It Didn't Matter
Chapter Four: Tell Me
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Edward sat in front of his piano with his eyes closed. His hands traveled up and down the ivory keys, creating a repetitive and hypnotic melody. Behind his lids, he envisioned an angel sent from above. She was sleeping, shiny dark brown hair spilling on his lap, or his sheets. Her chest rising and falling. Her breath tickling his skin as she inhaled and exhaled…
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He shook his head and realized exactly what he was humming. He cut himself off from the road to more memories and spoke. "Let's go back to the game." He didn't know what to feel except guilt and frustration. He was guilty that he was with a girl he was taking care of, and he had to disturb her for humming her someone else's lullaby (not that he really could understand why he felt so). It just didn't sit well with him that he was doing that. Moreover, he was frustrated because he was humming Bella's lullaby. He shouldn't have been doing that at all. He was supposed to be leaving behind Bella's reminders. He didn't want to think about her, not right now.
He didn't want to feel the pain of recalling bits and piece of her. Even remembering their Jacob-free past made him ache. He wanted the future; a pain-free, painless, pain-absent future which seemed pretty plausible to think about before he started humming that lullaby. A far away future that he was determined to see through simply because he caught a glimpse of one. And that one glimpse was enough for him to make more as a goal.
So he made himself focus on the present; which was no easy task since his mind was so uncontrollable at times. He asked himself questions he knew would lead him where he needed to be. Where was he? At a hospital. With whom? Kilani. What was going on? He looked at her, recalling that he asked her a question.
She was slightly sleepy from his ministrations but his voice jarred her into alertness. "Uhh, what game?"
"'I Don't Like, But I Like'," he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact manner. He didn't like the silence anymore. He felt sorry for Kilani, but he needed to talk. To listen. Anything but silence. He used his gift of having good memory to his advantage. "I just said I don't like football, and established that you could sing and I play piano."
She looked pleasantly surprised that he remembered and didn't even ask him questions. He inwardly thanked her for that. "Uh, let me think… I actually like football."
It was his turn to make a face and stopped rubbing. A girl like her actually liked football? When she had given off the impression that she didn't like those who played the sport, she still liked football?
"Now, now – I meant soccer," she clarified, "Not American football. Only America uses the term football for the full-body contact sport. If you go to any other country, football is a sport where you kick a ball around since you actually use your feet to handle the ball. Except for the goalie. But then again, goalies have the coolest privileges on the field."
He shook his head at her silliness. "Okay, I concede the first point to you." He resumed stroking her back and somehow, he just stopped thinking. Maybe his brain granted him reprieve. Whatever it was, he just went along with it, much to his delight. "I don't think goalies have the coolest privileges – when they get balls kicked at them."
Their conversation just kept on flowing when she grinned at him childishly as she argued her point AND continued with the game. He didn't know how he kept up with the furious pace and keep his hand on her back with comforting circles. He didn't know how she kept it up, either. But, they were so in tune, at that point. Like twins, or something.
He liked that. He liked that very much. It was the most comfortable conversation he had in a good while. He felt free to be… and he wholly welcomed it, not questioning how his replies would come off to her. She didn't know him, but she was getting to know him – without the prejudice of knowing he was one of the inclusive people the town of Forks has come to know. With her, he didn't feel like wanting to hide.
He didn't feel the need to protect himself… or protect her from what he could say. In return, he could tell she felt the same away with him. So their exchange went wild.
"Yeah, but they get use their entire body to do whatever it takes to catch that ball. Plus, they don't have to run around the entire field going after it. I don't like Cocoa Puffs."
"Have you ever played soccer as a goalie? I stopped eating cereals when I turned twelve, but I used to like Frosted Flakes. I don't like starving."
She snorted. "They're GRRRRRReat… if you like cavities! And no, I've never played soccer ever. What does starving mean to you? I don't like most veggies, but I'll eat them."
He chuckled. "Then you can't compare positions. Getting cavities is because you don't floss or brush well – but I digress. Starving means not having a good breakfast; like toast, bacon, eggs and orange juice or even a sandwich. I like veggies, but I don't like broccoli."
Her eyes were lit with passion for the conversation, and he wondered if his eyes were too. He loved the trend of this weird, multi-topic conversation. The pace was exhilarating, and though he didn't want it to end, he briefly wondered who would break down first and struggle in juggling all subjects. "Okay, then when I bust out of this joint – you and I have to face-off as shooter and goalie. What's wrong with broccoli? Top it off with molten cheese and it's amazing! I don't like parmesan, though – so not that. What kind of sandwiches?"
As it turned out, he did. "My mom used to make me these really good cold cut sandwiches (I don't know the ingredients exactly, I never asked) for lunch during sixth grade, but I ended up eating them before my first class. So when she found out, she made them for me during breakfast, too" he confessed. "Actually, tomorrow… well, later on today – she's coming by with some. My parents want to see how you're doing."
"That's nice of them."
"I asked my mom to make more than usual, so you could have some." He didn't dare mention that he'd be bringing her clothes as well.
She shifted and faced him fully as he sat on her right, his hand stilled on her back. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to," he answered simply.
She remarked, "You're so different from any guy I've had the opportunity to meet in this country. I think you're Asian at heart."
He took the statement in stride, trying not to analyze it; as it were, he found it very strange that she said that. Nevertheless he said, "While you're right that I'm not a jerk or immature, I have no Asian blood – I am part German, part French, part English, part Scottish, and part Irish."
"You're a mutt," she deadpanned.
He grinned, "Indubitably so."
"Nevertheless, you…" She paused, and he knew she was trying to think of the words to describe him in a non-offensive manner. He waited, almost impatiently. "You're the opposite of immature."
While he couldn't help but think that she was getting even stranger, he joked, "You mean, I'm mature?" Again, he forced his mind to remain in the present, no matter how much it wanted to run off. Especially when she was on a roll. At this point, he felt like she had let him in, as much as he had let her in.
She had hesitated for only a moment before she slowly and carefully replied, "More than that. How do I explain this? You're… like Lisa's grandpa! And I don't mean you're old. But you're like the young guys of the olden days."
He nodded for her to continue when she stopped… then watched as she just spilled everything.
"You're very thoughtful and you have a very good memory. You're very sincere, and courteous. You're very helpful, and caring. You're very polite and good-mannered and good-natured. You don't put any gunk in your hair and you're very simple. You are… well, you're clean-looking, like you take two showers every day, 'cause you don't smell like other guys do. And you have this charming air about you and that's not because you purposely use it to charm me or anyone… but it reminds me of-" at that, she blushed uncontrollably. "You can stop me anytime, now."
He laughed. "Not a chance. I should like to hear what you would say." He was amused. Her words pricked at him. He felt something in him getting stoked. The best part was, he knew she was being extremely honest. So honest that she felt embarrassed by how her mouth had run off like that. And the knowledge turned him into a different person.
She groaned. "You even talk like them! Grrr!"
He knew there was a blush coming on, but somehow she was keeping it down. Whatever she was keeping from him was big. "Them who?"
She shook her head, but he could feel her about to break. "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"
He quirked his left eyebrow. "Yes. You can tell me, and trust me."
She mirrored the gesture (impressive, given that most people can't raise the right brow) as she replied, "Edward, that's not conducive."
He wheedled without the brow, "Kilani, come on. I promise I won't laugh."
Dropping the expression as well, she muttered, "It's not the laughter I'm worried about."
Edward caught a glimpse of the hand on her back. He had an idea so ridiculous yet feasible it made him feel wicked. He moved it along her clothed skin, up to her shoulder, then to her bare upper arm, forearm and finally catching her hand in his, squeezing it. "You have nothing to worry about. Please, tell me." He could see that the combinations of his words and actions broke her down. And he knew that she wouldn't put a lid on her exact thoughts about him; and even if she did, he would be able to make her give in easily. He found that being wicked was fun.
She narrowed her eyes at him then said, "Okay, fine. You conduct yourself in a manner not unlike that of a historic romance novel hero."
He blushed, not knowing what else to say. His hand suddenly went limp in hers at the sudden proclamation.
She was blushing too. "Don't tell me you've never heard such a compliment!"
His wide-eyed look told her that he never did. He was too shocked. Shocked enough that he stopped reading her, as well.
Him? A romance novel hero? What on earth?
Then he started remembering his mother, and his aunts and his cousins. A brief thought about the La Push boys entered his mind, but it didn't make him ache, surprisingly. They were always talking about him being so cultured, and perhaps unreal but how the girls keep dropping like flies when they encounter him. He felt a smile spread across his face just as Kilani said, "Ugh! I should have never said it!" She pouted and became silent.
He slowly extracted his hand and put it on her back again, moving up and down. "I've never read a romance novel and don't know anyone who reads them. But I thank you for telling me and being honest."
She groaned. "You're doing it again!"
He looked at her with a surprised expression. "Doing what?"
"The charming shenanigan you do!"
He blinked. "I'm not doing it on purpose!"
"Which is exactly why I said what I said! You have to quit it!"
"Then what do you propose I do to stop it?"
"I don't know!"
He laughed. "I'm sorry. But you know, my… I guess you could call them friends… well they call me Grandpa Edward because I do act like one."
"Smart friends."
A picture of Embry, and Quil (two Quileute boys along with Jacob who had helped his troupe so many years ago) flashed through his mind and left it just as quickly. "They are." He sobered up, sharing something with her. "Actually, my parents told me I was born disciplined. They never had a difficult time with raising me. I was a quiet baby. When I was a toddler – I didn't act like one; I read people like I would read books, so my mom said. I acted (and still do) act like I was always judged by haughty people so I would be reserved and mysterious to some people. But, I do act like I was born in the 19th century when the haute ton was still in existence, and there were many rules to live by. I think that's what you were getting at."
She nodded vigorously. "Precisely."
He just looked at her for a moment, his mind completely straying from their current subject upon the breech of subject about cultures. In Forks, the demographic were strictly Caucasians, African-Americans, Native Americans and Chinese-Americans. He had never come across someone who had the privilege of experiencing another culture without being ashamed of it – he had come across many who were reluctant to share their ancestor's customs; though the Quileutes were a race of clear exception. However there he was, looking at someone who could provide him with insight on being one who knew of living in a different culture.
His mind backtracked to his Non-Western Civilization class for a second. After Mr. Pullman's opening speech, he was a bit more intense in teaching. Edward understood what he was trying to do. The teacher was encouraging them to keep thinking, and to keep their discipline in their studies for when they go off to college. But he also said something in his lecture.
"Many of you don't know this; but in other countries now, the meaning of survival is education. We will talk about that later, when we discuss the smaller Asian countries."
And so, Edward got to thinking that, he wanted to learn about other people… and who Kilani was, why she was so different from the girls he knew, as well. For all the similarities they shared, they were so dissimilar as well. And that drew so much of his interest.
He was used to knowing people at first glance. And yet... this girl had layers, upon layers like he had them. He wanted to know what was beneath. He simply could not let her make him feel stripped, and not make her feel the same.
He said carefully, "I'm surprised you picked up on it, after all we hardly know each other."
She sighed. "Like I told you, I've never met a guy like you in this country…" she trailed off.
"Could you tell me about yourself? Anything I haven't found out from what I took from your car? I really like to know more about you."
"And what do you know exactly?"
He recounted the things he found out about her. As he did, he noted that she seemed pleased rather than annoyed; although when he brought up her cell phone, her mood darkened and he resolved not to mention that techno gadget anytime soon.
"You might want to lie down for this then." She told him.
"Long story, huh?"
"You could say that." She slowly, as if reluctantly, let him go and he made his way to the other bed. He frowned, calculating the distance between her bed and his. He found out he didn't really like it. They were far enough from each other that they would have to raise their voices to talk. He tried to figure out the mechanics of moving the gurney.
"What are you doing, Edward?"
"Uhh, trying to move my bed closer to yours."
"Why?"
"I don't want to talk loudly. As you must have figured out, you have to speak louder now that I'm over here."
"Good point." She let him be for a moment.
He was getting a bit frustrated. How hard was it to operate the damn thing? He knew there was this little knob he had to step on. He let off series of disgruntled grunts before she ventured to ask, "Any luck?"
"No." He pouted and huffed. He looked for the tell-tale latch on the wheels but couldn't find them in the slightly lit room.
"Edward?" At her call, he looked at her. "It'll be a tight fit but we could share for now." She was looking at him reproachfully, and he knew she was wondering if it was appropriate to invite him to lie down where she was. He smiled at the thought of her letting him in, letting him be closer to her. He nodded at her offer as he walked back to her bedside. He slipped off his shoes as he climbed on her left side, minding the needle attached to her wrist. She carefully scooted to the right until she couldn't any more.
"You don't have to do that." He said, before slipping both arms around her midsection to pull her back against him. He was lying on his right side, comfortable and at ease. The bed was actually big enough for both of them to lie on their backs, but he didn't want her to fall on the other side trying to give him space he didn't need. And he had to admit. In spite of her being a stranger, he felt good cradling her like he would his little cousin; her baby-like scent washing over him as he lay so close to her on the bed. "Comfy?"
"Very." She admitted, shyly.
He noticed the tone in her voice and deduced that she didn't have much male acquaintances. He decided to spare her the embarrassment and took a deep breath before speaking, "So, if I recall correctly – you said I am an anomaly from the guys you've met in this country which leaves me to believe that you have been to others. What countries have you been to?"
"That memory of yours is pretty good."
"Thank you." He determined that he didn't really like this position for it didn't allow him to see her, and therefore he couldn't read her at all. "But if you please, answer the question."
She giggled before saying, "Canada."
He made a face she couldn't see. "That's a given, considering how close we are to the borderline. I've been there too."
"Okay, okay. I have been to Mexico, Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Japan, North (she shuddered) and South Korea, and when I was five until I was eleven, I lived in the Philippines."
"Wow. That's quite the list."
"What about you? What countries have you been to? And don't say Canada!"
"I wasn't going to, thanks very much. Let's see… I've been to England, France, Italy… Hungary, Austria, Switzerland… Belgium, Germany… Romania, Scotland, and Ireland.
"You're no slouch either."
"Field trip."
"To Europe?"
"Yeah. Last year."
She chuckled a little. "You have me beat."
"I wasn't aware it was a competition."
"It's not."
"Well, it can't be one anyway, you have been to countries across the Pacific Ocean, and I've been to countries across the Atlantic. It wouldn't have been fair… I only have to cross land by train and you would need a plane or a boat. In my book, your list was more impressive."
"That's true, if you put it that way. Did you like Europe?"
"I liked visiting the countries; I especially loved Ireland and Scotland. There's so much history… speaking of which, I have yet to hear yours. What's the Philippines like?"
She took a moment to think. "What do you want to know?"
He let her know his excitement. "Everything! I'm a mutt, and from what I can tell, you're not. I only know bits and pieces about my heritage since there's way too much. If you want, you can't tell me about the weather."
"Well… the climate is not like Washington. Well, it depends on the months… but the country only has two seasons. It's summer from January through May while June through December it's rainy season – although it's still pretty hot all year round. It's really hot during the months of March through May. I'm not sure if you know your world geography, but the Philippines is right on the equator, the weather's similar to Florida. So, if you've been to Disney World during the summer, that weather is pretty much how it is during the entire year except during monsoon season when typhoons sweep through Asia."
"That's pretty intense. And I've actually never been to Florida but I heard how hot it can be."
"It's really hot. Filipinos don't experience sixty degree weather during the day unless they're in Tagaytay or Baguio or in malls."
"Tagaytay? Is that how you say it?"
She changed positions and faced the ceiling, allowing him to see her profile. "Yeah, you got it. Tagaytay." She absentmindedly picked up his hand and played with it. Her voice had taken a very nostalgic tone.
He shifted a little, moving his arm around her new position. "What is that?"
"It's a… city I guess. It's a city in the Philippines which contains a dormant volcano surrounded by a lake. It's called the Taal Volcano. It's not far from where my family lives."
He could feel her relax and open up even more. He liked that. And he could tell that she liked thinking about her family. His voice was soft and gentle as he urged her to talk to him. "Tell me about your family. Tell me about where you lived."
He couldn't deny the compulsion just to hear her talk. To take him some place from where he was. He was still running from his reality. And being with this girl he just met lets him forget, even if just for a while.
She took a deep breath. "I lived in what we call a subdivision. You guys call it a gated suburb. The plot of land where our house is on had been in our possession since the early '60s."
"Plot of land?"
"Yes, when you have land, you have the means of building a house exactly the way you want it."
"Were your parents well-off?"
"Not in the least, back then anyways. The land was... acquired with a joint effort."
"By who?"
"I'm not getting out of telling you just bits and pieces, huh?"
He thought about it. No. He was too interested. In the future, he knows he would want to see this house. He wants to go to Tagaytay and see that volcano which is surrounded by a lake. "Not in the least, might as well tell me the entire story. Who bought the land and why? Who lives there now? What does it look like?"
"Well, the land looked like a field of grass."
He gave her a pointed look. "Funny."
"Okay, okay." She paused for a moment. "Edward, I know I'm going to sound weird but I want you to answer my questions. How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Okay, when you turn eighteen, where do you want to go? Would you attend college? Work somewhere? Stay where you live? Take a break from studying and tour the world?"
"I always imagined I would go to the University of Washington." He frowned. That was where Bella would be. He applied to other colleges like Washington State (and had joked about going there), but he was banking on the college where Bella would go to.
"Why the frown?"
He sighed. "I never really thought about it."
"So you never thought about what career you would pursue? If you would go visit other countries after high school before you go to college?"
The frown remained. "Not exactly."
"Why?"
"I always thought I could pursue a music degree and teach piano."
"Where's your passion, Edward? You love music, I know that. But it's not like it sets your eyes aflame. It doesn't… move you."
He closed his eyes, to avoid looking at her. Beyond Bella, he had no other passion.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She said softly. "I can see it's not-"
"No." He cut her off. She let him in. It was his turn to let her in. Then he'll ask her to tell him about the Philippines, her family and herself and forget about his rather bleary life. "I want to tell you something about me. I'm in love with my best friend, who happens to be a girl who is with someone else."
She laughed, and he opened his eyes, hurt by her response. "I'm sorry for laughing." She said, in between laughs.
His gaze hardened and he was about to get away from her when she felt her squeeze the hand that was still in his possession. He stilled at the action and looked at her.
She stopped laughing. "I'm sorry. My mind was running through a million thoughts about why you haven't thought about your future. I figured, you were just lost and you can't pick a career. I even thought you were settling to teach music because you didn't have enough confidence to pursue your dreams of being a well-renowned musician, especially because I deduced earlier that you were a good pianist. I never thought that you would have the most cliché situations of all time; which is being in love with someone. Add the factor of the one you love being your best friend who is with someone other than you; and there you go…"
He had to admit. He was laughing too. "When you put it that way, I feel pathetic."
"You can feel like it, but you're not. I'm really sorry I laughed."
"It's okay."
"You love her that much, that you planned an entire future with her in the center of the picture?"
"Pretty much." He heard her mutter "knucklehead" under her breath. "What?"
"Nothing. If I wanted you to hear it, I would have said it to your face."
"I gather what you said wasn't nice."
"No, it wasn't. But I am really sorry I laughed – unrequited love is not a laughing matter." Her voice got softer and she really was sympathetic to him. "So you were about to say something else before I laughed. I'm assuming it's because you want to tell me about her?" At his nod she prompted him to tell her about her.
"Bella and I grew up together; and did a lot of things together. We had many conversations just like this, where we would be in my bed, and we would just talk about anything or even nothing. We were very comfortable with each other. We had a connection that would rival twins! I was the brother she never had… except what I felt for her was never about being a brother."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
They were silent for a moment. Then she said something that confused him. "I lied to you earlier."
He furrowed his brows. "What about?"
"About the cops. They never told me about you." She was careful with the words she said, and he knew she was thinking of how to phrase her next sentence. "I woke up for a moment in your car. You were staring out into space."
"Oh."
"You looked like you were running away from something."
He smiled bitterly. "I was."
She rubbed his hand much like the way he was rubbing her back earlier. As if she was trying to comfort him. "From her?"
His bitter smile faded at her actions. "From everyone."
"Does everyone you know, know about her?"
"We are in the same circle of friends. And I attend a small school; I live in Forks."
"Ah." She knew what he meant. "That's got to be hard."
"Yeah." He twisted their intertwined hands so that he could play with her hand again. She let him. "It's bad enough that I know she's with somebody else… but everybody; my friend Jasper, and my parents - keeps bugging me to do something about it since I don't like the situation."
"Did you ever tell her about what you felt before she and the other guy got together?" He shook his head. "Were you about to?"
He snorted. "No."
"Did you think you will just stay together? Like one of those by default situations?"
"Yeah. I did." She was silent but he knew what she was thinking. "You don't need to censor what you're thinking."
"And what's that that going to do?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"No, not nothing. It's just going to hurt you. I didn't censor what I was thinking. I said nothing because I was thinking about how good it would be to have the magical world of Harry Potter existing right about now."
He laughed. "What on earth?"
"I know. I was thinking of the handy spells and potions we could use right about now." She let out a few chuckles before quieting. "What do they say anyway?"
"What I already know – I should have told her while I had the chance."
She shrugged awkwardly. "You still do."
His jaw dropped. "Are you crazy?"
"Why not? You could devote your entire future building a time machine that will take you back in time. You could tell her even if she's with that guy. Unless you'd like to wait until they break up next year or five years from now. Better yet, tell her the day she marries during the whole 'if anyone would like to oppose this marriage speak now or forever hold your peace' part and you're dressed as the male of honor." He squeezed her hand hard. "OW! Edward!"
His laughter betrayed his ire at being teased. "I think that's the first time I laughed about the ridiculousness of what they're telling me to do." Because that's what Jasper and his parents were telling him. Confess now, since Jake didn't really stand a chance against him – because even if Bella's conscious didn't know it, her subconscious was head over heels for him.
"And I think my hand just died."
"Sorry." He wasn't, not really.
"Anyway, there's a couple of reasons why they're telling you to get a move on and tell her. You know what they are. But don't tell me you've never considered an alternative."
Her words riled him up. "If you're telling me to move on from Bella -"
"Not that, knucklehead! I know better than anyone that moving on from someone is easier said than done."
His anger faded immediately. "Oh." He forgot. She was experiencing something similar.
"Anyway. I was thinking if you ever considered taking this time to focus on yourself. Get some things done for you. Hang out with more and different people? You have a car, get a job at Port Angeles as a server or something for pocket money – you can never have too much money. Learn something new and difficult like whistling – I can't whistle for my life. Try learning web design, Chinese (both Mandarin and Cantonese), or golf! Write a book. Oh! Compose music and put it together in an album then sell it on SNOCAP!"
He was laughing but at the last sentence he stopped holding her hand and wrapped that arm around her and pulled her close. "Stop, stop. I get the point. No, I haven't considered that. But thanks to you, I now will." He felt her shake in laughter too. "You're absurd, Kilani."
"And your face is red."
He knew he must be as he was trying to keep his chuckles at a low volume. "Why are you stating the obvious?"
"That was kind of the point."
He shook his head and just laughed with her for a little while, not thinking about the absurdness of the situation or about anything else. As he did, he felt all of his worries fly away.
--
??/??/2029
I could see the disbelief in my seventeen-year-old's eyes.
"Really? Just laughing did that?"
I sighed at my son's impatience. He would learn. He's still so young. No matter how much he looks like a grown-up, he's still so young. "I didn't realize it then. Not until years down the line. But yes. Just laughing did that. It wasn't the act of laughter – it was the act of just being. To be honest, if I knew how that laughter started to change me – I think I would have refused it. But I wasn't thinking, and I had forcefully pushed away any inner voice at that point. Sometimes, thinking is not… conducive of living in positivity."
I knew my son was more lost and confused. So I urged him to stand and leave our perch. The rain had let up for a while. As we walked through the expansive grounds of a Washington park, I continued my story.
