"I promise…I won't come back…it'll be as if I never existed…"
Those were the last words Edward had ever spoken to me. And he's kept his promise. Half of it. The part about never coming back. But not once has it ever been as if he never existed. Not for me. Not ever.
I looked in the mirror of the hotel bathroom, the florescent lighting casting garish circles under my eyes. I sighed as I leaned over the sink to splash cold water on my face. I couldn't go ten minutes without something reminding me of Edward, even after all this time. I closed my eyes against the cold, hard porcelain and willed the water to wash away even just one of the memories I couldn't ever escape. It didn't work.
The phone rang, a welcome distraction from my obsessive mind. I walked quickly to the desk of the junior suite I would be in for only one more night as I patted my face dry on a stiff white towel.
"Bella?" my agent, Anne Marie, chirped into my ear.
"Yes, it's me," I answered dully.
"Chin up, babe, this thing hasn't even started yet. And this is only day one of 36. You can't sound so distraught this early in the game."
"I know, I'm fine," I tried to put a little more life in my voice. "I will be, at least," I sighed. "I just didn't sleep well."
"Sorry, sweetie. Maybe we can drug you with a sleeping pill tonight."
"We just might have to," I answered. It wouldn't be the first time I had used over-the-counter medication to help me get much needed sleep.
"Well, consider this your 40 minute notice. We need to be outside the ballroom when they're doing your intro."
"Of course," I replied, trying to put myself into work mode. I functioned in work mode. I was successful in work mode. I was here to promote my third novel. And I was going to do it well. "Forty minutes," I confirmed in the most assertive phone voice I could muster at the moment.
I hung up the phone and returned to the bathroom. Over the past nine years, I had become incredibly adept at compartmentalizing. It was a survival skill I used on a daily basis. I was going to get ready and I was going to the book signing and I was going to live up to my New York Times Best-Selling Author persona. That's what I had to keep telling myself anyway.
Anne Marie met me just where she said she would, outside the doors to the hotel ballroom, where the book signing was being held. I could hear a cacophony of voices barely muffled by the walls. I still couldn't believe the hubbub that surrounded my books. But then again, I had fallen in love with the characters ten years ago myself; I could more than see the appeal.
"Ok, you ready for this?" Anne Marie asked.
"Of course." I was struggling. I straightened the hem of my black blazer. Something was off today and I just couldn't focus. Thoughts of Forks, thoughts of Him, they kept intruding.
"That deep purple color looks great on you, hon," Anne Marie said, referring to the silk blouse under the blazer. "It should bring out your beautiful creamy skin in photos." That was her nice way of saying "pale white."
"Thank you," I said. I shook my arms, trying to get the usual pre-performance jitters to settle. Going out onstage in front of hundreds of people was always hard for me, but with my unsettled mind, today might be harder. I heard the MC of the book signing approach the microphone as the noise from the crowd started to settle.
I closed my eyes, trying to prepare myself for the questions I knew would come. And, try as I might, further prepare myself for the inevitable hurt they would cause me when all this was over, at night in my room alone.
"Bella, that's your cue," I felt Anne Marie nudge me gently. My eyes flew open. I hadn't been paying attention. Ok. This wasn't going to be a good day. I was off kilter. I wasn't able to shut my mind off. It was what I called a "dark day."
I looked into Anne Marie's eyes and plastered a smile on my face.
"How do I look?" I asked.
"Fantastic. Knock 'em dead," Anne Marie responded.
I took in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked through the doors to tremendous applause. I didn't even trip on my way up the stairs. That was a plus, I guess.
Focus, Bella, I had to tell myself. You need to be ready for this. I smiled at the crowd from behind a walnut colored podium to deliver my speech. I had prepared it weeks ago. I had it memorized. I had practiced it in the mornings while getting dressed, in the kitchen when making dinner, in front of the mirror when doing my hair. I had timed it for applause breaks, laughter breaks, etc. I had been prepared. What I had not been prepared for was my mind to go blank the moment I opened my mouth. Well, not entirely blank. An image of Edward, sparkling in the sun, played in my mind and, like it always had, it dazzled me, stunned me. And just like that, I had forgotten my whole prepared speech. It wasn't as though this was the first time I had stood in front of a crowd. I grappled to get a hold of myself. I could do this. I am going to do this. I urged my mind to think, to remember—to remember my speech, not Edward. Not right now. I could feel the crowd beginning to shift uncomfortably in their seats as I just stood there, silent. And then, miraculously, it came to me. It wasn't my finest performance, and more than a little rushed but I was just happy it was over with. Well, the first part of the event was, at least. I dreaded what came next: the Q and A's. But it was all part of the job. It's not as though I wouldn't know the answers to the questions. Quite the opposite, really. It would be the same questions I got, over and over, book signing after book signing, press interview after interview.
I took a deep breath, in through my nose, out thru my mouth. I allowed the MC to take the microphone as I sat down in an upholstered chair on the stage to the right of the podium. After the MC thanked me for the glimpse into my new book, she announced to the crowd I would now be answering questions. All those in the audience who had a question for me should line up single file and take a turn at the microphone directly in front of the stage.
I tried to keep a smile plastered on my face as I waited for the inevitable. I squeezed my hands tightly in my lap, my knuckles turning even more white than normal.
And then they began.
"How did you come up with the idea for the books?"
Write what you know. The old adage had brought me success. Not that I could ever let anyone know that. Nope. Unlike some people, I kept my promises. I told Edward way back when, before I even knew what he was, that I wouldn't tell people about him, and I haven't. Not in so many words, so to speak..
I had developed an alternate back-story for how I had come up with my inspiration.
I cleared my throat. "Well, one night I had a dream, a dream so vivid, it was as if I had lived it. It was about a girl who was in love with a vampire. And in that dream, he loved her back. I grabbed a paper and pen as soon as I woke up, because I didn't want to forget it." I stopped there, and smiled a fake smile for the crowd.
The next audience member approached the microphone. I squinted into the bright spotlights as she asked her question. "I read somewhere that you actually lived in Forks. How long did you live there and did you like it?"
Is it possible to sigh under your breath? I tried to stifle one as I answered. "Yes, my father is actually from Forks and I was born there. I set my story there because I was very familiar with the area. I actually lived there with my dad for awhile in high school. It is a nice area. You have to really like the rain, though," I added. The crowd softly chuckled.
"What made you name the main character Henry?" I couldn't bring myself to name my main character His name. I knew my fingers wouldn't want to type it repeatedly. I knew I wouldn't want to think it repeatedly. I knew I couldn't. So I thought of a different, old, turn-of-the 19th Century name. Henry Blackbern.
"I wanted an older, timeless name—I couldn't have a 100-year old vampire named "Kaiden" now, could I?" More laughter from the audience.
"Why did you decide to change your vampires, instead of using the traditional folklore of vampires? Why did you have them shine in the sun?"
"They don't shine, they sparkle!" I said a little too defensively. Geez, Bella, get a grip, I thought to myself. I grasped my hands together. I smiled. I was getting over all this quickly. "Next question, please?" Anne Marie hated it when I started directing the Q and A's, but I really didn't know how much longer I could last today. I was holding my hands so tightly, they were starting to feel numb. That feeling was almost a relief. Numbness was a friend of mine. I had honed the numbness that I had started so many years ago, that dreadful senior year of high school. Right before Charlie sent me back to live with Renee. To Jacksonville. They had all hoped the Florida sun would warm more than my skin, my flesh. They had all wanted it to reach my inner depths, my soul. Edward may have claimed to worry for me, once, a long time ago, but ultimately, I felt, more often than not, that he had taken my soul that day, in the woods behind Charlie's house. The day he said good-bye. I've never felt complete since.
I realized there was a long silence, a feeling of awkward anticipation coming from the crowd. I must have missed the next question. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" I asked.
"What advice would you give to aspiring authors?" Ok, good. This was an easier one. I eased up on my poor knuckles.
"Read a lot. I graduated with a degree in Literature; that helped me, as a writer, to always be reading. And then I worked in publishing as an editor until, one day, the story for Dusk came to me and I had to write it down." Dusk. That was my series. The wildly popular young adult "fiction" series I had authored. About vampires, of course.
"What character do you most relate to?"
"All of them," I responded. "I understand where each of them is coming from. I "created" them, after all, right?" I added my fake smile again.
"Will Sophia and Henry get back together in this next book?"
"That would be a spoiler. I'm sorry, I can't answer that question." The answer, of course, was no. A big, fat no. I looked around for the MC. I was ready for this to be over. Signing books for all these people was going to take long enough. I had enough of the questions already. I caught her eye and she nodded and approached the microphone on the podium.
"Ok, if we could just have one more question, then we will take a few minutes to set up the table for autographs." She nodded to the next audience member who was standing at the microphone.
"How many rejection letters did you get before you achieved success?"
"Countless." I said, without much life in my voice. Rejection was something I felt every single day for the past nine years. Every. Single. Day.
Back in the hotel suite, I slumped on the couch. After the book signing-all the autograph and the photos-the demands on me hadn't stopped there. Anne Marie had arranged a late lunch and interview with a reporter. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she let me retreat back to my room. I leaned forward, holding my head in my hands, closing my eyes. I kept the room dark, leaving the black out curtains closed and not turning on any lights. I had removed my jacket and unbuttoned the top buttons on the deep purple sleeveless silk blouse. I had kicked my shoes off the moment I had walked through the door. I sat, breathing in and out, trying to not relive today or any other day. I just wanted my mind to be as black as the room – empty, still. These publicity tours always left me feeling raw and this was only the first stop of my tour. They made me feel vulnerable. It wasn't the first time I had felt vulnerable. Vulnerable was being completely open with someone. I was vulnerable once and, since then, I have felt nothing but vulnerable every day of my life.
There was a heavy knock on the door. It must have been room service. Anne Marie had seen how worn out I was by the end of my duties and said she's place an order for me. She promised me comfort food. I could use some comfort right about now.