Notes:

**EDIT**UPDATE: I got a song suggestion from a dear friend for this chapter. "Cannonball" by Damien Rice. Great suggestion! :~

Remember when I said to fasten your seat belts last chapter? That was a rollercoaster. This one is more like skydiving. But I'll let you see for yourself.

Chapter 10 – Vanessa Wolfe

"If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

- Othello.

"So you compared your life to a fairytale?"

"I was seventeen, Dr. Meyer. Every girl compared herself to a fair princess or a damsel in distress at some point."

"Not every girl."

"Well, I did."

I heard the tick-tock of the clock behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at my wristwatch, afraid of coming across as rude. I was spending an obscene amount of money in therapy yet I couldn't wait for that session to be over.

"So, the fake I.D. Is that how you got your name?" She asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Vanessa Wolfe. Is that how you came up with the pseudonym for your novels?"

"Oh. Yes, I guess it was."

Like everything else we had been talking about for the past five sessions, I hadn't thought about that part of my life for almost ten years.

I'm a writer. So far I have twelve New York Times best-selling mystery novels under the aforementioned alias, Vanessa Wolfe. It's a long story, but it all started during my senior year of High School. My English teacher, Mrs. Ray, had signed me up for a writing contest after she read one of my dissertations on Shakespeare's Othello. The grand prize was a trip to Paris, and the chance to compete globally with other students my age. As it turns out I was good at this writing thing. I won, both of them. And one thing quickly led to another.

"Well, I think we're doing progress, Isabella. It's the first time you've said his name. Now I can go back to my notes and put an 'Edward' to a face." My doctor joked. But it was no joke. It was the first time I was allowing myself to speak – to even think – his name out loud in so long. It felt like pushing stale air out of my lungs. At first I thought it would be painful, but I suppose even the pain got old.

Somehow, over the years, I managed to detach myself from what I felt – like moulting - and today I just remember it like it happened to somebody else.

"Do you think you miss him?"

I chuckled, I had to think that one through. But I was honest.

"I really don't know. Like I said, until now, I hadn't thought about that in years."

"When was the last time you two spoke?"

"About six years ago, I suppose." I said it without putting an image in my head, but one came anyway. "We ran into each other on the street once."

"And your friend Rosalie and his sister Alice never mention anything to you?"

"Nope."

They knew better. My two best friends vowed a long time ago to never utter his name. It was a silent vow, but Edward – wow, I can't believe I'm finally saying it – was forbidden subject. They didn't say his name, they never talked about him, at least not in front of me. I didn't want to know. I didn't care anymore. They respected that.

"You know we're going to have to talk about what happened after that first kiss, right?"

I looked at her, questioning.

"In order to do any further progress, you will need to let more 'cats out of the bag', if you know what I mean." She explained.

Before I could think about it, I heard the soft chime from the clock. Wishful thinking come true.

"I'm afraid our time's up, Dr. Meyer."

I stood up from the couch and unwrinkled my pencil skirt. Grabbed my purse and turned on my cell phone.

"Same time, next week?" She asked.

"Sure." I asserted as I already headed out the door.

Let the cat out of the bag. That was interesting metaphor coming from a Jungian psychoanalyst with a PhD. I had been seeing Dr. Meyer for about two months now. My faithful editor and good friend Jason Jenks recommended me to see a shrink – excuse me, "therapist" - after my seemingly untreatable case of writer's block. I'd told him that maybe my time as a writer was up, that one could only accomplish so much in the course of a lifetime, but he refused to believe my bullshit. He said 'You have to expand your horizons. Face the skeletons in your closet.' Afraid to break a friend's heart and infuriate my publishers, I cave in. If anything, it could turn out as good source material for a future novel. "The Curious Case of The Freudian Doctor Murder".

The thoughts on my junior year in Forks High School followed me all the way to the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet Rosalie. Alice, Rose and I remained great friends, even after college, marriage and life took us to different places at times.

"Hey, Rose, sorry I'm late." I said, looking at my watch.

She already sat by a corner table when I arrived.

"You're not late, I was early." She smiled, looking up from a book she read.

Our weekly routine to meet for afternoon coffee and cookies on Forty-Second and Fifth was one of the several typical New Yorker habits we indulged in together since moving to the Big Apple five years ago.

Rosalie also went to college with me at Brown. Yes, she never became the supermodel we had all our chips bet on. I majored in English Literature and she got a Bachelor's degree in Education. At age twenty-seven Rose had become the Principal for a posh private Middle school in Uptown Manhattan, but something always told me in the back of her head she would rather have gone for the Child Psychology degree instead. I guess she didn't want to face the skeletons in her closet.

"What's it going to be today? Cinnamon Soy Machiatto?"

"Chocolate Chip Mocha. Extra whip cream." She answered. "I had a rough day at work."

"Make that two! I just came back from my shrink."

We stood in line, retelling our day to each other. Rose dealt with rebellious spoiled pre-teens daily, screaming PTA housewives, hormonal "little monsters" as I liked to call them. In Dr. Meyer's office, I dealt with some of my own little monsters. The ones from my past. I wondered who was getting the shorter end of that stick. At least Rose was getting paid to do so. But I only had to face mine once a week, and it was supposed to be "therapeutic". For the amount of money I was spending, I would certainly hope so.

"Guess who's coming to town next week?"

Before I could think of an answer, Rose exploded in excitement.

"Alice! Jasper's been assigned to Iraq for a couple of months and she's coming by for a visit before going back to Washington!"

"No way! That's great! I can't wait to see her!"

Alice and Jasper Whitlock were currently living in Virginia, but he was reassigned constantly after assuming a position in the United States Army Intelligence and Security Command. I never knew exactly what he did, only that it was big and he traveled a lot. That was always a good excuse for Alice to come see us and I loved that.

Alice and Jasper got married a couple of years after High School. Their parents kind of flipped out at the time, but it seemed the right thing to do once Jasper joined the military. Now that I think about it, that was actually the last time I had spoken to Edward. Or very shortly after that. The one time we ran into each other on the street, in Forks, we really pretended not to see. It was easier that way.

Alice pursued a career in fashion, as you would expect. It was hard to have her own clothing store while moving from city to city, state to state constantly. So she did freelance consulting for several designers across the country, once again forcing her to visit us in New York often, at least during every "Fashion Week".

"Alice thinks she might be pregnant!" Rose exclaimed between sips of coffee.

My eyes opened wide. "That's amazing! I hope she's right!"

My best friend was finally putting the cherry on top of her perfectly crafted life. My heart warmed up to that thought. Alice was such an inspiration to both of us. They always teased how they envied my successful career, but Alice was really the one who had everything and a bag of chips.

Rose and I sat there, remembering the last time the three of us were all together at the same time in New York. It was four months ago, during the Summer. Now the last leaves were falling on the ground and I missed my friend.

Throughout a decade, we had become practically sisters, sticking to each other through thick and thin. We were there for one another for the happy times – I was the maid of honor at Alice's wedding – and the bad times, during Rosalie's shocking and devastating breakup with Emmett. The beginning of the end. When Emmett left Rose for Leah Clearwater the week of our High School graduation, havoc had been wreaked and my friend would have fallen to shreds if it wasn't for our support. Alice stood by her best friend, even going against her older brother at times. It wasn't an easy year for all of us, but tragedy took its toll on Rosalie in ways no one could have fathomed.

So Edward wasn't the only Cullen member who wasn't allowed to be addressed in our conversations, needless to say. But our bond was stronger than something like walking on eggshells could have separated us. It only made our friendship stronger.

"So what are your plans for this evening, Bells?"

"Let me check my schedule..." I joked, playing with the scroll on my Blackberry. "Oh! Actually I have a date! I completely forgot!"

We both laughed.

"Nice, you little slut! Is that your, what, fourth blind date this month?"

"Fifth, and it's not technically blind if you met the guy at a lounge, Rose." I smirked.

"Have you addressed your attachment issues with your shrink, Ms. Swan?"

"Nope. We are currently investigating my past. High School."

"Ugh." We both cringed.

"Have you talked about him?"

She didn't have to explain her question.

"Yes, a lot lately, actually. But today was the first time I said his name."

"Wow." Her eyes remained on me and she smiled in a strange way. "I heard he -"

I cut her off.

"Don't." I used my hand to further reinforce the need to stop before she could go any further.

"I've been talking about him in my past, Rose. I'm not ready to go to his present." Or future.

Rosalie nodded, understanding. I wasn't ready to let myself think of Edward in the present tense. I had skimmed through every hurtful information and only retained the basics concerning his existence. Edward Cullen, the doctor. The surgery resident of Seattle Grace hospital. The brother of Alice Cullen. That's it, and that was enough.

"It's an early date. I can always blow him off and we can go to a movie instead." I quickly changed the subject.

"No, go. Have fun! Call me when you're done and we'll trash the loser over Haagen-Dazs later."

"Sounds good!" I said and we both high-fived.

We hugged goodbye and as we went on our separate ways, I pondered on the ghosts from my past. There were none in my present and I'd very much like to keep it that way. Ghost-free. Just meaningless, harmless zombies, and eventual attractive mythological creatures, but no ghosts.

Was that the calm before the storm? Should I be afraid, in anticipation, that Dr. Meyer could be opening the door for a possible haunting in my near future?

End notes:

So now you ask me, HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY MAD, WOMAN? Uh, no. Not yet! :)

Yes, we have time-traveled (about 10 years to be exact), but not in a "Lost" kind of way. This wasn't a flash-forward, but more like the previous 9 chapters were a flashback. That was then, this is now. Stay tuned!

Comments? Concerns? Wanna scream at the author? Go ahead! REVIEW THIS CHAPTER! Can't wait to hear what you think of it so far and what will happen next!

PS: If you have a song suggestion, please feel free to do so!

Thanks, Ghi, for the great song suggestion for this chapter. I know you got seriously emo after reading this one. But hang in there! I believe in happy endings. :)