Chapter Eight – Edward
"… and you know how we're not supposed to go to tryouts yet because it's only our first year and all that, but Madame Patrova said that she didn't think I'd have any trouble getting into any ensemble I want even when I'm done with school and Edward Anthony Cullen, you're not listening!"
The loud shrill of her voice shook me brutally out of my musing. I winced and looked down guiltily. There wasn't much use in contradicting her, but I thought I'd try anyway. Not the brightest idea. "I was listening, Alice."
"Oh, were you?" she taunted. Her hands were on her hips as she glowered at me. She was standing right in front of me, and because I was sitting down, she had a certain height advantage. In her rage, she appeared larger than she had been. For someone as tiny as she had been, she was intimidating as hell. "What was the last thing I just said?"
I searched my mind furiously, but the images of my daydream took over, still very much alive in my memory. It was impossible to even improvise. "You said, umm, lots of things, but the last thing had something to do with, umm, dancing?" I managed, risking a glance up.
Her expression revealed that she wasn't sure if to be pissed off at me for not paying attention or pity me because I was obviously completely out of it. Then she sighed and shook her head. "Fine. I'll have mercy on you. But just this once, so don't get used to it!" she warned, reaching over to ruffle my hair before I could stop her. Then she landed on the sofa next to me and tucked her feet beneath her. "What is up with you these days, your mind is everywhere! Is something wrong?"
Yes, something was wrong. I was falling in love with someone who could never love me back. "Everything's fine, Alice. It's nothing."
I realized my slip only when her eyes lit up. It was too late to take back the words; she'd already bitten into her prey. "Nothing, huh? What's her name?"
"Alice, please, it's nothing you have to bother yourself with."
"When someone messes with your mind enough for you not to hear me when I speak, it does bother me," she argued, and I could tell she wouldn't let this one go easily. I sighed inwardly. Just great. "Edward, look at yourself! Have you got any sleep at all this weekend?"
"I'm fine," I muttered, looking away from her. I was fine. I just needed some time away from Bella, that's all. Going out with her on Friday was a bad idea, and even though I asked her if we could do it again (which clearly was extremely idiotic of me), I'd make sure it would never happen. It was wrong to lead myself on when I knew it wouldn't get me anywhere. And I couldn't even blame her. I dug my own grave, as always.
"Emmett is just a phone call away, you know."
My head snapped up. The threat was there in her every word. "Alice, don't. I don't need Emmett on this. He has his own shit to handle with." From his most recent email, I knew he was busy way over his head with school and training. The last thing he needed was the troubles of his whiney young brother.
"I'll tell Esme something's the matter with you. She'll know how to handle this."
I tried to keep the panic away from my expression. "Alice, you are not calling my mom."
"Well, I have to do something."
"Just… let it go."
"Who is she?" she pressed.
"You don't know her." I regretted the words the moment they were out, knowing I'd just confirmed her suspicions it was about some girl. It was impossible to say bits and pieces to Alice, and I wasn't sure I could handle confessing the whole truth to her. Not that there was that much to tell, but I wasn't sure I wanted to tell her the little there was.
"Does she like you?"
I thought about her smile, the glimmer in her eyes whenever they met mine, the way she hardly seemed like herself when she teased me about those girly books she liked so much. And if those weren't enough, she asked me for coffee a few days ago. It seemed quite clear, really. "Yeah, I think she does."
"Then what's the problem?"
I said nothing. I kept my gaze away from her and traced the leather pattern on the sofa with my finger. A moment later I felt it shift as she scooted close to me and covered my hand with hers. "I can't help you if you're keeping secrets with me," she said. I'd never heard her voice so soft before. I dared to look at her. Her gaze was earnest. I wanted to tell her. She was crazy sometimes, but she'd know not to do anything extreme under the circumstances. It's not like she'd advice me to catch the next flight to Seattle, drive to La Push, find Jacob Black and beat him senseless.
But what if she would?
"Thanks, Alice, but I need to solve this one on my own."
She squeezed my hand a bit. Her expression was unusually serious. "It hurts to see you like this."
I shook my head. "I'll get over it."
It was the one decision I intended to follow.
xoxox
For the next couple of days, I seemed to have everything under control again. I had enough to do for school, so I couldn't afford any distractions, which was good. I dreaded the thought of having to face Bella on Friday knowing that my mind was now set on getting over her. I was going to have to ignore her, no matter how painful it was going to be. I had to put an end to whatever had started between us, even if it was nothing but friendship.
I hated the thought of letting her down. I imagined the way her face would fall when I wouldn't return her smile, but only slightly, because she would want to pretend nothing was wrong. The light in her eyes would slowly dim, and her smile would freeze. But as grim as this image was, it was also kind of twisted. Why would I care she'd be hurt, if I was hurting right now, mostly because of her? I was going to do this so that I could go back to have a sane, normal life again. This was all her fault; she should feel how it felt.
My mind knew all that, but my heart disagreed.
I couldn't hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I was the one offering this friendship, and now I was going to go back on it. I didn't want to stop talking to her in class. If that was the one time I was allowed to be with her, I didn't want to give it up. I wanted to hold on to it.
I wouldn't think of Friday. I had two whole days to prepare myself towards it. In the meantime I had more important things to set my mind on, like finding Alice. She'd left a stack of books at my place a few nights ago, and she needed them back before Thursday. I had an hour to kill before my next class, so I tried to stick to her directions and find her. I could just drop it at her room, and I had pointed this fact out to her, but she had said our schedules had been too different and that she hadn't wanted her stuff to fall in the wrong hands in case I hadn't found her in her room.
So instead I was set out for a wild goose chase in a section of the building I'd never been to before. There were small studios along the hallway where people could rehearse privately, uninterrupted. Each door had a round window on its center. The silence in the hall was eerie and it made me slightly uncomfortable. I could hear my own footsteps echoing as I hastened my pace down the hall. The floor seemed deserted. I longed to get back downstairs, where the hallways were bustling with music of all sorts. Even if it seemed deafening at times, it was better than this.
Only when I passed the fourth door, I noticed a hint of movement inside. Thinking it might be Alice, I advanced towards the door and pressed my face against the small window.
The moment I did that, I wanted to turn back and leave, but I couldn't. It was as if my feet were glued to the floor, and my eyes refused to leave the glass. Fighting their old battle, my mind urged me to go on and find Alice, to leave and forget what I'd just seen, but my heart wouldn't hear of it.
The room was swimming in sunlight. She all but flew around it, spinning again and again with impossible grace, in response to music I couldn't hear from the other side of the door. Her eyes were half closed; an air of concentration wrapped around her like a mist. But somehow at the same time she looked peaceful, at ease. Perspiration glistened on her forehead, soaking the front and back of her leotard. The hair at the back of her neck was damp.
Spreading her arms seemed to give her more leverage. I knew those small backwards steps she did on her tiptoes probably had some professional term, probably in French, but whatever it was, I was clueless to it. I found myself holding my breath whenever her feet left the ground, then released it again when she landed unharmed. I knew next to nothing about dancing despite Alice's endless attempts to educate me, but I'd never seen anyone dance with such passion.
I was sure any moment she'd turn to face the door and discover me standing there gawking at her, but I couldn't move. Her outfit was cream-colored and sleeveless, and it clung to her like second skin. It made her legs look endless, which was a funny thought considering she wasn't exceptionally tall. It made me aware of her body in a way I'd never been before. When I first saw her dance, she was wearing black and the room was dim. Now the scene was much brighter, and I could fully appreciate each and every curve of her body, her narrow waist, the contour of her breasts, her long neck…
"Can I help you?"
It took me a second to realize the question was meant for me. Damn it. I could hear the reproach in her tone, whoever she was. I turned slowly, and to my surprise it wasn't a staff member who was standing behind me, but one of the students. She was wearing dark tights and a pink top, and her hair, dirty blond, was pulled back in a band. Her question echoed in her vicious glare.
"I'm, umm, looking for someone."
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Who?"
"My cousin. Really short with short dark hair, do you know her?" I didn't owe her any explanations, but it felt as if she was challenging me.
"You mean Alice?" she asked, still suspicious. "She's five doors down that way."
She was still watching me, so I couldn't sneak one final glance at the one I really wanted to see. I murmured a quick 'thank you' and hurried passed her. I could still feel her eyes piercing my back even when I reached the door she'd directed me to.
I knew without looking back that in that rehearsal room, Bella danced on obliviously.
xoxox
Wednesday sessions with Mr. Shapiro were always after my lunch break. Often, I'd end up ahead of time in the room where I'd met him, eating a little, playing a little. It was better than spending time on finding an available rehearsal room in between lessons. I didn't think he knew about that habit of mine. On Wednesdays he'd always walked in after me, rushing in from his own lunch break, I assumed.
The room was empty as I'd expected to find it. I walked over to the piano and brushed my fingers along the keys. For me, there was something intimate about this motion, almost like shaking a person's hand when you met them. I left my lunch bag on the lid of the piano and took a seat. I didn't turn on the lights when I entered, and the room was wrapped in semi-darkness. The piano was placed close to a window, though, so there was light enough for me to see what I was doing.
I touched the keys again, now with more urgency, because all of a sudden, I was remembering. That tune I'd come up with over two months ago was slowly coming back to me. When I'd first heard it at the pub, it was merely a vague sound resonating momentarily in my head. Now each note was distinct, fitting the others perfectly, as they compiled themselves into a melody. The music lingered long enough for me to remember it well once the sound would fade. I knew it eventually would, and I was hoping to hold on to it because suddenly I knew. It was her melody. She owned it. This was the tune I'd just seen her dance to.
It wasn't until the last note faded into silence that I realized there was someone in the room.
"I was not aware this was a part of your assignment," said Mr. Shapiro, leaning against the closed door. He held my gaze for a moment before he reached out to turn on the lights. "Do you enjoy sitting here in the dark?" he asked casually as he approached me. I could see it wasn't what he'd meant to ask.
"It's just… something I've come up with during the summer," I stammered. I could barely meet his eyes. I was still somewhat embarrassed for being caught in the act. My music was very personal to me. Very few people had heard things I'd composed myself.
"It's very good."
Mr. Shapiro wasn't one for compliments. I could come up with the most excellently executed piece, and he'd still find flaws in it. It bothered me, but I'd never argued with him because I'd understood his motives. My playing was good, but it was his job to make it better. Rarely would he pay me a compliment like the one he'd just done.
"Thank you, Sir," I whispered. I hoped I wasn't blushing. It would be the worst type of humiliation if I did. I glanced at him. His eyes were as bright as ever, leering at me with what seemed like understanding.
And just like that, he was my no-nonsense teacher again. "So, shall we begin?"
He was one for randomness. I'd learned not to be surprised.
He had assigned me a composition by Chopin for today. Chopin had always been one of my favorite composers, and I'd always wanted to attempt that piece. It was more intricate than I was used to, and I liked the way the sounds flowed flawlessly, mixing into one another with impossible speed. But my heart wasn't at it today. I played what I'd been asked to, but just out of duty. It didn't feel right. That other melody was still stuck in my head, so was the image that accompanied it, her image, the one I was so determined to wipe off my mind only that morning.
"Mr. Cullen, stop playing, please."
Mr. Shapiro had never yelled or scolded or grimaced. His expression remained blank even when he was mad or upset. It was worse than any other reaction, under the circumstances. I felt like dropping my gaze because I knew he was right. My playing sucked. But there was very little I could do about it.
"It's not a very good day, Sir, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, Mr. Cullen. Make it better."
"I'm not sure I can, Sir."
"You have to rise above personal issues in order to produce better music."
"I thought the whole point of music was to make it personal."
"Is it Chopin you have issues with?"
"No, Sir."
"Then there shouldn't be a problem."
I didn't think he'd appreciate me laughing in his face. He was so damn practical. His tone meant finality, as if the subject was resolved. I was almost scared to contradict him. "I wish it was that simple."
"Why is it not?"
I faltered, but only for a moment. "There's this girl." I couldn't believe I was telling him this. "She's a dancer. I sort of came up with that other tune with her in mind."
He shook his head. "Tale as old as time, Mr. Cullen. Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy writes a song for girl. How is that a problem?"
I laughed once without humor. "It's a problem when the girl likes someone else."
He said nothing for a moment, and I was sure he was going to go back into practical mode in any moment. "When I was twenty five, I got my first job at the theatre, have I ever told you that?"
Like I said: random. "Uh, no Sir, you haven't."
"I moved from Boston to Manhattan to try my luck in show business. Everyone in my family believed it was nothing but a phase. My uncle, who was a jeweler, had expected me to get into the family business. All I'd wanted was to make music."
I nodded. I knew that feeling well. I knew nothing about his uncle, but he sounded remarkably like my grandfather.
"Well, that first job was where I met Stella. She was a chorus girl. I can't remember the production's name right now. But I can remember the first time I laid my eyes on her. 'Stella' means star, and this was just what she was. A star fell down from heaven."
I felt my lips curl in a smile. He sounded so cliché.
"Stella and I spent a lot of time together backstage. She was a feisty girl, very animated. She couldn't stay in one place more than a few minutes. I'd never met a woman like her. Women weren't supposed to be so lively back then, you know. And those who were, well, you can guess the kind of reputation that stuck to them," he smirked. "I was a different person when I was next to her. She brought out traits that were hidden in me. We had the best time together. I was head over heels in love with her, but so was any other man in the production. She and I were particularly close, which was unusual for a man and a woman who weren't married or courting. And I didn't want to harm her reputation, but I enjoyed her company too much and she seemed to enjoy mine."
I wasn't sure where he was going with his tale, but I found myself intrigued, and anxious for him to go on. I could picture this girl, a blonde beauty, with a mane of golden hair, cherry red lips and constant glimmer in her eyes. Anyone would be smitten with her.
"One day, I decided to just tell her how I felt. I was shy by nature, and it was a difficult decision, but not doing anything would have been worse. I felt the love for her consuming me from the inside," he said, smiling sadly. It was as if he was describing my own situation. "We meant to meet for dinner. I had the entire day to prepare myself, to rehearse the things I meant to say. But that morning, the leading actress became ill, and Stella had to cover for her. It happened just like in the movies. The audience loved her. She'd never showed up for that dinner, and I'd lost my nerve." His smile was sad and bitter. "Stella did the lead until the leading actress recovered. She'd hardly had time to talk to anyone in those weeks, and we spent less and less time together. I'd hardly ever seen her, except for momentary glimpses in the hallways, a hasty word here and there. Then she got her own leading role in a different production. The rumor had it that the producer promised her more than just a career boost, if you get my drift."
There was pain in his eyes, as if he was reliving it. He had a gift for storytelling. I felt as if I were right there with him.
"I worked at the same theatre until it was closed down. I missed her every day. I kept reading about her, and I was proud of her success. I told myself that the most important thing was that she was happy. About eight years later, I saw her again. And it was as if we'd never parted. We picked up right from where we left off."
His unfocused gaze met mine, now more alert to the present. He had a different smile now, nostalgic, and more content. "We'll be celebrating our thirty fifth anniversary in February."
By his expression I realized I was supposed to figure something out by now, but I sat there at loss. "I'm… not sure I see your point, Sir."
"My point is that maybe you shouldn't aspire for anything greater than friendship if this is the best you can get at the moment. The young lady might change her mind about you. You might change your mind about her. But don't give up because you think you cannot have her."
His words accompanied me throughout the day, and while they somewhat faded on Thursday, they came back to haunt me on Friday. She was already in class when I rushed in, as breathless as I'd always been when Mr. Shapiro had dismissed me in a five minutes delay. She looked up at me and her eyes lit up. The last drop of determination was squeezed out of me. There was no way I was going to carry on with my plan.
"We thought you weren't coming," she said, speaking on Anya's behalf as well, but it was easy to separate the 'I' from the 'we'. Relief was written all across her delicate features. Her eyes looked almost hazel in the fluorescence.
"No, I'm here," I replied quietly, looking away from her. It was easier that way. It was amazing how different I felt in a span of just a few days. Only on Wednesday, forgetting about her had been a settled fact, and now I wasn't sure it was the smartest thing to do anymore.
"Better reading this week?" she asked, oblivious to my distress.
I was determined not to let her sweetness get to me, but I couldn't help sniggering at her remark. We'd been assigned sections from The Scarlet Letter. She seemed to know I'd like it better than any of the previous books. Sometimes it felt as if she'd known me so well, too well, considering the short time of our acquaintance. "Definitely better. The movie is God awful though."
"I didn't get a chance to watch it."
"I to watch this movie once," Anya said, and nodded to me. "It no good."
"I agree. It's true that it's said to be 'loosely inspired' by the novel, but let's be honest, their interpretation sucks."
Bella laughed. I tried to shut out the soft, sweet, musical sound, without much success. "I'm kind of glad I didn't waste my time then."
"Why didn't you watch it?" In our course we discussed books and their film adaptations, and we were assigned both as homework. Usually the movies weren't mandatory watching, but I found it easier to follow the class later if I'd done both. From the little I'd known so far, Bella had never missed a screening.
"Various reasons, really. Too much reading for Music History, a choreography assignment I literally finished just two hours ago, lack of available DVD player…"
"You can come to my place the next time," I blurted out without thinking. I realized what I said only when I saw the two of them exchange a glance. Bella's cheeks reddened slightly as she looked up at me uncertainly. "I… it's just that no one fights over the DVD player there. It's just me," I stammered, but the damage had already been done. Damn it. "Actually I'm really looking forward for next week," I added, hoping to just keep the conversation going.
"You're a fan of The Wizard of Oz?" she asked as her blush slowly faded. Pinkish tint remained on her cheeks. For a second, I forgot she had asked me anything.
"Green witches, flying houses and winged monkeys? What's not to like?"
"I hate the monkeys," she said, frowning. I tried to ignore how ridiculously cute she looked with her nose wrinkled the way it was. "They scared the hell out of me when I was little."
"I never to read that," said Anya.
"Never?" Bella echoed incredulously. "Oh, no, we have to correct that! It's one of my favorites."
"Yeah, and the film is great," I said. She gaped at me. I laughed nervously, feeling self-conscious beneath her gaze. "What?"
"You're not arguing with me," she said, sort of amazed, but with a hint of mischief sneaking into her tone.
"Why would I? It's one of my favorites too," I smiled at her. She returned it when Mr. Bronson called the class to order. There was this little grin that lingered on her lips when the class started. I let myself stare at her a bit longer before I brought my attention back to the lesson. Taking notes had always been the safest option.
Mr. Bronson began his lecture, and I let my mind wander. I was still beating myself up for my slip. I knew how it sounded, but I hoped I managed to correct that first impression. I tried to decipher that look that had passed between Bella and Anya, but found myself unable to. It was like this secret code I wasn't supposed to comprehend, like a girly conspiracy I'd had no part in. I could ask them to watch The Wizard of Oz with me, I told myself. We wouldn't even have to rent it; I was pretty sure Emmett and Rosalie had owned a copy. I wouldn't have to feel guilty about spending time with her because we wouldn't be alone. It wouldn't even have to be considered a date.
But I knew it was a bad idea as soon as it had invaded my mind. There was no way I'd be able to behave myself if she showed up at my apartment, with other people around or not. Sitting next to her in class was torture enough, with this constant temptation to touch her, no matter for how brief a moment. There were days when the tension had become beyond unbearable. I figured it would be worse if we would have been sitting in the darkness in my apartment. I should stick to simpler tasks. I should ask her to go out with me again.
But that was probably an even a worse idea than the first one. And suddenly I realized how hopeless the entire situation had been. I couldn't do this. I couldn't be just friends with this girl.
As if she was somehow sensing my distress, she turned and glanced at me. Our eyes met; I didn't even care if she caught me looking at her. Her lips curled in a small, uncertain smile. The pink in her cheeks deepened. I smiled weakly back and forced my eyes away from her.
Assertiveness, that's it, I told myself over and over, daring myself not to look back at her. I grabbed a pen and went back to taking notes, even though no one had said anything that was worth summarizing. If I kept my hands busy, I figured, my mind would wander away from her too.
About a forever later, we were dismissed. I released the breath I didn't even know I was holding, and slowly shifted in my seat.
"Well, I to go," Anya said. "See you next week, Edward."
I could have sworn she winked at me, almost as if she knew. I murmured 'see you' in reply and busied myself with stuffing my things in my bag. Bella lingered behind, I noticed, even though she had a class. It was now or never. If I wanted to ask her anything, it had to be now. Mr. Shapiro's words echoed loud and clear in my head. Don't give up because you think you cannot have her. And just like that, I knew I wouldn't.
"I'll see you next week?" she asked, and I realized to my horror she was by the door and nearly gone.
I sprang out of my chair. It made that awful screeching sound as the metal hit the linoleum of the floor. A few heads turned in my direction. I could feel my cheeks flare. Great. "Actually, Bella…?"
She stopped by the door. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to calm down. "Yes?"
I could tell she knew what I wanted to say, maybe she'd known it ever since that stupid slip of mine about the movie at my place. It wasn't very encouraging. "I know you have a class now, but we can go to Maddie's for coffee afterwards if you want? I'll meet you out front?" I added the second question quickly, before I'd lose my nerve.
There was no hesitation in her eyes, just surprise. Her lips curled in a small, heart-melting smile. "Sure. Around four?"
Not trusting myself to say anything intelligible, I simply nodded.
Yeah, I thought as I watched her walk away. I could definitely handle this 'just friends' business.
A/N: The Meadow from the New Moon soundtrack is one of the most perfect pieces of score I've ever heard. I wrote this chapter without any particular melody in mind for Edward's tune, or rather Bella's. My only purpose was to echo the lullaby that is so central to the books. When I listened to The Meadow for the first time, it just clicked. This is exactly what Edward would be playing, what Bella would dance to. I hope it echoes in that scene up there.
If you got this far, thank you for reading. Reviews make me ridiculously happy =)
