Chapter 10 – Difficult Conversations (Carlisle)
As I made my way home, I tried to analyze the approach I would take with Esme.
As I found myself running over scenario after scenario, it struck me how incredibly sad it was that I felt I had to practice for a conversation with my wife.
She was my mate, my other half. How had we changed so very much in such a short time that I was unable to communicate with her? The realization of how removed we were from each other left me in despair.
The house loomed large and dark in front of me. I saw the kitchen light on, and knew that my bride would be working on her next culinary masterpiece for the soup kitchen. It really was extraordinary how she could take her loss and do something positive with it. I found myself aching for her. Not just for her arms, but for her gentle words, soft touches, and the peace that could only be found when we made love. It had been some time.
I had been neglecting her.
Though, to be fair, she had been avoiding me.
I wondered if tonight might be the conversation that could break this vicious cycle.
I exited the car, my destination clear, even if I was still unsure about my approach. I could hear the gentle sounds of food preparation even from the driveway. I hoped she would not mind the interruption.
Deciding to come in the side entrance, closest to the kitchen, I heard her pause as I entered. She resumed her work, and even though I hadn't seen her yet, I could feel the determination in her movements. She was putting on a show for me, I felt certain.
"Good evening, love," I said warmly, as I entered the kitchen. I made my way to her, and gave her a small yet tender kiss on her temple.
She glanced up at me quickly, and then her eyes were back on the food in front of her. "Hello, darling," she said gently.
I watched her a minute, hoping she would engage me in conversation on her own. She didn't.
After another minute of me just supervising her efforts, she stole another glance at me, and with a small smile, said, "Was there something you needed, Carlisle?"
I didn't move closer, but I tried to convey everything I missed, everything I needed, in my response. "The only thing I find myself needing, Esme, is a little time with you. Do you think you might have some to spare tonight?"
I found myself nervous at her answer.
A crease formed above her eyebrows, ever so small. Yet it spoke volumes.
She did not wish to speak with me. I found myself sidelined in shame and sadness with the realization that even when asked directly, Esme, my wife, wished nothing to do with me. It was unbelievably painful.
She didn't answer, but I had already interpreted her expression.
I nodded, without saying a word, and exited the kitchen.
I meant to go upstairs, but found that the pain of her rejection was overwhelming me, and at the base of the stairs, I found I could move no further from her. Without preamble, I dropped to the third step, and found my head in my hands, elbows resting on my knees.
It was one of those times that I desperately wished I could cry. I had so much pressure in my chest, grief desperate to escape my body, and yet, I could not physically give it release. I found myself taking great breaths, not quite a sob, but certainly very close.
I felt myself drowning in despair. Is this what Edward experienced when Bella requested our departure? Is this how Esme felt, as Alice and Jasper bid us farewell? It was intolerable! I had been so focused on making the best decisions for our family, that I had been avoiding my grief, and here alone on the steps, I found that it had caught up with me. My chest burned, and my soul ached. What had happened to us?
Just as I thought the pain might consume me right there on the stairs, I felt a gentle touch on my arm. I knew that touch intimately. It was the only thing that could bring me back from the abyss.
"I'm sorry, Carlisle," she whispered, as she sat next to me on the step. "That was not kind of me."
With her words, my great breaths became full on sobs. I pulled one hand from my face, and wrapped it around her hand on my arm. I would not be able to bear it if she let go. My other hand continued to hide my face from her, and from the world.
It had been a devastating few months, and it was all finally hitting home with me.
I sobbed for a time. Esme left her hand where it was, and with her other, she began long strokes up and down my back. I had never felt anything more wonderful. Her touch, her compassion, seemed to be the only thing keeping me from slipping into a darkness that pressed upon me from within.
We stayed like that for some time, but eventually, much like a toddler who cries himself to sleep in his mother's arms, my sobs ran out, my breathing regulated, and I found myself needing to see her. Needing to know that she was still there.
I turned my head in my hand to see her. I did not lift it. I wasn't sure I was able to.
Her eyes caught mine instantly. Reflected back at me was every ounce of grief I felt, as well as worry and guilt. Her dismissal had pushed me to this moment, and she was regretful. I knew that much of the pain in her eyes was put there through my actions, and I too was regretful. I hoped she could see that when she looked at me.
"How did it come to this?" I asked weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how we got here," I finished.
Her hand that had been on my back ceased its movements, and came to smooth back the blond locks around my temple. Her touch was so gentle, so very gentle. In that moment, I felt she could heal the world with the kindness of her touch.
"We didn't fight for our family, Carlisle," she said softly. There was no reproach in her voice, just a frankness that made her words impactful. "We let them slip away. Now we are grieving their loss."
Her words were true, of course, but they were also frustrating.
I found myself putting my face back into the palm of my hand. "What would you have had me do, Esme?" I asked pitifully.
"I could not force them to do something they don't wish to. It's not right. Though they act as our children, they are adults. They have the right to come and go as they please." I took a breath, and felt another little sob escape, "I did not wish for them to go. Just as I do not wish for this space between us. I just don't know what to do to make it better."
I felt her rise from my side, and begin pacing around the living room. I peeked out from my hand to see her open her mouth to speak, pause, close it, and walk away. Only to come back and consider again. The process repeated itself several times. It was becoming unbearable to watch.
"Esme," I finally interjected wearily, "just say whatever it is that you have to say."
She spun on me then, and her eyes were blazing.
"Oh, now you'd like to hear what I have to say!" She said with a sharp tone laced with and underlying fury. "You didn't seem concerned with my thoughts back in Forks! Or in the woods with Edward! Or when you waived Alice and Jasper away without a second thought! You didn't seem to need to hear what I had to say then, Carlisle!"
I was on my feet in a moment. She had never spoken to me like this before. She had never turned her fury on me in the nearly 90 years we had been together. I wasn't entirely sure I knew the woman standing in front of me.
"What are you talking about, Esme? You have been in the forefront of every decision I have made. You have never left my heart or mind. I care immensely about your thoughts! You are my wife, my mate, my life – how can you think I don't care?" I barked, in a tone that was somewhat uncharacteristic of me.
She laughed bitterly, in a way I had never heard from her before. "I think that you do not care, because you never asked me what I wanted. When we left Forks, everyone else in our family got a turn to cast their opinion. By the time it was my turn, the decision had been made. It was written all over your face, Edward's, and even Alice's! I barely got out one sentence before the conversation was over. You and Edward steamrolled over everyone in that room – I wouldn't be surprised if you had made your mind up before you ever entered the house that night!" she screamed.
"That is not true, Esme," I defended myself. "We discussed it at the hospital, and then came home to discuss it with the family. No decision had been made. You definitely had your turn to speak, I remember it vividly!"
She scoffed at me. "You remember what you want. I barely got a say." She turned and walked away. Under her breath, she muttered, "It was a foolish decision."
"What?" I demanded, afraid that if she walked away now, we would never get past this. "What did you say?"
She rounded on me, and screamed, "It was a foolish decision, Carlisle! We never should have left! Never! The second we left Forks, we broke up our family. We basically invited our children to break away from us, and not surprisingly, they have taken us up on that!"
"Again, Esme," I spoke forcefully, "what would you have had me do?"
"I would have had you speak with Bella, Carlisle!" She moved towards me furiously. "I would have had you or I go and try to talk with her reasonably about her feelings! She was a young girl, thrust into a mysterious world that she couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of, despite her stubborn resolve, and she was dealing with Edward, who, however much I love him, is an emotional cripple, and just as stubborn as she is! It's no wonder it ended in heartbreak!"
She poked a finger into my chest at this point, and continued, "Which is why it was our job, as parents, to step forward and try to find reason amongst the heartache. Perhaps we could have talked through her fears! Perhaps we could have used the incident with Jasper to have a real conversation with Edward about changing Bella! Even if there wasn't an immediate resolution, we could have smoothed the way towards a peaceful co-existence or given her time to work out her emotions and come back to us willingly. She. Can't. Do. That. Now," Esme said, poking me hard with each word. "She can't come back to us, because she doesn't know where we are! We left her with no options, and in doing so, we left ourselves without any, either, Carlisle!"
With a great sob, she finished, "she was our baby, and we turned her away, just as much as she turned us away. We were supposed to be the grown-ups in all of this Carlisle. The parents. As parents, you don't just run away when things get difficult!"
I rubbed my hand over my face, and then through my hair. I understood what she was saying, but the fact remained that the family was in danger.
"Sweetheart," I said with a sigh, as I tried to pull her to me. She fought and stepped away. "I understand what you are staying, but the fact remains that our family, our secret, was put in jeopardy by Bella's decision. Her father was the Chief of Police, and his best friend was the Chief of the Quileute. As girlfriends go, Edward couldn't have found one that put us in more danger if he tried. You are over-simplifying things! I had to think about more than just Bella in all of this. The entire family was in danger!"
I found myself getting frustrated. I had never shied away from the responsibility laid at my door by having a coven of eight vampires looking to me for leadership and guidance, but in having my choices questioned by the one who mattered the most, I found myself getting defensive.
"I don't think you realize, Esme, the weight of my responsibility. I am responsible for all of you! I literally brought you into this surreal life of ours, and I take my responsibility to keep you all safe very seriously. In marking you as mine, in giving you eternal life, I took on the role of protector. I feel it in everything I do. I cannot always follow my heart – sometimes, it's imperative to follow instincts. Our instincts keep us alive. Our instincts keep us from being revealed. We cannot be a family if we are discovered, and tracked by the Volturi as a result. I have to think of the safety of our family before I think about other considerations, Esme. I do not wish it to be this way – it's just how it is. We are not human, however much we'd like to be!"
She stood opposite me, backing away. "Maybe that's the problem in all of this, Carlisle," she said in a tone of defeat. "I see us as a family first. I think we work best when we operate as a family, a democracy. You see us as a coven. Your coven."
I heard myself growling at her. "Esme, that is not fair! I value our family above everything!"
"Then why are you letting it slip away?" she screamed at me.
"Do you think I want this? Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I take pleasure in watching your suffering, and enduring your silence? Esme, the last two months have been torture! I have watched everyone I care about fall apart at the seams, and nothing I say, nothing I do seems to help!"
"You were not there, watching Jasper double over from the pain he was internalizing from Edward. You did not see the anguish and despair in Edward's eyes as he begged to leave us. You did not feel Alice cling to me and apologize even through her guilt and grief. I am all too aware of how everyone is hurting, Esme!"
"And believe it or not, Esme," I said with a great sob, as my energy waned from the pressure of the memories in my head, "I am hurting, too! She was my baby girl just as much as yours! They were my boys who begged for freedom from me, and my little Alice, once so confident, who looked so lost. I hate this just as much as you! I am not letting it slip away," I finished bitterly, "I am losing the fight to hold on to what is mine, ours. But I have been fighting. Don't tell me otherwise, because you were not with me when I had to handle all of that. I was alone. You gave up before we ever even left Washington."
She gasped from my words, but stood still, with a hand over her mouth, and agony in her eyes.
"I can't believe that's really what you think," she responded softly, painfully.
"That's the way it feels from over here," I replied just as quietly.
After I moment, I felt I needed to say something more. "I am glad you shared your thoughts with me tonight, Esme. Even if I disagree with your perspective, I am pleased to understand it better. You have a lot of anger that you are holding in, my love. Jasper warned me of it before he left. I would willingly endure a thousand disagreements such as this one if it helped you to release it. But each time I approach you, you turn away. You shut down. How can we ever get past this if you won't meet me half way?"
Without moving her hand from her face, she whispered, "I'm not sure I can get past it. I am so furious with you, Carlisle."
Oh, god.
I took a long breath, and tried to find my way through the silence in the room.
Finally, after a moment with each of us lost in our own thoughts, I decided that we had both endured enough for tonight. I couldn't take any more words that might echo her last ones.
"Sweetheart, I don't think we will resolve anything more tonight, do you?"
She shook her head without further reply.
"Perhaps we should take a few days to think through each other's words, and then come back and continue this discussion," I suggested. She nodded.
"There is one thing, though, which I hate to bring up now, but I think we need to discuss as some point in the very near future," I said hesitantly.
"What is that?" Esme asked with a sigh.
"The reason that I had originally wanted to speak with you tonight, Esme, is because Emmett came to see me this evening at the clinic."
Her eyes widened. Understanding overtook her, and she dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her as she heaved great sobs. Brokenly, her wet eyes found mine and she sobbed, "They are leaving us, also, aren't they, Carlisle? Aren't they?"
Whatever else had happened, I couldn't bear to witness her agony without offering some comfort. In a flash I was kneeling before her, with my arms around her, and one hand holding her head to my chest. She didn't fight me.
"Not exactly, my love. Please, calm some, so I can explain." I rocked her gently while she pulled herself together. After a few moments, I continued.
"They are restless and find this area of the world altogether unstimulating," I began. "They wish to travel around Europe for awhile. They would like to see the changes of the past several decades, and also to put some distance between us and our heartbreak. They feel a distraction will serve them well, and they would like us to join them."
Esme pulled her head up, forcing me to release it from grasp. I still held her in my arms. I was not ready to let go.
"They want us to go with them?" she asked haltingly.
"Yes," I replied, cupping her face, and running my thumb along her cheekbone. "They do not wish to leave us, but they would like to leave. By their count, the logical solution is that we go with them."
"How do you feel about this, Carlisle?" she inquired softly.
"Somewhat unsure," I replied honestly. "I would hate to part from them, especially after all we have been through," I said, as I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. For the moment, she was taking comfort in my attentions, and I was taking comfort in giving them. I would not stop until she told me to.
"However," I continued, "I admit to feeling like we need a 'home base', for lack of a more appropriate term, and with everyone else on this side of the world, I'm not sure I'm comfortable making that base in Europe."
Esme looked in my eyes for a long moment. Finally, she asked the most important of questions. "Do you think they will still go, even if we do not accompany them?"
I lowered my gaze from her beautiful face. I knew my words were going to hurt, and I did not want to see it. "Emmett did not say," I hedged, "but from what little he spoke, I gathered a certain level of desperation on the part of Rosalie. I would not be surprised if they did go, with or without us."
Esme nodded, and then I felt her fold herself back into my arms. With my hand, I tucked her head under my chin, and held her close. I could feel her harsh breaths against my neck, and I hated that once again, she was hurting.
Desperate for a way to ease her suffering, I placed a small, lingering kiss on the top of her head. In response, I got a sob from deep within the envelope of my arms, and her grip on me increased.
We did not move for some time.
AN: I've gotten some feedback that people are frustrated by Carlisle's actions, so I tried to expand on his reasoning and perspective a little here. Also, just in case you were wondering, this is not the Wrath of Esme. This is just a preview... :)
BTW, I read and appreciate all of your thoughts, and have already added and amended things based on what your response is. I know where I want this story to go, but your feedback lets me know how effective I am at getting us there. I never thought I would be one of those authors that begs for reviews, but... apparently, I am!
Let me know how I'm doing! :)