The Invitation
Disclaimer: Twilight and characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.
A/N: A small one-shot surprise for Crackupmonkey, who patiently reads and polishes my stories – I have her already trapped with a new chapter for " Let's keep the Lights off. " Thank you for all the encouragement, the effort and the time A... !
I hope this is a new idea. It is impossible to know every story in fanfiction.
Sometimes the memory of a beloved person haunts our life and sometimes irony hits us mercilessly when reality plays with the subconscious part of our mind.
This is a one-shot story behind a wedding invitation.
The Invitation
Summary: June is a wedding month. People get a lot of invitations in order to witness the join of two individuals . Some of those invitations are not so welcomed …..
I used to make short plans.
Since I was four years old, I knew that reality consists of changes. That, in one day, your life could be turned upside down just due to a piece of paper.
I had a few of those pieces in a drawer of my mind and I used to take them out from time to time, just to blow the dust away.
Each one had different size... texture...color... age…content…importance.
A plain sheet confirming my parents divorce, when I was four.
A one way plain ticket to Phoenix, when I was five.
A photograph of me in my ballet uniform, when I was seven.
A sketch I made in my art class back in Phoenix, when I was ten.
A gift card from my mother to celebrate my first period, when I was thirteen.
A birthday card from my father, also when I turned thirteen.
A light-blue sheet with a hand-written letter from my friend Angela, when I was fifteen.
A one way plain ticket back to Seattle, when I was seventeen.
My first pay-check from Newton's store, when I was seventeen.
A page of a school paper with my first article printed, when I was seventeen - which happened to be the last one also.
The page of my yearbook with the note "...aspiring writer..." under my photo.
A confirmation letter that I was accepted to attend Dartmouth, when I was eighteen.
A letter rejecting my petition for a scholarship from Dartmouth, when I was eighteen.
Two concert tickets for MUSE, when I was nineteen.
A pink perfumed sheet with a hand-written letter from Alice, when I was twenty.
My college certificate in English from the University of Washington, when I was twenty one.
A bank notice, that I have to pay my credit cards on time, two weeks ago.
My last pay check from "The art of Inviting," yesterday. I'm already twenty six ...
I deliberately avoided to blow the dust in some other pieces of paper.
It used to be a miserable procedure.
My last assignment as a Wedding Invitation Editor, made me search the depths of that drawer in my head .
The missing parts of the previous list were the also most valuable … for me.
A prize for a biology contest, when I was seventeen.
A photo from the junior prom, when I was seventeen.
A score for piano, when I was seventeen.
A photo from my birthday, when I turned eighteen.
A photo from the senior prom, when I was eighteen.
A photo from my graduation, when I was eighteen.
A photo from the summer after graduation from high-school.
A card from Dartmouth, when I turned nineteen...
I used to make short plans.
All my plans were connected to a boy, my high-school sweetheart and…nothing else until today.
None of them took life.
*o*o*o*o*o*o
Today was the deadline for my most important project in the last three years.
Two weeks ago, I was assigned to write the vows and the invitation text for Mr Edward A. Cullen and the Future Ms Edward A. Cullen
When I saw the name, I acted like seeing a ghost.
I was sure it was about Edward and I tried to pass it to a different colleague but...nobody was available.
The truth was they only needed approximately 150 invitations. It would not mean a big commission.
In my lack of luck I could not afford to reject projects.
I was not irreplaceable at work.
Years ago, I realized I was not irreplaceable in life either.
As you have probably assumed my dreams of becoming a writer were postponed...without a deadline.
I had chosen to go East, I had to pay my rent, and New York is an expensive city to live.
The idea of returning to Forks was totally unattractive.
Except from Charlie, there was nothing there...for me.
I had fifteen days to think before the final printing.
The first day, seven words written.
The second day, sixteen words written.
The fifth day, back to seven words written.
The tenth day, I pretended to be sick and stayed home. Zero words written.
My boss had called me the same afternoon . He wanted me to present my progress the next morning.
They had to prepare a draft for the client, before the final text.
I had no choice left...or time.
I am not a drinker but…a few shots of tequila – which replaced my cup of tea- did the work.
I did not sleep that night.
*o*o*o*o*o*o
I was writing and tearing and…writing and tearing…until I run out of paper.
It was 6.30 in the morning when I realized I was lying on the floor of my living room instead of my bed. Tons of used creased paper sheets were scattered around me. I had only four hours till the presentation. As the sun had, indiscreetly, started invading in through the window, an image from the past returned vividly in my mind.
That image was also printed on a piece of paper.
A piece of paper I knew I had hidden in the depths of a real drawer, in my left nightstand.
I slowly managed to get up and went to my bedroom. It was there.
He was so beautiful in that photograph.
I had taken the picture the day before his departure for Dartmouth.
We were in a meadow, and the sun was generously showering us with light and warmth. It was "our" place since junior year. It was the best day of my life.
Seeing him in that picture was my inspiration button. I knew what to do.
Then, I started writing, and writing, and writing...at the back side of the picture.
Three hours later, I had finally e-mailed the text and called sick again. The possibility of seeing Edward and his fiance had turned my stomach in stone. I also needed some sleep.
*o*o*o*o*o*o
At about 5pm, I received a call from my boss.
"Hello Bella, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Mr Jencks said in a unusually friendly tone.
"Hello sir, no you are not disturbing me at all. I was thinking of calling you anyway..." I answered truthfully.
I was very curious about the route of the presentation but I had to keep a neutral facade.
I was sure he would call me after. The draft was very different from what I would suggest in a regular situation.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked me, sounding really concerned and a little…awkward?
"Yes, thank you. I will be at work tomorrow, don't worry." I told him and waited…
"Well, I'm glad to hear you are okay. I called to congratulate you Bella," he said and I stood silent.
"The couple came here today. They are two young and beautiful people. The young lady is lovely and the man is…Hm... I 'm not sure how to describe him… Hm, very elegant and...handsome... Anyway, they loved your draft, both for the vows and the invitation text. The bride asked for some changes but the groom finally insisted on keeping it as it is. "Do not change a word,"was his exact reaction. I myself have to admit you did an excellent job Bella." He finished and I still couldn't form a word.
"Bella, are you still there?" my boss asked in a worried tone again.
"Yes sir, I'm here...I'm glad they liked the draft and...thank you..." I forced my self to answer while trying to struggle and keep my whimpers away from the speaker.
I had hoped they would hate it.
"I thank you my child and I…well we will have time to talk about the details tomorrow. Get some rest dear, good afternoon," Jencks said and hung up.
He had just confirmed to me that my best work in his company was the one I had wished would be rejected... to the point of replacing me. Frustrated, I took that photo and threw it in the trash can.
I had fallen in my own trap.
*o*o*o*o*o*o
The next morning I was informed by Jencks that I could supervise the whole process of finalizing the draft and the style of the invitation. It was a kind of promotion. Only partner editors had the authority to be involved in the whole production process. At least that two-week emotional breakdown would have some good collateral benefits.
I started working immediately. I had only four days for the final delivery.
Choosing papers, envelopes, fonts, colors, ink, was fun but more…difficult than I expected.
The final choice was sent and approved by the couple a few hours before printing.
Today, the only thing I had to do was take the box from the production floor and give it to Jencks.
He had insisted in introducing me to the client but I had politely declined .
They would be here at 3.00 pm.
I delivered the box at 2.50pm and left with one invitation in my messenger bag, a copy I was supposed to keep for my personal portfolio.
The idea of even seeing him with another woman made me avoid the elevators. I took the stairs.
I was on the twentieth floor, almost half way down when I decided to throw the elegant envelope to a trash can. I couldn't wait to get rid of it.
In a masochistic blur I couldn't resist taking a final look.
"Get it out of your system, it's over Bella," I was trying to convince my self.
"One last look," I thought and opened the envelope.
I had to read the text…again…each and every word.
Tears started falling on the expensive paper, mixing with the fresh ink.
Red stains were spreading rapidly, dragging letters,dots, commas, and numbers on their way.
I was almost ready to throw the half destroyed invitation in that can, when a name caught my attention and reality crashed around me.
I used to make short plans.
Today I made a huge mistake.
There, at the end of the text, there were two names printed, divided by a discreet dash.
The one was not supposed to be there.
Edward Antony Masen Cullen ~ Isabella Marie Swan
A/N: I wonder what were the vows and the text in that unfortunate invitation …
While writing this, I got a review reply from a very important - in my opinion - author of the twilight fanfiction world. Her reply reminded me that reviews can make you even smile. For me they are important in order to make my writing better.
I love short stories but...should I continue this one?
If you think this work deserves a future, please, review and let me know. I would love to hear thoughts of what could happen next and make this better.