Well, I'm surprisingly alive. I'm not exactly sure how many times I should apologize for not updating in a million years. There probably aren't many excuses either. But I just...got caught up with everything else: Summer, Breaking Dawn, School (and I just finished my first semester exams), New Year. I cringed every time I thought of each week passing by with no update for anybody. I just didn't have time, nor had I any inspiration.
Regarding Breaking Dawn, I know it's been out forever now but I had to just include my say...it gave me a really strange effect. SPOILER FOR THOSE LIVING UNDER A ROCK...The pregnancy thing, weird! Of course Bella didn't die, but still, the parallelism between BD and my story were near identical. It was mind-boggling to the point of me asking myself, should I really continue writing? It was like SM gave me a limit to the torturous life I put my Bella and Edward through.
So to end this overly long author's note, I'm not entirely sure I had a concrete ending for the Photograph after Breaking Dawn made its way out to our bookshelves. With the conclusion of the book, it really made me doubt my strategy and plot line. Not saying the book was awful, no I don't think it is (near my favourite in the series, if you can believe that). It really disrupted my plans, and that's the main reason for no update. It was like this story was almost too understandable, and I contemplated long and hard about it, to the point that I was planning to delete my whole account. But, I kept getting emails about people putting this up as a favourite or even just alerts. Argh, the absolute guilt.
I don't really know what I just rambled on about, lol!
But, if you guys are still alive, too...and still want me to continue this story, let me know. I have the next chapter written as well, just in case you peeps are still interested.
Disclaimer: I don't own any Twilight Series characters.
Chapter 14: Waiting Place
February 12, 2008
--
The time was 3 am in the morning, but to Emily (who didn't know how to tell time yet), was remarkably still up, and on her lap, she balanced the 2 books she brought with her. She sat on an uncomfortable chair; the plastic was hard on her bottom. But she was to stay there. She was a little thing, she knew, and at the age of 5, she wasn't sure how to go about this place without her mom or dad.
She placed the other book to her side, and settled on the other. It was hardcover, and she might've read it a thousand times, but she argued that it still sounded like new every time she read it. She actually hard a hard time choosing which book to read first, but figured that she needed one more soothing to her sleepy eyes.
Emily read out loud, small tongue jutting out, trying to pronounce each syllable with best clarity. "There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid..."
She had only started to get the different swirls of letters, and she found it quite profound that Charlie, her best friend who lived in her closet, still didn't know how to read. He is older than her.
She just got to the middle of the plot-where Skin Horse tells Rabbit how to become real-when she spotted a man sitting a few metres from her. It was relatively quiet around, and they were the only people there. For some reason, the man kept distracting her, even if he did nothing. He sat there, beside a large plant that served as decoration in an otherwise bland room. His posture spoke volumes. Emily couldn't see his face as his hands covered it. His whole body was slouched with a weight that she couldn't explain.
And no matter how she tried to get back into the story, her eyes kept wandering back to the man and his slumped form. His red hair was rather enchanting, she must say and maybe that was why. Out of a sudden, while Emily stole another peek at him, he took his hands away and she found herself staring at his eyes, which were also looking squarely at hers. She felt her small hands start to tremble; why was the man looking so sad?
Just as she thought that, the man's lips curved ever so little, as if attempting to smile, his pale face illuminated against the harsh white light of the lounge. He scratched his hair, before he scrunched up his features in concentration and she found herself staring at his covered face again.
Emily thought this fascinating. Was the man waiting for someone, too?
She glanced sideways to her mother, who was at the hallway, speaking to a lady in a white coat. Her mom wouldn't mind if she talked to the man, would she? She only told Emily to sit down, but she didn't say where. Mind resolute, she started to get up from her seat, resolved on trying to cheer the man up. Why not? Her daddy always said she was good at that.
At that moment, the man looked up again, as if he just heard what Emily was thinking of. Not knowing what to do, she looked down at her Velcro-strapped shows, shy. Should she really go?
Yes, her mind crooned, she you should. So, she swallowed nervously before formally getting down the chair with books tucked in her crossed arms, and walking to the man with nice, red hair.
Would she say hi now? Or sit first?
She got nearer, overly nervous at what the man would feel. How if he doesn't like kids?
Quietly, she struggled (but with brute determination), sat beside him without a word. Silence followed, and she started to twitch, wanting to talk. Slowly, she tapped the man's arm.
"Hi," Emily started awkwardly, willing for the gloomy bloke to talk to her. He was really the only one there; it was boring to be by herself here. She could be at home, with her toys.
The man faced her, and Emily marvelled at the color of his eyes. Was it yellow? (She didn't know what gold was, yet). The man wasn't really a man yet; he looked like he could be friends with her older brother.
"Hello." He answered, his eyes flickering at her. They were considerably puffy, and red.
Emily sympathetically smiled. Maybe this man only needed a nap to make him feel better. "Are you tired?"
The boy/man nodded, scratching his head again.
"Well," Emily continued, warming up to him, "mommy said that they could give you a pillow if you really wanted to sleep here. Is it past your bed time? Grown-ups, they have late bedtimes."
She saw a ghost of smile form on the man's lips again, she hoped she made him at least happier than before. The man smiled a little wider just as the thought crossed her mind. Amazing.
"I'm not really sleepy. But you're sure past your bed time."
Emily nodded gravely and yawned, feeling quite tired indeed. "Yes, but mommy said we need to stay here with daddy. My name is Emily." She held out a shaky hand.
The man shook it, and she shivered by how cold his hand was. "I'm Edward."
"I don't know any Edward, before. But in my class, there are two Sarahs." She held out two fingers, her pigtails bobbing at the action. The books laid without interest beside her.
Edward rasped a laugh; he looked very exhausted. "I met a lot of Sarahs before, too."
Emily nodded, and finally spotted her books. She picked them up, and rotated back to him. "Do you know these books?"
She held one out, and he took it from her hands, caressing the cover with his thumb. "I like this book. I read it a lot of times."
"Really?" Emily's eyes widened; she wasn't the only one. "It's my second favourite book."
Edward handed her the book back, before raising a distressed eyebrow. "What's your first?"
She received the Velveteen Rabbit back, and propelled to an empty seat. She presented the other one to him. "Oh the places you'll go. Dr. Seuss."
He gave it an examining look. "I've never read it."
Emily smiled at him, before quickly opening to the middle. She was going to show this man why this book was the best. "I'll read my favourite part to you. My daddy reads it to me, all the time. He always tells me that I will need this part when I grow up."
She regarded his drooping back. "Mr. Edward, I know how to read. But very slowly."
He nodded, and he took his face closer to her, sad eyes piqued somehow.
Emily breathed out loud, before starting. "The waiting place..."
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go,
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a better break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, of Another Chance...
Emily bit her lip, and whispered the last part. "Everyone is just waiting."
She may never know, or she may never see, what ultimate sacrifice this Edward she met ever had to go through. She may never realize that the waiting place could be this hospital, where an Edward sits. An Edward stops. An Edward waits. Beside that rather large plant he sat beside, covering his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward shudders and exhales a breath. He looks at the girl of age five, waiting for her daddy expel his last breath in an emergency room because of a car accident he experienced. Emily may never know.
But she will see. She'll see this stranger she tried to cheer up, drop a tear from his gold eyes and cry for the last time.
Chapter 14 END.
--
That was pretty short, and I originally had another part to go with it, but I thought it was a good place to end this chapter. My sister told me my writing style changed too, and I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.
Let me know if I should keep going. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
