Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything in the Twiverse.
I have the best readers! You guys show so much love for these two broken vessels, and it just warms my heart.
I must give a shout-out to 2muchtrouble for this observation: "This story is a play with two characters standing on stage." I didn't consciously think of the story this way, but that description is just so perfect, and I love that you see that. So thank you. Thank ALL of you.
Let's continue.
The Last Word – 14
Isabella inhales slowly, her heart racing in her chest. I lace our fingers together, pressing my face against her back. "I'm here, love. I'm right here."
She nods, licking her lips, and I close my eyes as she begins to speak.
"When I woke up…" She swallows hard. "I remember how quiet it was. We lived in a noisy, rundown neighborhood with music and yelling and partying at all hours, but that night…it was as if no one else was around. Everything was so quiet and still.
"I had only been asleep a few hours. I remember the bathroom door was closed, which was weird because I have a thing about closed doors, as you know. But the door was closed, so the light didn't shine in our bedroom, and I couldn't see anything, couldn't see Charlie, But I knew he was right beside me, lying on his back as always. So I reached over in the dark and laid my hand on his chest.
"I used to do that all the time, just making sure he was breathing and wanting to feel he was real. And whenever I touched him like that, he used to make this adorable sound. Like…like a little sigh to say, 'I'm okay, Mom. Just sleeping.' And I could always hear it, you know? No matter how loud it was outside or how many sirens passed the window, I could always hear that little sigh.
"But like I said, this night was too quiet. And I could hear everything, if there was anything to hear. And when I laid my hand on his chest…"
"There was no sigh," I finish for her.
"No." She swipes at her damp face with the hand I'm not holding. "No sigh, no sound, nothing. And that's when I realized there was no movement. That his chest was…it was so still and cool and…and hard beneath my palm. Charlie was always so warm and soft—it's why I loved holding him so much. But when I touched him that night, he was just…not right.
"I leapt out of bed and turned on the lamp, crashing into the nightstand because my foot was caught in the sheets. The commotion got the attention of our neighbor who started banging on the wall for me to keep it down. I screamed at her to mind her business and flew back to the bed, scooping Charlie in my arms. His eyes were closed, his mouth a little slack, but he was just…"
She breaks down again, and I whisper honeyed assurances that fall on deaf ears. But I have to stay here in this moment with her. I cannot allow my thoughts to drift to that place from which I have yet to escape.
A place her presence continually unearths.
"I rocked him, kissed him, talked to him, held him, but he…there was nothing. I laid him on the bed and tried to focus. I didn't call 911—and this would become an issue at trial—because I just…I panicked. My head was cloudy, I couldn't think, and I just…I couldn't believe he could have stopped breathing right next to me. It just didn't make sense.
"So as I'm pacing back and forth trying to figure out what to do, the front door opened. I remember thinking that was weird because James was supposed to be at work for the next 12 hours or so. But I also thought this might have been a sign I was dreaming, that for so many unusual things to happen at once, this had to be a dream." She chuckles sadly. "So you aren't the first time I thought life was a dream."
"I wish it were, honey." I caress the hand I'm holding. "God, how I wish it were."
"So Jamie came in and called my name, surprised to find me awake. He dropped his bag by the bedroom door and stopped when he saw my face. He asked what was wrong, and I just shook my head and pointed. 'Charlie,' I said.
"James ran over to the bed and dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to Charlie's chest. 'He's not breathing, Bella,' he shouted at me. 'Why isn't he breathing?' I stammered through my explanation while Jamie performed CPR. I didn't know he knew how to do that and asked him when he learned. It seems a stupid thing to be focused on at that time, but it just struck me as odd. How could I not have known he knew that? And why didn't I know? I was home with Charlie all the time—why didn't he insist I learn too?
"James yelled at me to shut up and go wait for the paramedics. 'You called them?' I asked. 'You didn't?' he roared. 'Why didn't you call them?' I yelled back, 'Because I was scared!' I didn't mean I was scared of what they would do or what they would find out. I was just…scared of the whole situation. But at trial, when James told the jury what I said…they heard it as a sign of guilt."
I feel my eyes darken with rage and focus on her heartbeat to remain calm.
"James yelled at me to call the paramedics while he attended to Charlie. They were there within minutes, and their arrival brought a bunch of onlookers into the hallway. And that woman was quick to report that she had heard a loud crash in our apartment, and I screamed at her to mind her business, then James came home and yelled at me because Charlie wasn't breathing and I hadn't called 911. It was all true, but it…it wasn't what it looked like."
The words slice me afresh, and I release my hold on her. All Isabella wanted was someone to believe in her, to take her at her word. So far, I am little better than James.
"I'll get your water," I murmur as I come to my feet.
"Thanks." She wipes her damp face with the sleeve of her shirt. "You, um….you said you brought other things?"
"Yes." I place the bowl of drinking water in her hands, touched by the amused quirk of her lips. "Some water for bathing, soap and shampoo, a change of clothes, and a blanket."
"A blanket?"
"From the divan in my living quarters. I thought you might be cold after your bath."
"May I have it please?"
"Of course."
She sips the water as I all but skip from the room, grateful to be of any comfort. I drape the blanket around her shoulders, and she shivers pleasantly, setting the empty glass bowl on the floor beside her.
"Thank you, Edward."
"Would you like more water?"
"No, just…" She pats the space on the floor in front of her. "Stay."
"Always," I murmur, but she doesn't notice. I wince internally, remembering my vow not to offer forever until she's ready. But the more I learn of her hell on earth, the more eager I am to show her there's more.
So much more.
"Where, uh, where was I?" she asks.
"The paramedics."
"And the rabble outside my door. Nothing like your world imploding before a live audience."
I scoot close enough that our bent knees are touching. "I'm here."
She holds the blanket closed with a trembling hand. "I know."
I note the bluish tint on her fingers. "You're cold."
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't." I blur into the hallway and retrieve the pillow to stuff into the window. "It should warm up soon."
She murmurs her thanks, sighing again as she resumes her story. "The paramedics rushed into the room where James was rocking Charlie, tears streaming down his face. They took him from James, and he walked them through what he knew. Whenever I tried to speak, he yelled for to shut up, that I had done enough. I thought he was being completely unfair, but what could I do? Charlie was his son too, and he…I figured he was as freaked out as I was.
"It was all an act." She shakes her head. "But a good one."
I shut my eyes to hide the returning rage, resting a hand on Isabella's knee. "How did they…"
"Break the news that my son was dead?" She chuckles humorlessly. "Now that's a moment I will never forget. Couldn't forget if I wanted to."
"And do you? Want to forget?"
"Forget Charlie?" She blinks in confusion. "Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Have I done so before?"
"Yes."
Vampires are supposed to have perfect recall, yet this is news to me.
"Forgive me. I don't mean to be repetitive."
"Then why do you want me to forget Charlie?"
"I don't. I just….I don't know how you live with such painful memories."
She looks down. "Not all of them are painful."
"No, but…" I cannot look at her. "I just wonder if you'd be happier without them."
"Happier?"
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"Hey." She wiggles her knee. "That's my line."
"Maybe I'm turning into you." I chance a glance at her face. "And maybe forgetting wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen."
"I know you mean well, and I'm sure some part of you thinks not having my memories would make my life easier."
"But…"
Her smile is slow but sincere. "I won't be living much longer."
A growl escapes me, and I spring to my feet, stalking across the room.
"Edward?"
I brace my hands against the opposite wall, willing myself to relax. "Just give me a moment."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, love. It's…" I shake my head. "You did exactly what you should have done."
"So what's the matter?"
I turn to face her. "I don't know if I can do what I'm supposed to do."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning there's something I need to tell you, something of supreme importance that just…I would be remiss if I kept it to myself any longer. And I hope that when you hear it, you will give it the consideration it deserves and realize I'm only thinking of your best interest." My brain screams in protest, but I ignore its warning and take a deep breath. "Isabella, I want to offer you the chance to…"
"Can this wait until I'm done?" Her brows are furrowed. "This is the last time I will ever say these things aloud, and now that I'm so far along the trail, I just…I want to finish. Can you understand that?"
Her chastisement is gentle enough that a small measure of relief registers somewhere inside me. I swallow my chagrin, nodding in acquiescence.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"Please don't be." I force a smile. "I gladly yield the floor."
She holds my gaze a beat longer and looks away, blowing out a shaky breath.
"While the paramedics worked on Charlie, James came around to my side of the bed. He knelt beside me, resting his head on my bobbing knee. We watched the medics intently, neither of us able to speak. But there came a moment when James slid to the floor, groaning into his hands. I was about to say something to him, anything to try to comfort him, when the paramedics straightened up and looked at each other, the horrible truth written all over their faces. My heart was ready to seize in my chest, but still I watched them, waiting for them to look at me and say the words that would change my life forever.
"It was then James popped up from the floor, holding something in his hand. 'What is this?' he asked. I barely glanced at him, being so focused on the medical team, but I said, 'One of Charlie's bottles.' He gasped sharply and asked, 'The one you fed him tonight?' I couldn't believe he was bugging me about a stupid bottle when our son's life was… I just couldn't understand why he was so insistent about it."
Her face pinches as an angry tear rolls down her cheek. "So I snapped and said, 'Yes, James. That's the same bottle I fed him tonight. It rolled under the bed because I was too lazy and preoccupied to pick it up.' I wasn't even sure if it was the same bottle, to be honest, but I was just so annoyed at him and didn't really think it mattered."
"But it mattered more than I could have imagined." She looks at me. "Because those were the words that changed my life forever."
Isabella's story continues next week. Thanks for reading! XOXO