THE CONFESSION
I'm eighty two and lying on a bed. I'm not long for this world, but I keep on hanging. I'm looking at the ceiling although I don't actually see it. Besides what is interesting there to see? It's as white as it was when I woke up here in the morning for the first time in my life.
There's not much changed in here. We replaced the furniture and hung a different chandelier... But the bed is just the same as it was and it stands in the left corner of our bedroom, next to the window. It's big and heavy, made of oak, but at the same time simple, without all those fancy ornaments which make cleaning a nightmare.
After all, cleaning was my job. I had no lady-help or anyone I could use. And I wouldn't anyway. I didn't chose the option number two to act like a princess. I didn't want to. Enough of being carried in somebody's arms! I have my own legs. Still, Jacob kept forgetting about this from time to time.
If I were going to write the story of my life it would be some sappy romance with heroine always needing help and men who save her all the time. Two men, actually. And they both proposed. The romance genre demands that I should chose Edward, the most beautiful boy in the world, though he wasn't a boy, to tell you the truth.
Edward was like a living description of every girl's dream. Handsome as hell, romantic, treated you like a lady... He was running fast, his skin was hard as a stone. And this walking perfection noticed me. He adored me, loved me, carried me in his arms, insisted on giving me presents he could afford. Even in her best days, Scarlett O'Hara was never as rich as the Cullens.
But it wasn't the most important thing. Edward had another feature I envied. He was immortal and, my God!, I wanted be just the same. But then there was this awful birthday party after which he left, telling me he didn't want me anymore, that I wouldn't see him ever again and I didn't belong with him and his world. Well, that was true – I didn't.
I only regret those months of depression isolating me from the world. It was Jacob who has awoken me. There was a sun shining again in my life and the neighborhood was more colorful than ever before. I realized Edward curtained everything around me. I couldn't even tell the color of my dad's favorite sweatshirt.
It was navy blue.
And then Edward came back like an evil ghost to tell me that he loved me, that he had lied to me and that he wanted to be with me again. He also proposed and I was neither ready nor eager for that. Still it was a condition under which he would change me into an immortal creature. I was looking into his golden eyes, and again I couldn't see anything except him. No sun, no friends, no dad's sweatshirt.
Life isn't a book. I said: „no", breaking every rule of a sweet, tender romance. Edward left for good, taking his proposal and perfection with him. And this time he kept to his promise – I haven't seen him ever again. Neither him, nor the rest of the Cullens. They've disappeared as if they'd been buried under the ground. The only person that was left, was me. And my sun. Jacob who let me be myself and make my mistakes. Who didn't rescue me before I even stumbled. For whom I didn't have to die to be with, though I didn't think about it then.
I've graduated from university and came back home. We've met again. It was Jake who changed for me. He gave up immortality, he stopped changing into a wolf and he relinquished his leadership of the wolf pack to Leah Clearwater. Then he came to me and, in a similar way to Edward's, he gave me himself. He didn't throw his proposal into my face, he didn't make me do anything against my will, he didn't say that without signing some papers we can't even think about being together.
Two wonderful men proposed to me. I've chosen the second one – my friend and lover. For the rest of my life.
It wasn't as easy as you would imagine. We've been fighting, we could... no, it was ME who could throw a fit over some insignificant thing. Sometimes we didn't speak to each other for the whole week and only longing made us come together, hug, talk, forgive and laugh about the reason of the argument. Sometimes I threw a plate on him. There where moments when he almost changed into a wolf again. From time to time he made me cry and I made him go crazy. One day he'd hit a table with his fist, casting a tea-service we didn't like on the floor. As far as I remember it was the only argument we finished immediately with laughter.
We rode motorcycles until we figured we're getting to old for this. I was fifty then and regretted not being able to do this anymore. On the other hand, are motorcycles such an important thing? It was only a hobby, inherited by our kids, by the way, though Jonathan overdid a bit with bravery which eventually caused a really bad accident. He made it, but his scars are still visible. I still tremble whenever I recall that night in a hospital, when Jake hold me in his arms and I was listening to his heartbeat praying to every God I've heard about to save my son.
Have I ever recalled Edward? Yes but I thought about him shortly, with a smile and a nice shiver of a woman who's glad that she was adored once. Nothing besides that. I had no time for anything more. I was holding my daughter in my arms, tried to sing her lullabies. My son was sick from time to time or he fought with his friends. So I had more important things to care about than thinking of Edward for whom I stopped feeling anything but a fondness.
And what should I recall anyway? He would have bought me a big car and then he'd have hidden me in some fortress so I wouldn't hurt myself. He would have bought me a great house. But Jacob built me one with his own hands and then he carried me inside, not caring that I hit him with my fists. When I was ready for kids, he gave me them in the same simple manner as he gave me himself. We worked. We repaired our house and we paid our mortgage shortly before the next generation of the Blacks came to the world.
I had a good life. Long enough to realize that immortality is not for humans. I also know how important it is to sleep, so one can appreciate mornings.
Life could be a bit longer, but on the other hand why draw the case out? I'll take memories of the world around with me, and I'll show them to my husband. I only hope he's waiting somewhere there, and he'll open the door for me. After all, there must be something after death, right? Maybe a house that would be similar to ours'. Surrounded by a thick forest? My parents? My dad in his navy blue sweatshirt with a fishing rod in his hands?
And me and Jake? We'll be driving ourselves crazy and keep arguing. Maybe this time I'll cast something from the table, who knows?
I don't regret any minute. Any row. Not a single tear. Not joy, troubles, and my whole life with Jacob. I don't regret anything. Never.