"There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; and not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, but in its hues and fragrance tells a tale of thee, my love." – Byran Procter
CHAPTER ONE
I MET MY BROTHER on a hot September evening in California. To my eternal gratitude, he was not born on my birthday, the 13th. No, my brother decided to show up early, much like I had, but not to my extreme. He wasn't premature, but he did decide to send my mom into labor early in the morning of September 10th, a blindingly sunny Saturday.
By the time Ed and I got there, it was just past nine in the evening. The sun had completely sunk behind the horizon, obscuring the city in shadows, to be slightly overdramatic. Like most cities, Stockton had two faces; the polished downtown overlooking the waterfront, and the gray toned inner city. In the dark, they didn't look all that different.
Mom was giving birth at Dameron Hospital, a blocky, vaguely off white building, the sign lit up in blue and white in the night. Edward let me out while he went to find a parking spot, and thanks to his…. enhanced speed… he darted into the elevator just before the doors closed. I stared at him, more in exasperation than shock, but said nothing, silent with anxiety and expectation as we got off on the correct floor.
The room was eerily quiet; Phil was dozing in a chair, his baseball cap pulled down over his face, but Mom was wide awake yet completely mute, gazing down at the blue bundle in her arms. She looked up when we entered the room, beaming. Ed lingered in the doorway, but I awkwardly approached the bed, waving.
"Alexander Philip Dwyer," she said eagerly to me, offering the bundle. "We'll call him Alex."
I immediately backed a step away, shaking my head. "Mom, I don't think I should-," Clumsiness and newborn babies did not mix.
"Oh, hold your brother," she scolded, and I gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, and looked at the wrinkled red face peeking out of the blanket in my lap.
Alex looked more like a raisin than an infant, but I'd never been a baby person to begin with. I didn't feel any immediate rush of sisterly affection, but he did seem… sort of familiar. I thought I saw the same nose as mine, tiny as it was. This all felt a bit surreal. I was nearly seventeen years older than him; would we ever really have much of a relationship? I'd see him at holidays and in the summer, I supposed, but would he even know who I was? By the time he was my age I'd be only a couple of years younger than Mom's age now.
"Edward, come see him," Mom urged from the bed, and I rolled my eyes halfheartedly as he cautiously approached. To my relief- or my annoyance- both of my parents had immediately taken to my boyfriend, in spite of the whole 'running away to Phoenix' thing. After my grounding had concluded Dad had been perfectly content to let me spend the majority of my summer with Ed, and Mom was constantly gushing about 'well suited to each other' we seemed over the phone. And to my shock, Dad had seemed fine with the two of us driving across state lines today, unaccompanied, although he had given me an early birthday gift, a Samsung, before we left.
"He's going to grow up to be very handsome," Edward noted sagely, and I gave him a look. Last I had checked, he was not the Cullen with the prophetic powers.
"Just like his daddy," Mom cooed, and I happily handed Alex back to her.
"Sorry we didn't get here in time for the delivery, Mom." I wasn't actually sorry at all, as birth tended to involve a lot of blood, which was not something I or Ed should be around, but I tried to sound apologetic.
"It's alright," she waved it away. "You didn't have to drive all this way on a Saturday- Phil got the whole thing on camera, besides."
I tried not to look vaguely queasy.
In the slightly nauseating hospital cafeteria, Edward and I shared a small table in a corner, both respectively picking at our food.
"So," Ed sipped at a soda gone flat, his long fingers beating a nervous staccato on the table top- I felt his pain, hospitals made me just as uncomfortable, although he was the one with the doctor father.
"How does it feel to be a big sister?" His tone was half teasing, half serious.
I gesticulated with a limp French fry. "First of all- I am not a big sister, I'm more like- I don't know, an aunt or something; it's not like we'll ever live in the same house… I don't know! It's weird. Really weird. I never thought Mom would… you know." I shrugged. I wasn't quite sure how to communicate it; I wasn't upset that Mom and Phil had wanted a child; this was probably Phil's only chance to be a father. I'd been practically an adult by the time he met my mom. But now that there was a child everything was suddenly different, at least to me.
"She seems happy enough," he commented neutrally.
"Of course she is, she's got a brand new baby to play dress up with-,"
"Isabella Swan, are you jealous?" he cut me off incredulously, green eyes gleaming with amusement.
"I'm not jealous of someone two hours old," I said haughtily, and then, seeing the look on his face, relented. "Fine. Maybe slightly, but it's not- it just makes it all that much more official, I guess. Her and Phil and the baby. The Dwyers."
"She loves you to death," Ed said seriously. "I can see it." He reached across the table to squeeze my hand.
I shrugged, flushing. "I know she does. It'll just take some getting used to, I guess." I wiped my hands briskly on a napkin and jumped up, stumbling in my haste, to empty my tray.
I'd promised to call Dad, so I did in the parking lot, on the way to the Volvo- Phil had gotten us two rooms at a nearby, relatively safe Holiday Inn, obviously putting a lot of trust in an almost seventeen year old and someone in their early 100s. Dad sounded reasonably happy to hear about the new baby, and I assured him that we'd be back by Sunday evening.
My birthday was Tuesday, after all. The Cullens were promising a party.
Jesus Christ, did I get a party.
It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to...
- Lesley Gore, 'It's My Party'