So, I was listening to Flowers For A Ghost by Thriving Ivory and felt like writing something more sad and dramatic... Btw, you should really check out the song, it's amazing. Anyway, first I wanted to write a story where Bella died while Cliff-Diving and Jake found her and was all depressed bla bla bla but that just didn't feel right and there was no "BAM! I know what to write right away" so I quickly dismissed that. Well and then I came up with this (pretty unoriginal) idea.
Anyway, I hope you still enjoy it. Oh and this chapter is really, really short. It's more like a Prologue, really. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just a little introduction.
Oh well, R&R!
My eyes popped open at the sound of the doorbell and I instantly turned around to check if Jamie was still asleep. His breathing was still deep regular and his eyes were closed, so I got up and walked towards the door.
As I opened it, I saw a police officer standing there, his face pulled down in a frown. "Lilith Jones?", he asked.
I nodded, "Yes. What can I do for you, Officer?"
He sighed sadly before answering, "I'm Officer Meyer. I have very unfortunate news for you. Your mother died last night."
The man nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, so I stepped aside and motioned him to come in.
"Can I offer you a coffee?", I asked over my shoulder, walking into the kitchen.
"Yes, thank you," he replied a little bit distractedly as he took in my messy apartment.
I watched the brown liquid softly trickle into the pot and suddenly realized that I was cold, even though the air around me was so hot.
Placing two cups on the table I sat down and watched the Officer do the same.
"What happened?", I asked after taking a sip and wrapped my hands around the cup to warm them up.
The Officer's gaze dropped to his coffee. "An overdose."
"Ah," I sighed.
The man in front of me looked up then. "You don't seem surprised at all."
"No." I shook my head. "For the past four and a half years I've been calling an old friend regularly to check on my mother's drug addiction, hoping it would get better in time. But it didn't. Two months ago the friend told me that he expected it to happen soon."
The Officer looked at me with wide eyes and I realized what this had sounded like.
"It's not like I never tried to get her away from the drugs," I continued quickly. "Believe me, I tried everything I could think of. But she refused everything. Living with me, detox.... She said she would get it under control. I know I could've just forced her, but could you force your own mother to do something she doesn't want?"
Before he could say anything his pager beeped and he quickly checked it, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "I have to go," he announced and got up, leaving the room.
I quickly followed suit.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Jones," he said, giving me a sympathetic smile, and headed out the door and down the hallway.
Closing the door behind me I went back into the kitchen and grabbed the two cups, dumping them into the sink.
I leaned against one of the counters and sighed. I knew I had to go to La Push, but I didn't want to. My siblings would be there, too, and I definitely didn't look forward to meeting them again. If it weren't for the money my mother had saved over the time --- despite her use of drugs --- they probably wouldn't even bother to show up. They had never cared for Mom. And then there was Megan, my youngest sister. She was only five years old and probably alone now. I briefly wondered why the Officer hadn't brought that subject on, but dismissed the thought.
"Mommy?", a soft, sleepy voice asked. I turned around and saw Jamie standing in the door, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his blankie.
"Hey, sweetie," I said softly and crouched down in front of my little boy, pulling him into a hug. "Slept well?"
Instead of answering he reached out to touch my cheek. "What's wrong, Mommy?"
With a jolt I realized I was crying. "Your grandmother died," I explained quietly, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of my shirt. "We're going to La Push."
"I don't know want to go to La Push," Jamie mumbled and buried his face in my hair.
I sighed," I know, baby. I don't want to, either. But we have to."
Getting up, I carried him into the living/bedroom and sat him on the bed. Then I turned the TV on and kissed the top of his head. "Watch a little Dora and let Mommy pack some stuff, okay?"
He nodded his head in reply, already soaked up in the childish drama of the TV show.
For some minutes I stood there and watched my son, thinking about what I would get the both of us into by visiting the place I'd sworn to myself he would never have to see.