A/N: Late night update for the night owls like me. Sweet dreams.
Chapter 11 - Train
Mom is on the bed propped up. She's currently patting Serrano's hand and laughing at something he said. It's ok. I don't want the attention right now. I need to be invisible. Well, I want to be. I wish I was invisible at the airport so he wouldn't have witnessed that weird thing that happened with a friend. A friend. It was supposed to be just that. I went to the airport to pick up a friend, not a boyfriend.
I chew on a bite of my panini. It's bland on my taste buds. I crunch and swallow anyway.
What excuse could I possibly give so I can run out of here straight to Masen's apartment? Bang on his door, make him see. My thumb hovers over his name on my phone ready to call him. But I don't. Not now. I'm too hysterical inside for a quiet hospital. I need a moment. Just a break. To run.
I fidget. I can't keep still. I have to do something. So, I settle for texting Kate and telling her everything. She types "omg" like 50 times. So fitting. I read them each to the beat of my erratic heart.
"What do I do?" I text back. I look up to make sure Serrano doesn't notice. He'd snatch the phone away to tease, I know it. I wait and wait for her reply.
Finally, after two excruciating minutes, she says, "You'll hate to hear this but, do nothing. Let him come to you."
My shoulders drop. No. They don't get it. He won't. This is it. I tell her this to make her understand.
"Doesn't matter. He's been ignoring your calls and messages. It's up to him now."
I want to cry. I stand to clean up the wrappers and cups so I won't burst. Mom looks at me once and doesn't look away. She knows something's up, of course, she does. She places her used wrapper in my hands and doesn't say a word. I give her a look. Please, mom, not in front of Serrano. She reads me loud and clear.
"Ok, it's late. Mom, you need to rest."
"Looks like you do, too," she says to him. "Long flight." And I love her. She's trying to shake him off for me.
"Yeah. Have to go to my hotel room now. All alone." He hints with a smile. I'm not biting. Not tonight. I'm on a mission. I need to get rid of him.
"So, you're taking a cab? Here's the landline. You can have them pull up by the doors downstairs," Mom suggests. I fucking love her.
"Oh. OK." He looks at me and grabs the phone. I keep busy tucking mom in.
"You shouldn't be driving that far this late. He'll be fine in a cab. OK?" she says to me.
I sigh trying to seem put off. "Mom, you're so bossy. I'm fine."
"No." She pats my hand. He's a grown, strong man who will take care of himself," she says with a smile his way.
He ends the call and smiles back. "She's right, Bella. I'll see you both again. Saturday?" We nod. "I'll be busy with work all day tomorrow and Friday. I won't be able to get away." I sigh a relief and feel horrible.
He grabs his things and kisses mom on the cheek. He turns to me and I go to do the same, but he has other ideas. His thumb and fingers catch my chin and he lays a firm peck on my lips.
OK, what is the deal? I smile and grow red again when he let's go. "Call me when you're home, OK?" he says. I nod.
"Go, gooo." I wave of my hand. My laugh tense.
Mom looks on with a silly smile on her face. I squeeze her fingers under mine. Shut it.
He steps out the door and waves before walking away. Once he's gone I collapse over mom where I'm sitting on the bed. Tears springing instantly. I can't speak.
"Since when did you two start kissing? God, he kisses so yummy. Is he a good kisser? I can tell. Your father was fantastic at it. I've always said it's best to marry a great kisser."
I cry harder. She has no idea. Her chuckles rumble up from her chest bouncing me. I look up and she pulls on my tears with thumbs.
"Mom, he kissed me for the first time at the airport, like a man in love kisses a woman and...Masen saw the entire thing." My face scrunches. I let out a wail.
She looks at me with wide eyes. "The older boy from work? Rose's friend?" I nod. "I thought you didn't like him."
I bury my head in her neck and bawl my eyes out.
"I knew it!" She says to herself, this glee in her voice. "I knew there was a love story there. Tell me everything, baby." She presses her cheek to my head and rubs my back in soothing circles. "Don't leave out a detail. Momma needs her fix."
I can't help but laugh. Never have I seen mom without a book in her hands at home or on shelves in her room. The bindings in script lettering with heroines in bell dresses in an open ranch. Handsome Cowboys painted in the distance watching the delicate fair skinned woman who's new in town with a sad, tragic, mysterious story on her shoulders. She reads all the series attached and keeps them all lined up by volumes.
So, I tell her this story and it begins with me in a concert mosh pit and a kiss from a stranger who ruined all other men for me. I tell her about the lipstick and the job offer and his smile when he knew he had me close from then on. I tell her about the way he would look at me for years but never went as far as sitting on my couch telling me about his life. The dumpster, the kiss, his indifference and his confession. And when I get to the climax of the story, her eyes swell with wonder and questions. She braces herself but I don't let out a detail. The drunken night and Ryan and the morning after. Her brows knit in concern and anger about to protest. But I don't stop. I don't hesitate. I can't control myself. Every word spews from my lips.
Then, I tell her. That weekend of pure bliss. The night he came and yelled it in my face. She loves that part the best. Her eyes round up with that far away look. The grin on her face. But then all of this. Then Rose. The firing. The airport and no calls returned from him.
"So, you see?" I say. "He won't come. He won't. I have to find him." She understands. Her nod comes slowly but firm. She looks at the clock and looks at me.
"You still have time. Go, Bella. Go find him!" She pushes on my arm. I stand on wobbly legs and she smoothes down my dress and then my face. "Just be careful. Please."
I nod and run out of there with hope and a lighter heart.
...
His apartment is dark through the single window looking out to the street. I go down the steps to the bottom stoop of the three floor decker house. The steps cracked and weeds sprouting out. I bang on the door and wait. No answer. I bang again and look through the window. Silhouettes of boxes piled high take up room in his living room. Where is he going?
"Masen!" I bang on the door but it's all silent inside.
I sit on a step and I don't know what to do. My light heart grows heavy. I dial Emmett's number. He picks up on the fourth ring.
"Um, I'm sorry to bother but did Masen come around?"
The line is quiet. "I thought he was in New York. Sorry, last time I spoke to him was Yesterday in..." I sigh. I hang up mid sentence.
Who else could I ask? I'm in south Boston and I'm far from anyone I know and home. I wait and wait on his stoop until my bare legs are frozen and the jacket isn't doing anything to keep in body heat.
A group of drunks stagger out of a pub just across the street. My heart perks up. I walk across and pull on the heavy door. Smoke and music pour out to the street. I look around. There's not a head with hair in disarray in sight but buzz cuts and military fades. I stand at the bar.
"Hey, Pete." I wave a hand. The Soprano looking, gentle giant, comes over from behind the bar with a smile and a rag over his shoulder.
"What can I getcha, sweetheart?"
I ask if he's seen him. When he nods my heart pounds. "Was here earlier. Left. Moving to New York, is he? That traitorous bastard." He chuckles. "Told him he better wear his Red Sox hat proudly over there, 'cause fuck them Yankees," he says.
I try to smile but the blood drains from my face to my feet.
Moving. To New York.
I slip into a stool and stare at the bar when I grow dizzy. He gets an order from down the bar and walks away. I sit here for hours it seems. Sometime during, Pete places a glass in front of me and mutters that it's on the house. I sip and sip until I'm numb.
The bar grows empty little by little. Still, some strays hang around nursing their last drink. They sit with far away gazes just like mine and I wonder, maybe they've lost a love, too. Fuck love. Fuck romance and misunderstandings you can't explain to the one person who misunderstood.
Pete comes by and leans on the bar. He looks at me. Here we go.
"I've been trying to distract some fellas from approaching you all night. Was tough. Lots of scotch gone and I'm light on tabs."
I smile. "Sorry."
"Go rest up, doll. You need some sleep," he says sweetly. I nod but don't move. Then he chuckles and shakes his head. He wipes down the bar with a rag.
"What?"
"Dejavu."
"How?" I ask with a grin.
He stops and looks at me. "He was sitting where you are with that same long face you've had all night, and I told him the same words."
I swallow thickly. "So...how did he react when you called him doll?"
He looks at me hard. He laughs wholeheartedly. I smile. Then I laugh. Then I can't stop. Pete and I take up the bar with our cackles. That wheezing coming out of him is hilarious. His face goes red and his nose plumps bigger it seems. He bangs a fist on the lacquered wood and points at the door.
"Scram. Get out of here! There's a cab up front. I won't have no more of your shit," he says. I sober and smile at him.
"Thanks, Pete." I slide my car keys to him like everyone does for one night and he has it ready to pick up the next morning. He's an angel. And it works. I pick my pitiful self up and walk to the door. "And um, would you…"
"I'll tell him you came by." He nods.
Everyone seems to notice but Masen.
I'm restless in bed. The one he laid in and breathed warmth into my neck. Where did we go wrong? It was perfect. I look out my bedroom door towards the front, hoping, wishing he'd walk right in through the door to the apartment and yell at me. Anything. At least I'd have him close.
...
It's one of those mornings. The one you regret just staying in bed and giving up from the get go. My hair dryer blew out. I twirled a wet bun at my nape. The coffee machine stopped working, but not before it spits out lava-like drops of dark roast on the hot plate, and then my chest. My whole outfit had to change. I'm late. The walk to Dunkin' Donuts is out of my way but I will not go through the day without caffeine and a hangover. And then I remember—no car. I almost pull my wet hair right out of my scalp.
I get to the subway and right when I'm about to hop on, the doors close on my face and the train leaves. I wait another 15 minutes for the next train, eyes closed, counting to 100 before I go ballistic.
I walk into work and slump at my desk and please, no one bother me today. Kate is already typing away, probably bombarding me with emails. She looks concerned. Then she can't take it anymore. She walks over.
"Um, you look slightly damp. You OK, hun?" I roll my eyes. The curls at my temples are already frizzing up. I am not the type who can wash and go. I envy those types. I hate those types.
"You don't wanna know."
"M-Kay, let's just go ahead and move you to the bathroom and touch you right up real quick. I have a travel dryer in my cabinet." I sigh and follow her.
My hands are shaking too much so she grabs the brush and pulls on parts of my hair one section at a time under the heat.
"Tell me your troubles," she says over the soothing sound. So, I do. She snorts when I tell her Serrano kissed me again, but in front of mom. She smiles when I tell her mom knows everything now and pushed me to do a grand gesture like her books. It failed miserably.
"But this is the topping on the latte..." I finish saying as she curls some locks of my bangs to frame my face. She's good at it. I turn this way and that way and my hair has never looked this Kardashian before.
"Whipped cream with caramel swirl type of topping?" she asks. I come to and avert my gaze from the mirror.
"He's moving to New York. The Big Apple. To the amazing city that never sleeps. Isn't that wonderful?" Oozing sarcasm.
"Eeek." She makes a face. Mine just tries to keep straight even as my eyes well up. "I'm sorry, hun," she says. We let the silence take up the space in the bathroom for a bit.
"So...that's how you know someone really wants to stay away from you. It's over. I can...move on now. Maybe date a childhood friend and let him kiss me more often. Heck, maybe I'll marry him." I semi-joke.
She rolls her eyes and rolls the cord around the blow dryer. "Stop."
"I just have this feeling. Something awful. Like today will be the day I'll be crushed permanently." I tell her this because every day has been excruciatingly unpredictable, but today especially has been all wrong from the moment I woke up.
She hooks an arm through mine and we walk out as she tells me about her delicious John, They've decided to move in together. I'm so happy for her. She's been alone a long time. She sits with me at my desk and gushes over his looks and thoughtfulness until lunch rolls by. We get nothing done and I could care less.
Emmett walks in late and we're forced to pretend to work. She goes to her desk but the conversation continues through long emails between work reports. I giggle loudly when she's vulgar enough to tell me details of The Johnafied Sex. Her words, not mine. He walks by from the other department and I grow red when he glances at both of us. He knows what's up. Kate's chair is dipped back with force making her yelp as he passes by. She gives it a second and takes off behind him, letting the copy room door softly close behind her.
"Dirty ho." I quietly laugh to myself. I plug my headphones in and tune into NPR to take up room in my scattered mind. Reports are due tomorrow or Emmett will find a way to fire me, too. Problem is, that crack of paint on the wall calls my name and a few hours later I'm staring at it again. What ifs come racing in.
Papers rustle close by, but not on my desk. A swift breeze flutters over my fingers where there's movement. I blink. Dried up eyes make the journey back to consciousness. 5:20 on the clock. I look up. Whatever you can't find comes right back when you give up searching.
He doesn't look at me as he casually piles papers together he's left behind. His satchel in a drawer is pulled out. He lays it on the desk and papers go flying. He opens it up and stuffs folders in a little bit too roughly.
My earphones fall out as I shift in my desk chair. I stare at Masen quietly cleaning up his desk beside me. I look to my left and there's no one around. Kate left her lamp on at her desk but the copy room is vacant and dark. I look to my right and Emmett's office is lit but empty. I look at him and he's here, flesh and blood.
This must be a mirage. Shocked, I watch him wordlessly.
His scent wafts over as he pulls off his jacket and dumps it on his chair not a foot from me. His white t-shirt wrinkled and rolled at the sleeves a little. His hair folds over his forehead that's flushed and glistening with perspiration. He bends here and there to get things under his desk.
Years of piles of shit. His books from school. His nice shoes he'd only wear to meetings. The ones he thought would transform his outfit into business casual, but failed. Nowhere near professional. He just looked adorable or fucking gorgeous. His collection of thin tip pens, one always in his pocket. I'd know, I'd reach for it when I was out of writing utensils. His notepads and notebooks with god knows what he's written in them. Some things he takes with him in a duffle bag he brought and laid out on his chair.
The tons and tons of paper he doesn't need anymore he dumps into the recycling bin. He's quick and diligent. Never a glance my way. He keeps his head down and his hands moving, rushing, trying to get it done when no one is here to watch.
But I am. I'm watching. I watch him until my eyes blur with tears. I don't make a sound.
I wait. For him to react? Maybe. I've been running after him and now that he's here I don't know what to say. But I'm invisible. He ignores me and that tears my heart right out of my chest.
I swivel my chair towards my laptop. I lean on a trembling hand and stare at the screen, discreetly wiping away strays that escape my lids. Torture is this. My heart ready to burst and it's like I'm not here.
He pulls out his laptop he's had for a few years, stickers of all sorts of things he loves decorating the back. He places it on the empty desk. He doesn't need it anymore. He was generous to have brought it back, that last gesture of respect for Emmett. All the random markers, highlighters, and pens he doesn't need he piles up and stuffs them in an empty mason jar on my desk. He actually reaches over. The jar he'd make fun of me with every morning. I don't turn my head but my gaze follows his hands. Hands that have held mine with such care. They're strangers now.
He pushes on the pile in the duffle bag and tries to zip it up. The mound is too large. He needs an extra hand. Mine fidget at my chest. I watch him struggle time and time again. Why would I help him? I don't want him to go.
What you love you let go.
Stupid words, but it's pathetic watching him struggle. All I can do is sigh and lean in. I pull on one end and bring the two separate parts together. It zips right up. Both of us made something work. He hates it, especially when our hands collided. Just that feeling shoots bolts through my bones. I guess it does the same for him because he wouldn't pick up the heavy duffle bag and launch it across the room if it hadn't. His anger makes him heave and grow red. I snatch my hands back quickly.
He stands there, hands on hips, trying to calm down. The yearn to touch him is ten fold now. But I sit back and attempt it. I speak.
"When are you leaving?"
He pushes an incredulous chuckle through his nose. He bites on his lip a bit. "So eager to know, huh?"
"Well yes, I would've followed you across the world and back but...you didn't invite me," I say right back. No tremor in my voice. He doesn't respond. I keep talking. "So...imagine my surprise. I'm just curious to know the moment you decided you didn't want me. It's been, what? A week? not even." I nod. "That was quick. Has to be a record."
I bite on my tongue because he looks like he might burst. He moves to organize the last few things in his way.
"Tell me one thing, though, did you lose your phone, your email and your computer all at the same time? Because I used every means to contact you short of a fucking telegram."
"They were fine, actually," he responds smartly.
"Then what the fuck was it?!" I yell. He looks up at me, finally looks into my eyes. And I could just about kill him instead of wanting to react to the stupid feeling of running to him.
"You left me here alone to deal with this shit! I fucking begged Emmett, fuck, I even begged Rose not to fire you. To fucking go back and save your stupid ass from being included in the...bullshit. But you! You didn't even give a shit what I was going through. You promised!"
I stop short of a cry. I can't breathe. He stares but nothing comes out of him. I lift a palm his way. I take a moment and I can't look at him.
"You know what?" I clear my throat, wipe my cheeks dry. "Go ahead. Leave." I shake my head. "If that's what you want, Why would I even fight?" I turn to my laptop and stare at the bright light in a room that has grown dark. It's just him and I.
I swallow hard and let the dialogue continue. "I'm tired of...this. Whatever this is." I laugh. "What the fuck is this? It never was anything, was it? God, I'm so stupid. Why did I allow myself to always fall for you? Every single time." I nod to myself like an insane person. Press a few fingers to my lips or I'll wrap them around his neck.
"You know what kills me the most?" I ask no one. I talk to a wall. I think I always have. But I can't stop. "She was so spot on. I guess Rose would know if you're worth the heartache, right? And I fought her so much, yelling it in her face that you were. Even after every single time you walked away after walking all over me, I was so sure, so quick to run right after. Crazy huh? Something must be wrong with me."
I sigh. I let the silence settle in, accepting it, know it's all he'll give me. I dare to say it and finish this. "Goodbye, Edward Masen. It was awesome meeting you."
He finally moves from his statue-like stance and snatches his jacket off the chair. He pulls it on. I don't watch, I can't, but I feel his every move. He pushes the chair in place. Everything neat and bare, as if he was never here.
Rustling comes from his pocket. Keys jingle. They land on my desk by my hand. I glance over. "I brought your car from Pete's. It's up front." That's all he says to me before he leaves.
I chuckle—no humor in that, not a spec. He does these things and swears he doesn't care. I grip them in my hands until the keys dig into my skin. This desperation settles in. He's leaving. I won't see him again. I can't leave things like this. I have to tell him.
I snatch my purse and leave everything behind. This is stupid me doing it again—running.
The evening sunset is dim, blue, casting shadows on everything. I look left, then right. If he doesn't have a car he must be taking the subway. So, I run that way.
I take the steps down the tunnel with the red paint and bricks. The Red Line is light with passengers heading home after a long day's work and he's there among them. The duffle bag is on the floor by his feet where he sits on a bench waiting for the train. His hands are buried in his hair, leaning elbows on knees. I walk right up to him.
"You have to know." He looks up. He sees me and his eyes close with a sigh. He stands and lifts the bag to the bench.
"Bella, go home."
I step right up to him until he has no choice but to look at me. "I am home." I breathe. His eyes close. His hands ball up at his sides. "You have to know it wasn't me who kissed him, right? I don't know why he did it. He came back and I picked him up from the airport because I missed my friend. If I'd known you were back, I would've been there for you. In a heartbeat. Angry and all. You know that, right?"
He looks up at the train slowly crawling in behind me. He nods. "I know. You never were good at hiding your discomfort," he says, as he shuffles his feet. I reach for him and dare to run a hand inside his jacket. Warmth there through his shirt. I ball up a fist full and don't let go.
"Then say it. Ask me. I'll go right now. I'll follow."
He shakes his head infinitesimally. His lids lazily blink over darkened eyes. "I…ah...I'm sorry. It was a mistake...I shouldn't have…it wasn't right of me." His hand cups mine, not to hold on tight, but to pull us apart.
The train stops and the doors open. He lets go and steps in through the double doors. He turns to me. "I have to go, alright? Take care of yourself. Go do...great things at work. You always were the best." He says with a faint smirk, glancing under his lashes.
"Please," I tell him. People look. They've all stepped in and found a seat behind him. He lingers at the doors about to close between us.
He glances around him, holds onto a steel pole. Anchored, white knuckles. He's not letting go. "Bella, just go."
"I love you...more than anyone." I blurt. It's out and tangible now. I've said it. It's what I've always wanted to say but never imagined it in these circumstances. He has to look at me now, he can't ignore that, but when he does look at me his jaw clamps up. He grazes his teeth over lips to hide a chuckle, but he fails. He sniffs, runs a hand over his mouth to his chin.
"More than your own mother?" he asks. He gives me this look, a grin forming over his lips. The kind that's condescending and pierces right through. His smart words. Always using them to tease me, avert the real answer. It's so like him.
The doors close and the train moves. It speeds off. He watches me the entire way through the windows until the tunnel swallows him up.
It takes a moment. The red lights behind the train fade slowly like my senses. I eventually move. I take a step back behind the yellow line, I breathe in the smell of subway and feel my hair billowing in the train's wake. Then shame, because how silly of me to even think? But I guess it fits. This has always been an ominous, disjointed relationship, yet I was expecting a different result.
Just like that, I'm small, an adolescent. I'm back to being Rose's baby sister to him. I shred inside.
...