Bella

I make my annual trip back to Forks every May. Every Mother's Day. Once a year, and that's it.

Each year I pull up to the house to find it in a further state of disrepair and each year I tell myself that I will fix it up. Hire someone to paint it. Have the gutters cleaned out. The roof patched. I can afford it. It should have been done ages ago.

And then for a fleeting moment, I contemplate selling it. But I can't sell Charlie's house. My house. He would have wanted me to live in it, rather than leave it here to rot. But I know I can't do that either.

I unlock the door and it smells the same as it always has. Maybe a little musty, but it smells like Charlie. Like fishing trips and lasagna and stale beer.

I uncover the couch in the living room, dust flying and then settling again. I spend the first hour cleaning the kitchen, wiping every last surface, making believe that someone actually lives here. I go to the corner market and pick up groceries for a stew. I chop everything precisely, paying special attention to the carrots. I make enough for a small army, filling the crock-pot nearly to the brim.

I go to the cemetery. Carlisle will be there. I don't call to tell him I'm coming home. He knows. He'll be there.

I don't bring flowers.

I keep the visit short.

I talk to Charlie's headstone as if it were alive.

"I made beef stew. Your favorite."

I wait awkwardly, almost expecting a response.

"So, Alice and Jasper finally got married last summer."

I take a deep breath.

"I know you'd really like Jasper. He kind of reminds me of you, actually. He's a man of few words, but when he speaks, you know it's important." I miss that voice.

"Edward was there too. But it didn't go so well." I shrug. "We kind of got in a fight. Well, he got in a fight because of me. And then… and then he said some things."

I tell myself not to cry.

"But enough about that." I tap the headstone with an open palm like I'm patting Charlie on the shoulder.

"I know I said I'd visit more, but I've been really busy with work. It's hard to get away. I'm actually taking a little time off for a while. But I wanted you to know that I'm okay. Alright, I… I'm going to go see mom now."

I make the short walk to my mother's grave and trace the letters and that date with my pinky finger.

I don't know what to say to her, so I say nothing. I just sit with her and wait for the sound of footsteps.

But when I hear them, I know something isn't right. I turn to see two sets of legs. And I know those feet.

Carlisle and Edward.

He's not supposed to be here. I'm glad that I can't see the look of shock on my own face.

Edward stands back a ways, slightly behind his father. He's either hiding from me or he doesn't see me sitting here in the dirt.

"Shall we follow you to your house for dinner?" Carlisle speaks as if this has all been arranged and it has. It's tradition. But Edward has never been here. He doesn't come here. I look for something in Carlisle's face but there is nothing, so I play along.

"The stew should be ready at seven."

Edward's eyes fly to me and then to his father, first baffled and then angry. "You knew she was going to be here?"

"Please, son. Have some respect."

I don't know what to say, what to do, who to be.

I realize that I'm fidgeting with my hair and biting the inside of my cheek and it's ridiculous that his mere presence can still do this to me.

You. Left. Him.

"We'd love to come for dinner." Edward.

I look up, startled by the rhythm of his voice and the meaning of the words and I have to look at his face. At his eyes.

There is instant understanding.

…

It's a Sunday. It was his idea. To spend the day together, his family and mine, celebrating our mothers. His first Mother's day without her and he's smiling. Smiling at me.

I've finally discovered something that Edward doesn't do well. Cook. He's completely lost within the confines of a kitchen. He stands with his back to me, his shoulders square. I can see the muscles of his back through his t-shirt. It's impossible not to laugh. Impossible. He's muttering something under his breath.

"Edward, what are you doing?"

"I'm just assessing the knives. A knife is a knife. Why do you have so many?" He still doesn't turn around.

"I just need a bread knife and a chef's knife. On the left." My voice sounds so strange. Happy, maybe.

"Bella, that means nothing to me." He turns slowly and Edward Cullen is blushing. It's just about the most adorable thing I have ever seen.

"Alright, my friend, take a seat. Prepare to learn a thing or two."

He hoists himself up onto my kitchen counter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I prattle on about the importance of using the appropriate knife as he watches me, nodding in agreement and absolutely mocking me.

He pops pieces of carrot in his mouth faster than I can chop them, despite my best efforts to swat his hand away with my knife. The boy has no fear.

"You keep this up, and we will have nothing for dinner." I try my best to sound irritated. "Either that, or you will be losing a finger. Consider yourself warned."

He throws a carrot at me. "What are you, five?" He throws another. I pretend that it hit me in the eye. Sucker. And now it's war, complete with lids as makeshift shields. We scamper around the kitchen like squirrels. And I will surely be finding carrot bits for days.

He's out of ammunition and I have a handful of carrots. His hands are in the air, begging for mercy. Unfortunately for him, I don't play fair. Full scale attack. The kind of laughter that makes you pee your pants.

We lay flat on our backs on the kitchen floor in hysterics. This is what it's like to live in a TV sitcom. And I have never laughed so much in my life. I have never laughed like this and meant it.

The doorbell rings, bringing us both back to reality.

He jumps to his feet and offers me his hand. I stare at it. It's just a hand, Bella. Take it. Friends offer each other a hand. Friends do that. He doesn't take his eyes off of me. The doorbell rings a second time. Jesus fucking Christ. I reach my hand up, and the smile is back as he practically lifts me off of the ground.

He doesn't let go as we walk to the front door. And it's nice. My heart is racing, but his hand around mine is nice.

Change. The kind that happens slowly, every moment of every day.

I swing open the door, and my heart stops.

Everything stops.

There are uniforms and matching shoes and faces that look like they have lost a friend. They have. They have lost a friend.

There are mouths moving.

There are expensive words like brain aneurism. And then there are words that I cannot hear.

I pull my hand away from Edward as if that's the one thing that can stop what's happening. But it doesn't stop anything.

I am falling. I want to fall into the floorboards and stay there forever.

Edward's arms are around me. He won't let me fall. Why won't he let me fall? In this moment, that is all I want. To disappear.

Change. The kind that blows you away in an instant.

And I let go of the life I thought I lived in.

I don't cry.

There is no time. There is nothing. But this is different than the last time. I can see the sun setting. I will be able to see it set and rise again. Nobody is looking for me. I will not be rescued this time.

Charlie is gone. Charlie is dead. Say it. He's dead.

I was right.

I am an orphan.

No.

I'm not.

I'm not a child anymore.

There is no name for what I am.

The officers are gone and Edward is on the phone. He is talking but there is no sound. I can't bear to look at his face. His face looks the way I should feel.

All I want in this moment is to feel.

Alice. I'm sitting on the couch and I can't figure out how she got here so quickly. The sun has set. Maybe it has been a while. I don't know. There is no way to know.

She is stroking my hair and I want to tell her to stop.

"Bella, please come stay with us tonight."

I hear her but I don't answer. I want to tell her to fuck off. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I don't need her.

"Okay." Okay. I walk calmly and purposefully up the stairs to my room. I close the door behind me and stand with my back against it, looking around at this room that used to be so strange but became mine. My home. I pack some pajamas and a set of clothes for tomorrow. A toothbrush. My pillow.

Edward is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and the look on his face makes me want to smack him.

He reaches his hand out for me as I approach the bottom step. His fingertips brush against mine for a second. One second before I can yank my hand away.

I'm fighting with the keys to my truck. The truck Charlie bought for me. I can't even get the fucking key to open the fucking door.

"Bella, what are you doing?" His hand is on my shoulder. I shrug it off.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm driving to your house."

"Bella, please. Just let me drive you. Or Alice, Alice can drive you." Desperation.

"Edward, I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Bella, please. Please." I can't ignore the agony in his voice. I drop my keys to the gravel and walk around to the passenger side, waiting to be let in. I don't look at him. I listen for the sound of the key in the lock, the driver's door opening and the click of the lock on my side. I slide in, placing my bag between us.

The drive to the Cullen's house is silent and I'm glad because there is nothing to say.

The engine is off. We are sitting in the driveway. I don't know how long we've been here. I don't know what Edward is waiting for. I grab my bag and walk up the front steps quickly, through the foyer and straight up to the guest bedroom with the flowered bedspread.

I take a long, hot shower that burns my skin. I brush my hair, brush my teeth, floss, put on my pajamas and fluff my pillow on the bed.

I always wanted to be a robot. Except, I imagined being more like Vicki the robot, from Small Wonder. I am not that kind of robot.

There is a soft knock at the door.

"Bella, may I come in?" Carlisle. I don't answer. Maybe he'll think I'm asleep.

He knocks louder.

"Come in." Go away.

He opens the door slowly, peaking his head around. He's afraid of what he might find. But it's just me, standing by the bed, perfectly composed.

He walks toward me cautiously. As if he's worried I might bite. He reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder but thinks better of it.

"I just want you to know that we are here for you, Bella. Your father was a good man. He loved you more than anything." It burns. He doesn't know shit.

"I know."

"I'm sorry that there was nothing that I could do. Life is unfair when it comes to those we love." I let my eyes see him. And he isn't talking about my father.

I look away before my own eyes betray me. We stand in silence for a moment before he asks, "Is there anything you need?" I laugh in my head. Maybe out loud.

"I'm just going to go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." He looks at me with those same Edward eyes. I turn my back to him and wait for the soft click of the door as he closes it behind him. I lock it.

I put my shoes on. They are insurance against falling asleep. I shouldn't sleep. I don't know why. It's the only thing I can hold on to right now. I can't sleep with shoes on.

I lay on top of the covers, listening to this monstrosity of a house. Footsteps in front of my door. A knock. "Bella?" Edward's voice. His fucking pained voice. A turn of the locked doorknob. Footsteps that grow faint. Silence.

I stare at the ceiling until my alarm goes off in the morning. The house is still. I'm dressed for school. I think. I'm half way out the front door.

"Bella, where are you going?" Edward's voice is sleep and despair.

"I'm going to school. It's Monday. We have school."

"Bella, I hardly think that…" He is shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. His hair is more ridiculous than usual.

"Edward, don't." He doesn't.

And so I drive to school. I'm early. I sit in the parking lot, watching the rain slide down my windshield, waiting for the cars to trickle in.

And then Edward is tapping on my window. There is too much pain in that face.

"Can I walk you to class?" His eyes beg me not to say no.

But I can't go to class.

"Will you take me back to your house?"

He doesn't hesitate or even answer. He opens the driver-side door and slides in as I move over, but still pressed against him.

I can feel my heart in my chest. I can feel my heart. I can feel it. And I have to get out of here. Now.

He isn't driving fast enough. "Please, Edward."

He places his hand over mine and it is the only thing keeping me here. "I don't know what to do for you." I can hear the panic in his voice. Don't panic. Damn it. Don't fucking panic.

"Get me out of this car."

And then I'm no longer here.

My mother is driving. I'm next to her. I'm small, but I don't feel small.

I am pouting because she wouldn't let me buy the Trapper Keeper with the white cat on it at the drug store. She said it was junk. She never lets me have anything I want. Ever.

"I hate you." I wish you were dead. I mean it.

She is quiet for a long time. "Do you want to hear about someday?" Yes. I pretend like I didn't hear her. I know she'll tell it anyway.

"Someday, you and I are going to live in New York City. We'll have an apartment on the top floor of a tall, tall building and we'll have a huge closet just for shoes. And…"

"You forgot the part about the doorman." The doorman is my favorite.

"Oh yes, our building will have a smiley doorman that greets us everyday and calls you Ms. Bella."

I turn to face her. She's confusing. Her voice is happy but her smile and her eyes are sad.

"Someday, Bella."

"Someday." I can't wait for someday.

"I love you, baby girl."

And then the road is rolling. It's like a roller coaster but there are no tracks. She stops the car but it's too late. The roof of the car is crashing down on us and everything is black. There is too much sound and then there are only car sounds. And then there is only silence.

I reach over to feel her face and it is wet and still. It is bending in ways that it shouldn't. She is dead. I know this. And I wanted this. But I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it.

"You didn't mean what?"

My truck. Edward is touching my face. I don't deserve it.

"Bella, I wish there was something I could say to make this easier." There are tears in his voice. In his voice.

"Make what easier, exactly, Edward?"

"All of it." And he means it.

I open the door and practically fall out of the truck. I can sense him following me into the house and up the stairs but he doesn't say anything. If he does, I don't hear him.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, the one with all of the little fucking flowers, and I'm fighting with my shoes and then his hands are there, on mine, calming them. Okay. Okay. He unties my shoe and takes it off so gently, as if he's afraid of breaking me, as if I'm so fragile that I may shatter into a million pieces at any moment. First one, then the other.

There is something on my chest. Something invisible and heavy. And my heart is beating. I can feel it. I feel it coming, but I know better. I don't know how to cry. I don't know how.

Some people are beautiful when they cry. Their cheeks flush ever so slightly and their eyes shine as the tears roll delicately down their cheeks. My mother was beautiful when she cried. I think I almost remember that. I only saw Charlie cry once. He was not beautiful then. He was sloppy and scrunched and completely raw.

I can feel Edward's hands on either side of my face, his thumbs at the corners of my eyes, rubbing back and forth. And I'm startled by what he's doing, not because I don't expect this from him, but because he is wiping away tears. My tears.

One deep breath, and I can't keep the tears anymore. I can't keep them. My face is fire and my breaths are short and I can't keep them. I'm holding onto Edward's arms begging the tears to keep coming.

This is what it feels like to cry. This is what it feels like to feel.

His hands don't leave my face as he pulls me into his chest. He holds me there as I sob. I'm wiping my snot all over his shirt. Still, he holds me. I'm squeezing him so tightly it must be painful. Still, he holds me.

He is laying me down on the bed, tucking me in, wiping wet hair from my face.

I am not one of those people who is beautiful when she cries.

My eyes are begging him not to leave me. He knows. He lays next to me, on top of the covers, his face only inches from mine. His eyes never leave me. And it's okay to feel.

Years worth of tears until there is nothing left but sleep.

Two days pass in a blur of nothing.

The house is dark and still. This house, this town. I'm alone. I can almost see the stars behind the fog. The stars I used to wish upon before I knew any better.

I wish I had told Charlie I loved him. I wish my mother had lived long enough for us to have our someday. I wish I could say what I mean and mean what I say. I wish I had Dorothy shoes. I wish I hadn't lost myself.

I wish I could let Edward in.

I take a deep breath, pinching my eyes shut. Life is short. Life is short. Life is short. Don't make it small.

My eyes burn and my lungs hurt and everything hurts.

I pull the covers back quickly and jump from the bed like I used to do when I was a little girl.

I walk down the hallway as if it is covered in hot coals, until I reach his room and I'm a statue, my closed fist resting silently on his door. I knock gently. There is barely any sound. I'm trying without trying. It's not enough.

As I extend my arm back, ready to give a real knock, the kind that will surely waken the entire house, his door swings open. He's standing there in ratty old green scrubs.

"Hey." I should have thought this out better. I should have thought this out, period.

"Bella, what's wrong?" Everything. Nothing.

"Everything. Nothing."

And I'm crying again. It feels amazing.

He pulls me against him. He smells like sleep and worry and Edward. He smells like Edward. I pull away, but just to look at him. I want to see his face, not his feet. His eyes. And they are everything.

"I know you probably don't want to hear it, Bella, but you're beautiful when you cry, you know that?" And in this moment I almost believe him.

His eyes are searching mine and I let them. I don't look away. For once, I don't look away. This is trying. This is all I have.

I'm pushing him back, pushing him into his room and he lets me. He's confused, but he lets me.

He sits on the edge of his bed. His eyes still searching. Always searching. I don't have any answers for him. I'm standing between his legs, my hands interlaced with his. Breathing feels all right. This feels all right. No. It feels right. This feels right.

I lower my face to his, brushing my nose against his cheek. I can feel his breath on my face. He won't kiss me.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I stay?"

He doesn't answer with words. He is pulling me onto the bed with him. He's touching my face, always touching my face, tracing every part of it, as if he's trying to memorize it before I disappear. I don't want to disappear.

My eyes close on their own accord as he continues to brush away the tears that won't stop. My feet seek out his feet, stealing their warmth. He reaches an arm around my waist and pulls me closer. Not close enough. If I could crawl inside of him, I would. His thumb rubs circles on the small of my back.

I wake up some time later, with my face nuzzled into his chest. He pulls me into him as I stir. His lips in my hair.

Don't ever let go.

…

I run around the house frantically trying to do… something. I don't know. Make the house presentable. It's ridiculous. There is only so much that can be done to a house that nobody lives in.

There is a knock at the front door and I freeze.

Here we go.

I open the door with a smile. Carlisle and Edward stand side by side on my doorstep, like two little boys. Edward is wearing different clothes and his hair looks like he made an effort to tame it. My heart stutters in my chest.

"I brought wine." He holds the bottle out to me. I take it with a gracious, "thank you."

I motion for them to come in and they hang their coats on the hook next to Charlie's fishing vest.

Carlisle gives me a genuine smile. "Bella, it smells delicious, as always."

He excuses himself to take a call on his cell phone in the living room. Edward offers to help me set the table. Since the beginning of time, there has never been anything more awkward than the two of us right now in this kitchen. We don't speak.

When Carlisle appears in the doorway, we both stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to save us.

"I'm afraid I have to go into work. I'm so sorry, Bella."

"Dad…" Edward's voice is sharp and disbelieving.

Carlisle turns to Edward, who is glaring at him, and squeezes his shoulder.

"Bring me home some leftovers, son."

"Bella, would you mind giving an Edward a ride home after dinner?"

"Oh. I mean, sure. I mean, of course." I sound like a bumbling fool.

"You are welcome to stay at the house too, you know." I nod, but don't respond. He knows I won't. He gives me a quick hug goodbye and he's out the front door.

Edward and I stand in the quiet kitchen, both processing Carlisle's obvious ambush.

I leave Edward where he's standing and go to the sink. I stand there for minutes, hands tented in front of my mouth.

"Look, Bella, I can go."

No.

I glance over my shoulder and he's right behind me. I don't know how long he's been standing there watching me try not to panic.

"No, please. I have all this food."

With a nod, he sits. And we eat the meal that we were supposed to have so long ago.

He offers me some wine and I take a small glass. I feel the need to stay clear headed.

"So, Bella, you do this every year?"

Why does this feel like a blind date?

"Yeah, it's kind of tradition. I don't know…"

There is silence until he lifts his glass. "A toast. To our mothers. And to Charlie."

I raise my glass to meet his and our eyes lock for a moment, until he looks away. Until he looks away.

For the most part, we eat in silence.

After he's polished off a second helping, I move the food around on my plate as he gives countless accolades on my cooking.

I want him to leave and I want him to stay forever.

"So, when are you heading back to New York?"

Do I lie to him? No. No more lies.

"Well, I'm actually going on a little trip."

He doesn't respond right away and when I look up from my plate, he almost looks angry.

"On vacation?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what, exactly?"

"I'm doing some volunteer work."

"You can't do volunteer work in New York?"

"That's not the point."

"Well, how long will you be gone?"

"A month."

"Does Alice know about this?"

"Yeah, she knows. She encouraged me to do it."

Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Where are you going?"

I know he won't like it.

"You know what? It's none of my business." He shakes his head.

"Edward, this is… important."

He takes a deep breath in and I start to wonder if he's ever going to exhale. But when he does, there is a simultaneous warmth and coldness in his face.

He finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another. I watch him as he finishes off the bottle.

Dishes washed and put away until this time next year, we find ourselves in the living room. Either this is goodnight or I ask him to stay a while. But I'm not that brave.

Instead, I ask him if he's ready for me to drive him home. He immediately reaches for his coat. He stares at Charlie's fishing vest, a moment too long, before he opens the front door.

The drive to the Cullen's is short, the conversation somehow lighter, now that we're out of that house. Or maybe now that Edward is plied with wine.

We talk about Charlie. We talk about Esme. We don't talk about my mother.

As we pull up into the driveway, Edward turns to me with a smile. "Remember that time Charlie took me fishing but really he wanted to get me alone so he could find out exactly what my intentions were with his daughter?"

"Of course I remember. I was mortified."

"I don't think I'd even kissed you yet." He chuckles.

My face turns hot.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"He loved you so much."

The tears prick immediately and I turn away from him before he can see.

"Hey. Hey, I'm sorry. Don't cry."

I wipe the traitor tears as quickly as they came.

"Look at me. Please."

I don't want to but I do it.

His eyes are always two things at once. Terrifying and comforting. Sure and Afraid.

He reaches his hand out to my face. Slow motion. I lean into it without meaning to. Fierce and gentle. Warm and strong and Edward.

He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, they are frantic. "Bella, what are we doing?"

I shake my head and there are no words.

He's waiting for something and when I don't give it to him, I can see it in every last inch of him.

I watch his lips as he speaks. "Will you do something for me?"

Anything.

"Call me when you get back and tell me about it?"

I nod, speechless.

He drops his hand down to his side.

"I should go."

And he does.

It's only when he's walking away from me that I realize I never asked him why he's here.

I sit in the driveway long after he's inside the house.

Door closed.

Lights out.

A/N:

This was kind of a big week for Pocket Change.

To all of you who have been leaving reviews, I am beyond flattered by your lovely, kind words.

To all of you that have been pimping out my little story, you're amazing. There are no words to adequately express my appreciation.

While I was excited to see so many new readers, I was a little nervous about the timing, being that this was the chapter that was coming next. Of all chapters.

I know you are invested in these characters. I am too. I know you want to see them happy. I do too. Thank you for trusting me.

Next chapter should be up by Wednesday :)