He'd been staring at the treehouse for about two hours now. The sun beat down on his sweat-stained forehead with an intensity he'd never quite felt before, and he was sure his face was almost as red as the apple he'd eaten hours ago. Still, he continued to stare. The treehouse itself was constructed beautifully, a miniature picturesque thing that stood perfectly on the supporting four branches of the large oak that stood on the edge of the property. He'd cleared its insides meticulously, scrubbing away the fine layers of dust that gathered on the ledges of the small windows, retrieving his secret stash of comic books from the panel in the floor, and organizing all of the remaining toys into separate donation piles. He'd prepared so meticulously for this day, so convinced that this would be a quick goodbye, a quick fix, like locating a protruding tumour and cutting it right off. He held the chainsaw in his hand, and faltered.
The colour of the wood is what shook him. The treehouse was put up when he'd just turned 5. He remembered how proud he was of the enclave dedicated to his own independance that he'd declared it his 'man cave', until he came home to next day to find it painted a robin's egg blue and his mother's hands stained like the sky. He cried the rest of the week, refused to go into his house that had been defaced in his absence, painted a monstrosity of light blue and decorated with painted gold stars on the roof. Carlisle had appeased him for about a day before telling him to move on, while his mother had remained fretful in the brunt of his anger.
Elizabeth had the kindest smile, one that he was not immune to. Even at 18 now, 13 years after the year of the treehouse scandal-as it would come to be known, Edward still remembers the apology in her eyes, the warmth of her hands on his cheeks, and the way her voice shook as she pleaded him to let it remain the way it was because it made her happy to look at it. Five year old Edward had even recognized how uncommon it was for her to be happy, and how trivial the girliness of his 'man cave' seemed in comparison.
"Are you going to cut that fucker down, or shall I have a go at it?"
Edward spun around at the sudden voice, almost dropping the chainsaw on his foot.
"Shit," he held a hand up to his chest, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people holding chainsaws?"
Edward was taken aback by the girl standing in his backyard, one he'd never seen before. She was wearing the tiniest pair of denim shorts he'd ever seen, with a white off the shoulder shirt and necklaces that went on for days. She looked like a human genie, and if she offered him three wishes right at that moment, his first would be to make her his.
Please leave love xx