Chapter 11- Dreams
1931
Thousands lost their life savings when the Stock Market crashed. Millions were out of work. Farmers lost their farms. Businesses shut down. Banks closed their doors. Hundreds stood in lines for food stamps. Many starved; doctors went out of a job because few people had money to pay them- no patients, no money and so no practice. There were no street performances, no dancing or lavish parties. The city streets that used to be exiting and adventurous were now crawling with the dusty air of scattered dreams that would no longer be a reality. This was not the carefree America Edward had left.
Edward was on a familiar cobbled road in Chicago, he passed old chestnut trees and the decaying park swings that he enjoyed so much as a child. It seemed as if it were a thousand years ago that he once played on it after school or at the town picnic that used to be held every year.
It was like walking in a dream land to him now; his human years were spent in this town and to be a vampire now was like looking into another person's memories. Further past the park and through the line of maple trees, he came across a medium sized cathedral that he and his family often attended on Sundays. It, unlike everything else had not changed much except for the fact that it was now filled with desperate and hungry people, young and old who came to stand in line for a bowl of soup or a slice of bread. It did not fully occur to him the degree that people were struggling in the financial crisis until he saw the sight of people standing and sitting against the church walls to hold their place in line.
Throughout his youth, his family was strictly upper middle class; his father was a successful lawyer and his mother a homemaker. Because of this he had a very privileged childhood; he was enrolled in piano lessons and private school. He never went hungry or gave much attention to the misfortune of others. He was simply not exposed to them. Even planning to enlist in the war seemed like it would be a summer breeze to him.
It was the night that his father collapsed that his whole perspective changed drastically. The Spanish outbreak had been known about for months. Edward was just turning seventeen when pictures of the mass graves and overcrowded hospital wards started appearing on the front pages of newspapers. His mother was worried sick every time Edward left the house, worried that he would get the virus and end up like all the others. There were headlines saying that places not far like New York and Pennsylvania were completely devastated, it was only a matter of time that it would travel to Illinois and when it did, it took its toll not only on his entire family, but the entire city.
When Edward's father was taken to the hospital, he was dead by morning. Before Edward knew it, he had fallen ill. He lasted longer than his father and his distraught mother never left his side for a whole two days. She had no time to think about her dead husband when her son was on the verge of the same fate. He remembered her by his side, her shaking, cool fingers stroking his fever ravaged face. Eventually however, Elisabeth's immune system and the stress failed her and she got the virus. Edward also remembered the angelic doctor who treated him and his parents. He remembered that horrible night when he was on the verge of dying. Cold sweat and blood flooded his every strangled cough. He remembered the fear he felt when he had a sheet thrown over his body and was wheeled to the morgue, thinking that he would be buried alive with all of the dead bodies. He silently prayed to God for it to all be a nightmare.
Then he was flying through the cold night and he ended up on a couch in a room with many books. He realised that he was not flying or dead, he was carried by the doctor. For a moment he felt the sense of peace that came with being close to death, when the suffering would end. But the suffering only got worse when the horrific pain coming from his neck spread quickly through every muscle, nerve and vein. He begged the doctor to kill him, but it only worsened as time passed. When the pain lessened, the doctor began explaining what was happening to him, it was in that moment Edward knew that nothing would ever be the same.
In the blink of an eye, Edward's whole world had shattered. Both of his parents and most of his extended family were gone forever. But almost 13 years later, he only now realised just how much of himself he had lost with them.
Edward went further behind the church where he found the old graveyard where people came to remember the ones they had lost. A sharp stab of grief came to Edward when he was reminded that his mother and father would never have a proper burial in which he could remember them. They were buried, along with thousands of others at the time of the outbreak. He did not even know where the mass grave was.
He walked further through the burial ground and finally dropped to his knees as his head rose up towards the white, cloudy sky. He wondered how Carlisle and Esme were managing without him. Could they have forgotten about him already? Were they happy he was gone? So many questions ran through his mind all at the same time.
He had made so many mistakes in his past that he could barely recall them all. He had treated Esme so coldly, despite the fact that she had been nothing but motherly and caring towards him. Was this why he had rejected her presence so much, because she was the only woman other than his mother to treat him with such kindness? He had freely thought of Carlisle as a father figure, but it was not the same, Edward's relationship with his human father did not come close to his bond with his mother, Elisabeth. Edward had not grieved at all when his parents died; he had even managed for a while, to pretend that he had never had parents. But he could never fully escape the grief that threatened to entrap him. He had been so ungrateful to Carlisle and managed to shatter the world he built for Edward, by having the notion that he could kill only "bad" humans and be able to free himself from the horrible deed. All along he had set himself up for a rude awakening.
Edward felt weak as he got up and left the place he once called his home to find a spot in the forest where he would not encounter any humans. He had not drunk blood since the night he took the life of that father in Ireland. That was almost a full year ago and the lack of blood in his system was definitely taking a toll on him. He sat and leaned up against a tree deep in the woods. Night was falling and he welcomed the darkness, he could not sleep but he still closed his eyes anyway.
The distant sound of a train bell made him open his eyes hours later. It reminded him of his dark years when most of his time was spent staring at a railroad track. Studying humans and their interactions, wishing he could be one of those optimistic people on the train. Carlisle often thought about Edward's mother, her weak pleading voice and her bony fingers in his, begging him to save Edward. She did not value her own life just as long as her son could live and be happy. This was Edward's final stab of guilt as he wondered if his mother would be proud of whom he had become. He knew his mother and she would not be glad to see her son wasting away to a broken heap of nothing, she would have expected more of him. Everyone seemed to have more faith in him than he had in himself. When he heard the train whistle once again, Edward stood up.
With this thought he found himself minutes later, on a train looking out the window at the changing sceneries as the train moved speedily along the tracks. He had at last acknowledged that it was time for him to start restoring his own faith in himself.