Chapter 12: The Elite Group of Women
"Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions."
-Jules Michelet
I hemmed and hawed in front of my closet on Wednesday afternoon. I had no idea where Edward was taking me, I had no idea how to dress and I most certainly was not going to relent and call him to ask.
"Bells, what's the problem?" My dad asked, standing awkwardly in my doorway. I'm sure I was probably banging around a lot and it had startled him.
"I can't find something to wear," I mumbled, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.
"Well, what's wrong with what you're wearing right now?" He asked, indicating to my jeans and Forks Police Department T-shirt. There were lots of things wrong with it, at the top of the list the fact that I looked like a prepubescent boy.
"Dad!" I whined, stomping my foot and glaring at him.
"Bells, I don't see what the issue is, it's not like you're going on a date," he said, leaning against the door jamb.
I swallowed thickly and looked sheepishly at my father. All off the blood drained from his face and he turned purple very quickly. "Breath, Dad, breath!"
"You're going on a date?" He demanded.
"Yeah?" I asked, wincing.
"With who!" He demanded.
"Edward Masen-Cullen," I said, staring at the sad contents of my closet.
"Do you know him from school?"
"No," I said, moving hangers around as if it would magically make a cute, chic outfit appear.
"Well how do you know him?" Charlie demanded, his face still purplish.
"I met him mutually through Leah, he's a doctor at the hospital," I said, deciding on leaving out the part about my book. Charlie probably wouldn't like that too much.
Charlie blinked a little, "So he's a doctor, is he?"
"Yep," I said, still searching my closet futilely.
"I guess that's ok, then," my dad mumbled. I laughed a little hysterically.
"So it was an issue when he thought he was a ho-hum college student, but when he's a doctor it makes it all better?" I asked, still laughing at a histrionic level.
"No necessarily, but at least it means he's smart," Charlie huffed and plodded down the stairs, leaving me to face my closet dilemma on my own.
I finally settled on a long, khaki skirt that was probably the most feminine thing I owned that I paired with a navy blue button-down. I looked in the full-length mirror on the inside of my closet door.
"I look like a librarian or a Mennonite" I mumbled, blushing.
There was a knock on the front door and librarian Mennonite would have to be good enough because I was most certainly not going to let Edward be alone with my father for too long.
When I came down the stairs they were sitting at the kitchen table, talking civilly. Edward was dressed casually, jeans that were slung low on his hips and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top so I caught a glimpse of the T-shirt he wore beneath. He looked absolutely…edible.
He stood from the table quickly and smiled at me, "Hi, Bella."
I blushed and studied the tops of my Converse, "Hi, Edward."
"Ok," Charlie said, "well you two kids have fun now"—he ushered us to the door—"and Edward, if you hurt my baby girl I'll kill you and bury you under the hammock in the backyard."
With that he shut the front door in our rather bemused faces. We could hear him laughing inside.
"Ignore him, he's gone crazy in his old age," I told Edward.
He laughed and looped his arm around my waist, "He's fine. It didn't frighten me."
"Why not!" I demanded, heck it'd frightened me! "My father just threatened to murder you and bury you in our yard and that doesn't scare you?"
Edward shrugged, "He said he'd do it if I hurt you, I don't plan on hurting you so I won't be murdered and buried in your backyard."
I stared at him for a long time. If he didn't plan on eventually breaking up with me because I was too boring or clingy or just plain annoying what did he plan on doing?
He helped me into the passenger seat of his Volvo, and then trotted around to the driver's side. I was amazed by how graceful and lithe he was. He really was beautiful.
"So where are we going?" I asked once he'd slid the keys into the ignition and started the car.
He just shook his head, his gorgeous eyes sparkling, "It's a surprise."
I groaned and let my head fall back against the seat, "I hate surprises."
"That's half the fun of it," he laughed, driving one handed; his other hand was draped leisurely on the gearshift. He had an automatic transmission so I boldly reached over and grabbed his hand. I wove our fingers together.
He looked over at me and smiled, so I took that as an affirmation that my being bold was a-ok with him.
He rubbed his thumb across my knuckles and my palm started to tingle and sweat and I hoped he didn't notice. How embarrassing would that be to have him have my sweat all over his hand because I was such a loser that I couldn't hold a man's hand without perspiring like an Olympic athlete.
"So tell me, Bella, are you enjoying college?"
I hadn't expected him to really ask me questions. I actually don't know what I expected but it took me several moments to gather my thoughts and respond. "I think it's alright. It's just like high school minus some of the drama and plus more drama only different drama."
"I take it you don't like drama?" He asked, amused.
I shook my head and worried at my bottom lip, "I was never really part of the drama back in high school I usually found it funny to watch from the sidelines, but after a while it gets old. That's why I don't date, because it causes too much production."
"Ah, so this isn't a date, then?" Edward asked. His face was smooth and emotionless but I could tell from his eyes he was more than a little disappointed.
I scrambled to undo my mistake, "No! I mean, yes! Yes, this is a date. I just don't date my peers, I mean. It's just…The boys at my school are…Oh geez, I can't explain it." I mumbled pulling my hand away from his so that I could bury my raging blush into my palms.
Edward chuckled musically, "I understand exactly. You find the boys you attend school with to be less mature, and you don't want to mix your schooling with your private life."
I nodded.
"Leah told me you don't date," I blurted out. My growing case of verbal vomit was going to be embarrassing; I needed to turn my brain-mouth-filter on.
Edward seemed entertained by that. "I don't date for the same reason you don't usually date. I think that most of the women I know—excluding only a handful—are rather shallow and dimwitted. The only women I'm really acquainted with are the nurses at the hospital and it wouldn't be proper to date a coworker."
I nodded, and then slipped my hand back into Edward's.
"What handful of women do you thin aren't dimwitted or shallow?" I asked, parrying his statement from before.
"Well, you're one of them," he said, taking his eyes off the road just long enough to shoot me a smoldering look that turned my insides to mush. "My mother is probably one of the smartest women I know. She's like a mix between Mother Teresa, Jackie Kennedy and Martha Stewart—minus the whole jailbird thing."
"That's quite the pairing," I said. I was getting a very strange mental image of his mother and I wasn't sure I liked it. Rather than dwelling on his seemingly-schizoid mom I steered him back to the original topic.
"Who else is in this exclusive group of women?"
"My younger sister Alice, though she can be a little shallow at times, I still admire her. She never gives less than 110 percent in anything she does. She could be brushing her teeth and she does it as best as she can."
I chuckled at the mental image. "You shouldn't laugh," he warned, "she wants to meet you. You'll be her new best friend. She doesn't befriend people easily but she'll like you."
I smiled, but something inside of me was snapping.
"Anyone else in this elite group of people?" I asked lightly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
He pursed his lips as he thought and I had the insufferable urge to trace the pout of his lips with my thumb, "Some of the nurses are alright, I guess. Leah's ok, she frightens me, though. She's the only younger nurse that doesn't flirt with me."
I nodded, "She just got out of a long relationship."
"I kind of figured she did, sometimes she gets this sad look in her eyes whenever she thinks no one is looking," he said.
"You're very good at reading people," I intoned.
"Most of the time," he admitted, "I find you very hard to read."
I actually blushed, "I don't think I'm hard to read at all. I would think I'd be rather easy."
"No," he said softly, "there's depth to you that I find fascinatingly inaccessible. Makes me want to figure out what's going on inside that pretty head of yours."
My face heated up so badly, I was afraid I would spontaneously combust. Especially with the smoldering look Edward was giving me.
He laughed and extricated his hand from mine. His fingers delicately cradled my cheek, "I love it when you blush."
I blushed even more; I could feel it creepy down my neck onto my chest. Edward smirked at my reaction and kept driving.
First week of senior year can be described as one thing: a roller coaster. It seriously had its ups and downs. I'm taking a course for college credit this semester, so hopefully I'll still be able to have time to work on this story. Hopefully it will help this story considering it's a class on creative writing... I think I need some serious instruction on the subject.
Reviews are much appreciated!!
Who is a woman you greatly admire? I admire my mom. We're similar in so many ways.
