Thanks to those of you who subscribed! I didn't even really expect people to look at it...except for the few people I linked it to.
I have this sooner than I thought I would. I kept debating whether to do it in Edward or Bella' POV. I might end up switching their POV every chapter.
This chapter's a bit longer than the first one, which I'm happy about. They might end up just becoming even longer after this. =)
Thanks for reading!
- Pondie
Edward's POV
Upon turning twenty-one I had decided, being that I was obviously exceptionally wise for my age, that I would move to America. I always loved America when we went to visit. In my mind, America held more opportunity for me than England ever would. America was called 'the land of opportunities', wasn't it?
Of course, it never occurred to me that finding a job would be rather difficult, and that finding a flat with a reasonable rent would be even more difficult. I probably hadn't chosen the best place to live, either. Long Island was always expensive. Finding a job on Long Island is damn near impossible if you don't really have any degrees in anything other than music.
After only a year and five months, I realized that my search for a well- paying job was turning out to be a complete failure. Working a job at a local restaurant that was within walking distance was nowhere near suitable for the rent I had to pay. Trying to find a job that was within walking distance was difficult enough. Forget about having a car; I was bound to public transportation and my own to feet. A car would be too expensive.
Within the next year, I really began having difficulties. I couldn't pay my rent. I couldn't find a job. I got fired for missing too many days because the weather wasn't good enough for me to be able to walk their during the winter. My search for a job became more and more desperate. The possibility of being able to find a job that would allow me to live in the same flat was slowly becoming less and less of a possibility.
I was evicted from my flat two years and ten months after I moved in. For a while I stayed at one of my friend's houses, still trying to find a job and clean up around the house as much as I possibly could. If I couldn't afford to pay for my own food except for on occasion, I could at least pull more than my own weight. He kicked me out five months after with the excuse that his girlfriend was cheating on him with me.
I didn't have enough money to fly back to England. I didn't have enough money to find another flat. I couldn't hold up a job because nobody wanted to hire a homeless person.
Living on the streets was something I never expected to be doing, but sure enough, it was what things came down to. Eventually I got used to it. I moved closer to the city. Things were busier and much noisier, but I got used to them.
It was cold that Monday morning, as I'd expected. Being that it was late fall, things were beginning to get windy and cold enough to bite at my cheeks and any other exposed skin in a much less than comfortable way if I wasn't covered up well enough. I had long since given up trying to save any bit of my dignity and not go to the closest soup kitchen I could find. Having a warm meal once a week surrounded by people who were in the same position as me and other people who wanted to help was nothing I couldn't bear, and it was a rather enjoyable experience once I got to know people there.
What I hadn't expected, though, was to be knocked over by a truck coming down the road while I was crossing it. Before I knew it I was on the ground, my head throbbing and my eyes shut tightly, groaning in discomfort. I had never been hit by a truck before, and I now understood why people compared horrible hangovers to being hit by trucks. It was a completely accurate comparison.
"Holy shit."
That surprised me. I didn't really expect whoever hit me to get out and see if I was okay. People were usually able to tell I was homeless just by the way I dressed...but then again, I just looked like someone who was wearing too many layers of clothing, their favorite old beanie hat, and hadn't shaved in a while. Maybe it wasn't as easy to tell as I thought.
I could tell it was a woman from their voice despite how soft it was. It wasn't until they were kneeling next to me, or at least bending down, that I realized they had been coming closer.
"Uhm, can you hear me? Are you okay?"
I peeked an eye open, blinking them a few times and looking up at her. At first I thought I had passed out and was now dreaming or...something. The way the sun shone from behind the clouds made her ivory skin look bright white, her hair hung perfectly where it was around her face, and her eyes were so filled with concern that they made my heart throb. It took me a few seconds to realize she had asked me something and probably wanted an answer.
"I'm fine. I just...hit my head."
I could tell she was confused by my accent, though she didn't say anything. Her lower lip was caught between my teeth and she seemed at a loss for what to do.
"I'll be fine, really."
As I sat up, though, I realized that wasn't the case. Just the slight movement made my head spin and my hand go to the back of my head, wincing when I felt the practically baseball-sized bump there. It felt a bit most, too, and for a terrified moment I wondered if I had actually started bleeding before I realized I'd fallen in a puddle of some sort.
"No, you're hurt. I should get you ice or something. You might have a concussion...I should take you to the hospital."
Hospital? A bump on the head was hardly a cause to go to the hospital. She seemed quite distressed over a bump.
"I'm sure it's nothing."
I raised a hand and set it on the front bumper of her truck, bracing myself as I got up onto my feet. She got up with me, watching warily in case I fell. I simply smiled at her, going to take a step before another wave of vertigo hit me and I swayed. I felt her hands on my waist and sighed. She wasn't about to give up now.
"I'll take you to my house, then. To get some ice."
"No, it's fine. Really, I-"
"At least let me bring you back to yours, then."
Oh. Well...that was a bit of an impossibility, now wasn't it?
"On second thought...Maybe your house would be a good idea."
I definitely needed ice and pain killers, there was no doubt about that. I wasn't sure how I felt about going into a stranger's house just because she had knocked me over, but I didn't think I had another option.
I convinced her out of walking me to the passenger seat of her car, getting in easily and leaning my head back against the seat with a wince at the pressure it added to the swelling there. Some ice was definitely needed.
"I'm so sorry about knocking you over. I wasn't really paying much attention."
She put the car into drive and started down the street again. I chuckled and shook my head. It wouldn't be the first time somebody had bumped into me because they hadn't noticed me...Though I'd never been knocked over by a car before.
"It's fine. No blood, no foul."
That seemed to satisfy her for the moment as far as apologizing. She still worried at her lower lip, though, eyebrows furrowed and hands tensed on the steering wheel.
"I'm not going to press charges or anything, if that's what you're worried about."
She chuckled and shook her head, even going so far as smiling a bit. At least I'd been able to do that.
"I was more worried about if I've ever hit any animals while driving since I get so distracted."
I chuckled in turn, wondering just the same thing now.
"I'm Edward, by the way."
"Bella."
She wasn't one for conversation, then. I could deal with that.
It was only about a ten minute drive to her house. She was quick to get to the door and unlock it before I had even stepped out of the car, hurrying inside without so much as making sure I hadn't tripped and fell on my way to the door. I went inside and looked around, hands shoved into my pockets. I hadn't actually been inside someone's house in a while, and I wondered if I would leave any dirt or smell behind me. After a quick sniff to my coat I realized I would probably leave a lingering odor of gasoline.
Perfect.
"You can just go sit on the couch! I'll get you an ice pack!"
Her voice came from down the hall in the kitchen. I wandered down the hall and looked through the first doorway, smiling when I saw it was the living room and that the couch was an old blue one as opposed to some new, pristine white couch. At least I didn't have to worry about getting it
dirty.
I sank down onto the couch with a soft groan. Soft cushions were hard to come by in shelters, or anywhere that wasn't a house, for that matter. Being able to sit on one, even for just ten minutes, was a tremendous amount of relief on my muscles and joints.
She came into the room carrying a bottle of beer and a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel. I took the ice from her and she set the beer on the end table, sitting on the other end of the couch as I carefully placed the ice on my head with a sigh of relief. That took the sting off of it, at least.
"I really am sorry about all of this."
"It's no problem. I'm not in a hurry to go anywhere."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. I glanced over at her, frowning a bit when I saw she was continuing to worry at her lower lip. It almost looked like her eyes were beginning to get red. She had only knocked a stranger over. Why was she getting so upset?
"Is something wrong?"
She looked up at me, immediately blinking rapidly and shaking her head.
"No, no. It's nothing, really. I'm just...annoyed at myself."
Deciding not to press the matter, I nodded. She was a perfect stranger, perfect in more ways than one, and I wasn't about to drill her about her personal life.
A few minutes later she turned the TV on, legs folded underneath herself. I leaned my head back against the couch to hold the ice there, reaching over to get the bottle beer and popping it open. I took a long drink from it, sighing happily and licking my lips. I hadn't had beer for...I couldn't even remember the last time I had it.
The time passed in silence, going from ten minutes to a half an hour to forty-five minutes as we sat in a companionable silence, only speaking up when one of us thought of something to say.
I'd wondered how I had never seen her before. She wasn't someone that would be easy to miss, and for a moment I wondered if I actually had seen her somewhere. Had she been on a magazine or something? Her house didn't look like something anybody exceptionally famous would live in. Not to say it wasn't nice, because it definitely was, but it didn't have the sort of top-quality and state of the art technology you would expect. Then again, maybe I just expected people to have a lot because, having no money myself, any famous person seemed to be a likely candidate to have the most expensive merchandise out there.
When the melting ice started dripping water down the back of my neck I frowned, looking at the time. How had I managed to sit there for an hour and a half without even noticing I had been there for that long?
"I should probably get going. I wouldn't want to impose or anything."
I hadn't even noticed that she'd gotten a sort of glazed-over look to her appearance, or that her gaze had been fixed on me, until she shook her head around and blushed. Well, that was something I hadn't expected.
"Oh, right. Uhm...Well, would you like me to give you a ride back to your house?"
I managed a smile and shook my head. That was something I would never need from her.
"No, but thank you for the offer. And for letting me come over."
She smiled as well, standing up from the couch as I did.
"I'm still sorry for knocking you over. I should have been paying more attention or-"
I raised a hand to cut her off, chuckling softly.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."
She sighed and nodded, walking me to the door. I almost wished that I had really hurt myself. Staying in a warm house for a little longer wouldn't have been something I would protest to, but it would have been inappropriate for me to have stayed any longer.
"I'll see you around, then?"
The idea of it made my heart swell a bit. She was someone I really wouldn't mind seeing again. Or talking to.
"I hope so."
