AN: Haha. I don't know why the very last word of Chapter 5 is 'hoe'. I seriously don't know how that got there. Anyway, I've been really busy lately. And, I should be taking a shower right now, but I wanted to post this. I am sacrificing personal hygiene for your benefit. Consider yourself lucky.
Oh. Yeah. I love reviews and reviewers alike. However, I may not be able to respond to them all. Maybe (nudgenudge) if you review a bunch of times, I'll remember your penname and go review you too. I totally wasn't just bribing you there. Nope. Not me. Now, I'm really going to stop talking and rambling. If you made it this far into the author's note, I congratulate you.
Disclaimer: There are many things in this world that I own. Unfortunately, Edward does not happen to be one of them.
The car was taken away by the valet, and Edward and I moseyed along down the street. I passed all of the familiar sights and landmarks. Women rushed about importantly, nurses stood on corners petitioning for help with the war effort. Propaganda posters lined the sides of buildings. "Eat More Cottage Cheese! Food Is Ammunition!" one screamed. I clutched my belly, feeling guilty for being hungry. "Care for Her Through the YWCA!" another shouted. "Waste Not, Want Not!" After that bulletin I averted my eyes.
Edward grabbed my arm, looking up at a building. "Lenore's," he said. "It looks fine. Actually, after 80 years, anything looks fine." He ushered me into the building. I knew what to expect: fish. Beans. Cottage Cheese. No meat, no wheat, no sugar; that was all saved for the troops overseas.
We were one of the many couples in the dimly lit restaurant. The tables and chairs were formed in a circle around a polished floor for dancing, and a band played music in the corner. An oily looking waiter approached us.
"Your name, please?" He drawled, his small, pathetic mustache quivering above his lip.
"Cullen." Edward spoke authoritatively. I looked him over. I could never really remember details about his appearance as a human, but now my memory was refreshed. His skin was no longer deathly pale. No pun intended. Granted, it was still pale, just not vampire-like anymore. His eyes were green now, and shone with all the warmth they could possibly muster. Trust me, they still smoldered.
We were led to a linen covered table in a far corner, farthest from the band. After food was ordered, conversation commenced.
"Bella," Edward started, hesitantly, "are we supposed to be human?" I had been thinking of this myself.
"I must confess, it's quite a perplexing question. When I traveled with Eileen, I was still dead. But…" I thought for a moment, sipping my sherry. "…I was actually the one in control of the travel. So, maybe, if I had taken us back…well, at any rate, I'd have stayed a vampire, but I don't know about you. Actually. I don't know anything."
He was sitting back in his chair, swirling his whiskey and soda, thoughtfully mulling over his glass. "Well, as long as Eileen gets us back, I suppose it doesn't matter much. We should enjoy our time here."
I couldn't agree more. Food. That's all I was thinking about. Food, glorious food. Speak of the devil, they say, and he shall come. The devil, in this case, was a large portion of asiago soufflé, lemon basted fish, and New England clam chowder. The dishes were set down, and Edward and I looked at each other simultaneously.
Our expressions conveyed many of the same emotions: anticipation, longing, excitement, and a true, deep, unfathomable hunger. This was a different kind of hunger. It wasn't a dull ache in the back of my throat, it wasn't venom coating my mouth…it was an empty, grumbling feeling in my stomach. I grabbed my stomach again.
"Edward. My stomach…it hurts. It feels…so…so empty." He just smiled.
"I think it is only safe to assume that, after 80 years of not having consumed any food, your stomach would be just a tad vacant." I could think of no witty retort at the moment; I was rather preoccupied with all of the wonderful dishes in front of me. Reflecting on the meal, I find it amazing that I remembered to use my utensils correctly.
Three courses later (entrée, salad, and dessert) I was finally content. I sat back, sighing in satisfaction. Edward mimicked me. We studied each others faces for a while. For too long, actually; I was beginning to feel like I was under a microscope. I cleared my throat and shifted positions in the chair.
"You know, I can't remember tonight at all. I know I should, but, really, nothing sticks in my mind. Except the champagne. I'm thoroughly convinced that it was tonight I went a bit overboard there." Edward smiled, appearing nostalgic and far away.
"I remember it. You wore a blue taffeta evening gown…I remember that you hated it. You had on black pumps and black gloves. I think they were taffeta too. We danced to "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody"." He laughed, suddenly. "I remember that your mother would only let you dance once with me. She made you dance with that horrid Alfred Chenridge." He looked sad and…heartbroken, almost. I thought I saw a blush appear on his cheeks, faint, but there. He cleared his throat, awkwardly.
"I-I'm sorry. For keeping you so long. Your mother will be wondering where we've been. Come." He extended his arm and I gladly took it, wondering all the way out to the car whether he cared for me in any way remotely similar to the way I did for him.
It was about four when we returned to my house; I was shocked that we had talked…er…eaten for so long. Edward jumped out of the car and ran to my door, opening it and ushering me out of the car. He walked me to the front door. He stepped forward, then back, awkwardly, uncomfortably.
"I will…see you tonight, then."
"Yes," I looked him in the eyes, his beautiful green eyes, "at seven." He grinned lopsidedly and ambled back to the car. I walked noisily across the black and white tiled floor and past my mother's favorite fern.
"Isabella?" I heard an unmistakably male voice question. I grinned despite myself, and ran to my father's office.
"Father! It's so good to see you! Any interesting cases today?" He chuckled; he always chuckled when I was around.
"None today, Isabella. I heard you were out with Edward again." He looked at me, his stare penetrating my very soul. He was much more perceptive than I gave him credit for. I blushed. That was definitely something I didn't miss.
"Yes." I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Well. He's a good boy. His father is a good man." I blanched. I certainly didn't remember this conversation from my human life. I coughed nervously.
"I need to go get ready." I hastily removed myself from the study. The last thing I heard while ascending the stairs was my father's low laugh. I grimaced. What an awkward first day back.
