AN: The problem when I start writing chapters focusing on secondary characters is that I go crazy on length. I start thinking Renee is ridiculously funny and can't get enough of her because honestly her part in this chapter is unnecessary and yet I couldn't bare to cut it after I wrote it. As I've said many a time 'I have no sense of humor' because as long as something is remotely funny I'll laugh like a hyena.
Anyway now that I've dissected myself I'll say 'thank-you, thank-you so much for reading'. I appreciate it much more than I could ever express.
"The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender"
-Emil Ludwig
Chapter Four: part one
It was three pm when the phone rang. I was at the kitchen table riffling through a 'Sears' catalogue looking through pictures of luggage when the phones' annoying beeping interrupted the pros and cons of purple vs. blue bags. Distractedly I reached behind me for the telephone as Renee's voice called out, "If it's for me tell them to call back."
My eyes left the page to give a strange look toward the stairs, toward her voice. Renee loved answering the phone; she loved talking on it more. She was the kind of person that wished for telemarketers so she could convince them of something just as ridiculous as whatever set of stainless knives they were selling.
I was so distracted, or maybe just inept, that my attempt to pick up the phone led to that awful sound of crashing. "Typical," I muttered as I swiveled to assess the damage. The battery cover had flown two feet from the phone but other than that small damage the phone had seen worse days. I grabbed it, cradling the back in case the batteries wanted to fly the coop as well, "Hello, Swan residence, Bella speaking."
"Bella," Angela frantically stuttered.
"Hey Angela, how are you?"
"You're not busy tonight, are you?"
"Um," I chanced letting the batteries handle themselves as I reached for the case. "Just one sec." I took the small plastic square, flipped the phone and fixed it. "Sorry, uh yeah, I'm free."
"Okay, not anymore?" She made it sound like a question.
My attention returned to the thick magazine; eyes flicking back and forth over the colour choices. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"Tyler is having a party." I rose as eyebrow, reaching across the table for a ball point pen I'd abandoned hours earlier.
I stopped her there, "You want to go to a teen booze party?"
"Well, no." I tapped the page with the end of the pen in time with my breaths.
"Then…"
"Okay, you're going to hate me but, uh, well, Ben is going to be there."
I blinked, "Why would I hate you?"
"Because it's just so pathetic and stupid; I feel so juvenile."
I flipped the page; childrens luggage shocked my eyes with crazy bright colours and the newest Pixar/Disney characters. I quickly went back to the 'boring' page. "Yeah I'm pretty sure you're none of those things. If you like a guy, well, I understand wanting to see him. Plus when you're not at school… then it's just different. I understand that."
"You do?"
I laughed and rolled my eyes, "So details?"
"Uh, yes. Yes," she repeated more assured, "Tyler is having this, like, thing at his house. School Tyler not crazy Alice ex Tyler." I nodded, though she couldn't see. I'd already figured she wouldn't drag me to a crazy friend's ex's house. "And I really want to go but I… just can't go alone."
"I'll go with you," I assured, "What time does it start?"
"Around eight," She paused and I could already hear another request coming, "but I really don't have anything to wear and I know how above and beyond girly that sounds but… I just need help."
"Angela, relax seriously. You want something nice to wear. We can do that, or uh, we can try."
She giggled a sound that came out forced and uncomfortable. "I hope so. So can I come by in say, like twenty minutes? We can go to the mall, look around?"
"Sure," I drew the word out as I circled the blue square on the page.
"Thank you Bella. I owe you."
"Nothing to owe."
"You are sadly mistaken. This is going to be the rest of your day. Not to mention your night."
"Breathe Angela."
She made a weird breathy sound before adding, "So I'll pick you up. Is that okay?"
"Yeah sure, see you then."
"Bye and thanks."
I clicked end on the phone, rested it on the picture of travel accessories I'm chosen and headed upstairs. Renee's door was closed. "Mom," I called.
"What?" She answered.
"What are you doing in there?" I asked curiously.
"You really don't want to know," she laughed but my interest was piqued.
"Can I come in?" I hedged letting my hand hover the door handle.
"Uh, if you're brave enough."
I opened the door, my mother was face down on the bed, arms out behind her struggling with the tiny hooks that were in abundance on the under bodice thing she was sporting.
"What in the world are you doing?" I questioned, eyes bulging not in embarrassment though I'm sure most young girls would be red seeing their mothers in lingerie-like, well as I said before, things. There was no other word for what she was wearing. It was black and tight but fully covering everything that needed to be covered.
She made a pitiful sound before her hands hit the sides of the bed in defeat, "Please help me."
I walked over, examined the almost swimsuit in appearance underwear, and did up the twelve bra hooks. "There you go." She rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Now are you going to explain why you're wearing that?"
She rolled her eyes like a child, "Because I need the support."
"What?... uh" I interrupted myself, "No, I mean why on Earth are you putting yourself through medieval female suffocation?"
She huffed, "You're my daughter you have to pretend my goods aren't hovering near my knees but Phil is, after all, a lot," she whispered the last word, "Younger and I just can't be seen with all the other baseball girlfriends with my breasts so close to the ground."
"Uh, I… I mean, mom." My articulate attempts at conversing; I should win an award for such perfect dialogue.
"This will flatten everything that needs to be flattened and thrust out everything that needs thrusting," She laughed at her own personal joke that I didn't understand or want to understand.
"When did you even buy that thing?" I'd certainly never been witness to that purchase.
She stood up and walked to her dresser. "A couple days ago." Her hands busied themselves in the contents of a drawer. She spun around showing me an elastic looking black dress. "I needed something special to wear under this." She made the dress dance in front of her. "Because this is so tight that you'll see every imperfection."
"Which brings to mind the question, 'why wear it?'"
She gave me an annoyed look. "It's not much to look at hanging off my finger but you'll understand when you see it on."
"So you are planning on putting clothes on tonight?"
"Ha, ha very funny," she threw the dress onto the bed, missing my head by about an inch from where I stood, dumbstruck. "I just wanted to try this thing on. I didn't realize it'd be so hard. I guess one of those store attendants did help me into it at the shop but, well, I didn't anticipate it'd be so difficult."
"Live and learn," I muttered. "Are you going to need help getting the clasps undone?"
She shook her head, "Nah, It's easy to get off, hard to get on, apparently."
"So then I'm going to leave you to that." I turned and walked to my bedroom to grab my purse.
As I passed Renee's room on the way down she called out, "Where're you going?"
"Angela needed some help picking out something at the mall." I slowly edged my feet down the stairs backwards, a very stupid thing for someone with my dexterity.
"That doesn't sound like Angela," she commented.
"No, well, she has this thing. Or I guess we have this thing. Tyler is having people over or something, whatever."
Renee's head peaked out from behind the door, glancing at me where I stood half way down the stairs. "You're going to a party?"
"Well, yeah."
"It's like suddenly all the teenage clichés come true in one day. What else have you been hiding from me? Tell me you're going to start singing about competitive sports. Do a choreographed dance?" She raised her eyebrows speculatively.*
"Gosh mom you're so funny."
"Just call me if you guys need a ride home."
"You really think Angela and I are going to drink." I turned away from her stare.
"You never know…" She trailed off.
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It was hours later when I decided shopping was pure undiluted hell. The mall was a mess with teenagers and children who looked too young to be out and about without parental supervision. When had Renee allowed me to leave the house without her? Was I really so young, so naïve?
Angela and I had walked the mall up and down twice, which wasn't hard considering it was only one level and didn't have a ridiculous amount of stores. Out of those stores only about half were clothing centered, slice a fourth off for men's wear and we were left with maybe six decent stops. Even with so few places to admire we'd been rushing around.
"I could just get that pink sweater," Angela commented. "I could wear these jeans and get that sweater," she continued. "It's a little tight, I mean, I know it's supposed to be like that but a little tighter than I'm used to."
I nodded along. "It looked good on you."
"You think?" she twisted around to give me a thorough look, see if I were lying.
"I think so," I answered honestly.
"And it's really not too expensive." I nodded as she walked back to the first store we'd gone to. Funny how many times the first stop is all you need. It was strange to hear Angela talk at length about clothing; she wasn't usually so aesthetic. She was like me in that way, it covered everything, it was good to go.
We passed the food court and walked down the main bend. As we went by a bead store Angela stopped. "Do you mind?" She inquired cocking her head toward the colourful store.
"No I don't mind." She walked off in front of me going toward the already completed necklaces and bracelets while I turned and looked into the front display. It was ful of semi precious stones and crystals. One of them caught my eye; it was the exact shade of Edward's eyes.
The stone was in a flat diamond shape, a hole had been drilled on one of the points and a black thread was strung through the hole so it could be worn around your neck or wrist, whichever or neither.
My eyes trailed up to the sales girl. "Would you like to see anything?" She asked. Her name tag read 'Amy' and she looked bored out of her mind. I didn't think too many people came into the bead store or at least not a steady flow. An Indie Band was playing in the background and I guessed she at least had control over the music.
"Can I see that green one?" I murmured.
"Sure," she seemed relieved that I actually needed something. Usually clerks seemed annoyed when you asked to see the merchandise. Maybe that was simply my experiences?
She pulled it out and offered it to me, "Thanks."
"It's Chrysoprase*," She informed me.
"Oh?"
"I don't actually know much about it. I think it's supposed to help you sleep or something, or at least that's that myth." She gave a subtle laugh, one that made me think she only half believed what she'd told me.
But regardless of what it 'meant' it felt right in my hand. It reminded me of Edward in more ways than just the colour but I couldn't pinpoint why. In an absurd way I wanted to buy it for him, to see it hanging on his neck mimicking and picking up the colours.
Angela walked up then, "Pretty," she said.
"Yeah it is."
"What do you think?" She held a small wire bracelet, clear diamond shaped beads spread down the band.
"It's very you." I smiled.
"Are you going to get that?" Angela asked nudging her head toward the green stone.
"Yeah, I am," I answered smoothly.
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We stopped back at my house to change and get ready before heading to the party. Angela put on the pink top, leaving her jeans on as she'd planned, adding the bracelet for effect. She looked cute and definitely not over done; like herself. Renee lent her makeup to us but Angela didn't use much. She was more comfortable than I would have been.
I didn't change or put makeup on, there wasn't any boys there that I wanted to impress. I tied the necklace around my neck and hid it under my top. It felt comfortable around my neck even better than simply holding it.
Angela and I prepared macaroni and cheese for supper before heading off to Tyler's. Renee reminding me she'd be around if we needed help home. We'd laughed at her and I'd given her a look. "You aren't going out with Phil tonight in that black dress?" I questioned with a mocking tone.
"Nope," she replied unashamed. "That's for a special night. And anyway Phil is busy." She didn't expand and I didn't really want to know anything more about special nights including Phil and my mother.
"Good night," I told her instead, shoving my fingers deep into my mittens.
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There were two things I learnt the second I walked into Tyler's house. One was that I didn't like constantly loud inescapable places. Two was I didn't enjoy drunken people hanging on to me. Angela went off to get a glass of water, not being one to drink. She was two steps away when Mike, a boy from out grade, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the living room. "I didn't think you'd come," he practically shouted.
"Oh, um, well…" He lunged onto the grey couch pulling me with him.
"Don't get me wrong I'm glad you did Bella." He smiled at me, his whole face lighting up, his eyes disappearing to the squinty way he looked. I swallowed convulsively.
I nudged some space between us as politely as I could and looked around for Angela thinking she'd taken longer than needed to find a glass and a facet. "Tyler's parents let him have these kinds of things often?" I asked trying to make basic conversation.
"Ohhh yeah," he hiccuped and the music switched to another song. A couple walked past us, her hands in his back pockets. They laughed; in their own world. This wasn't really like the parties they showed on TV. I would be lying if I didn't say I expected smutty dancing and an overflowing keg. I was sure there was alcohol; I mean Mike was obviously tanked, but the evidence wasn't in the living room at least, and as for dancing, well there was defiantly not dancing. People were standing around in groups of two, three and four, talking over the music like Mike and I were.
I recognized almost everyone but didn't attempt to go up and join a new party. Mike might not be my favorite person of all time but at least he wasn't trying to pull anything on me.
And then his hand was on my face, twisting it away from the other partiers and toward him. He gave me a heavy lidded look and his mouth came toward mine. In a rash move I stood up and he ended up kissing my ear, a loud sucking, smacking sound. "You're drunk, I uh, need to find Angela." I wondered off to find the kitchen.
Mike wasn't a pervert or anything and I trusted him not to push too far but I still had no intentions of kissing him. I hoped he wouldn't remember in the morning or at least not comment on the instance ever again.
I didn't end up finding the kitchen or Angela instead I found myself in the basement. Another bunch of kids were hanging out down here and none of them seemed drunk. Some had drinks but they seemed to be sipping more than anything. A movie was playing, being mostly ignored, while they discussed general gossip. I stood next to Jessica Staley, a girl who Angela and I hung around but weren't very close with, as she ranted about her Psychology teacher.
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It's funny how time can pass like mad when you're off in your own head. I didn't bother trying to add anything to the conversations in the basement but no one seemed to notice. People went and left but enough stayed nomadic that I basically just sat around thinking about unrelated things. Okay, mostly French things.
So it surprised me when I finally looked at the clock and noticed that three hours and some minutes had gone by. I got up without a word to find Angela. I was a crap friend; I'd basically left her on her own for the majority of the night. I hoped she'd found Ben.
Upstairs was slightly crazier than when I'd left but Mike was still around, he looked half passed out on the couch. "Mike," I spoke loud enough to be heard over the bass. "Mike, have you seen Angela?"
His eyes looked glassy, "Bathroom?" His eyes flickered shut.
I looked around the room before I noticed a hallway. The bathroom would be down there if nothing else. No one was standing waiting in front of it like how movies showed the same situation but the door was closed. I knocked, "Hey Angela?" I called feeling like a dolt. "You in there?"
A groan sounded from behind the door. "Angela?" I tried again followed by another groan. I tried the knob and it surprisingly opened. "Oh God, are you okay?" Angela was huddled in the tub fully clothed but looking miserable. "Did you drink too much?"
She looked up, "No, I didn't drink at all."
"Oh," I didn't expect her to drink but I didn't know why she was hiding out in here either. "What's wrong?"
"Can you drive me home?"
"Yeah for sure."
I offered her my hand and helped her out of the tub. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Drive to your house, I'll drive myself home." We left without any goodbyes; just slipped out the way we'd entered. I took her keys and started the drive home. Angela didn't say a word and I didn't try to get anything out of her the whole way there.
"Thanks," She whispered as she took over the driver's seat. She looked funny; a bright red hat with earmuffs and cat ears was covering the majority of her head.
I shivered, "Have a good night, feel better." She nodded and closed the car door while I walked toward the house. And so ended the night of the first party I'd ever attend. Nothing had happened really, I didn't know why they were so popular but the whole experience left a nasty taste in my mouth.*
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It was November 29th, Wednesday night and I was twirling a pen in my fingers trying to do that cool spin-y between the fingers thing that some people were talented enough to perfect. Edward was sitting next to me, his arm touching mine. He'd avoided using his right the whole time in such a deliberate way I couldn't help thinking he didn't want to lose our connection.
We weren't skin to skin, no; in fact we were skin to sweater to sweater to skin, not so romantic to an outsider. Yet half my body felt stimulated, alive and was inappropriately agitated.
Renee was upstairs on the portable telephone; a hair away. Too close, too far.
With his left hand he took the pen from me, his fingers sparking against my bare flesh. My attention went from my books to his face. "You're terrible at that," he stated. With his left hand out in front of me he twirled the pen expertly.
"Seriously, are you perfect?"
He laughed, "Do you think that being good at everything means someone's perfect?" he countered.
"Do you think you're good at everything?"
"No," he answered. "But you didn't answer my question."
"Maybe."
He left my half-assed answer alone and spoke again, "Because me, I think perfection is being bad at things, at messing up. I think perfection," the word sounded like heaven in his voice, "is the little imperfections that make someone, well, who they are."
I stole the pen from his spinning fingers, "You must love me then. There is no one with more imperfections than me." I laughed and glanced up at him. His eyes had turned hard, stunning, not harsh but acute. Looking at him made me forget to breath. "So, uh, how do you do this?" I held up the pen.
He blinked. "I don't think I can teach you that. French, yeah I'm your guy, but pen tricks? No offence Bella but you'd be terrible at them."
I made a fake huffing sound and he stole the pen back. With his left hand, again, he showed off a few other moves; spinning it around his middle finger and then around his thumb*. "It's all about pressure and finger positions. Do you really want me to show you something?"
I frowned, "You're right. I'd be hopeless."
"You wouldn't be hopeless but it would be a waste of your time and talent."
"What talent?"
He rolled his eyes, "I wish you would have more confidence in yourself."
I went to snatch the pen from him once more but he held it further away, giving me an amused grin. "Edward," I squeaked.
He kept it out of reach for a few minutes before getting tired of the game and simply holding it to me in front of his chest. Suddenly I become aware of how close I was to him; I looked up basking past his chin and seeing him like you might view a tall elaborate building. I was in awe.
He peered down at me the smirk falling from his face. "Bella I-" he started but something about this moment felt wrong. I didn't want to have it here in my house with my mom upstairs. I wanted something more.
I could hear his heart pumping extra fast. I could see his eyes focusing in on my lips. I knew what was happening and, even though I wanted it, I didn't go for it. I took the pen from him again, pulled back beside him and said the only thing I could think of, "I can't remember what pen is in French."
His response was delayed but he answered, "Stylo."
I sighed wanting to apologize, wanting to turn back, climb around him, kiss him, but I didn't. Was I scared of rejection? Was it really the setting? What was wrong with me?
The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. I really liked Edward Cullen and he could destroy me. It's hard to give someone that power over you; it's hard to be trusting especially when they didn't tell you much about themselves.
"Stylo," I repeated as I took note that my arm was no longer against his.*
Notes:
*Teen clichés: Reference to 'High School Musical.' I've only seen maybe ten minutes of these movies so I know very little. I'm pretty sure there is a song about basketball though. This reference isn't supposed to be offensive or positive. I have no opinion on the movies since I haven't watched them.
*Chrysoprase: This is a green stone that is supposed to have an affinity for the heart chakra. It's supposed to heal relationships among other things. I think crystals are interesting and I do have a point in Bella purchasing this necklace other than making this chapter insanely long.
*Teen booze party/Angela's night: Oh parties, oh how many this chapter was based on… *le sigh* Angela didn't end up telling Bella about her night the day after like she said she would. It will get addressed in a later chapter.
*Pens: So I was just typing away not really paying any attention to what was coming out and then I started talking, green with envy, about people who can twirl pens. Suddenly it hit me, why can't I do that? And then the thought… 'have I ever tried?' which led to learning that I'm actually not too terrible at spinning pens around my fingers and thumb. Hurray for learning new time consuming and pointless things!
*Plot: Is there a plot or am I just typing dribble? Yes there is a plot. I know, I know I can get pretty off topic, okay well I'm on topic about one percent of the time BUT I started with a plot in my head and as I've thought about it I've let it turn from crazy to more simple.
I have this theory that a story should be a whole bunch of stories all going on at the same time. One in the focus, of course, or everything would be a large muddle. That's how life is, isn't it? There are thousands of stories going on, parents, friends, nephews, ETC. and they all impact your life but one 'thing' always seems to be in the center part of your mind.
So this story is just me working on trying to find a balance I guess.