Authors Note: Gah! My biggest pet peeve is when authors say "I won't put out a new chapter until I get 15 reviews for this chapter". It pisses me off. I was reading one that said…not until 85-90 reviews!!! Double-yoo Tee Eff, Man. Do they just write for praise? ;sjaflaskjfd. Anyway. Rant over. Tell me if I got Edward's character right…I wasn't sure if I made him overthink things enough. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, silly.
It was after Edward and his family had left, and I was sitting with my mother in the drawing room. All the windows were thrown wide open and a cool breeze rifled through my hair.
My mother fanned herself with her hand. I felt her scrutinizing my face.
"You know, Bella," she began, "when I was your age-"
"-you were married." I supplied.
She pursed her lips. "Well, I was." She leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Edward's mother told me that that awful charity Vole has been after him."
I groaned inwardly. Charity Vole is the most insipid, empty headed twit I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. She's had her claws out for Edward for years.
No one would every really deserve him. No one would know how he likes his tea fixed (black, 1 sugar cube), or what types of books he reads (any he can get his hands on), or what music he listens to (ditto to books, though he secretly has a penchant for the trumpet).
They wouldn't know what to cook him, what his signs of annoyance are, what makes him explicitly happy. No one else could hold long conversations on the Oedipus complex, D.W. Griffin's works, no one else would know that he is not really interested in law, that he wants to travel the world. No one else sneaks to the swimming hold with him, or teaches him bits of Russian…except for me.
My mother seemed to notice my absence of a reply. She smiled.
"Mother," I said through clenched teeth, "we are friends. And I refuse to put that relationship in jeopardy. Besides," I sniffed, "if he chooses some one like Charity Vole," I couldn't help but sneer the name, "then he deserves what comes to him."
Oh, how I longed to wipe that satisfied smirk off of my mothers face. She was worse than the blasted Cheshire Cat.
She stood, pausing at the door. "His parents are encouraging him to start seeing a girl. Think about that the next time you sneak off to the swimming hole thinking I don't know what you're up to." She stalked from the room, smugness radiating from her every pore.
Edward's Point of View:
We were walking home; father had donated the car to be used for scrap metal. Besides, my mother insisted that exercise cleansed the soul.
"Well," my father said, "that was a pleasant evening."
I laughed to myself. Pleasant didn't begin to cover it. There was something about the Swan house that exuded cheerfulness and joviality. I always felt welcome there.
I suppose that more so than the actual house, it is the people inside of it. Chief Swan with his neatly trimmed beard and moustache, and his ever present pipe; he seems to always be smiling.
Then there is Mrs. Swan, Bella's slightly erratic mother. Always hovering, making little comments (what a darling little jacket! What excellent boiled potatoes!). She looks rather like a doe: wide eyed and innocent.
And then there is Bella. Ah, Bella. To the untrained eye, she is the epitome of femininity. Well-bred, well-dressed, beautiful, patriotic, and obedient. But to those who know her well, which, I surmise, is only me, she is anything but. More inclined to have her nose in Orson Wells than to be found swinging a parasol, she is opinionated, and expects her opinion to be respected.
She is a rebel who disobeys all rules of decorum. She wears her hair down and accompanies me to the swimming hole. She is the most fascinating person I know, and each second I spend with her, I become more and more intrigued.
We were on the tail-end of our walk home. My father broke stride to walk next to me.
"Edward," he said as made our way up the stone steps to our front door. He pulled out a latch-key and we stepped over the threshold. "It is high time that you think about your future. Will you be following me into the family business?"
I grimaced. This was an uncomfortable question. I chose to hide from it as best I could.
"Er-I don't know, Father."
My father furrowed his brow. "You know what you need in life, Edward. A satisfying job, a lovely wife," here he grasped my mother about the waist and she smiled into his eyes, "a well kept house, obedient children, and religious and intellectual satisfaction. I trust you are mature enough to make your own decisions."
He clapped me on the shoulder and he and my mother ascended the stairs, leaving me to think in the entryway. What did I want in life? I agreed with many of his points, though some I deemed unnecessary.
"A satisfying job" came first. A lawyer seemed so dry, so stuffy. I wanted to be a hero in the war, maybe be awarded the Bronze Star, but after that I just don't know what I want to do. Something in medicine, perhaps. A linguist? I am rather good at French. I would like to play the piano, though I know that is just a folly of mine.
"A lovely wife" was next. I pondered this as I laboriously made my way up the stairs into my room. I washed my face then collapsed into bed, still deep in thought. I wanted a wife who could be my equal. I wanted her to have similar tastes as me, yet be able to open my mind to new things. My thoughts flew instantly to Bella. Over the last few months, I have begun to notice a subtle change in me.
I now notice her more aesthetic qualities. The even tone of her skin, the way her hair shines and waves. How straight and white her teeth are, and how utterly elegant her neck looked in the gown she was wearing at dinner. I suppose the biggest shock was when she hugged me and I had the insatiable urge to kiss her madly.
I knew it was foolish of me, that I should never think of her as more than a sister, for she would surely never think of me as more than a brother.
Authors note: FUNNY STORY! So, I walked into orchestra today, and this GUY named Aaron goes "I can't believe she broke her hand! That made me laugh so hard!" I did a double take. I was like…seriously? And yup, sure 'nuff he was holding a copy of Eclipse. Wow.
