could kiss like that," says Alice's voice.
"How come?"
"When I first saw you, your back was ridged and your jaw was stiff. You were too uptight."
"I was in the midst of bad news."
"And what was that?"
"My best friend is getting married."
Realization hits me in the chest like a well thrown brick.
"Oh! So is– Oh. Oh," she says, the realization hitting her. "Then you're…mad… It's my fault."
"Huh?" asks the voice I now know as Edward's.
"I'm Jasper's b– friend. The one who calls him and gets him in trouble with his girlfriend all the time."
There is an angry sigh, and I can't tell who it's from.
"I'm sorry," says Alice again. "It's my fault he seems undependable. He's just too dependable, that's all."
"Alice…that's not..." he starts almost breathlessly. "There's no need to apologize."
There is a long silence. I strain my ears for something in the den but only catch the light tinkering of ice in glasses and the dull murmur down the hallway. But I don't need words to know Edward is becoming trapped in Alice's sad and broken web.
"Have coffee with me," he says.
"Now?"
"Yeah, we'll meet in the kitchen in, let's say, at 7:46."
"That's in a minute."
"Yeah, so I better leave if I'm going to make it."
She giggles, an actual pre-James, pre-college, pre-high school, first meeting in the cafeteria on the first day of fifth grade kind of giggle. "Yeah, there's tons of traffic on the main stretch."
"Exactly." I hear leather again and the sound of footsteps.
I push myself from the wall and act as if I'm walking to the bathroom I temporarily forgot about.
"You better hurry," Edward says, coming out of the room. He doesn't see me at first because he's still looking at Alice, but when he does, his smile vanishes. For seconds that seem like hours, we stare at each other. My eyes let him know how much I don't approve, and his has the air of triumph. He's the one who's able to move first. I'm left standing near the door when Alice comes out after him.
"I made a new friend," she says with a smile, after startling to a stop.
The bruise is peeking out from under the smudged makeup, so I reach out to fix it. Her hand catches my wrist before my fingers make it. With her free hand, she touches her cheek to fix it. Then she holds a thumbs up sign and raises her eyebrows. I nod. She lets go of me and walks away.
88888
"He's adopted. Did you know that?" Alice asks me from the park bench we agreed to meet at.
"Nope."
"Well, he is. And his parents are nice. Carlisle is a doctor. Esme's a teacher. That's why Edward is studying to be a pediatrician, I think. It helps, doesn't it?"
"I'm sure it had some influence."
She tips into me, bounces her head off my shoulder, then move back up. "Have a bad day?"
I squint through my sunglasses as I watch the children play on the gym equipment. "No. It was pretty good."
"You're getting tired of me gabbing on about Edward."
"A little."
"Fine. The weather's nice today. I think May is going to be warmer than last year."
I laugh and look at her. "We're going to talk about weather now?"
"Why not?"
She looks at me and smiles. I want to remove her sunglasses and see how high that happiness reaches. I want to see her eyes. Those can't lie. Not to me. As it is, all I can see is me trying to lie to her.
Three months. For three months, Alice as been on his arm, showing up when Bella, being nice, invites them over. My fiancée is finally comfortable with Alice. She's not threatened by the smaller woman when I get a call asking me to talk. I've become uncomfortable. Alice has been drinking less and smiling more, finding less trouble and looking for better work. She's even been inspired and making original Alice clothing again, like the strapless turquoise and gold dress she's wearing that's showing off the curves she's starting to get back.
This Alice is an imposter. My Alice is still lying on the bed I left her on.
"Well, I better go," she says, breaking me from my thoughts. "I still have a few boxes left to pack."
"You never change…"
She laughs. "Old habits die hard. So, you and Bella will be over at eight tomorrow, right?"
"Yep."
She jumps up. "Okay. See ya then!"
She bounces down the sidewalk backwards, waving to me with a large smile plastered to her face. I lift a hand, trying to mimic a pleased smile.
88888
We move her out the next day. Alice and I are the last to leave. We stand in an empty apartment and remember the day we moved her in a week after her twenty-first birthday. She had some hope then too.
Our time in the apartment ends the same way it began – in the bedroom. Alice hugs me. I kiss her on the forehead.
This time we don't go further.
88888
"Edward said they're running a little late," she says, standing on the deck. She's waiting for me to say something, but when I don't, she breaks out in a small smile. "You know, I think Edward is the best thing that happened to Alice."
I dip my head once in agreement and look away as I lift the bottle of beer to my lips. My brain can't deny it, and my heart can't accept it. "Looks like it, doesn't it."
The doorbell rings. As I take a long swig, she runs happily into the house and through the kitchen to get to the hallway that leads her to the front door. Happy voices greet her. The party is about to begin. I place the bottle next to me on the railing and wait for the people to find their way to me.
Two months, give or take. Two months on top of three that come out to five. Five months of Edward getting to pick up the pieces of Alice and glue them carefully together again.
Alice Brandon sat on a wall. Alice Brandon had a great fall. And I couldn't put the pieces back at all.
Alice arrives an hour after the first guest appears wearing a long multicolored sundress with Edward as her accessory. She's become even less like the girl who snuck the two of us into theaters to watch movies for free. And she's definitely nowhere near the girl who, on many occasions, showed up on my parent's doorstep with running mascara asking to spend the night.
No, she smiles, jokes, and holds conversations with everyone, all with her hand resting in Edward's. Every now and then, I catch the two of them in their own world, Edward's perfect little nose brushing against her temple as he whispers a private joke while his hand pulls a bottle of beer out of her hand.
I have to turn away to keep my mask as the doting fiancée perfectly in place.
The clouds roll in as the sun falls into the horizon, and the party continues on. Emmett shoots off some fireworks he brought. I hear Alice's laughter as he dashes out of the way with excitement. I finally go to talk to her. She sees this and her grin turns to a look of disgust. She turns to run into the house. I turn after her.
I lose her.
I hear someone in the downstairs bathroom.
I wait.
The person who comes out isn't her.
I go upstairs.
"Alice?" I call toward the hall bathroom.
I hear coughing. I hear gagging. I hear a sound I've heard many times before, and I become confused, remembering the many times Edward took the alcohol away.
"Go away," says a weakened but annoyed voice.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Not this time."
"Want a towel?"
"Yeah, that'll solve everything."
I smile despite myself and get a hand towel from the hall closet behind me. I knock on the door. Another sound of gagging answers me. I try the doorknob and find it unlocked. Inside, she's on her knees a couple of steps away, her head over the toilet, heaving what she ate earlier into it. I kneel next to her, tucking the longer strands of hair behind her ears and rubbing circles on her back. When she stops, she pulls the towel from my hand and leans against the tub. I flush the smell away as she holds the towel to her lips and takes deep breaths through her nose. Then I lean against the cabinet across from her.
"Don't happen to have an extra toothbrush, do you?" she asks after a minute.
"As a matter of fact…" I answer with a grin and reach behind me for the drawer and pull out an unopened toothbrush package and a small tube of toothpaste.
"Be prepared, right?"
I smile and try not to watch her get up and brush her teeth while she tries not to watch me stand up and lean back against the counter. A conversation without words passes through us.
I stare with concern: What's going on?
She looks down in shame: I screwed up again.
I stare, confused: How?
She looks up, scared: It's irreversible.
I soften with compassion: Nothing's irreversible.
She spits. "It is when you're stuck wearing the mask."
"Then why'd you put it on?" I ask without thinking.
She shrugs. "Why did you?"
My feet almost slide out from under me. My mind is a complete blank. Nothing passes through my lips except air.
Alice merely places the toothbrush next to the sink beside the toothpaste and walks out.
I follow a few seconds later, only to find her stepping off the bottom step and turning toward the hallway that'll lead her back out to the party. My feet rumble down the stairs, trying to catch her before Edward, Bella, and the rest of our friends make it harder for us to talk. She's waiting for me in the hallway, her back against the bare wall and her eyes closed. Emmett's fireworks rupture the still but heavy air.
"I think I can learn to love him," Alice says, her arms coming to wrap in front of her stomach. She turns her head and slowly opens her eyes. They're sad, scared, and looking to me for some kind of sagely advice.
"You can learn to love anyone," I simply answer.
"I didn't have to with you."
"I know."
I open my mouth, but she shakes her head. "But we're stuck."
"Nothing's irreversible."
"Jasper," calls a different woman's voice. "Where'd you go?"
I want to step closer, but my name being called by the one I'm supposed to be with takes us out of the moment. The barely registered footsteps coming closer scares Alice away and she brushes past me to head to the front door.
The hushed click sounds like a thunderous slam in my ears.
"There you are," Bella says.
My eyes see her, but my attention is still on Alice. The mind wonders where she thinks she is going to go when Edward is still out back. It contemplates what her cryptic words mean. It shows me pictures of what I would have done if we weren't interrupted. It imagines Alice's bitter taste of before sweeter, her soft body warmer and bruise free.
"I haven't seen you look like that in months," she says, trying to hold back the irritation.
"Like what?" I ask automatically.
"Like you're going to go rescue her." She sighs as she steps closer. "Or like you just came back from trying."
I feel caught. Something is going to break. It's all going to change. I want it to happen. I'm scared. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
"Alice is sorry," I thrust out.
I'm startled by my words. Bella looks at me, baffled. I lift my hand to touch her cheek. She turns her head. I'm cut. She's bleeding.
"Bella," says Edward's soft voice from behind her.
She goes to him, unable to look at me. I look at Edward to tell him, without words, to pick up her pieces now.
Then I reverse.
I bound out of the house, searching in the coming darkness for Alice. When I get to the sidewalk, I see her between the parked cars, walking down the middle of the street. My heart is already pounding as I start to jog after her. When I get close, her feet stop, stuck to the road.
"Can we go home, Edward?"
I step past her, turn around, and don't wait to see what else she has to say before I plant my lips on hers. Her emotions are played out in the kiss: nothing in surprise, then the hit of realization followed by the need of wanting it to be real, and a finish of acceptance. When our lips pull apart we are both panting and unable to speak.
"Don't go," she says after several seconds.
I have to go back to the house. There are guests that have to leave. There is a fiancée I need to explain to. There are words that need to be said and finishes that need to be made. But none of that matters as I look into her dark yet faintly hopeful eyes.
"Never."