Twi-Fic

Genre: Hurt & Comfort

Character(s): Bella & Jacob

Suggested Listening: "First Fires" by Bonobo featuring Grey Reverend

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

No Telling

How am I gonna tell him 'no'?

When I dropped off the boys a week ago, he'd handed me a letter and made me promise: "Read it when you're alone, Bella."

Of course I would.

But when he grabbed my hand—touching was not something we did anymore—I knew he was serious. The deep, penetrating gaze that made me feel like he could see every secret inscribed on my soul…it bored into me, it pleaded with me.

How was I gonna tell him 'no'?

He wanted my answer when I came to pick up our sons from First Beach—he got Thanksgiving this year so I could take the kids to visit Renee and Phil for Christmas. This arrangement…for lack of a better term…worked.

Later that night, I crawled into my too-large bed and was swaddled by my too-many pillows. The bed was bought right after the divorce—for those nights when all three boys needed extra assurance I wasn't leaving too. The pillows were bought right after they started weekend visits with their father—for those nights when I needed extra assurance I wasn't alone.

Sipping moscato from a stemmed wineglass rediscovered on nights like this, when the tornadic trio were away and nerves of steel were needed, I unfolded his ten page, handwritten confession.

Confessions of love and sorrow, regret and desire.

Confessions of his needs.

For the first time in who knew how long, Jacob was finally telling me what he needed.

But it was also a plea. The letter was a plea for forgiveness and a fresh start, to let go of the past and rebuild our family.

How was I gonna tell him 'no'?

We were just kids when those two, life-altering, blue lines showed up on that stick. Always the do-good protector with the sunny smile, he convinced me to marry him and move to the Rez.

We had dreams and we made plans. He'd open a mechanic shop with his buddies and I'd earn my degree, caring for the baby during the day and taking online classes at night—when he'd relieve me of diaper duty. Things were good for a while…until the next pregnancy test came back positive.

I was never so great at taking the pill, but Jacob, always eager to take responsibility, claimed it was his slip up for preferring not to use a condom—I didn't disagree.

Recessions and layoffs cut into the number of customers willing to get their cars repaired, and an extra baby to chase around cut into the amount of time I could devote to school. Each night, when my husband walked in the front door, I was too exhausted to log on and check my assignments. Resentment, in its infancy, persuaded most of our bickering matches to last through a couple of good jabs, but life was still manageable…until I watched a blue, plus sign form in the result window before I even set the test on the counter.

Three children under four and the money got tighter; Jacob got more stressed, I got more tired, and the fights got longer and louder.

Jacob was the love of my life, and I was his, but this was something we lost sight of when the thick dust of reality clouded our eyes.

Our time, pre-baby, was quick…too quick. We were never able to enjoy just being us. We both understood this—even hinted at it before the divorce was final—but to truly admit and acknowledge it would have been like casting stones at our boys. And that was not something either of us was willing to do.

I woke up the next morning with his letter on my stomach and my face puffy from the tears I'd shed the previous night. Having such a visceral reaction to our memories…

How was I gonna tell him 'no'?

One week later, and here we are. Me: walking toward my ex with a jittery stomach, my eyes roaming over his long muscles. Him: leaning over, elbows resting on an old wooden fence, watching our boys play at the water's edge.

Jacob turns as I approach—sensing my presence has always been a natural talent of his—offering a smile that breathes life into his features…that breathes life into mine.

"How were the boys?" I ask.

"Great! They always are," he answers. Fidgeting with the grease trapped under his thumbnail, he's never been good at small talk. It's like he's genetically programmed to have to get straight to the point, like the thought of stalling causes him physical pain.

"So, did you read it?"

"I did." When I answer, I look down, scattering a few pebbles with the shuffle of my foot.

How am I gonna tell him 'no'?

He calls my name, and I realize from his tone that he needs to see my eyes. "Please, this has been one of the longest weeks of my life. The boys and me…well, we made dinner. We… I… was hoping we could all eat…as a family. Bella, I need your answer. I need you. Come back to me. I've missed you too long."

"You told the boys?"

"I… I'm sorry, honey. I just… We belong together. We always have. I, I…"

Slipping a single finger over his lips to quiet his runaway thoughts, I give him the answer he's been waiting on.

The answer we've both been waiting for.

"Jacob, my love, how could I ever tell you 'no'?"

*Alright, hit me with your thoughts and feels—if ya wanna. ;-)