Chapter Nine
It was easy enough to play hooky for a week straight when you were dying inside. When his mom looked in his eyes, they were weak and watery, all the capillaries standing out like fiery threads; when she felt his forehead, it burned; when she tried to feed him, he wouldn't leave his bed. He wouldn't watch TV or check his phone. Sometimes he hobbled to the bathroom and stuck his head in the toilet to try to throw up what was killing him, but you couldn't throw up your own heart. Even he was old enough to know that.
Eventually Billy showed up. He had a folder stuffed with homework for Mrs. Cullen, asking if he could bring it upstairs himself.
"He's very sick, Billy." Her voice came up through the ducts beside Edward's bed, as clear as if she were right beside him. "I took him to Urgent Care on Friday, and they say it's some kind of virus. I don't think you should be around it, I don't want you getting sick too."
"Is he feeling any better?" Billy asked. He sounded worried, but not in the way Edward's mom expected.
"He just needs his rest," she said.
After a moment, Edward's voice came limply down through the ducts: "Billy can come up."
The floor downstairs creaked as his mother hurried to the stairwell. "Honey? How are you feeling?" Billy followed behind anxiously.
Edward groaned, wrapped a blanket around his thin shoulders, and lurched out of his room and over to the stairs, looking down at his mother and Billy, who both looked like they'd seen a ghost.
"A little better, I think," he said, trying not to shiver. His whole body ached. "Can Billy come up?"
She looked back and forth between the boys, thinking with a mother's intuition that this might be just what he needed. "Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. But then, back to bed."
Edward nodded and turned around, trailing his blanket behind him like an oversized cape. He heard Billy's steps behind him but didn't stop until he was burrowed back in bed. Billy closed the bedroom door behind him, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.
"Hey. Dracula. What's good with you?"
Edward groaned from under his blanket.
"Man, I told you you should just let it go," Billy said, his voice suddenly somber.
"I couldn't. I told you that."
Billy sighed and pushed a pile of clothes off the computer chair, taking a seat. "So, what happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it." There were already tears in his voice.
"I just don't get it, you were so happy. You were like the happiest guy in the world all last month."
"It's over."
"Yeah. I figured. Man…couldn't you like buy her something? That's what my dad does whenever my mom's not talking to him."
The blanket slid down, revealing two furious eyes glaring out of the dark. "No…you don't get it. It's over because of you."
"Me? What the fuck did I do?" Billy sounded incredulous.
"She thinks I'm too young for her because I told you, and now you're gonna tell everyone."
"I didn't fucking tell anyone!"
The floor creaked distantly. "Boys…? Everything all right up there?"
Billy turned toward the door, his voice instantly turning sunny. "Yes, Mrs. Cullen!"
"All right…" A long pause from downstairs, and then the creak of her going away.
Billy leaned forward, hissing. "Listen. I didn't tell anyone. Not Takaki, not Caddy. And 'no grown-ups.'" He rolled his eyes.
"But you could've."
"Yeah, I could've! And what would people think of me that you lost it first?"
There was a long pause, and finally Edward snickered under the covers.
"That you're a little bitch," he murmured.
"Fucking A," Billy said. "So what do I want to go around telling everyone for? Even though I don't give a shit that I like, promised you on my life."
"Yeah…" Edward said. "So what do I do?"
"What if I talked to her? You know, promise I wouldn't say anything, wouldn't ever talk."
"Yeah, that'd look great. I bring another kid over to make my case for me."
"I'm a persuasive guy, man. Remember when I had Takaki convinced he was adopted?"
Edward chuckled again. They fell into silence.
"You really care about her?" Billy asked.
"I love her."
"Uh, woah there, Romeo."
"I don't care what you say. I don't care what she says either. I know how I feel."
"Well…then maybe you should tell her."
"I tried."
"Like how? Like you were some desperate kid so scared to lose her you'd say anything?"
Edward sniffled. "Yeah…"
"So try again and do it right this time."
"How?"
Billy thought a moment. "Do it like a man."
The letter wasn't postmarked. It had been hand-delivered. Bella noticed it right away stuck in among the bills, flyers, circulars, and coupons. It was addressed to her in neat handwriting: Andrea Jane Swan, and below that, in bold letters underlined for emphasis, PRIVATE. For a moment, she thought of Emmett, a new desperate attempt after his blizzard of texts and phone calls had failed to get through to her. Emmett's handwriting was even worse than hers, though, the scribbling of a third-grader writing with his non-dominant hand, and besides, Emmett would never have been smart enough—or blindly romantic enough—to think of it.
She let out a long sigh. Life had been so uncomplicated over the last week: work, sleep, feed Ariel and pull something out of the freezer for herself, throw the junk mail into the heap beside the microwave, do a few dishes when there were Hot Pockets involved. She had even attempted to go to the bar one night with Angelique and found little joy in it except for the brutal bluntness with which she had brushed off every sleazeball who came up to talk to her. She had masturbated one night when sleep wouldn't come, and after cycling through various fantasies had been on the verge of giving up when the thought of bright hazel eyes floated into her head and, seconds later, she'd gotten off.
She missed him. It wasn't just the fucking. She missed their casual conversations, nights on the couch, the way he looked at her, touched her, said her name like it was some precious jewel. He didn't see her the way everyone else did, even—especially—the micks down on McClane that thought themselves better than the white trash who lived below the line and saw her as an easy mark, just another slut who'd spread her legs for a few drinks. To Edward, she was a hard-working woman who'd made the best of a bad situation, being the especially unlucky meeting of sperm and egg. He saw the best in her even when she couldn't see it in herself.
Rather than chuck her mail on the heap, she took the time to sort it, always mindful of the envelope in the corner of her eye. For the first few days, she'd really thought she'd put an end to it and not a minute too soon. She breezed through her doubles like they were vacations. She came home, slept soundly, got up, repeated. But the little things began to creep into the edges of her mind, even if she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. At odd moments of the day, she'd think of him and smile and then remember the coldness and withdraw into that.
Ah, fuck it, she thought, setting down the handful of envelopes she still held and turning to the only one that mattered. Ariel meowed and curled herself heavily around Bella's ankle.
"Just a minute, baby," she said. "Dinner's coming right up."
She slit the envelope from end-to-end with one long, irregular nail and let the single sheet of notebook paper fall onto the counter.
Bella,
You didn't pull me into anything. Honestly, I think I pulled you in, and that's what really scares you. I think above all that what truly terrifies you about us, is that someone might really care about you, someone who wouldn't leave you for someone younger, someone who really wants you for you, just the way you are. You are rude, obnoxious sometimes, can be gross sometimes especially when it comes to the lack of napkin to hot sauce ratio, but you are kind, and tough but you care about people, more than most and I know somewhere in your heart you do care about me. Other things I know are that you sleep on your side when you want to be cuddled and on your stomach when your too hot and just want to sleep deep. You love everything under the water, probably wanted to be a mermaid or something when you were little. You probably think that you're bad for me, probably think you're a bad influence on me, but I can't think of anyone else I'd like to keep close to me to show me how a real person overcomes life. I love you, I didn't just say it out of desperation so you might ask me to stay. I said it because it's true. I know you think I'm too young, too young for you but I know what's in my heart and I know without you it doesn't beat it burns. I can't let this go without you knowing these aren't just words to me. So maybe, just maybe, on paper you'll listen.
Edward
P.S. I already found the girl who should have been my first. She was.
She was. And, shit, she was definitely not about to cry.
"Yo, jailbait back again," Angelique said from the window, where she'd gone to get her cigarettes from the ledge. Outside, Edward was pedaling past on his bike to the end of the street, then back again.
"He does that," Bella sighed.
"Girl, you gotta call animal control on him. What's it been now, a week?"
"Two. Since I saw him, I mean."
"He ain't gonna give up."
"Doesn't seem like it."
"He gotta taste of that sugar space."
"What does that even mean?"
"Girl, you know what it means, don't be dense. That boy loooove you."
"He doesn't even know what love is."
"Who you trying to convince? Cuz it's not me. No boy ever looked at me like that. No quote-unquote man, neither."
"Are you watching the brussels sprouts? I don't want them to burn."
"They just supposed to be in water, right? How you burn water?"
"I don't know. They can overcook, right?"
"Ain't they just little cabbages? My grandmamma cooked cabbage all damn day and it come out fine. You should go on out there and invite this boy in for a fine meal. And dinner first."
"It's KFC and brussels sprouts."
"Finger licking good, all I'm saying."
"Angel!"
"All right, all right, you ain't in the mood to be cute, I see that. Must be that time of the month. I got mine the other day, you know what they say about synchronizing."
"Angelique, I don't have my period."
"Girl! I thought we were close."
"Anyway. No. I'm not gonna invite him in. He's gonna do what he's gonna do until he gets tired out and goes home."
"Lemme read that letter again." Bella produced it from a kitchen drawer, well-worn from repeated rereading, and Angelique skimmed, eyes moving from line to line before tipping up knowingly at Bella. "He ain't going home. You know it's Sunday. Fore long he gonna have a tent out in the front yard." She went back to the window, where Edward was just cycling out of sight before he'd return in five minutes or so. "I just dunno why he going so damn far up Prospect the other way."
"I think he's trying to be inconspicuous."
"Well, he doing a hell of a job."
The sun was down, the sky turned indigo except for a narrow band of orange out towards the river, and Edward made his twentieth loop of the evening around Bella's neighborhood. He promised himself two more loops, and then he'd continue tomorrow as he'd started last Tuesday, between school and dinner.
He circled around the end of the block, catching a glimpse of a light on in Bella's kitchen, and then pushed on, standing up on the pedals through the weeds and broken glass, and back up Prospect toward Ghetty Square. The streetlights were all out on this side of the block, the sidewalks empty except for the odd figure shrouded in deepening night, most of them women hustling groceries home.
"Hey, boy!"
The call came seemingly in his right ear from a stretch of hedge running three houses long. He jumped, wavered, and almost fell flat on his side before jerking one leg out, scraping it painfully against the underside of the pedal, and just managing to catch himself. He turned. There was a kid coming across the sidewalk, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a younger kid, head shaved and nose trickling, looking at Edward like he was roadkill.
"You been riding up and down this street the last hour. What are you, junior 5-0?"
"Hey," Edward said, feeling a deep gash through the torn leg of his jeans. "Just out riding."
"Nice ride."
"Thanks," Edward said. "It's not that nice. The chain's all rusted."
"You ain't from around here, are you?"
"No, I am. I live down on Prospect."
"I only know one white family who lives on Prospect. Ain't never seen you around, though."
"Well, I gotta go. Nice talking to you."
"Hold up, we still talking," the kid said, taking hold of the handlebars.
Out of instinct, Edward tried to pull it out of his grip, but the kid bore down, holding him in place.
"Yo, Julio, where he going all a sudden?" the younger kid asked.
"Let go," Julio said. "Don't need to get nasty, now."
"I'm not, I—I'm sorry, I just have to get home."
"We'll walk you. Come on, lemme ride, I'll take you the whole way back."
"No thanks, I'm good."
"I'm not asking anymore. Get off the bike."
Before Edward could make his mind up, a fist looped down and caught him in the eye. Pain exploded there, and he was dimly conscious of falling before he hit pavement and the breath was knocked out of him. He gasped loud wheezing sounds into the night air. His leg was still secured into the left pedal. Julio kicked it out, hard, and it landed in the street beside the rest of him.
"Punk-ass wanna-be hero," Julio said, and spat. "Come on, Miguel, hop on." Miguel did, and as Julio pushed off on Edward's bike, Edward heard the older boy shouting, "And cling on tight, now, I don't need to be bringing you home with half your head cracked open!"
Angelique cracked another beer. The brussels sprouts, limp and mushy, sat mostly uneaten in a bowl on the living room table, covered in Cheez Whiz and soggy, fatty bacon. The KFC bucket was empty except for one lonely drumstick amidst smears of grease and crumblings of Extra Crispy batter.
"I dunno," Angelique said, "Ravon says I could be making fat stacks at this new club."
"You been at Underground for six months. Isn't that like, twice as long as any other job?"
"Underground's shit. I mean, I know, girl, but I'm a fucking server. You don't make shit as a server at a hole-in-the-wall like that place."
"I work at a fucking diner, for Christ's sake. We don't even serve alcohol and I get by…besides, aren't you gonna be serving at this club?"
"Cocktails, my girl. Cocktails. There's serving, and then there's serving."
"But it's like a strip joint, right?"
"Gentleman's club."
"Right."
"Ain't no one taking their clothes off! I mean, I ain't gonna be wearing too much, but that's the point, ain't it?"
A knock came at the door.
"Aw, he found his balls," Angelique laughed.
Bella sighed and set the cigarette she'd just lit into the grooves of the ashtray. "Let me take care of this."
"Don't be too hard on the boy. And don't do anything you ain't gonna be able to take back. I know you, girl."
Bella went to the door, heart thudding, face hot. She groped for that coldness and, with some effort, found it, but as soon as she opened the door, it was gone. Edward stood there with one eye swollen nearly shut and a ragged tear down the side of his jeans. His sock on that side was soaked with blood.
"Can I come in?" he asked thickly.
"Oh my god," she breathed. Something bright flared in her heart. She scooted him inside. "Edward, what happened to you?"
"They took my bike."
"What…who?"
"Julio."
"Julio who?"
"He didn't leave his card," Edward said flatly.
Angelique came rushing in, dreads flying behind her, finger jabbing. "Yo, that Julio from up on Jackson?"
"He's got a brother named Miguel," Edward said, limping as Bella helped him to the kitchen table. "That's all I know."
Angelique's eyes flicked to Bella, turning from angry to furious. "That's the Sanchez boys. They ain't no good. But they never done nothing to no one from the neighborhood, 'cept for what happened to the Wilson kids' dog, and that mighta been an accident."
Bella was in the freezer, pulling out a Hot Pocket and offering it to Edward. "Here, put this on your eye."
Edward flinched a moment at the sight of it, then accepted. He hissed in breath as it touched his face.
"That little fucking wannabe hoodlum," Angelique said. Her hands were on her hips. "Edward, I'ma have Ravon set this right, don't you worry."
"Okay," Edward said, still trying to collect himself. "Thank you."
He hissed again, drawing his gashed leg back from where Ariel had brushed up against it.
"Holy shit," Bella said. "Edward, that looks bad."
"It's not as bad as it looks."
"I might have some peroxide, if my mom hasn't drank it by now. Hold on."
Edward nodded, looking gratefully at her with his good eye. Angelique looked at the two of them, knowing her presence wasn't needed any longer.
"Yo, girl!" she called toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna get home, check out how the fam doing, or else Shug be watching them infomercials, ordering everything he sees."
"Okay," Bella called back, distracted. "See you tomorrow."
"You're gonna be okay," she said to Edward. "We're gonna make this right."
"Okay."
She lowered her voice. "She's a hard nut to crack. But damn if you're not the best thing for her right now."
"Thank you," he said, surprised and grateful. "Hope I see you again soon."
"Boy," she said. "you will."
The front door closed as Bella came out of the bathroom bearing a plastic bottle.
"It's a little expired," she said, "but I think it'll do okay."
They got his jeans off, and she soaked some peroxide onto a paper towel. He tensed and clenched his teeth but didn't move or make a sound.
"You're stupid," she said as she cleaned the wound.
"Huh?"
"Riding around this neighborhood at night."
"You knew I was here?"
She looked directly in his eyes. "How could anyone not. You were basically wearing a sign."
"…Did you get my letter?"
She pressed a little too hard, and he jerked his leg away.
"Sorry," she said. "Sorry. I'm almost done." Gingerly, he offered his leg back, and she continued cleaning. "Yeah, I got your letter."
"I haven't heard from you."
"I thought it best." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "You'll move on."
He looked angry now. "I'm not just going to move on, what don't you get about that?"
"Love is not just a feeling, Edward," she said, feeling like an imposter, not knowing if she'd ever felt it herself. "It's about being realistic."
"I am being realistic. No one is going to find out about us. I will make sure of it. And I'm damn sure that no one at this current time feels the way I do about you."
She finished cleaning his wound, saying nothing but seeming agitated.
"That should be okay." She got up, closing the peroxide bottle and tossing the bloody paper towel into the trash. Almost casually, she said, "If you weren't such a dummy, none of this would have happened. You shouldn't be on this side of the neighborhood without an adult."
"You are so. Fucking. Infuriating!" he shouted, startling her into turning around. "You act like you're so old and so wise, and maybe you are in some ways, but you don't know shit about what's really important! You see any adults around here? Because I don't. You and Angelique raise your damn selves! CeCe, Major, they're lucky to have Ravon and Angelique! Who did you have? No one! Now someone wants to be here for you and it's intimidating? Grow up!"
She laughed hollowly. "You think you know me now? Ever ask, where's Daddy, and your mom responds, 'Who?' Every moment of my life after my grandmom died was trying to convince my mother that I was worth keeping for child support, that I wasn't too much of a burden. Have you ever tried to return a llama, at nine years old?"
"What does a llama have to do with this!"
"Never mind. We should get you home."
"Fine! I'll walk!"
"You'll get jumped before you make it three blocks!"
"Oh okay, sage of the ghetto."
"What does that even mean? Just go in my bed! I'll sleep on the couch!"
"No, no, please! Don't do me any favors!" he shouted, hobbling off into the living room and flopping down on the loveseat, angling his hurt leg up over one of the arms. He lay there for some long minutes, catching his breath. He heard her coming in and closed his eyes. She dumped a blanket over top of him.
"Hey," she said. "You awake?" He breathed shallowly. "Fine. Be that way."
She stormed off, flipping the light off behind her. In the kitchen, a match snapped alight, and she smoked a cigarette in quick snatches before stubbing it out and shutting the lights off there as well. Her bedroom door opened and closed, and then the house was still and silent. When he was sure, he pulled off his T-shirt, wincing when it brushed his eye, and lay there, pulling the comforter up over him against the November chill coming through a hundred cracks in the walls. He lay there for some unknown time, wide awake, his eye and leg both singing in pain, expecting to lie there until he could slink out come daylight. Then, slowly, the bedroom door opened, and there were footsteps behind him.
"Hey," she said softly from the doorway. Her feet drew closer, bare against the hardwood floor. He felt her hand touch his neck. "Come to bed, Edward." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His resentment melted away as she pulled the blanket off him and gathered it up in one arm. "I'm sorry. Just come to bed."