A/n: thanks for the reviews, they rocked. here's the next chapter...so yea, enjoy!
"Marriage is like life - it is a field of battle, not a bed of roses." -- Robert Louis Stevenson
The dining room was orange. Not Auburn Tigers orange, but yellow orange. It was bright, flamboyant and energetic. It used to be a beige color, but when I was pregnant with Isabella, we painted it a happier color. In fact, we painted most dark rooms bright colors. When we got back from the hospital, without Isabella, I took all the paint from the garage and went up to the attic. I screamed and screamed while I dumped bucket after bucket onto the rough, wooden walls. It helped relieve the pressure building up inside me. I liked it.
The attic is a mixture of bright orange, yellow, green, blue, and red. Jake never saw it, because he never goes up there. Never.
"Hey, runt, where are you going?" Lana said as Cole grabbed his plate from the table and started up the stairs. He stopped on the second step and turned to look at his aunt, confusion etched on his face.
"Up to my room, duh." He snapped. She raised her eyebrows.
"Why don't you eat down here with your dear auntie Lana?" She joked, a smile teasing her pretty face. He scowled,
"Why don't you shove it up your—
"Cole," I said sharply, without looking up from my wine glass. I didn't like alcohol much at all. I only drank it when there wasn't anymore apple juice in the house. Jake used to tease me for my addiction to apple juice. We'd get into huge, dramatic play fights over it that almost always ended with him mixing apple juice with wine, and sitting in our den with me on his lap, sipping the drink with me. He doesn't tease me anymore.
There was no reply. I looked up, and he was already halfway up the stairs. Lana whistled underneath her breath, and I was pretty sure I heard Jake curse underneath his breath. I didn't move.
"So, what did you guys do today?" Lana asked, a happy smile on her face. Lana was married to an author. His name was Joseph Carry, and he was on a book signing tour right now. He was an okay guy, a little shy and dreamy though. He was always gazing out windows with a spaced on look on his face, and diving into Lana's bag for a notebook and pen to frantically write something down. Lana was outgoing, loud, understanding, beautiful, and hilarious. Joe was quiet, shy, awkward, and not the best looking guy around. While Lana had hair that was a golden blond, so golden it could rival the sun, and wide crystal clear blue eyes...Joe had dark hair, a large crooked nose, and brown eyes. His smile was kind, though, and his eyes were a nice color. So I could see why Lana was attracted to him in the first place. He was also Jewish, and Lana placed the Jewish star on top of a Christmas tree the first Christmas they were married. He actually got a good kick out of it, and they celebrated both. Christmas with Alana and Jim, Hanukkah with Joe's parents.
It was all very strange, but they worked, which was maybe the strangest thing of all. They adored each other with such love that I almost felt jealous. Joe stayed by Lana's side at all times. They were stuck together like magnets, and Lana hated it when he left. Even though he'd write at least two books just for her to read while he was away. Which made me think he was maybe the sweetest person underneath it all. After all, what husband would write two whole novels JUST for his wife when he left for two months?! He was a romance mystery novelist. I'd read one of his books before, but I was overwhelmed with tears and fear at the climax of the story, and had to wait a while before continuing it. He was a wonderful author. I own all his books, and one day I will read them all.
"Um, nothing really." I muttered. Jake coughed. Lana was looking between us, a strange look on her face.
"Riight. Well, I was going to wait to tell you until Joe gets back, but I can't! So I'll tell you now, I'm going to have a baby!"
Suddenly, we were all sprayed with wine. Jake was sitting there, shock on his face, wine dripping from his chin after he spit it across the table. He dropped his wine glass.
"WHAT!?" He cried. Lana looked scared, she moved back from her older brother. It took me a few seconds to force a smile onto my face,
"Lana! That's...wonderful!" She was still looking at Jake, confused.
"A baby?" He croaked.
"Yes. You know, one of the things that grew up into the monster living upstairs?" Lana said.
"But...but...you're too young!" He sputtered.
She stood up, placing a hand on her hip, "Excuse me? I'm twenty-four and married, while you and Miley were seventeen and not married."
"We...had a stable relationship!" He yelled. I could see Lana's temper roaring in anger,
"What?! I hardly call having a murderer chase after you stable! And Joe and I are completely stable!"
"How long?" He asked.
"Just two months along," She said.
"Oh so he gets you pregnant and leaves, huh?"
"He's coming back next week!"
"He says."
Lana screamed and said, "I'm not your baby sister anymore, Jake! You can't make these ridiculous excuses as to why I shouldn't have a baby. And I won't stand by and let you degrade my husband. I'm leaving!" She turned to me and smiled, "Thank you for the lovely meal, Miley. I'll call you later."
I nodded, and downed the rest of the wine in one sip.
She glared at Jake before rushing out of the orange dining room and driving off.
"What the hell was that, Jake?!" I yelled, as I stood up from my seat. He was standing there, anger on his face, staring where Lana had just been. He rounded on me,
"What did it look like? My sister is ruining her life!"
"UGH!" I screamed, before grabbing my plate and glass, "I can not believe you just did that! You saw how excited she was! How could you ruin that for her? She's an adult, she knows the consequences and I'm sure she thought of it before trying to get pregnant. She doesn't need you screaming at her. And how could you accuse Joe of leaving her?! That was low, extremely low."
I grabbed his plate and glass, bringing them into the bright, blue kitchen. He followed me.
"Don't you start at me again! I'm sick of you screaming at me."
I threw the dishes in the sink with more force than intended. One wine glass broke.
"Well I happen to be sick of a lot of things." I snapped, flinging the sink on to wash some of the pasta off the plates and into the sink.
"What, me? Are you implying you're sick of me? Because I can leave! You want me to leave?! I can go pack my stuff, and drive off and never come back if you want me to!"
I yanked the drawer open, grabbing a dish towel. I furiously wiped at the plate. I decided I was finished with that, and threw the dish towel in the sink.
"Do whatever the hell you want to do."
I slammed the drawer shut and stalked out of the kitchen.
"Miley! Come on, don't be like that!" Jake screamed after me.
"Shove it, Jake!" I yelled back. I snatched the present someone had dropped off at the house for me, and the laundry basket, before heading up the spiral stairs.
On the first landing, I heard voices from Cole's room. I stopped. I know I shouldn't have, but I was curious.
"—can't do that, Mike." Cole said to whomever was in the room.
"Why not, Ryan? I don't understand." "Mike" was obviously on speaker phone from the way his voice came out so fuzzy.
"Because. I just won't ask her. Stop bugging me. I'll walk with Jennifer to the movies tomorrow if I have to."
"Just ask your damn mother! Just because you act like a dick to them doesn't mean your mom doesn't love you. Besides, Jenny loves your mom. She'd be so thankful if you got your mom to drive you."
Wait, this was about me? Cole was afraid to ask me something?
"She'll say no." Cole said.
I should say no. Because he treats me horribly. But maybe that's my fault.
I tore the card off the present. It was from Jackson, who was up in Seattle for the holiday with his current girlfriend. It was peppermint bark (he'd told me already), which happened to be one of Cole's favorite things.
I knocked softly on the door. The talking stopped immediately.
"What?" Cole yelled.
"Can I come in?" I asked softly. I heard him telling Mike goodbye, before hanging up the phone. A few moments later, he opened the door.
I smiled at him, something he didn't return. He walked back over to his back and flopped back down on his back. Moose was lying on the bed also. Cole adored Moose. It was probably the only person in the house he loved. One Who Likes Sugar Cookies had to be put down last year after getting a hip disease. She hadn't been able to walk anymore. It was quite dramatic. But Moose was still around. Ancient, but healthy otherwise.
Moose wagged his tail when he saw me. I cautiously walked into Cole's room, and sat on the edge of his bed. I pet Moose and looked at Cole. He was staring at the ceiling, ignoring my presence.
"Someone dropped this off for you," I held out the present. He sat up and took it from my hands. He didn't snatch it, I noted to myself. He looked at it curiously before setting it down beside me.
"I'm bringing Emily to the movies tomorrow," I started gently, "you think you might want to ride with us?"
Of course I wasn't really. But I was giving him the opportunity to ask me to bring him.
He looked up at me. His golden hair caught the light, and I wanted to cry.
"Well..." He hesitated, "do you think that maybe...you could bring me and my friend too?"
I smiled. Bingo.
"Sure," I replied, "what time?"
"I'll email it to you," He said. Which was code for, get out. I stood up and walked out of his room, knowing I'd be a while before he'd let me back in.
I climbed back down the stairs. Jake wasn't in the living room or kitchen, so I walked into our bedroom.
He wasn't in there. The silence was so loud. I walked up the spiral staircase that was located in the corner of the room. I climbed them silently before emerging into our sitting room. The walls were golden, and a white love seat was sitting in front of a fireplace. This was my favorite place in the house. It was the only place that was just mine and Jake's. No one else came up here.
He was sitting on the couch, staring at the fire he'd started in the fireplace. I calculated what exactly to say. But I didn't have to think long, because he broke the silence,
"We're giving up?"
I looked at him. His face was composed, and he was staring straight into the flames. Maybe seeing everything go up into them.
"I am," I said. He turned suddenly, to look at me. His eyes met mine. And I felt as though, with that statement, we had nothing anymore. Was that the cold truth? That all we had was a common goal, and anger?
"Then I am also." He whispered. I wondered if that had a double meaning behind it.
"I'm sick of being angry, Jake," I whispered, "And I'm sick of the disappointment. And pain. God, Jake, I'm sick of the pain."
He nodded, turning back to the fire. His eyes had a glazed quality to them, and I wondered if he was remembering happier times.
"That's it then," He muttered, "it's over. He's won."
He didn't need to establish further who the 'he' was. My eyes flashed with anger and I spat,
"No. He's not won. He's in the ground Jake. He's dead. We just weren't supposed to have anymore children. It just wasn't supposed to happen in the first place."
His head turned to meet mine, anger in his features, "Do you hear yourself? Do you actually believe that?"
I threw my hands out in surrender, "What the hell do you expect me to believe, Jake? Please, tell me. Do you want me to keep on believing that by subjecting myself to pain every freaking time this has happened that we are beating something? That we are doing some for the greater good? Because we're not. This is stupid! We keep going through this...this...shit, thinking it's helping something! But it's not! Cole won't even talk to us, Jake! We've...we've neglected him!"
He rose from the couch, "Shit? You think Joy and Bella were shit? Because they weren't! I can't believe you'd even say that."
I felt as though I'd been slapped across the face. It's the first time he mentioned his deceased daughters, and it's to hurt me.
"Don't you dare say that! Don't you even," I shrieked shrilly, "you don't know what it's like! You have no idea what it's like! To have two babies, and then them die because of you! Because of something you did wrong! Nothing is your fault, Jake! It's mine! Okay, it's my fault! And I can't do it anymore! I'll die, I swear to God I will! I lovedthose babies! I loved them! You didn't carry them around for nine months! You didn't feel them kick, or anything! So don't even try to say I didn't love them! Because I did! I did!"
I felt hysterical. My face was flushed from screaming, and my ears ringing. Blood was rushing to my head, and my face seemed to be throbbing.
"I wasn't trying to say that! You were the one that said it was—
"Not them Jake! Not the babies! I'm saying all this, what we are putting ourselves through, is shit! Stupid, idiotic ovulation calenders and...and...doctor visits! I hate the doctors! I hate going! And pregnancy tests! I'm sick of seeing the stupid blue wand! I'm tired of it! And I'm through getting my blood taken! I'm done!"
"Fine!Be done with it, then. Give up." He spat.
I stared at him, realizing for the first time in my life that he didn't understand me at all.
"You don't understand, do you?" The words were so soft compared to everything else. He looked at me, startled by the change in volume.
"No, I don't. You want this. You told me, that this is what you really want. But you're giving up. You're giving in."
"Giving in to what, Jake? What am I giving in to?" I asked, a grimace permanently etched in my face, "Luke isn't here anymore, and I wish we could stop bringing him into this."
"I'm not bringing him into this. You're giving in to fear, and pain." He sat back down, and looked back into the dying flames, "I never thought you were that kind of person."
I felt hate, and anger, rise in me. I screamed and screamed as I hurdled a wine bottle that was sitting on the table at the wall.
"I never thought you were this kind of person!" I screamed, "I never, ever thought you'd hurt me like this! Never! I can't believe what a...monster you've become! If you can't see that I'm not giving up, that it's been over for years, than you're blind. It's not going to happen! Never! And I'm not going to hurt myself anymore."
He tossed a log angrily into the flames, sending sparks flying everywhere.
"Fine. Storm out, and leave me here like you want to. Why are you still standing there?" He looked up at me.
I turned my back on him.
"Search me. I'm going to bed," I snapped. He poked the fire,
"Whatever. Bye." The words were harsh, and left me feeling as though he'd thrown a hand full of flames at me.
I walked down the stairs and crawled into the bed. After my anger simmered down, I waited up for him. I waited for five hours. When I saw the sun coming up, I knew he wasn't coming. So I allowed myself to slip into unconsciousness, the only place I felt safe.
