7/27/2012: Word Prompt: Whittle
Upstairs, I tossed.
I turned.
I dreamed of brown eyed little girls and green eyed little boys. Of my lips on Bella's full stomach, and her hands in my hair as I talked to our baby.
She held my shoulders; gripped them, really. Tighter and tighter until I was struggling to get away. Until All I felt was pain.
Her happy giggle shifted to one angry word: why.
Why, Edward? Why? Why. Why. Why.
I woke with a start, sweaty and panting for breaths.
My head was pounding as I rubbed my chest and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to clear those images—that fucking word—from my head.
I sat up and pushed the sweaty hair off my forehead. On the bedside table, mom had left two aspirin and a glass of water for me. Once my breathing was under control, I swallowed both pills down and finished the water quickly. I wasn't satisfied though. Water wasn't the liquid those dreams had me craving.
I didn't even think twice before I was up and moving. Downstairs, I went straight the single malt I knew my father cherished. I untwisted the cap and two shots went down just like the water had upstairs: greedily.
I felt soothed almost instantly.
Calmed.
My shoulders relaxed. I breathed slowly and stared out the window as I tipped the bottle back again, and a third shot made its way down my throat.
Outside the clouds were thick and still. The moon hung nearly full in the middle of the sky, and I wondered if Bella could be looking up at the same starless night from her open window right now.
With a shake of my head I turned away from the windows and found my father standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say anything at first, just watched as I tipped the bottle back for another mouthful.
I kept my eyes open, on him, as I swallowed.
"Couldn't sleep?" he finally asked.
I shook my head. "No."
He nodded and stepped into the room, grabbing the bottle I'd just abandoned to pour himself a small glass. He sipped slowly and glanced over at me.
"Your mother and I, we had problems once. You were a baby, but I was just finishing up a huge project, and I spent a lot of time at work. She was stressed out with you at home, and no breaks from that, and we had problems. We fought." He sighed. "We fought all the time. We tried not to do it in front of you, but it was hard. So a lot of things went unsaid for a lot of years. But we both knew there was a problem. We both understood it. We both understood that the other was miserable." He sipped from his glass again and looked at me seriously. "The problem is that you and Bella didn't understand it. Or maybe she did, and you didn't. Either way, one of you lost your way. And it's okay when that happens, but you can't take it for granted that everything will fix itself in time because the other person isn't going anywhere. You've got to make sure they're not going anywhere. You've got to think of her, too, son."
I sighed and looked away. I hadn't ever known my parents to have problems. They made marriage look effortless, like it was easy.
I had always thought Bella and I would be the same way.
"I know that," I said. Swallowing suddenly seemed hard. "Now."
A moment later, I asked, "Do you think she had a miscarriage?" because I hadn't yet. And I couldn't stop myself from wondering.
"I don't know the answer to that question, Edward."
As silence crept up around us, I heard Bella in my head again…her voice saying that word over and over: why, why, why.
Without thought, I opened my mouth and spoke back to her. "Why wouldn't you have told me?" I asked, my voice angry. Dad lifted his hand to my arm and squeezed once. I looked at him, hoping he couldn't see how utterly weak I felt. "Why wouldn't she have told me?" I wondered, knowing he didn't have thatanswer for me either, but unable to stop the question from coming out.
"Perhaps she tried," he offered with a shrug.
Nothing else was said for a long time. I considered his words, though. Had she tried? I couldn't remember her trying. I certainly thought I would have remembered something even pertaining to her ever being pregnant.
I wished I could remember.
Dad finished his drink and closed the bottle, staring at me as he placed it back where it belonged. A silent affirmation that we'd both had enough. I didn't need to tell him I understood.
"I'm going up to bed. You should get try to get some more sleep if you can."
I nodded and followed behind him toward the stairs, even though sleep was the last thing on my mind.
"Will you drive me back to Seattle tomorrow?" I asked. Em had left earlier that evening to get home, and I'd chosen to stay the night.
I didn't tell anyone that I wanted to be close to Bella, even if I couldn't see her, talk to her or touch her. Knowing she was at least sleeping under a roof in the same town somehow soothed me.
Even if it was just for tonight.
Back in the guest room, I opened the window before climbing back into bed. On the side Bella typically used. At home, she was always leaving the window open, claiming she liked the cool breeze blowing on her bare skin. Meanwhile, it was alsoblowing on the freezing husband behind her at the same time. The more I cuddled up for warmth, the more she uncovered to cool off. I think she did it on purpose.
That was how many of our nightly trysts began. Silly little play fights that led to wrestling, wrestling that led to touching, and touching that led to everything. Including my dirty mouth that could never, ever keep his opinions to himself on how good she looked. Tasted. Felt.
I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a night like that, though. I honestly couldn't even recall the last time we'd made love where it hadn't been rushed. Where I hadn't been thinking of something else, or worrying about a meeting or presentation. My mind was always elsewhere.
Dad had been right; one of us wasn't in it. Me.
I had let this happen without even knowingit was happening.
And who could blame Bella?
I shouldn't have trusted that she was going to stick around if I wasn't giving her any reason to. Just the thought of all the things I'd left her to handle completely on her own made me feel sick.
The alcohol in my system had taken hold; my brain felt fuzzy. I knew it wouldn't be long before I was headed back toward the oblivion and numbness I craved…until all the memories and dreams and words and mistakes whittled away into nothingness. At least for the night.
.
.
.
The following morning, I showered and threw on the fresh clothes mom had offered. And then we did as my father had suggested the night before: had breakfast, just the three of us. Mom's French toast and sunny-side-up eggs were delicious, and I absorbed all the extra attention she offered because it was what I'd been craving for months.
She kissed me twice on the cheek before finally allowing us to leave the house with a promise that I'd call soon. I meant it.
With my dirty clothes in a bag from the night before, I followed my dad down their front steps toward his car. The morning sun hadn't yet chosen if it was going to come out, and a light drizzle fell around us. Our heads turned at the same time when we heard the sound of a car approaching. A silver car.
A silver Volvo.
Bella.
I stopped in my tracks as her wheels turned slowly over the driveway and she pulled to a slow stop just inches away from where we stood. Dad squeezed my shoulder before turning for the steps and going back inside.
The door closed behind him as Bella's door opened in front of me.
She stepped out slowly.
My heart pounded. My eyes burned.
I burned.
For her.
"You're here," I said, staring at her across the roof of the car with wide eyes, like she might disappear if I blinked.
I drank in the sight of her standing in front of me. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red. Tired. She looked as bad as I felt. She was still beautiful though.
So, so beautiful.
Quietly, she fidgeted with her keys and looked off into the distance. I swear I waited a million lifetimes for her to speak.
"I wanted to see for myself that you were okay," she whispered, finally bringing her eyes to mine. Deep brown and glassy.
No, I wasn't okay; far from it. That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, though.
"I'm all right," I lied, just like I had to my mom the night before.
Bella's shoulders visibly relaxed at my words, but her eyes didn't clear. I hated seeing her look so sad.
I hated being the reason.
The wind picked up as the silence between us stretched, sending her hair flying around her head. I took a step closer, trying to ignore the way the need to touch her overpowered me all of a sudden. I curled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes closed. There were so many words I wanted to say. So many things I wanted to ask. So many millions of apologies I wanted to offer. But standing there, in front of her, I couldn't bring myself to utter a single one.
All I could think was that she was there.
She'd come.
For me.
Her name fell from my lips. A question. A plea. Broken. Raw.
I wanted her to admit she was wrong. I wanted her to tell me the tests I had found weren't hers. I wanted her to tell me we could fix it. That she wouldn't leave me again.
It had to mean something, right? She'd come here. It had to mean something.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. I waited, dangling with one hand on the ledge as she struggled for words. Her eyes slid behind me toward the door of my parent's house. And I watched her crumble. Glassy eyes turned to leaking waterfalls down her cheeks.
"I shouldn't have come here," she said abruptly.
Before I could react, she'd turned and climbed back into still open door of the Volvo. I jumped then, forward and ran toward the other side of the car. My hand wrapped around the frame of her door just as she went to close it, I held it open as she struggled against me.
"Don't go," I begged pulling it open completely and falling to my knees at her side, letting her see how notokay I really was. "Please don't leave me again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"
She drew in a shaky breath, staring straight ahead. I stared at her eyes. Watched a tear trail across her cheek. My eyes fell to her hands resting across her too-flat stomach.
"You left me far before I left you, Edward." Her voice was robotic. Empty.
"Please let me fix it. Please let me fix it…" I shuddered and put my hand over hers, on her stomach. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat that grew when she started to shake her head.
She pushed my hand away.
"You can't," she said, her voice high, higher, until it broke on the last letter. "Maybe…before, you could have. But you can't now. You can't. Not now…maybe not ever."
She looked at me then, her eyes meeting mine fiercely. I couldn't speak. Couldn't think.
She was leaving me all over again.
"I tried, you know. I tried for months. I put up with your moods, and your absences. I put up with being ignored unless it benefited you or something you needed. I put up with not seeing you for days at a time because you were working late. You are—were—all I had."
She took a deep breath and the knife in my heart twisted painfully. She wasn't done.
"You're all I've had since I was a kid, besides Alice. I don't even know how to begin living without you, but I know that with you over the past year…that wasn't living. I forgot about myself. I put myself in a position that I don't know if I'll ever be able to get over. I need to learn how to exist on my own, right now. And so do you. I know it was wrong of me to keep you from seeing how badly I was hurting in the beginning, but I did it to protect you. And I'm still doing it." She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I shouldn't be here."
"Don't go," I begged one last time.
I hoped.
Then she killed every hope I had…
"Sign the papers, Edward. Please."
Please forgive me for the lack of update last night…this conversation was difficult to write. But I should have a second update for you guys later if that makes it better. Thanks for reading!