Waiting on a Friend: Chapter 11
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN: I always intended to at the very least be finished with this before the BD2 premiere, but I had twin babies about 3 months ago and a crazy pregnancy before that so...
While this story is not RPF, it does have some connections to real events. In fact, it starts at the BD2 premiere... so in spirit of that event, I have updated and will be trying to finish this story. Maybe before the DVD is released?
Playlist for this chapter:
Papa Roach – Forever (EPOV)
The Lovemakers – Times of Romance
AFI – Silver and Cold (EPOV)
Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page.
As always, enjoy!
I was late finishing up my weekly report, but as I hit the button to send it to my boss, I decided I had just enough time to sneak a peak at my e-mail and the alerts I so carefully scoured for news of Edward. Yes, I was off my "Edward Diet," mainly since I needed some kind of vice to get me through the divorce.
My life had spun back out of control since I'd told Jake I wanted a divorce. I'd been depending on him for a calm, emotionally supportive environment to heal, but now that he was hurting, we were back to turmoil.
His initial anger had burned fairly fast, after which he'd begged me to forgive him, as he would me, if we could just start over. I finally had to get mean with him after several attempts by him to get me to change my mind. I alluded to the fact that I still had feelings for Edward, feelings that were much more than those I'd ever felt for him. Of course this added fuel back to Jake's fire
Worse, I still hadn't identified the "other man" to Jake, and the fact that I wouldn't discuss Edward with him seemed to fuel his anger more.
To complicate matters, Jake was still living in the house with the kids and I, but slept most nights at the shop. He'd renovated a storage area behind his office into a small efficiency apartment, but was stuck in negotiations to buy the building next to the shop that included an apartment over the store front. He had dinner with the kids and I every night, but headed out the door as soon as they were in bed.
I was sad, but the most overwhelming feeling was relief, a relief comprised of lightness from letting go of my dark secret.
Another element that brought me relief was that I had a secret compatriot in my struggles. I wasn't the only one dealing with divorce.
Edward and Tanya's marriage had begun disintegrating just months after it had been made. It started with reports about Edward showing up at clubs alone, or with random friends, and their alcohol and drug fueled antics. It was quickly followed by news that Tanya was seen alone in New York and the entertainment reporters were on to that "trouble in paradise" story like sharks to blood. As Edward's misbehavior escaladed, no one was surprised when Tanya filed for divorce in absentia.
The past couple days, the news about Edward had focused on the terms of his divorce. Apparently, Tanya figured if she didn't get to have Edward, at least she could take most of his worldly possessions away with her. Every time I saw stories about her I wished through some miracle of virtual reality, I could slap the smile off her face.
But before the news of the divorce terms, most of the news had chronicled Edward's bad boy exploits and misdeeds. I had a few favorite videos from those stories, captured by cell phone and paparazzi cameras, which I repeatedly watched in sickened fascination.
In one of the more clear and detailed clips, Edward attempted to climb into to the back seat of a cab. Attempted meaning that he lurched into the side of the car, landed next to but not in the open door, slid down the body of the vehicle, was caught under the elbows by someone inside, while he ineffectually flailed his legs out from underneath himself.
The image of his Converse clad feet scraping along the pavement, but not finding purchase, gave a clue to how fucked-up he'd let himself get that evening. I was mesmerized by those ripped and worn shoes and their repeated fumbling along the same path, repeating the same motion, but still moving with the hope for a different result.
Even without his usually graceful motor skills and witty banter, I still found him utterly captivating on camera. Through the shaggy long hair, the beginnings of a beard and dark ringed eyes, I could still feel his appeal. Even at arguably the lowest point of his life, I could still respect that he'd lived his emotions. In fact, if anything I felt even more drawn to him, the both of us struggling just to survive the implosion of our lives.
As I scanned the list on my screen, skipping those merely speculating about the terms of the divorce, I noticed a new report about Edward's degenerating behavior seemed to be making the rounds on the Web. The report pointed to a video interview with a woman who recounted spending time with Edward the previous night. I found the source of the video and turned up the volume on my computer, needing to hear every word.
A woman with long brown hair and dark eyes accented by a full lid of smoky shadow was being interviewed by an off-screen reporter. She looked like all the women Edward had been reportedly seen with since his break from Tanya. She looked like me.
The video started abruptly in the middle of the interview, all the niceties from the introduction had been cut. The woman seemed to be responding to a prompt from the interviewer.
"He was completely incoherent. We were just partying, you know, I was flirting with him at a bar in Hollywood and he asked if I wanted leave. He was already pretty drunk when we left the bar, but we went back to his hotel room and had more drinks and did a little blow. Then he disappeared into the bathroom for a bit and could barely walk back to the couch. He collapsed next to me and pulled me on to his lap. He was surprisingly strong, but I wasn't really fighting it... I mean he's so hot, even when he's fucked up. I thought we were going to, you know, but then, he started whispering all this stuff in my ear that didn't make any sense."
At this point in the video, the interviewer asked what Edward had been whispering.
"Well, he kept calling me Beautiful Bella, which basically is the same thing twice, right...my family is Italian so I know what it means. He was touching me, but not sexually or anything, more like holding my hand and stroking my hair, but crazy like. It was not soothing. So then he started mumbling about 'knowing what he needed to do with me' and it freaked me out a bit. It sounded like something a serial killer might say, but he was so upset I didn't want to set him off so I just sat there trying to soothe him. That's when he started saying he needed to let me go, he needed to just let go. I tried telling him I would stay with him as long as he wanted, but that seemed to make him quite angry. I remember I started crying a bit at that point because he was freaking me out so much."
The interviewer asked if he did anything when he got angry.
"No, he just said that I'd already left, even though I was still sitting with him. Finally, he noticed my tears. He dried them with the corner of his shirt and then gave me a kiss. It was a weird kiss, it wasn't a French kiss or anything, he just held his lips to mine and sobbed a bit through his open lips. I remember he held his forehead against mine after he ended the kiss, which I remember because it was weird and freaked me out again. I was starting to wonder why I was still in the room with him and then he just said "I can't get over you" and leaned back and passed out."
"At that point I decided to bail, I was so freaked, but I told the people at the front desk about Edward's condition. They took my name and phone number just in case and I went home. I was awoken in the morning by a call from the police. Edward must have left the hotel just after I did because his room was empty when they tried to get him some help. So I guess no one knows where he is now and the police just wanted to see if I knew anything."
The reporter followed by asking her what she told the police.
"Just what I told you. That is everything I know. I swear he was passed out on the couch in his room when I left."
I video basically ended there and I was sobbing quietly into my hands by that point. I could picture Edward intense and angry, his blue eyes would be flashing and if he was doing drugs they were probably almost all that lovely stunning blue against a background of bloodshot red. His already deep, mumbley voice would have been hoarse and almost unintelligible. And hair was probably a wild mess. The woman in the video was right. He was so hot when he was fucked up.
But, he was obviously still suffering deeply, much like me, but his hell was played out publicly for the world to watch. I was very worried for him, but I knew I was powerless to help him. I was powerless to help myself. I was powerless to stop the end I knew was coming. If Edward was dead, my life was over too. Just knowing he still existed in the world, and I had the fucking godblessed Internet to keep me aware of it on a daily basis, was a requirement for my survival.
Considering my powerlessness in the face of the desperate situation, I turned to an unfamiliar, but not impossible form of comfort. For the first time since my parent's divorce when I was ten, I prayed. My childish prayers for my parents to remain together had gone unanswered, but it had all worked for the best in the end. Renee and Charlie were much happier apart.
So I prayed, mostly for Edward and a little bit for me and then a whole litany of all the people I'd unintentionally hurt through my selfish actions; Jake, Angela, and my children being the primary people, but I even prayed for those I most despised at the office because I'd been such a terrible co-worker for the past few years. It was like when in The Goonies when Chunk confessed to every one of his misdeeds. No hurt, however minor, was overlooked.
By the time I'd finished, I was fairly certain I was the only one left at the office, but I couldn't be sure. I didn't want anyone to see the state I was in after my crying jag, adding credence to rumors of another nervous breakdown, but I did need to get home soon. Jake would start an argument in front of the kids if I walked in too late.
After an uneventful dash from the office and train ride, I finally walked into the house, just a few minutes after my usual arrival time.
"Mommy, you ARE here?" Claire yelled and skipped towards me as I walked in the front door. "Daddy said you are going to go your away!" Claire's big brown eyes were bright with unshed tears and I pulled her into my arms before I even had my coat off. "I don't want you to go your away. I want you to stay here."
"Oh sweetie, I'm not going to go away anywhere. I'm here with you to stay." I poured all the contrition I'd felt during my prayer at the office into that hug with my daughter, hoping she could forgive me for bring this worry to her young life.
We held hands and walked together into the living room where we found Jake and Billy, both with their feet up on the coffee table watching a superhero cartoon. I was struck by how similar they were, both zoned out in front of the television, not even laughing at the stupid cartoon jokes. I wanted to comfort Billy the way I had his sister, but again, like his father, he wanted to stew in his anger.
After dinner, chores, and bedtime, Jake took off leaving me alone. He reported that the necessary paperwork for closing the sale on the building next to the shop would be ready in a couple days. I needed to sign some of the paperwork since my name was on the deed. I got the house, he got the garage; it was all very amicable.
Things were very quiet in the house at night now that Jake was elsewhere. Almost too quiet so I turned on the television for some background noise and grabbed a new bestseller on food and farming trends. It was for work, but it was well written and would hold my attention until I got sleepy.
I was ignoring the television until one particularly loud commercial at a chapter break. A spot for the local news came on warning me of a storm that was expected to arrive tomorrow and I made a mental note to send the kids to school with their umbrellas.
But, just as I was turning my attention back to the book, a certain name from the lips of the anchorwoman grabbed me.
Edward Cullen has been hospitalized after being pulled from the ocean after an apparent suicide attempt. More details and an update on his condition during our broadcast at eleven.
A wave of terror rushed over me and when I came to from a momentary stupor, I felt like I too had been pulled from the cold ocean. I felt a deep, painful flutter in that small Edward spot in my heart. My hands were shaking so I set the book aside and walked over to the kitchen table to retrieve my laptop on an equally shaky pair of legs.
All I could hear was the rapid pounding of my heartbeat in my ears as I waited to the laptop to power-on and a browser window to open. Then, I just needed to type his name in and click the news tab to find several stories that had been updated just moments before.
A brief scan of the first two items did nothing to slow my heart rate. Edward had been witnessed walking into the ocean by several beach strollers. Thankfully, one man and his companion noticed that the guy they had initially taken for a crazy, late night swimmer did not reemerge. The man's companion had been a life guard at some point and had ended up rescuing a face-down Edward. He was breathing, but unconscious and had not regained consciousness, even after being admitted to the hospital.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I frantically searched for the newest information about his condition, but other than the eyewitness account, no new details were known. Edward could be dying or dead in a hospital bed in LA, and here I was, unable to learn anything useful about his condition. Would I feel it in my heart if he was gone? I believed that I would, but at the same time, I knew it was a fantastical notion. My time with him had been so brief and was now so long ago, did we truly have any connection left for me to miss?
I tried to figure out what I should do, but I all of the natural urges I had to go to Edward, or speak to a person that could advise of his condition, like I would do for any other loved one, were stymied. I would have giggled at the crazy reaction I imagined from Edward's people if I called frantically, claiming to be his Beautiful Girl, if it hadn't been so correct. They would hang right up on my ass - if I could even reach through the layers of protective bureaucracy needed around Edward's personal affairs.
Eventually, the urge to speak to someone overcame my panic, and I picked up the phone to call the only person I could.
Angela.
She answered after just a couple rings.
"Ang, can you talk now?" I choked out between new sobs of relief that she answered and panic over Edward.
"Yea, I just leaving work, what's up? You seem upset, what did Jake pull now?" she asked, obviously still unaware of what was happening with Edward.
""No, it's Edward," I sobbed louder, almost incoherently. "He's hurt. Just check your news."
After a minute of so I heard Angela's gasp.
"Bella, sweetie, do you need me to come there?" she asked, voice full of compassion.
"No," I said and shock my head like she could see me hunched over the kitchen counter in my misery. "I just needed someone who would understand."
"I'm here for you," she reassured me, and then proceeded to calm me down with assurances about the medical care Edward was sure to be getting and the fact that news was sure to be broadcast the minute his condition changed.
This lead to me clicking the refresh button on my browser every 20 seconds, both, hoping for and dreading any new information. But, the whole hour I had Angela on the phone and for a couple after I had finally calmed down enough to let her go, nothing changed.
As I felt the despair settle over me once again as the minutes ticked by, I turned the prayer for the second time in the long time to ask God for a miracle. I didn't ask for our reunion, or Jake to forgive me, or for any of those I had wronged. This time, all I asked was that Edward recover, that he continue to exist in the world, so that I might be strong enough to remain and take care of my family. I couldn't exist if I didn't know he was somewhere in this world.
Eventually, I crawled into bed, exhausted, but it was a fitful sleep, and by the time I needed to be up and functional in the morning, I knew I would have to call in sick. I got the kids ready and off to school, although they seemed hesitant to believe I was just sick. Claire in particular kept asking me if I would have to go away to get well again.
I tried to reassure her, but I'm sure I was not too convincing. I didn't know what to expect myself. I spent the day glued to the Internet again, but no new details of his condition were released. Edward's fan sites were full of well-wishes and the only development was a short video of Tanya arriving at the hospital in LA.
When Jake showed up afterschool with the kids, thankfully he accepted the story of my illness, and took them out for food at a local diner. I took over and put the kids to bed, but I was anxious to be too far away from the computer, lest I miss something while I was offline. For that same reason I was hesitant to go to sleep, but I made myself take a mild sleeping pill so I would be functional the next day.
The next week passed in the same fashion, accept for I was glued to the Internet at work instead of at home. Thankfully, it was a quiet week and Congress was not in session so I was able to blow off most of my work responsibilities. I was equally useless at home and Jake started grumbling about my going to see Dr. Gerandy more frequently again. I'd confided the situation to her, but there wasn't much she could do to alleviate this crisis. She thought my anxiety would be too high if I tried to ignore in situation, but she did counsel me to limit how often I was checking for news, especially since I didn't know how I would react to any news. We decided to give it a week before I made any decisions.
However, a whole week hadn't yet passed when news that did force a decision reached me.
I was sitting at my desk and refreshed the browser, expecting to see no real new news, so I gasped out loud when an announcement stating that Jasper Whitlock had called a press conference to give an update on Edward's condition. Normally, he preferred his privacy, as did Edward, so I was unsure of how I should react. I didn't think they would call a press conference if Edward had died. It seemed like they would just announce the news and show the same images of the hospital and his friends and family coming and going like they had been airing all week. But, I was still worried.
The press conference was scheduled for later that afternoon and I left work early so I could be at home to watch the live feed on my laptop. That way, I could disintegrate from the privacy of home, without witnesses at work or on the train.
The press conference was set just outside of the hospital, maybe as a stark reminder to those watching to the seriousness of the situation. Jasper looked very tired and care worn as he slowly approached the stand of microphones. With his sunken eyes and disarrayed hair, he brought to mind the character that had catapulted his career to stardom.
"Thank you all for coming," he started, polite as always, even during this time of obvious stress. "First, let me reassure everyone that Edward is still in stable condition, unconscious, but stable."
I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, tears uncontrollably filling my eyes, and silent prayers of thanks passing my lips.
"However, as time passes, chances for his full recovery grow less and less. So, we, being Edward's family and friends, have made a rather drastic decision to try to improve his chances to regain consciousness."
Jasper's voice broke on the last syllable and a young woman I recognized as his girlfriend, Alice, stepped forward and placed a hand on his forearm in reassurance. At some point during my Edward embargo, Jasper and Maria had gone through a spectacular break-up, complete with their own media circus, but at that time I'd been focused on minimizing Edwards, and I was still unsure of all the details.
"I know some believed that when Edward married Tanya, he was marrying the person he had referred to as Beautiful Girl, but in fact, Tanya was not that person. That person is still out there, and now we are making a plea for her to come forward."
At his point, Jasper looked right into the camera, his blue eyes boring their way into mine from across the miles.
I choked in another breath, realizing that I was probably about to be identified publically, and my pulse pounded deafeningly through my ears. I took another breath, trying not to hyperventilate, to control my physiological reactions so I could focus on the words as Jasper said them.
Thankfully, he too had paused, overcome by emotion, before proceeding. But instead of the concern and despair I expected to see on his expression, annoyed anger was the prominent emotion I saw as I refocused on my screen.
Sneering through a clenched jaw, he said, "In respect for her privacy, I won't name her." Not that I had, but if I had entertained any thoughts of Jasper being supportive of the connection between Edward and I, I wouldn't anymore. His hatred for me was apparent.
He continued with directions that would allow them to find me without contacting me through normal channels.
"We ask her to check into the hotel where she once dropped Edward off to meet me. A reservation will be held under her real name for the next week. If we don't have any contact within that week, her name will be released publicly in an attempt bring her forward."
I was surprised and grateful that my privacy still seemed to be a protected commodity, although one that would be used against me if I didn't compile with their wishes.
Jasper let out a deep sigh, anguish back on his face. I could tell he hated delivering this ultimatum, no matter how much his dislike for me. He seemed to be a gentle soul who would not normally wish malice upon another. Unless they were, like me, inflicting harm upon those he loved.
"No questions," he requested as he moved away from the makeshift podium with Alice at his side. The press conference had served its only purpose – to send a message to me. And I had received it.
It was time to go to Edward.
