"Bella," I hear through the darkness.
"Bella," it echoes again, softly, cautiously.
I open my eyes slowly and see the outline of my roommate's face.
"Bella, I'm sorry to bother you. But you were talking in your sleep about lemonade and leaky faucets, speaking of, my faucet's still leaking. Did the plumber come?"
I turn on the lights in the slightly dimmed room, checking the clock to see that it is now six in the evening. Perfect, one measly half hour nap.
"No, Alice, I'm sorry. The ride back was longer than I estimated. I'll call in the morning to reschedule."
"It's alright. I'll do it," she replied. "Are you feeling alright, Bella? You don't look so good."
"Well, thank you for your insight. I'm feeling fine actually. I-"
"RRRRRRRRRRR" my stomach nags.
"Bella, have you been skipping meals again? You know that's not healthy. I ordered some-"
"Thanks mom," I interrupt making my way to the kitchen, "no but I'll grab something on my way out. I have to go to the cleaners and-"
I don't finish my sentence because upon walking into my kitchen I see Alice's boyfriend as well as the little boy from the bus earlier today. He lifts his head at my appearance, squints his eyes, and as realization sinks in that I am the poor victim of his drink-spillage, he smiles and begins stringing the new vocabulary he learned from the bus incident, this time, singing it in tune to Old MacDonald Had a Farm.
"Here a fuck, dare a fuck, ebrywhere a fu-"
"OLIVER!" Jasper snaps at the boy.
I smile, laughing at the scene before me.
"Hey Jazz," I greet. "And hello to you Oliver. We meet again."
"Again! Again!"
"You two know each other?" Jazz asks.
"Why yes," I reply. "This little man is responsible for the lemonade stain on my good white blouse," I say. "Which is the reason why I plan to go to the dry-cleaners, this fine evening."
Oliver laughs and points at me, "Hahah! Dat was FUNNY!"
"What's all the commotion in here?" Alice asks.
"It looks like Bella here is the girl who Oliver spilled his drink on the way home this afternoon," Jasper concludes, laughing.
"Ah, so you're the girl who's charmed our Edward, hm?" Alice presumes a glint in her eye.
"Edward?" I ask, "Edward Masen?"
"So he did introduce himself," Jasper says. "That liar."
"He didn't so much introduce himself, as he did give me his business card," I said, intrigued by what Alice meant when she'd said "charmed our Edward."
"So what do you think of him?" Alice asks. "Handsome fella, ay?"
"Well I did not have much time to form an opinion of him," I lied, "seeing as how I was fretting over my good white blouse, my only white blouse!"
"Oh hush," Alice says, "I told you, you need at least two of everything for such occasions as these."
"Well," I say trying to end this interrogation before it begins, "there's no use in crying over spilled lemonade. What's the little man doing over here anyhow?" I ask looking at the curly-haired boy who seems very intent on his coloring.
"Well, his mom and dad have a fund-raising event tonight, his uncle is taking the photographs of said event, which leaves Uncle Jasper and Auntie Alice," Jasper fills me in.
"Bella?"
"Uh…Bella?"
"Oh fu- I mean crap," I say realizing I'm staring at Jasper with wide eyes recognizing his blue eyes and blonde hair from that photograph on Edward's website. "Masen-Hale Wedding," Jasper Hale, the bride's brother? I don't know why I didn't see it before. Ha, you know why Bella. Edward's looks too distracting for you?
I shake my head. Shut UP, I tell my conscience.
"Sorry," I say, "I've just been in a daze these past few days."
"No, Bella, what you're experiencing here is hunger," Alice informs me. "Look, we ordered some Chinese food. I bought an extra carton of chow mein just for you! Jazz, tell Bella to eat something."
"Bella, eat something," Jasper echoes with a sheepish smile.
I grab an apple from the fruit basket, rub it on my tee shirt, and take a bite.
"There," I attempt to say with my mouth full. "Happy?" I ask, wiping the juice dripping down my chin with my arm.
Alice sighs and shakes her head, defeated while Jasper sits with Oliver; a new found fascination with the child's coloring and with what seems to be a smirk on his face.
"GRRRRR" my stomach gives me away once again as I struggle to cover it with my arms as if it would lessen the noise.
"Well," Alice says with a smirk of her own, "that makes two of us."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I blush embarrassed, "I'm going to the dry cleaners. Need anything washed, dear?" I ask my roommate.
"Nope, I'm good! Thanks hon!" she replies.
I head out after placing my laundry basket on the wagon I use to cart things around.
As I lifted it into the wagon I couldn't help but think how frigging heavy the thing was. I really don't have that many clothes unless Alice decided to throw a few thousand items in their last minute. Shrugging it off, I see the elevator is now up and running. Ah, so I do have some good luck. Upon thinking about my good luck with the elevator I remember the fortune cookie I snuck from the table when Alice wasn't looking. Not that she'd mind if I took it of course, I just didn't want to give her the satisfaction of finally seeing me eat her food.
I rip the plastic open and break apart the cookie, stuffing both halves into my mouth anxious to read my fortune.
Love is like wildflowers...it is often found in the most unlikely places.
Love, huh? I scoff. Who's to say what love is? I've never believed in love between a man and a woman unless it's between a mother and son or a father and a daughter. It doesn't exist. People mistake lust for love and in the end when the lust wears off over the years; they marry for a sense of security. But nothing feels secure anymore.
I toss the fortune as the elevator reaches the ground floor and walk the three and a half blocks to the local coin laundry. There, I walk to my usual washer and begin the separation of colors and whites. I reach into my basket and begin humming Frere Jaques trying to find a good pace and rhythm in which to do my laundry.
I laugh quietly to myself thinking of a certain curly-haired boy singing that exact same tune, though, not as child-friendly as the nursery rhyme goes. As I continue on humming I swear I can almost hear him too.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," I hear in hushed tones singing. I look around, admittedly a little freaked by this. I see an old lady giving me a weird look, whispering to her husband and I avert my attention back to my laundry still hearing Oliver's singing voice in my head which only gets louder and louder making me think I am seriously in need of some therapy. Crap, that's going to put an even bigger, unnecessary dent in my wallet.
And as the volume of his voice raises and the stares increase toward my direction I see what I thought was a yellow top of Alice's, but is really the blonde curly head of hair of a certain lemonade spilling bandit.
I take the pair of gray sweats revealing to me none other than little Oliver Hale. He stops singing, frozen at finally being found. I laugh at my discovery as my worries of being admitted to the nuthouse dissolve.
Oliver begins to join in my laughter and he crawls into my arms and buries his face in my hair and I feel the moisture from his eyes as they dampen the shoulder of my sweater.