He couldn't afford much on the pay of a La Push mechanic and part-time werewolf, but the ring was decent. The band was a thin string of sterling silver that went just fine with her fair skin. The diamond was small and unimpressive, but her tastes were not refined enough to be bothered.
And to be honest, Bella was long past caring.
He took her to an Italian restaurant in Port Angeles. Jacob had it all planned. The waiter had been slipped a twenty with the instructions to bring out the two glasses of the finest champagne the restaurant carried (which was not in the slightest high-quality), one with a ring resting against the bottom of the glass, after the main dishes were consumed. Bella sat at the table, all smiles as if the intentions were in her favor. When the time came, she said yes to the ring, to the werewolf, and to the life of a mortal.
Settling for Paris churned her stomach just a bit, and she fought back the slight rise of bile in her throat.
The next day, Bella flashed her hand and a smile. Emily cried, the pack hollered their approval, Leah walked out the front door. Within the hour the boys where drinking beer (like lemonade on a hot day) in celebration. Emily, Kim, and the bride-to-be sat around the kitchen table discussing early plans for the wedding. (Beach or church? Strap-less or hater-top dress? Blue or peach bridesmaid dresses? Chocolate or white cake?) Bella stared off into space unless directly spoken to.
She would refuse to participate in a first dance. After all, no one was there to keep her from making mistakes in the complicated dances, balancing her effortlessly on his feet. It's all in the leading.
The wedding day came and passed as quickly as her broken mind and not-quite healed heart could process. She blushed more times than she could count that night, until she realized that there was no point in wasting time being shy with the man she would (have to) live out the rest of her life with.
Time is of the essence when forever isn't an option.
Life moved on like water in a creek (quick and jarring). One pregnancy test: $5.99. One box of tissues as she cried for two hours in the convenience store restroom: $3.50. Being slapped across the face by reality: priceless.
Some things money can't buy, and those things hurt the most when they're gone. But she doesn't want anything, anymore, anyway.
Once she pulled herself together; Once she told Jacob; Once she listened to him make what seemed like a hundred calls to announce the "good news"; Once she threw up twice in the bathroom; Once she put on her makeup and an orange shirt; Once she climbed into the passenger seat next to an exulted Jake; And once they entered the diner to find a group of werewolves shouting merry blessings: The waitress came.
Really, it was funny how ordinarily pretty the young girl was, as Bella recalls.
As Bella looked up at the waitress, the table grew hauntingly quiet. She looked at them, she looked at the waitress, and then she looked at Jacob. Jacob, the same Jacob who had put her back together form nothing but shards of hopelessness, who had wanted her to love him with all his heart. The same Jacob who now stared at the waitress, the pretty little waitress in her white apron and torn-up jeans, as if she had fallen from heaven. As if she were an angel made (only) for him, and him (only) for her. As if she were an angel come to him by the good graces of God himself.
Dear God, it's me, Bella. What the fuck did I ever do to you?
Bella gaped in silence, along with the rest of mutts, because just like them, she knew what the look on his face meant. She wasn't disappointed, upset, or angry. No, she was past those petty emotions. Bella could tell that her days were numbered, and that this waitress at some dirty diner on the south-side of La Push, Washington had counted them off. She gaped at the stupid dog in front of her, at a loss for words. At a loss for thought. At a loss for hope, dreams, wishes, cares, happiness (etc., etc.).
When Bella thought of it, she realized that she only had as much of a chance at happiness as a dead pig headed for hell. (None).
Without a word, she stood up, put on her jacket, and walked out the door. No one tried to stop her; Leah didn't try to rub it in her face, Emily didn't try to make it all better, and Jacob didn't give her a second glance. Bella made her way to the car until she realized that she didn't have the keys. She wasn't fazed by this fact. She simply accepted it, and walked towards the road. She was unsure of where she was going, but with each step of her foot, with each pound of her heart, with each inch she left behind her: Bella cared about where she was headed less and less.
No matter how far she went, she would never be able to retrace her steps to the day she meant that stupid, shiny Volvo owner and make him love (or want, for that matter) her again.
