Author's Note: Unbeta-ed, my first attempt at a multi-chaptered Twilight fic. Anyway, this is the result of too much coffee, reruns of Gilmore Girls, reading The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Death Cab for Cutie's 'Song for Kelly Huckaby,' and my own mom (who took me and my sister to San Jose two weeks ago…at three in the morning). I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Twilight. Nosferatu. Hallmark. Walter De Maria. Charles Dickens. Jennifer Weiner. Led Zeppelin. Fleetwood Mac. AC/DC. Rush. Black Sabbath. Scrabble. Def Leppard. Nissan. Prince. Patsy Cline. Chet Baker. Miles Davis. (If I forgot anything, add it.)
Tiny Vessels
July, 2006
As the days on the calendar roll past, Bella's nightmares become worse. She spends hours twisting and writhing in bed, voice broken as she whispers "No, please, no" over and over to the walls of her bedroom. Beneath her lids it the hazy outline of Nosferatu climbing the stairs towards her bedroom. His footfalls make no sound as he passes over the step that groans when the lightest of pressure is placed on it. When he reaches the second floor landing he turns to face her bedroom, catches sight of the tiny woman standing guard at her door. Her skin is dark; she worries wooden rosary beads through her fingers and recites prayers in a language heavy with the slippery sound of vowels.
"You can't have her," the tiny woman declares, pressing her shaking frame flush against Bella's bedroom door. "She's not yours. You can't have her."
They all end the same. The creature always hovers over her, prepared to attack. Bella wakes screaming, limbs raised in defense. Then Edward speaks her name, and she's overcome with a dizzying feeling as his cool hands run down the length of her arms, pull her from the murky waters of the dream world.
Bella slurs his name into the dark as he brings her body closer to his cold one, but his namesake feels foreign slipping from her tongue. His name used to fall like a liquid prayer from her lips, full of love and devotion. She wonders when that changed. She thinks the dreams have a role in all this, recalls the fear of being made a monster.
When did things change? When did she change?
It must have been in those early morning hours, when Bella was terrified to close her eyes and instead bobbed gently on the waves of sleep before sinking into the warm ocean of unconsciousness. In those still moments when her brain was hazy with fatigue, and she could no longer shove all her fears and uncertainties to the furthest depths of her mind, she let herself dwell.
Bella thought of her mom and father forced to burry an empty coffin, and how wrong the whole scene felt. No parent should survive their child; that's not how things are suppose to work. She thought, too, of her classmates dressed in black around her grave, whispering how they never really knew her. 'She was so reserved.' She imagined them saying. 'So closed off. She never gave anyone a chance.'
Lying half awake beneath a mountain of covers to protect her from the cold, Bella thought of Jacob. She wept over memories of him: his long fingers tapping out an irregular beat on the Rabbit's dashboard, the way he said her name when he was irritated, how she'd broken him, how he'd let her—told her it was okay and promised to always be there for her, waking curled into his side on the shore of First Beach, his laugh, and how she felt silly and happy and ridiculous with him.
She also thought of the times he'd made her cry, made her angry and defensive and pissed as hell. He'd taken her in without question. He'd accepted all her faults, her smiles, and bad jokes. He'd picked up the pieces of her broken heart and stitched them back together.
Bella thinks she may owe him an apology. And a thanks you. Half awake, she wonders about Hallmark cards. Roses are red, And I am so blue, I treated you like shit, Thank you!
June 17, 2003
Bella wakes to Renee's face, panicked and frightened. "I need you to not ask questions, okay? We have to go. Right now. I can't—Oh God, Baby, I can't marry him. We have to leave. I have to get out."
Bella pushes her flowered comforter away, sits up and wraps her arms around Renee's trembling form. "Okay," she answers, her voice muffled in the crook of Renee's neck. "Where are we going?"
When Renee pulls back she's smiling, crying and laughing, running her hands through Bella's hair, from temple to split ends and over again. She swallows a sob, asks "How 'bout New York? We've always wanted to go, haven't we?"
"Yeah," Bella agrees. "New York sounds great. I think I remember hearing how June was the perfect time to visit. Not to hot, not to cold. Perfect."
Renee gives a shuddering laugh, places a kiss along Bella's hairline. "Right. I think I heard that too."
After the bags are packed in the back of Renee's station wagon, and the car is easing its way onto US-60, Bella takes a deep breath and turns to Renee. "Mom. We have to talk."
"Not now, Baby, please."
"Mom."
"Isabella, please," Renee pleads, her hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. Bella watches her mother's face closely: the thin set of her lips, the angled brow, the way her eyes squint against tears. She swallows, and Bella is fascinated by the way her neck moves, how the sound seems to echo in the cramped confines of the vehicle.
"Okay," she relents, turning to watch as a sleeping Phoenix fades bit by bit through the window. The bustling heart of it giving way to the suburbs, further out still to houses and trailers on wide plots of land—the yellow lights of bedroom windows glowing like lighthouse beacons in the dark, and then nothing but desert. In the silver of the moon Bella can make out the shadows of prickly pear cacti, creosote bushes, and desert willows.
Reaching out, Bella slowly winds the window down, the warm air of Arizona brushing her hair back. Resting her head against the window's frame, she breaths in the night air. It fills her lungs, leaks into her the ancient mysteries of the land. As she exhales, she's surprised to find that she's sad. The feeling weaves itself over her like a second skin.
She thinks of Bart asleep in bed, his breath coming out in odd little bursts. Bella imagines those hideous olive sweats Renee bought him, how one of the legs is probably scrunched up to his knee. She wonders if he's dreaming of her mother, of the life they agreed to share. She tries to picture things differently, the door to the bedroom opening, Renee sliding onto the mattress cooing 'Hey stranger.'
A part of her wants to grab the steering wheel, jerk it around so that the car will turn back towards Phoenix. Bella wants to reach over, place her foot on the gas pedal, press as hard as she can, and hoot like mad. 'You're making a mistake. A great, big, terrible mistake. You'll regret this. Can't you see that you'll regret this? It will eat you alive. Tear you apart. Why are you doing this? Why do you always do this? Can't you see he loves you? Can't you see how happy he'll make you? Why are you doing this to me?'
It takes Bella a moment to realize she's crying, that those strange sobbing noises are rising from her own throat. In the driver's seat, Renee joins her. Hot tears work their way down mother and daughter's flushed faces as the wind caresses their cheeks, soothes 'Everything will be okay. Give it time.'
They drive on, the sound of the night and the wind and their sobs covering them like a blanket. The city a splash of light in the rearview mirror, like a fallen star that crash landed on Earth. All their dreams lie burning up in its last flicker of glory. On the horizon Phoenix disappears.
It's a quarter to nine when they finally stop in the small town of Quemado, New Mexico. The sun is shining bright, and already it's too hot for clothes. Bella pinches the worn fabric of her shirt between thumb and forefinger, pulls it away from her skin. Warm air rushes in to fill the gap between the bare skin of her stomach and her shirt. It is only marginally better than having the top pasted to her skin. "Hot."
"Hot," Renee parrots back, pushing her shades atop her head. She turns the car key, the growl of the engine ceasing, as she glances at the surroundings. "Well. This is tiny."
Bella squints against the glare of the sun, gazes up and down the road they're parked on. The street is deserted, and it reminds Bella of those old westerns she used to watch with Bart late at night, waiting for Renee to finish experimenting in the kitchen. He used to point at the television, say 'Now there's a real hero' as a gunslinger walked across the screen. When Renee was done in the kitchen, and Bart had taken a big bite of her latest creation, Bella would tease 'Now there's a real hero.' Now, Bella sighs at the sleepy looking street. All that's needed is a lone tumbleweed rolling along. "Yeah."
The car door shrieks in protest as Bella swings it open. Her flip flops beat out a thwack-thwack as she follows Renee across the street and into a tiny dinner. As they sit in a booth eating huevos rancheros and chilaquiles, Bella wants to ask her mom about the wedding. 'Why did you run?' The question seems to hang over them, like a fat grey storm cloud ready to rip apart, as they slowly chew.
Bella watches as Renee finishes off her breakfast, calls the waitress over. They strike up a friendly conversation, and Bella is only half listening as the woman—whose nametag reads Sandra—begins talking about Walter De Maria and the Lighting Field nearby. Renee is smiling, completely absorbed in Sandra's words. Sandra seems to glow with the attention.
It's moments like this that Bella finds it easy to love her mother. Renee has always had the ability to make whomever she's talking to feel as if they're the most important person in the world. She reacts to everything perfectly; small little gasps, horrified no's, and tiny nods of agreement. It's this about her mother that makes it easy for Bella to confide in her. Bella recalls nights curled up on the couch with Renee, a carton of ice cream with two spoons resting between them, as she spilled all her insecurities and goals, her big dreams for the future and her fears. In the glow on the television, Renee would take Bella into her arms and all the bad and niggling doubts would seem to slip away.
Renee's laughter breaks through Bella's thoughts, and she watches the way it seems to lights her mother's face. She used to laugh like that with Bart, and suddenly Bella finds herself angry with her mother. She opens her mouth to spit something mean at her, but Renee's nodding enthusiastically at the waitress and the urge disappears as quickly as it came. Bella glances between Sandra and Renee, has the need to flee. Her skin crawls with the feeling, and her leg bobs up and down.
"I'm gonna go explore," she mumbled, sliding out of the booth. The cracked vinyl scratches at her thigh, leaves a faint pink mark. Renee answers with a smile and a nod. Bella waits a beat in the diner's doorway, eyes on Renee, before turning out to the still bare street. She walks out towards the center, and stops once she reaches the middle of the road. To both her left and right, the street ends in the dry expanse of desert. With a sigh, Bella finishes crossing the street to the station wagon. It's unlocked, and she quickly grabs her book from the backseat, Great Expectations. What a joke. She tosses it back into the car, and instead grabs Renee's novel, Good In Bed.
Quemado is tiny, and by eleven Bella's looped around it too many times to count. Needing to rest, she ambles down the street until she comes upon the tiny brick church she's passed three times before. She settles herself on the ground, back pressed against a weathered wall. It casts a cool shadow over her, and she is thankful for the rest from the sun. Renee's book falls from her clammy palms, lands open on the dirt. Bella presses her hands down firmly onto the dry ground. She closes her eyes, tries to focus on the pull the earth has on her. Can you feel gravity, she wonders.
Blinking her eyes open, she lets her body relax. Her shoulders fall, and some of the tension she's been carrying from the moment Renee entered her room leaves her. The scene relays in Bella's head, and she's surprised to realize that it's only been hours since they packed the car and took off. She pictures Bart waking, the sheets tangled around his legs. She sees the familiar slope of his shoulders, the way his eyes are always downcast in the morning. She can see him clearly in her mind, making coffee and reading the early morning paper as the radio plays. Some Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac, AC/DC and Rush. Bella can see Bart mouthing the words to a Black Sabbath song, handing her the comics with a smile. 'We've got to wean you off those stuffy old regency romances some way, haven't we?'
There's the familiar prick of tears, and Bella leans her head back to rest against the wall, eyes trained up at the sky. It's a shocking shade of blue. Too bright and cheery for how she feels. Bella feels old and tired. How could so much have changed in such a short period of time? The fat underbelly of a plane passes overhead, and Bella makes a mental note to call her father. She thinks about what she'll tell him. 'Sorry, Cha—Dad, but I can't make it to Forks this summer. Mom's kind of…she's not getting married. And I wanted her to. I like Bart. He reads and he cooks, and he never forgets to pick me up from school the way Mom does. Why is she doing this? Why couldn't you stop her all those years ago? Did you even try?'
August 12, 2006
The night before her wedding, Bella sleeps alone. It is the first night since Jacob Black left that she does not have a nightmare. Instead, she dreams of a tiny red house, a small garage, and a too tall boy humming as he works on a car's engine. Everything is calm, and a happy contentment settles over Bella as she watches the boy work. He turns to her suddenly, smiles a smile that is just for her, and offers her a hand.
Bella feels her heart swell as she reaches out to grasp Jacob's offered hand. Their fingers have barely brushed when Bella finds the vision gone. In the place were Jacob stood, palm outstretched, is Bella's bedroom window, white light filtering though to rest on the foot of her bed. Through the glass, the moon illuminates the trees outside, and Bella shuts her eyes. She picture tiny saplings just starting out, white roots stretching as far as they can through damp soil, curling and twining to hold onto the Earth as hard as they're able. She sees their branches trembling in the harsh gusts of storms, refusing to be brought down.
A lonely feeling settles in Bella's chest as she watches the treetops sway in the breeze. The feeling spreads throughout her whole being, heavy as lead. It seems to weigh her down on the bed, anchor her to the Earth. She thinks she may never rise from this spot. There's the sound of happy laughter from downstairs, and curiosity slowly displaces the feeling of being alone.
Shoving the covers back, Bella makes her way towards the warm sounds of laughter and hushed talking. At the foot of the stairs a flickering light draws her to the living room. She pauses in the doorway, her breath caught in her throat.
The television plays an old home video. On screen a much younger Charlie is holding a toddler Bella on his lap. He's grinning at the camera, laughing. '—a few minutes. Don't know why. Hey, Rach, be careful with that.' The camera swivels, and a much younger Rachael Black fills the screen. In her pudgy hands is a fishing pole that she's waving around frantically. 'Oh, Ray! Honey, stop that.' A pregnant Sarah Black scolds as she reaches out to try to grasp the top of the pole. There's a shuffle, the scene tilting and blurring before righting itself. The camera is focused on a laughing Renee. Her hands instantly shoot up to block her face. 'Billy! You stop that this instant!'
Tearing her eyes away from the television, Bella focuses on the people in the room. Charlie is in his old recliner, feet propped up and a beer in hand. On the couch Phil is nursing his own beer, one hand massaging Renee's socked feet. Renee is stretched out across two cushions, head resting on the arm of the couch. She laughs suddenly, the sound of it puncturing a hole in Bella's chest, and turns to grin at Charlie.
"Remember what happened next?"
Bella's heart begins a furious pounding as Charlie smiles, shakes his head in amusement. "Rachael whacked you in the eye with the fishing pole."
The three adults break into loud laughter as chaos breaks out on the television screen. Their eyes are glued to the unfolding scene, but Bella cannot tear hers away from the three people before her.
This is my family, Bella thinks, watching as they smile and tease one another. I'm giving this up. Her chest tightens as she imagines them around her grave, all the people of Forks surrounding them. She swallows thickly, and tries to blink away the prick of tears threatening to fall. She feels as though she can't breathe, as if there's an iron vice around her lungs. She barely registers the fact that her whole body is trembling.
Renee catches sight of her, and Bella watches, fascinated, as her mother's face instantly sobers. Renee sits up, arms outstretched. "Oh, Baby," she breathes as Bella collapses into her arms, great big sobs wracking her body. Charlie and Phil watch as Bella holds on fiercely to Renee, the home movie forgotten.
"I need you to not ask questions, okay?" Bella hiccups, face pressed into the warm side of Renee's neck, as she echoes words spoken by her mother years ago. "We have to go. Right now. I can't—Oh God, Mom, I can't marry him. We have to leave. I have to get out."
Renee runs soothing hands though Bella's hair, down her back, and over again. "Okay," she answers. "Alright. Where are we heading?"
"I don't know. Nowhere. Everywhere."
"Okay," Renee repeats, pulling Bella in for one last hug. Her arms are tight around Bella, and she wants them to stay like that forever. On the television, the family video continues to play, filing the living room with gentle teasing and warm laughter.
Bella is barely able to follow the progression of events, too wrapped up in her own head. All she knows is that somehow she went from being in Renee's arms to sitting in the passenger seat of Phil's rental car, clothes and other oddities thrown into the trunk without being properly packed. She looks through the open window to find Charlie's frowning face. When he notices her gaze on him he forces a smile, leans in and kisses her cheek. The gesture is so unexpected, so out of character, that it starts a dull ache in Bella's chest. She wants to reach out and touch him, run her fingers through his hair and trace the beginnings of wrinkles. She wants to tell him she loves him, that she's glad he's her father, how she's sorry she's been such…such what? An awful daughter, so self centered?
"Don't worry kid," Charlie says, pulling back. "I'll take care of everything while you're gone."
Bella opens her mouth to thank him, but the words get lodged on the way up. Instead, she nods. Charlie gives her a small smile, a nod of his own, then walks around the car to join the hushed conversation Renee and Phil are sharing. Bella lets out a shaky breath, rests her head back against the seat. She feels ancient, older than those towering trees in the forests surrounding Forks. Bella's lids fall shut as she remembers the night Renee crawled into bed with her, told her to pack. She'd felt a thousand years old that night, Phoenix slipping past as they escaped into the star-studded dark. Bella recalls the warm air of Arizona gliding across her skin, the shadows of saguaro cacti, and her own sobs lost in the wind. She dozes off to the feel of Renee's warm hand curling around hers, the purr of the car's engine.
June 19, 2003
Renee eases the car next to a gas pump, shuts off the engine. The windows are all rolled down, and she rests her arm on the sill, looks around at the surroundings. "Need anything?"
"Some milk. And a hotdog."
"Breakfast of champions," Renee grins, swinging the door open and stepping out. "Be right back."
"With ketchup!"
Bella watches Renee walk into the mini-mart, follows the top of her head as she makes her way down the short aisles. Heat fills the car, and Bella opens the passenger door in the vain hope that it may cool her off some. It doesn't. A grating sound catches her attention, and she turns to see two skateboarders riding up. The taller of the two catches her eye, smiles. A nervous flutter starts in Bella's stomach, and she turns away, embarrassed. She waits till the count of ten to turn back.
The two skaters are dismounting from their boards. The shorter one sits on the curb, kicks his legs out straight. He's got blonds hair, and the green shirt he's wearing seems too big. He exchanges a few words with his companion, then hands him a few bills. He pockets the money and enters the mini-mart.
"Hey you!"
Bella jumps, turns to stare at the boy sitting on the ground. She points at herself, unsure if it's her attention he's trying to get, mouths 'Me?' He grins, nods. "What?"
"Where are you from?" He asks, leaning forward. The front of his shirt falls, exposing the pale hollow of his collar bone. Bella considers him for a moment, determines him to be fifteen or sixteen.
"How do you know I'm not from here?"
The boy chuckles, and it makes Bella tingle with pride for having drawn forth the sound. "Small town. Plus you've got Arizona plates."
"Oh." Bella ducks her head, hair falling in place to cover her blushing cheeks. She's in the middle of mentally berating herself when Renee appears. She hands Bella a plastic bag before walking around the car to begin pumping gas. Bella riffles through the bag's contents, pushing aside shrink wrapped donuts and a folded map of the US, before finding her food. She pulls out the bottle of milk first, uncaps it and takes a long drink. It is thick and cool on her tongue. The coolness slips down her throat, seems to envelope her whole body. Next, she takes her foil covered hotdog out. Unwrapping it she frowns, Renee's forgotten the ketchup.
As she bites into her hotdog she lets her eyes wander. Across the street is a small grocery, and next to it a thrift store. In the display window a mannequin wears a floral dress that Bella estimates to date back to the late seventies. A blue truck pulls into the parking lot of the grocers, parks. The door swings open and a woman hops down, a baseball cap in hand. She shoves it down hard on her head and makes her way towards the store.
"Hey!" Someone shouts. Bella turns to catch sight of the taller of the skaters waving. The woman stops, turns towards the gas station. A diesel truck passes, blocking her from view for a moment. "Can I spend the night at Spencer's?"
"Eli, you're grounded," the woman shouts in reply. Eli toes the ground, shrugs. Bella watches as the woman pauses, then raises both hands with palms open to the sky. "Alright, go ahead!"
Eli shouts a thanks, high fives his friend. The slap of their hands echoes in Bella's ears. It reminds her of her friends in Phoenix. She imagines Pat and Alex bumping fists and cackling, Vanessa tossing her hair over her shoulder, and Tracy giving a shy smile. There's a pang in her chest. Bella just wants to go home. She wants to sink down into the lumpy couch of Pat's basement, listen to Vanessa lecture Tracy and her on proper upkeep. What Bella really wants is to sit at the kitchen table of her house and play Scrabble with Bart and Renee, a Def Leppard CD whirring away in the stereo.
"Hey," Renee says, leaning through the driver's window. "You want to drive?"
"I don't have a license."
"C'mon Baby," Renee grins, reaching out to tuck hair behind Bella's ear. "Live a little."
Bella turns away from Renee. She hates when Renee does things like that, tries to get her to do things she doesn't want to. She gives an annoyed sigh, watches as the two teen boys sit on the curb and eat sandwiches. The blonde one laughs, slaps his hand on the ground. She wonders what would happen if she joined them. Would they accept her, laugh and tease her about how she's always stumbling over her own two feet? Would Renee stop her? Bella turns back to her mother, who is smiling. Bella really doesn't want to drive, not when the possibility of crashing and getting pulled over scare her so much. However, the possibility of Renee badgering her for the next few hours is something Bella wants even less.
"Alright," Bella answers, dropping her used wrapper onto the floor of the station wagon. She crawls across the car and into the driver's seat, her knee bumping against the stick shift. Once in the drivers seat, she lets Renee walk her through adjusting her seat and the rearview mirror. Bella makes quick work buckling up. In the side mirror, Bella watches the reflection of Renee placing the gas nozzle back in place. She pats the side of the vehicle twice, slides into the passenger's seat.
It takes a few minutes for Renee to explain how to switch gears, and soon the engine is roaring. The car lurches forward, jerking Renee and Bella back. An icy panic starts a path through Bella's veins as she envisions crunching metal and tires flying every which way. It's slow going, but Bella is eventually able to get the boat of a vehicle onto the highway. It's easier now, going at a constant speed. In the passenger seat, Renee turns and riffles through the mess on the back seat. She comes away with a triumphant smile, a cassette tape in hand. Bella is too nervous to glance over and see which one it is, afraid that in doing so she may veer into the next lane and hit a green Nissan.
There's a hiss, and then Prince fills the car. Bella laughs, begins to shake her head then thinks better of it and stops. Beside her, her mother starts to sing. Her voice is louder than the speaker's, and she stumbles over the chorus. Bella quickly joins in. She feels pleasant all over. She's driving a car without a license and singing as loud as her lungs will allow. A bubbling works away in her stomach, nervous excitement sending her insides into a conga line.
Hours later, the front of the station wagon is pointing south, leading them in the direction of Austin, Texas. It was Renee's idea, of course. They'd pulled onto the side of the highway for a stretch, and Renee had taken out the map of the US, unfolded it on the hood. She'd traced the blue and red veins webbing across the country, murmuring the names of all the places she's never been. Bell had stood beside her, their arms brushing slightly. Each light caress was a balm; it worked its way onto Bella's skin, brought with it that incredible power that was distinctly Renee's.
"Here," Renee had said finally, tapping on the state of Texas. Bella had leaned forward, read Austin right above her mother's purple fingernail. "We'll just pass through real quick then head north. How's that sound?"
"Good," Bella had answered. Then they were climbing back into the car, Bella at the wheel. Renee had slipped in a new cassette, Patsy Cline, as the car began to chug along. They sang along, but not long after Renee's voice had begun to taper off, and by the time 'She's Got You' was over she'd fallen asleep. Now, the dial on the radio is switched to a jazz station. The radio DJ comes on and begins talking. 'And that was Chet Baker with 'Two a Day.' Now it's time for our Album Hour. We've got 'Birth of the Cool,' as requested by Cindy. Here you are Doll, a little 'Venus de Milo' to get you started.' On the opposite side of the car, Renee shifts, her head falling back, mouth open the slightest bit.
Bella is at ease. All her limbs feel relaxed, weighted down to the Earth in a way that doesn't have her panicking about too hard of a gravitational pull. Her breathing is no longer erratic, and the fear of clipping a passing big rig is no longer such a heavy burden on her mind. She feels older somehow, more mature. None of her friends back in Phoenix have driven yet. Well, with the exception of Pat anyway. Bella doesn't think that should count though, as he only drove to the local movie theater and back home in his brother's Buick. He hasn't driven nearly as much as Bella, and the fact that she can tease him with that fact makes her happy.
However, the feeling doesn't stay long as the reason for the impromptu trip comes back to Bella. The familiar tension of the past couple of days seeps back into the car, thickens the hot air. Bella considers turning the station wagon around, surprising Renee when she wakes to find they're back in New Mexico, closer to home. The highway is practically deserted. It'd be so easy to slow down, make a u-turn. Bella is starting to seriously consider it when blue and red lights catch her attention.
"Fuck," she breathes, hands on the wheels tightening. She's not one for cursing, but the word flies out, and Bella is too terrified to care. Her heart starts a frantic dance, and she prays wildly for the cop car to pass her. She hopes that this is all just a mistake, that the officer means to pull over the car in front of her. She has no such luck, as the black and white vehicle pulls up close behind her. With a trembling sigh, Bella eases her foot off the gas pedal.
"Wassa madder?" Renee slurs, arms rising above her head in a stretch. Her shoulder pops, and she makes a soft sound of contentment. Bella doesn't have time to answer, as there's a knock on the window sill.
"License and registration please," the officer requests, leaning down to flash a light into the car. It blinds Bella, and for a moment she thinks she's died. She sees herself standing at the end of a hallway, watching horrified as it seems to grow longer and longer. The white light at the end bobs, disappears altogether. In its place is the officer's face. He looks to be in his late thirties, with a strong jaw covered in the shadow of stubble. His eyes are blue, and as he squints Bella can make out the thin webs of crow's feet.
"Well, crap," Renee says from where she's sitting, riffling through her purse. It's Renee's admission to the awful situation that sets Bella off. She finds herself crying, loud sobs that make the officer uneasy. She sniffles and rubs at her face, spews off all sorts of excuses. She tells him about the wedding, about Bart, and how her mom crept into her room in the early morning. Both the officer and her mother are surprised by the outburst, and the man laughs when Bella finally finishes her tirade with a wail of "I don't want to go to jail!"
Bell is too much of a mess to follow the sequence of events properly. She simply sits and gathers all her stray nerves together as Renee exits the car to talk to the officer. She stays outside for quite some time, and Bella can hear her laughter echoing into the night. Bella feels drained, as if all the energy from her body has been suctioned out with a powerful hose. She wants to slip under the comforter of her bed, snuggle into her pillow and go to sleep. A car passes, illuminating Renee and the officer in a bath of yellow light before they're plunged into darkness yet again. Bella's lids are heavy, and she watches as the officer places a hand on Renee's elbow. She wants to get out and remove his hand, but sleep is coming upon her quickly. The last thing she registers before slipping into the dream world is the car door opening, Renee's hand on her shoulder as she tells her to climb into the back.