Bella sat in the coffee shop. The exposed brick and pipe seemed to be trending in all the shops. Every coffee shop, bar, restaurant Edward had taken her to in the last few months seemed like a never ending train of pipes and russet brick. The worst, Bella thought, were the walls that were clearly just a facade of brick. We are all faking it.
Normally Bella tried not to be so pessimistic. This was the life she had dreamed for herself. A little apartment in the Brooklyn with a boyfriend that was financially responsible enough that she could quit her job to write full time. She live in New York City. It is the center of the world so why couldn't that be enough for her?
She thought back to what Charlie used to say to her when she spent summers with him.
"You're ungrateful," he would mutter when she said she missed her mother and Phil. "And a snob. What! My tiny house isn't good enough for you?" His breath reeked of stale beer. The whole dingy, small house reeked of stale beer. "Are you going to run off from me like your whore mother."
That phrase would always send an unpleasant mixture of nausea and rage bursting through Bella. It would start low and deep in her belly and try to swallow her whole. Instead it would make her face green from choking down the boiling emotions. Arguing was useless when he was that drunk. She would just prepare his plate of beef and grey, frozen vegetables, knowing the veggies would find themselves either in the trash or the toilet. She would smile prettily at her father and rest on the couch next to his beaten up La-Z Boy.
"Of course I won't run away, Daddy," she would consol him. "But I have to go back to school in August."
She felt pity for her father. Renee said he hadn't always been like that. He had once been so full of life. He had been vivacious. He had taught her everything she knew about spontaneity. Then everything changed when Renee got pregnant. Charlie hadn't wanted a child, neither had her mother. Their souls were too wild to be pinned down by a baby. But Charlie was a devout Catholic. So he and Renee eloped. Bought their tiny house in a tiny town. Charlie climbed the ranks until he was made Sheriff. They became the perfect domestic couple. Silently hating themselves, their world, and each other. Renee ran away and Charlie picked up drinking. Meanwhile, baby Bella sat in the corner, growing tall while watching the paint of her parents fading marraige chip away until Renee met Phil.
Phil was the first man to save Bella. Edward's one and only predecessor.
Writing for Bella always seemed to follow a pattern. She would settle herself in to whatever surrounding felt right, she would observe the stillness or commotion of the room, and then she would try to just describe what she saw. In her bedroom she filled pages on the exact color of the her pillow and how the deep blues contrasted with the bright yellow comforter all against a soft grey wall. The pillows were marked in the center from where her and Edward's heads had rested the night before. The comforter was crumpled but fluffy, filled with warm down feathers. The wall was pale, meant to open the room but fade into the background. Bright, inviting, comforting, soothing. A harmony of colors and textures that she could put on paper, not with paint but with words. She thought that made her special. She thought that she could see the world differently from most people. Even a pillow could be so extraordinary in her small brown eyes. But she would not let another soul know that she considered herself about average. After all, she did not possess talent. That is why she did her writing in the one coffee shop in town where you could get a cup for three dollars instead of five. If she had even a modicum of talent, she would have scored a book deal. Or at least have finished her damn novel by now!
Bella took a breath. She would not let her frustration overwhelm her. She sat down to type.
"Will I ever get to read what my little Hemmingway is writing," Edward called dotingly from their bedroom. Bella was in the kitchen preparing Monkey's dinner. Edward was changing out of his work clothes and into something more formal. Despite tonight being his birthday, he and Bella had to go out to some fancy dinner in Manhattan with a client. Edward assured Bella it would not be a stuffy occasion and "shoptalk" of any kind was strictly prohibited.
Bella had muttered under her breath. "How on Earth do you expect to accomplish anything if you cannot discuss what the one thing that brings you together?"
Edward had merely raised a brow and smirked. It reminded her so much of the first time they met she had to take a breath to steady herself. It always shocked her how off balance a single glance from him could make her. She new that tonight would go well. Edward was a master a networking and and schmoozing his way up the corporate ladder. It was how he had risen so quickly in the first place. That and his privileged upbringing. His father, Carlisle, was a senator of Connecticut and his wife was from old money down South. Bella was never sure. But they were the perfect couple to model her own relationship after.
"You can read it when I won't die of embarrassment from it!" Bella responded airly, but if Edward were to read what she had written she just might collapse. Her words were a part of her most intimate thoughts and feelings and although Edward and she were also celebrating two years tonight, she was not ready to show him that. Not yet at least.
Edward walked out of their room in a dark suit. Bella had picked up the pants and jacket from the dry cleaner after she had left the coffee shop that day, exasperated and emotionally drained from the scene she had been struggling for so long to write. His pants were pressed and fit him perfectly. They had been designed for him by the family tailor the most recent time Carlisle had run for office. His tie was a crisp onyx. He was dark with sharp edges. Bella was in complete contrast to him. She wore a blush dress that flowed loosley against her subtle curves. Where Edward was sharp, Bella seemed as light and soft as a cloud when the sun breaks the horizon. Bella slipped on a pair of nude heels she had gotten for herself when she was applying for internships in college. She loved the feeling of being even a few inches taller even if she knew that it would only end with her feet screaming at the end of the night while she tries to appear calm. But Edward loved her in heels. And today was his birthday. And she wanted him to be happy.