Song: Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars. AN below.
~ A Long Way to Happy ~
Change.
Change was hard and complicated.
Sometimes, you wanted it. Sometimes, you needed it. Sometimes, it was inevitable. One thing about change was that, after a period of time, you adapted. And that place that was once foreign to you, became familiar; you could almost call it home. For me, that place was New York City. More precisely, 72nd street on the Upper West Side in Manhattan.
And those faces that were attached to unrecognizable names, accompanied by voices that sounded alien when you first heard them, belonged to people who became your friends as time passed by.
"He's an extremely nice guy, Bella. I'm serious. If I was single and searching and attracted to the opposite sex, I'd give him a chance," Heidi said, dicing carrots and spreading the pieces on top of the rice in the baking pan. "I mean, have you seen those abs? God, I could look at them all day," she continued, casting me a glance to see my expression before resuming back to slicing the carrots. "And it's not just that, too. He's charming. Last week, he got you roses–"
I rolled my eyes. "And they died."
An incredulous brow shot up and disappeared into her bangs. "You didn't take care of them! You didn't show them love, of course, they died," she continued, like I was someone who didn't understand the positive effects of nurturing. "And he made soup," she added, and I didn't respond. "Soup!" she emphasized, as if that one word was compelling enough to change my mind. "Do you know how many men cook for women they aren't even intimate with? Especially if the women are sick! You can't deny that that was sweet."
It was a very sweet gesture, I had to admit, and I was extremely grateful.
However, I said, "I still think there was too much salt in it." Because there was.
Heidi gave me a look that I was sure translated to, 'what the hell am I going to do with you?' before actually speaking. "Sometimes, it's hard to understand you." She shook her head. "Nikki never brings me anything when I'm sick. Instead, she avoids me until she's sure I'm better or what I have isn't contagious." She threw a few pieces of carrots into her mouth and chewed.
"It's a wonder how you've been together for three years," I muttered, picking at my nails.
Heidi Ford was my roommate. In Manhattan, apartments were incredibly difficult to afford without getting a roommate. Heidi was a close friend of one of my co-workers, Nikki Anderson. Although, I guessed I shouldn't have labeled them as friends, after living with Heidi for eight months, the word lovers was a more appropriate term for describing their relationship.
We got along perfectly, mostly because Heidi reminded me of my friends back in Forks. Her looks were synonymous with Rosalie's. However, I should say that her character was the antithesis of Rosalie's, given the fact that she lacked some of her traits – namely, the insensitivity and direct bluntness.
Heidi's personality held a similarity to Alice's. She had the same fire and vivaciousness, and she expressed it by talking a lot. I wasn't sure I could handle that particular quirk, but when you were forced to endure her company for long periods of time she kinda grew on you. She was vibrant with a lot of positive energy surrounding her. Always outgoing. Loud. Fun. Full of life. Happy. And she cooked a lot, so that was a plus.
Heidi was in advertising, which could probably account for our unremitting conversations about me dating men, and the way she promoted the various attributes that would help qualify them as suitable husbands, as if they were products one could inspect before buying.
Okay, perhaps she wasn't forcing me into marriage just yet. And maybe, she just wanted me to be happy, and she thought this could be accomplished by me settling down and having a boyfriend who could eventually turn into a fiancé. It was common for couples to arrange dates for their single friends, and although I had a hard time grasping the concern about such issues, I kind of understood her.
To Heidi, I was Bella Swan: the workaholic who loved her job more than life itself (which wasn't true) and spent long hours at work analyzing media information for clients at one of the biggest PR firms in the world. In fact, the job wasn't all that great, but it helped to keep me distracted from other things going on in my life.
But she didn't know me – the real me. The Bella Swan who was once a librarian in Forks. The one who's been engaged - twice. Who's had two weddings, but has never been married. The one who's second fiancé stopped the wedding because he found out she was in love with someone else. And that someone else - her first fiancé - the man who she considered her soul mate, left her on their wedding day.
Heidi knew none of these things about Bella Swan. She thought of the woman sitting in front of her, who denied any possible dates with a handsome man named Garrett, as someone who was in love with her job (she had once said work would not keep me warm on cold nights, nor would it provide me orgasms) and had absolutely no interest in men, or women for that matter.
Plus, I was almost thirty, an age that should have been a marking point for considering a husband and children. Yet, I had no thoughts of even dating (according to her).
I couldn't blame her. When I left Forks, I had put my past into a small box and fought for those memories to stay hidden while I tried to move on. But sometimes, that small box protested against the weight of those unbearable secrets that I didn't want to seep into my new life. However, I was just not ready to share my past with Heidi yet, so I let her believe that the pieces of me that she knew was all there was.
And that is why Heidi persisted in trying to set me up. Her latest potential date for me was Garrett Phillips who happened to be our neighbor. The first time we had been introduced to him was a month after we moved into our apartment. The introduction was one-sided at the time. He was talking on the phone while being completely shirtless, displaying his defined abs to most of Manhattan. His attractiveness placed him at the top of Heidi's 'Men Bella should date' list.
It could almost pass as a reality TV show with that kind of title, I thought to myself. I bet Heidi has sent my name in to be the new Bachelorette.
"All I hear are just excuses," Heidi said, shaking her head and grabbing my attention again. "I know you're somewhat attracted to him. When he talks to you, you have this look on your face that shows you are. I just don't know what's holding you back. You need someone who's gonna make you do something other than work all the darn time!" She placed the baking pan in the oven for the rice to cook. "What harm could come from one date? It's really not that hard. All you have to do is dress up and have fun, while he woos you. I promise, if you don't like it, I won't pressure you again."
I raised a disbelieving brow.
"For at least a month," she added when her eyes met my face.
"What are you now? His spokesperson?" I teased, walking over to the freezer to grab a tub of ice-cream. "Garrett Phillips," I started, impersonating Heidi's voice while pretending to be illustrating a commercial. "Thirty two." I picked up a spoon from the cutlery rack to use as my microphone. "Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Photographer. Has a well built body. And maintains said body by working out in the gym on weekday nights. Doesn't live with his mom. Calls his sister every Sunday afternoon, although it could be his ex-wife. As far as we know, not a lunatic, though he might be. Only God knows what he does behind closed doors," I said in a whisper. "And surprisingly can cook the best pasta you've ever eaten. Except, he seems to be really into very spicy and salty foods." I paused. "Hmm…" I placed my index finger on my chin and pretended to contemplate on my theories. "Nope. Still doesn't entice me."
Heidi laughed. "Hey, you're the one spouting off his life story, not me." She shrugged. "Besides, if you know all that stuff about him, it just proves that you're more attracted to him than I thought. No one actually pays that much attention to someone without being interested in them."
I rolled my eyes. "Just because I notice things, does not mean I'm interested. I'm just more observant than you are."
"Single and observant," Heidi replied, smiling. "Two very attractive qualities that would make you compatible with him."
"You're relentless." I shook my head in disbelief, digging my former microphone into the ice-cream. "You should have your own matchmaking TV show. People would watch, seriously."
"Say what you want, but you know I'm right!" she shouted as I entered my room, laughing and shutting the door behind me.
Dropping the tub of ice-cream on my nightstand, I collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. It was a few hours until the New Year, and I wondered what my family and friends were doing back at home.
Moving away from home was a paradox. The relief and contentment I felt living on my own was tangled with a sense of loss and loneliness. It felt good to leave the scene of my humiliation along with the small town that left me feeling suffocated. New York City, with new faces, new jobs, new friends and apartments that didn't contain traces and echoes of the past, provided a space where I could breathe without having to think. But my enjoyment of this anonymity was accompanied with a feeling of nostalgia.
I picked up the phone from the other side of the bed with the intention of dialing Alice's phone, but got sidetracked when I saw two missed calls from an unknown international number. I decided to check my voicemail for any messages when I stumbled upon his voice.
"Isabella…" I responded by quickly sitting up on the bed and resting my back against the headboard. An influx of feelings cascaded through me at the sound of my name that was embedded in that soft masculine tone. The most prominent feeling that overcame me was shock that later disintegrated into confusion.
"Isabella," he called again, and my teeth sunk into my lips, wondering if the tension that curled around my spine would ever dissipate. "I know…" He paused, and I could imagine his brows furrowing as he tried to arrange the words he wanted to say. "I know that you don't want to talk to me. I know…I know there are a lot of things I've fucked up. I can't even begin to imagine what I fucking put you through. I hurt you, but that was never my intention. I thought I was doing the best thing for both of us. I hurt you while trying to escape my own pain and I didn't want to cause you any. I probably shouldn't even get another chance at repairing the damage, but I want to try. Isabella, there are some things I just have to fix. I just…." His words dissolved into silence, and the sound of his breath permeated through the phone. "I don't like–I'm not comfortable with the distance between us. We used to be very good friends, and then we became…and I brought this on us and lost you. And now we don't talk anymore. It's like we're strangers. I just want to…God, I miss you." I shivered. "I miss talking to you. I miss…I miss you."
After I listened to the message, I considered the options of repeating the message again, saving it or deleting it when Alice called.
"Hey." Her giggle was followed by the sound of a door closing. "How are you? How's New Year's eve going?" she asked in a more composed voice.
"Good," I replied, my head was still processing Edward's message.
"Cool. Emmett cooked, and well, we're having dinner at his place so everyone's here but you," she said, her words were laced with sadness and it seemed as if she was pouting.
"That's nice." I smiled, almost picturing her pouting face. "Heidi's cooking, so don't worry about me," I added, stopping for a moment before proceeding with what I wanted to tell her. "Edward called."
"Oh."
"Yeah. You gave him my number?" My tone carried a note of accusation, even though I hadn't intended to.
"You didn't want me to give him your number?" she asked with uncertainty. "I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do when he asked. I know you need your space, but I didn't want to be the reason he didn't get a chance to talk to you. I wanted you to have a choice, and if I hadn't given him your number, you wouldn't have had one. Shit, I'm sorry B. They don't give you a handbook for this kind of thing."
"No, it's okay," I said, feeling slightly bad for making her feel like she had something to apologize for. "I just…I don't know. I don't know if I want to talk to him. I don't know what he has to say. I thought we'd covered everything."
"Are you over him now?"
I knew I needed to be completely honest, and I would be deceiving myself to say I had gotten over him. I almost laughed, as if I could. I couldn't stop loving him, even when he left during the time I needed him the most. If six years couldn't make me stop loving him, I doubted eleven months could.
"No, I'm not."
I had reached some sort of resolution with myself. A sort of acceptance that even though a lot of things could change; there were some things that would always remain constant. He was one of them.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Everything is on your own terms and you need your space. If you don't want to talk to him, then I'll call him and tell him to back off."
"No, don't do that." I bit my nails and sighed, feeling emotionally drained just thinking about it. These past months without his presence, I had felt like an empty jar and now his message, his voice; his presence had brought back a turmoil of emotions and the idiot wasn't even here. "I just don't know what he wants to say."
He said he wanted to fix things. I wasn't sure if that was possible. Sometimes, when things were broken or things were lost, it was better to just leave them and move on to something else. We had gotten lost somewhere, and I couldn't even begin to think about the energy it would take to go back and retrace our steps to find us. I wasn't even sure I wanted to do that.
"Then, maybe you should just listen. It couldn't hurt, could it?" Alice asked rhetorically.
But it could, my mind answered quietly.
I had come to understand that the feelings I harbored for Edward clashed in contradiction, like experiencing heaven and hell together. Being truly in love with him was pure bliss. However, I hadn't experienced that bliss in such a long time that I was beginning to think it was a figment of my imagination, something I concocted in my mind. The times we had been happy seemed so far away, like a distant memory buried in the deep recesses of my mind. It could have almost been a dream. Conversely, the pain of the long separation that was catalyzed by his hidden secrets proved that the phantom of love had once existed. I just wasn't sure I wanted to go back and revisit any of it. The risk of getting bruised again was too high.
"I don't know exactly how I feel," I said. I felt confused, but beyond that I wasn't sure. "I want to talk to him, but I don't." This was it. The conflict of my emotions. The confusion. I wanted him, but then I wasn't sure I did. "I don't want to think about it."
Why did he have to call? Why can't he just forget me? How am I supposed to move on if he doesn't let me go?
"I know there are some things you want to forget and some things we both wish didn't happen, but it did and you have to deal with it. There are probably some questions you want to ask and he's the only one who can provide the answers."
"Yeah." I replied, smothering my face in the fluffy pillows on the bed.
There was no such thing as a fresh start. Really, it was all a delusion that I had tried to drown myself in since I came to New York. No matter where you ran to, your past always followed you.
~%~
The next day, he called.
"Hey," I said, answering the phone on the third ring.
I'd probably never admit how much nonchalance I forced myself to feel when I picked up the phone, especially when I had been anticipating his call. I played a million scenarios in my head about what kind of conversations we'd have, but couldn't decide on anything.
"Hey," he replied, and I could detect a hint of happiness mixed with relief in his voice. "I wasn't sure you'd pick up," he confessed.
"I wasn't sure you'd call back." I laughed nervously.
I couldn't understand why I was so nervous. All the nerves in my body were twisting into knots. I picked up a notebook from the bed-stand, tore a page, and then began to shred it into tiny pieces.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Fine," I rushed to answer.
"I guess I should probably say happy New Year, since it's twenty-eleven now." The tone of his voice informed me that he was smiling.
"Same to you. Did you make any New Year's resolutions?" I asked, trying to hang on to the buoyancy of the conversation for a while.
"Yeah, I'm still working on it. I've got them written down," he replied. "No bullshit this time. Therapy kinda requires it."
"Oh." I wasn't aware that he was still seeing a therapist. The silence almost became static and awkward, and I quickly searched for words to eliminate it. "I don't think I have any New Year's resolutions."
"Yeah, you're really not the planning type," he teased.
I laughed lightly. "I don't see the point in them. They just get broken." I shrugged, leaning back against the headboard.
"Not if they're written on a paper and you work toward keeping them. You have to be focused and then nothing can stop you."
I smiled. "Oh, please, that's just you and your OCD issues, Cullen," I mocked, using a piece of paper to remove the invisible dirt stuck in my nails. He laughed and the sound loosened a few tight nerves in my body.
We seemed to be treading lightly on topics, getting reacquainted with what we were doing with our lives and dodging any emotional potholes on the way. If he heard any sound of discomfort from my end, he'd stop and then take another conversational route.
"So how do you like New York?" he asked.
"It's busy all the time. Like everyone always has a place to be or things to do. It keeps me on my toes." I started making an origami plane.
"Sounds like a fun place. So you've got a job?"
"Yeah, public relations. I work for Burson-Marsteller. I handle press releases and media stuff for clients."
"And you like it?"
"Yeah."
We both fell silent on the phone. We had talked about where we were and what we were doing. We had covered the surface and now we both knew it was time to dig deeper and delve into topics that we knew we needed to talk about, but wanted to avoid.
Then again, maybe that was just me.
"So…." Edward's voice trailed off.
There was a faint memory that drifted in my mind of a time when we were comfortable with the silence between us. We didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words. A time when we could finish each other's sentences because we knew exactly what the other was thinking. Now there was an undercurrent of tension wired under the silence, that if we approached anywhere on that wire, we'd both get shocked.
"I heard about the wedding," he murmured in a barely audible voice. "I'm sorry. I wish I could take that away. I wish you didn't have to fucking go through that again. Hell, I wish you didn't have to go through it the first time."
My heart started to beat rapidly in my chest and I tried to relax. "You left."
"Yeah, I did."
"Again," I added.
"You didn't give me a reason to stay." His voice was soft.
A tear escaped my left eye and I wiped it away with my finger, remembering his presence in the dressing room before the wedding. "I couldn't."
"I know," he breathed. "It was selfish of me to ask you to choose."
"It was cruel of me to want to go through with it…I know what it's like to be truly in love and I wasn't in love with Jacob."
There was another pause.
"What do you want, Edward?
He didn't skip a beat before he answered, "You."
"I don't…" I let out a breath. "I can't–I can't give you anything. I don't have anything left. You have all the pieces of me, Edward. Each time you come back, you break me and then take more. There's nothing left to take this time." The whirlpool of loss and longing left me feeling exhausted. "Why do you still want me?"
"I don't want you," he said with conviction, then paused.
The silence was deafening as I considered his words. "You don't?" I asked in confusion, because if he didn't then what the hell did he mean a second ago? He just told me that he wanted me. Why did he keep playing with my emotions?
"No, I don't. I don't want your perfection. I don't want to think about how beautiful you are. I don't want to fucking remember how amazing you are. I don't want to keep hanging on to memories of what we fucking used to be because that was the only time I was ever happy in my life. Or how every time I'm without you, I feel completely lost as if I'm missing a piece for my survival, and I can't live without you. And it hurts to walk away from that every time; it hurts to know that I might never have that again. You don't understand the gravity of this, Isabella. I don't want you. I fucking need you, all of you," he said. "It's why I keep coming back." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Each time I left, there was always a reason; they were all stupid. But there are no stupid reasons anymore. I can no longer stay away from you."
The silence returned and I embraced it, not having anything to say.
"I wish we could start over, on a clean slate," he said, after a while. "I'll just be Edward and you'll just be Isabella. I won't be the ass who didn't show up at his wedding or the one who ruined everything else. Let's just start again, can we?"
I didn't answer, but I considered how easy it would be to wipe away my memory and go back to the beginning and relive it in a different way. But that was impossible. It was delusional to think we could do that. There were some things you couldn't undo. After all, I couldn't crawl back into my mother's womb and be given birth to again.
The truth was I'd still be Bella Swan and he'd still be Edward Cullen. He'd still be the man I loved and the one who had the potential of hurting me more than anyone else could. He'd still be the man who walked out on me. And he couldn't give me back the years I lost. Everything couldn't change. This was us, and we were never easy. We were fire and ice. Our love was tough and complicated. We could never be easy, and maybe that was why I loved him because in a way, I reveled in the complication even though it hurt me.
"Are you still there?" he whispered.
"Yeah," I replied, sinking further and further into the bed.
"I know I don't have the right to ask you for anything. It's amazing that you're even talking to me. But I just…I need you, and I understand if you can't…if we can't…."
His words tripped over each other, and then he took a deep breath. "I want us to be us again, and I know that might not make sense. But I want to be the us who knew each better than anyone else. I want to be able to talk to you. I want to hear you laugh. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you fucking happy. And I get that you don't want me to, but I need to. And if you don't want us. If you can't give me a second chance, I understand that. But please don't…don't cut me off totally. I know I didn't contact you right away, but I was fucking scared that I couldn't fix this because I thought you were married and you didn't want me anymore, especially when you didn't say anything when I left. I didn't know how to deal with it. But you're not married and now I can, and I just don't want to lose you like that ever again. I'll do whatever it takes. Can we just be friends?"
"I don't know, Edward."
I remembered that five year old girl who was building sandcastles when her mother interrupted her to introduce her to a boy with green eyes and sandy-colored disheveled hair. I wondered if she'd had a glimpse of the future, and seen how much she fell in love with this boy, and how everything played out, if she'd still want to be his friend.
She would have probably been his friend either way.
"I know. Let's just take it slow. Can I…can I–please, can I just call you tomorrow?"
It couldn't hurt, could it? Alice's question resounded in my thoughts. I had no answer this time.
"Okay."
~%~
Friends.
Edward and I were trying to be friends because after all that happened, our friendship had also taken a bullet. I liked that word – friend, it didn't weigh too heavily on me. It demanded nothing. It was Switzerland. The bridge between strangers and something more intimate, like lovers. The passage between less and more. Edward didn't want us to be strangers, and though I loved him, I wasn't sure I wanted us to be defined as lovers. So the bridge was right for us.
"We're just friends, Alice," I said into the phone, hugging my coat with my other hand and hurrying to get to The Coffee Shop on 16th street at Union Square.
"Uh-huh," she replied with skepticism. "I don't know, Bella. I think…I think…wait a minute." I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it to be sure I wasn't losing connection, and then pressed it back to my ear, cursing myself for leaving my earphones on the dining table. "Yes, I know what it is!" Alice continued.
"What?" I asked in confusion.
"You see, I think I may have lost my eighteen year old self and she may have somehow taken over your body. Tsk, tsk, I never knew this could happen," she said and I rolled my eyes. "Friends? I mean, yeah, you were great friends before, but with all the history between you guys, that's just not possible anymore. At least, that's what I think. There can be no friendship. That canopy is not big enough to contain the both of you. It's all or nothing, baby."
"Al, don't you think you're kind of narrowing it down too much? Surely, there has to be like a common ground. Exes do become friends."
"Uh, yeah, that's only because they want to get back in each other's pants. Haven't you seen When Harry Met Sally?"
"You can't compare real life situations to movies. And this is totally not like that," I disagreed, shaking my head adamantly. "He's not pushing me and I don't want to be pushed. This is not like that," I reiterated, determined to convince her and myself. "And there are no pants involved!"
Only hearts.
"Sure, sure, no pants. Only phone conversations that happen in the night when the sun has gone to sleep. I don't even want to think about what you two talk about."
"That's the time we're both free to discuss things."
"Oh, and what? Daylight's not good enough for you? What are you doing now? In fact, why don't you call me frequently at night?"
"I do!"
"Yeah, when he's said something you want to think about?" she asked. "Look, I know this is difficult. But I think it's too complicated between you two for you guys to just be friends. He'll always want more, and you're not sure you can give that. I just want you to know that you can't be friends forever, and you'll eventually have to make a decision – to go back or to leave him completely. Just take your time before you do, okay?"
I exhaled. "Since when did you become Rose with the brutal candor?"
"Since you left us without a buffer," she said, and I leaned against the building of the coffee shop to catch a breath. "Not a very good friend, are you?" she teased.
I smiled. "I hate you."
"Feeling's mutual, honey." She laughed. "Call me later!"
~%~
My phone rang and my eyes flitted to the clock sitting on my bookshelf. The time was 11pm. I picked up the phone and said, "You're late."
Edward's calls had grown to be a habit now. He called almost every day; so I felt the day wasn't complete until I heard his voice.
"Yeah, my therapist kinda went on and on today," he said in an exhausted voice. "Did I make you wait long?"
"I wasn't waiting for you," I shot back, momentarily pissed that he would assume I had nothing else to do other than sit on my bed and wait for him to call. I ignored the fact that I had left work early today and braved the elements by taking the subway home, instead of enjoying the luxuries of the company's car services, all just so I could pretend not to wait for his stupid call.
"I know that," he said, lowering his voice to a deep intimate level. "I was the one waiting and counting the seconds until I got to hear your voice again."
I sighed. It wasn't healthy that this handsome man, who had the ability to wound me, also had the charm to warm my heart. Neither was it healthy to be this attached to him. Perhaps Alice was right, I thought. Maybe Switzerland wasn't a place for both of us.
"I'm sorry," he said, after the loaded silence. "I wasn't supposed to say that. We'll stick to lighter topics."
"Edward," I started, not sure how to phrase my next words. "Maybe we're not cut out for this. I don't know if I'll ever be able to give you what you want. I may never…" I trailed off, letting the words sink in and register so he'd realize at some point that waiting for me might be hopeless.
"Isabella, I can wait. I can wait a lifetime until you're ready, until you've forgiven me, until you decide you want me back. I'll fucking wait. I don't care how long it takes. I told you, there's no running this time."
Another interval of silence passed. I didn't have any response and I couldn't tell if he was expecting one. I needed a diversion, so I switched to a heavier topic.
"So what kind of things do you share with your therapist?" I asked, playing with the drawstrings of my sweats. I wasn't sure if he'd answer. Wasn't that kind of topic confidential? But I couldn't deny my curiosity.
He seemed caught off guard by my question and took a few seconds to respond. "Uh, just stuff. Like what happened with everything…." His words trailed off.
My eyebrow rose up in question, even though he couldn't see it. The silence on my end demanded an answer.
So he continued, "Just about what happened with the baby." He took a deep breath. "Um, sometimes, we talk about Jessica, but we've seemed to have gotten over her."
He stayed quiet for a while and I was about to respond when he added, "And then, there's you."
"Me?" I asked, my eyes widening. Now, I seemed to be the one acting like a deer stuck in headlights. I was bewildered, although, I guessed I should've expected it. A lot of things happened between the both of us.
"Yeah, you."
"What kind of things do you talk about that concern me?" I sat up on the bed, resting my back against the headboard and folding my legs underneath each other.
"Well, um, we talk about the wedding a lot. Uh…and um, what happened when I came back when you were getting married to Jake. How I acted and how you reacted. And why I waited last minute to tell you about…yeah. And why I didn't contact our friends when I left the second time. And, uh, how I feel."
"Oh…" I nodded slowly, as his words settled in my head. "So, wait, how do you feel?" I trapped my lower lip between my teeth.
"That's not important. What's important is how you feel."
"What are you trying to be? My therapist?" I mocked.
He laughed lightly. "I can't do therapy and listen to people's feelings. I'd suck at it, but I think it helps. There are some things you might want to talk about, but don't want to share with people you know."
I wanted to say something, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, so I settled for: "Hmm…so why didn't you contact anyone?"
"Well, honestly speaking, I didn't want to hear about how fucking happy you were with him. It hurt to know that I could have been that guy. It was like knowing what you lost and knowing you could never get it back. I know, I'm an asshole. But again, this is not about me. It's about you."
Yes, he was a complete asshole, and I wanted to tell him that. But he knew already, and I guessed his punishment was not knowing right away that the wedding got called off.
"So do you ever think about having kids, with what happened with Eric and all?" I asked, but when the words tumbled out of my mouth, they sounded harsh. I wanted to rectify it, but my thoughts were already out in the open and he was offering a reply.
I heard his breath through the phone before his answer followed, "No, I don't think about it. There were a few moments when I…I used to think about it, about having kids with you, and what kind of parents we'd be. But I don't think about that anymore. I don't know if I could be a father…yet."
Suddenly, a weight of sadness fell upon me. "I bet–I bet if the time came, though, you'd make an awesome father." I should have stopped it there. Really, I should have, but my uneasy subconscious decided to spew more words. "And I bet you'll make that woman a very happy one, too."
I slapped my forehead, thinking for a moment that I could slap the stupidity out of my brain. What the hell was wrong with me? We were having a moment and I completely ruined it. I basically just told him to go look for another woman to make babies with. Was that what I really wanted?
"Um," I said, thinking of a way to salvage the situation. The silence on his end was not helping. "You know what?" I said, sinking further and further into my stupidity. "I'm going to bed. I'm kinda tired. Too many heavy conversations for one day." I laughed nervously. "Um, so yeah, I'll go now. Bye!" I didn't wait for his reply before I cut the call and switched off my bed lamp.
In the darkness of my room, I had come to the realization that I didn't want him to move on with someone else. I wanted him to wait, just as he said he would, even though I wasn't sure I'd ever be emotionally available for a relationship with him. Still, I wanted him to wait. I couldn't stand the thought of him being with someone else.
I was so selfish, I thought, squeezing the pillows to my chest tightly. So incredibly selfish.
I was about to close my eyes and forget I ever had such a conversation with him when my phone rang. I picked it up. "Hello?"
"Isabella."
I stared into the darkness and a shiver crawled down my spine. I would probably never stop having that reaction to the way he called my name. The way he pronounced it sounded so different from when other people said it. Maybe it was because he called the full name, not the short version everyone was used to. Or maybe it was because his voice was somewhere between silk and sandpaper. Or maybe it was just because it was him saying it.
"I know there are some things I shouldn't say. Like the fact that if I wanted to be a father, I'd only want that with you. Or that not being with you is something I don't ever want to fucking experience again. I shouldn't also say I have feelings for you that I'm sure I'd never have for anyone else. I shouldn't say those words because when I had a chance, I didn't exactly prove them. So I deserved that. And I'll deserve more. I'll deserve whatever you fucking give me. But Isabella," he said in a breathy, raspy voice.
"You're going to have to do a whole fucking lot to push me away."
I wondered if that was what I was doing. Was I unintentionally pushing him away because maybe if he left this time, it would be easier? Maybe it was my heart's initial reaction to danger. Or was this just a test? To see if he'd run if I pushed him?
I was so exhausted. "Goodnight, Edward."
"I'll talk to you tomorrow."
~%~
"Friends can get each other gifts. Friends get each other gifts all the time. It will be a friendly gift," Edward argued over the phone, as I paid the cab driver and exited from the car, without bothering about the change.
"On Valentine's Day?" I retorted in an incredulous tone.
"It's a man friend giving a woman friend a friendly gift on Valentine's Day," he said, as if the number of times he said the word 'friend' would crystallize his reasoning and make it more believable. "It's like spreading the fucking love or something. Isn't that the main concept of Valentine's Day, anyway? To share the love–"
"–between intimate people," I cut in, completing his sentence. "Edward, I'm not accepting any gift from you."
"It won't even arrive today, which will make it technically a not Valentine's Day gift."
I walked into my apartment building, flashing a smile at the doorman, Max, on my way. "No, Edward. If you get me a gift, I'd have to get you something and you're all the way in Canada, and I can't do that. There's too much stress involved." Like what it would mean for the both of us. "And I just want to sleep right now." I pressed the button for the elevator.
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. I walked in with a couple behind me and pressed my floor number. "Edward, the phone's going to disconnect now," I said, watching the doors close. "Edward? Edward?" I sighed; the call had already cut off.
Exhaustion could not begin to describe how I felt. It was the first day of the week and I was already swamped with work. And to add to the curse that normally surrounded Mondays, it was Valentine's Day. A day that lovers typically celebrated with flowers and gifts wrapped with pink and red colors, along with chocolates and candies, and things that made even Cupid sick.
People were usually overly affectionate with the hand holding, tongue wrapping, body touching and passionate looks, exactly like the couple that stood in front of me. Their unconcealed display of affection made me feel like I was interrupting as I stood in the back left corner of the elevator. I tried to divert my eyes elsewhere, but where could you possibly look when you were trapped in a box with two people eating each other's face off?
I hated Valentine's Day.
Why did this couple feel the need to rub their relationship in other people's faces. I got it. They were happy to be with each other, but couldn't they at least show common courtesy and wait until they got to their place before making out? And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, the woman wrapped her legs around her companion and started grinding against him. I swallowed heavily as she moaned.
This public display of affection should have been a crime.
Maybe I was just bitter. A bitter twenty nine year old with no sex life, no dating life and a lesbian roommate; who also spent her time talking to an ex who lived in Canada. That was definitely enough to make anyone bitter. I was allowed to be bitter. Clearly, I earned it.
The elevator pinged again and the doors opened. Finally, I could breathe. I couldn't get out fast enough, the scene was becoming X-rated and I was starting to feel suffocated. As soon as I stepped out, my phone rang.
"Elevator," I said, hoping that one word was enough to explain why the call got disconnected.
"Sex," he answered.
"What?" I asked, feeling disoriented and confused as to why that word suddenly sprung up from nowhere. Thinking about sex, seeing a visualization of it almost happen in the elevator and hearing it in a voice that sounded like sex was not something I wanted to hear. Add that to the fact that it was Valentine's Day.
"Fuck," he said and I blinked. "Sorry, I thought we were playing a word association game." He laughed.
"And that's what you associate elevator with?" I asked, completely amused while searching for my keys in my bag. The theory that men never grew up was being proven every day. They still carried their teenage hormones everywhere.
"I'm a guy. Sex is on my mind ninety percent of the time," he joked.
"Like right now?"
This was the closest we had ever had to talking about sex, since his calls started. Not that I wanted to talk about it….
"Well…now that you've mentioned it."
"You're unbelievable," I remarked, finding my keys and pulling them out of the bag.
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment." I laughed, walking down the corridor in the direction of my apartment.
"Still taking it as one." He sounded like he was smiling.
Arrogant ass.
"So, what do you relate sex with?" Edward asked, reverting back to the conversation.
"Garrett!" I called, as my neighbor stepped out of his apartment with a black trash bag. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a white sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He smiled as soon as he saw me.
"Garrett?" Edward asked, confused.
"Bella." Garrett gave me a one armed hug. "Hey, I was just going to stop by," he said. "Well, after I took out the trash." He gestured to the bag in his hand. "Happy Valentine's Day. I got you something."
"You did?" I looked at him with surprise, and hoped he wasn't serious, but his looks didn't divulge otherwise. "You shouldn't have," I said honestly. Really, he shouldn't have.
"Isabella?" Edward's voice reminded me that he was still on the phone.
"Hold on a sec," I whispered to Garrett. "Edward, sorry, please could you call me back in five minutes? Thanks." I turned back to Garrett.
"I wanted to get you something. And you can't refuse because that'll just be rude," he said in a fake stern voice, feigning a scolding expression. "Are you doing anything tonight?"
"It's a Monday, Garrett. I have work tomorrow." I told him. Each time he asked me out, I always had an excuse to give him, but at least this one was actually valid. Mondays were usually busy and exhausting days. "I can't," I said sadly, hoping my tone conveyed the remorse I should have felt.
Garrett was very handsome, which was why I usually only engaged in conversations that lasted for ten minutes. He made me feel flustered, and it was extremely difficult to refuse him, but I just wasn't ready for a relationship.
"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly. "But I'll stop by and drop off the gift, probably before midnight."
"Garrett…"
"No, no, no. You can't refuse a gift! I'll not take no for an answer," he said, turning away and walking to the garbage room before I could protest.
I smiled, walking to my apartment. I opened the door and the first thing that greeted me was the voice of Marvin Gaye singing Let's Get it On. I walked further into the apartment and found my roommate mounting her girlfriend and getting it on like horny teenagers on the couch in the living room. The image of Nikki's right hand buried in Heidi's jeans and Heidi's open blouse, exposing her left breast, was burned into my memory.
"Oh my God!" I gasped, realizing I had said that out loud and rushing out of the apartment.
"I thought you said she was working late today!" Heidi exclaimed.
"She was, when I left the office," Nikki countered, as I shut the door and rested my back against it.
I sucked in deep breaths and then started laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation was. I called Edward to share my amusement.
"You won't believe what just happened to me now." I giggled. "I just walked in on my roommate having sex with her girlfriend. I think I'm traumatized and now, the song 'Let's Get It On' definitely has a visual now."
Edward didn't share my sentiment. Instead, I was rewarded with silence from his end. "Edward?" I called, ensuring I had dialed the right number.
"Yeah," he finally said. His voice was flat, as if I had just disturbed him with my call.
I swallowed, wondering what suddenly came over him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay…" I trailed off, not really sure what caused the sudden awkwardness that was hanging at the other side of the phone. "Are you busy because I could call back?" Or not call at all, until you've gotten over your mood.
"Who's Garrett?" he asked immediately.
"Oh…um, he's a friend, my neighbor actually."
"He's a friend?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Silence.
I shifted, waiting.
"So, he can get you something for Valentine's Day?"
"Is that what this is about?"
"No," he said in an emotionless voice. "I was just wondering why he can get you something and I can't."
"You're jealous?" I asked, incredulously. "That's just ridiculous." I ran my fingers through my hair, sensing an impending argument on the way.
"I'm not jealous over that, Isabella," he replied in a cutting voice with an underlying tone of frustration. "You're thinking of seeing other men, how the fuck do you think that makes me feel?"
"Feel?" I asked, the volume of my voice increasing. "Oh, I don't know, Edward. Let's start talking about feelings, shall we? How do you think I felt when you brought Tanya to Forks?" I pushed the door leading to the stairwell. "Or when you left me on my wedding day, huh?" I sneered.
"Jesus Christ, Isabella…" He sounded hurt.
"You want to know why I won't accept any gift from you? It's because when you leave again, I'll have another reminder of you and what you do to me each time I let you in. I don't trust you, Edward. How do you feel about that?" I cut the phone call, panting.
I pressed my hand to my forehead, wondering where that argument came from. I was so mad at him. I was mad at him for various reasons, but today was about me pouring my frustration on him. I was frustrated that he was in Canada. I was frustrated that he called all the time (even though I didn't want him to stop). I was frustrated that six days from now was supposed to be my wedding anniversary with Jake. I was frustrated because it was Valentine's Day, and Alice was out with Jasper, and Rosalie was having a date night with her husband. And I couldn't go back to my apartment because my friends were about to give each other orgasms.
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and then walked back into the hallway, stopping at Garrett's door. Thoughts rushed through my mind as my fist moved to knock on his door. I knocked three times and waited for him to answer.
He opened the door, looking a bit distracted. "Hey." His face lit up when he saw me, giving me a lopsided smile. The sound of voices from the TV flowed out of his apartment. "I wasn't expecting any visitors today." I could tell he wasn't, since I was able to detect Joey's voice from Friends.
"I know." I tried to reciprocate his smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Not at all," he assured me.
"I was wondering…is the offer still up?" I chewed my lip.
"Of course!" He laughed, opening the door wider and ushering me inside. "Come in, I'll go grab my coat."
I walked into his apartment, which was much different from mine, apart from the same mahogany floor. His place was a studio. His bedroom and living room were further into the apartment, close to the window facing Central Park. His kitchen was closer to the main door, and was demarcated from the bedroom with a small wooden wall. His walls were adorned with pictures of different people, smiling, walking, running, sitting at Central Park, Verdi Square and other various places. Some were still life photographs, all framed in a black wooden frame, giving an appealing, classy look.
Garrett grabbed a black coat from the wardrobe beside his bed and turned off the TV. "Ready?" he asked and I nodded. We left the building with Max grinning at me. Even the doorman knew about my issues.
"So what do you want to do?" Garrett asked as soon as we were on the sidewalk.
"Hungry?"
"Starving," Garrett replied. "Where should we go?"
"How about Rosa Mexicano? I'm dying for their guacamole. We could just walk the couple of blocks," I suggested. Even though it was slightly cold, it was a nice evening.
Garrett and I spent time getting to know each other during our walk to the restaurant. We covered the basic topics. Garrett had three sisters; Naomi, Stacy and Becky. He was the second born with Naomi being the first. He was originally from San Francisco and had moved to New York five years ago. Heidi had already given me those details when she was trying to persuade me to go out with him, but I felt it was polite to let him say it himself. I asked him what made him move and he told me he was looking for a change of environment.
You and me both, I thought.
After walking about ten blocks, we finally arrived at our destination, Rosa Mexicano. Just the surroundings filled me with happiness. The place was filled with life and the sound of Mexican music. I liked this particular location on Columbus Avenue because of the pretty waterfall and vibrant colors, and also because it was closer to my place. We went over to the waiting area before we were escorted to a table upstairs that was situated near a window with a view of Lincoln Center. The waiter smiled at us before taking our orders. For starters, I ordered the medium spicy guacamole and chips while Garrett had the tortilla soup.
"You look beautiful," Garrett commented as I took off my coat and looked at my outfit. I was wearing my work clothes; a pair of black dress pants coupled with a baby pink turtleneck sweater.
"Thanks," I said, as the waiter prepared the guacamole from scratch at our table, one of the main reasons why I loved this place. "How can you not have their guacamole? It's a crime to come here and not order it. Best thing on the menu," I said.
"What can I say? I'm not a big fan of guacamole." He shrugged.
The waiter smiled at us and Garrett and I resumed back to our conversation, talking about our jobs over the starters. I contributed very little to the conversation, still reeling from the aftermath of the discussion (or was it a fight?) with Edward, so I listened to Garrett. He was very passionate about his photography, explaining that it was not only his job, but his hobby as well. As my mother had once told me, "It isn't a job, if you enjoy it."
"I like capturing moments. There are some moments that you just don't want to let go. Some moments you want to store and hang on to. The camera does that for you," he said, taking a sip of water. His eyes were so blue and bright and alive. "And expressions, too. Especially expressions. There's something beautiful about capturing raw emotions on camera. There's this vulnerability that's present on the person's face before they are aware of the camera. But it's all very fleeting, because once you notice, a façade replaces it. But I get to capture it–those naked feelings–and immortalize them. People don't really see themselves; the camera helps you to see. I get to see you, the real you."
I thought it sounded like an invasion of privacy, but didn't share my feelings on the subject. Then he proceeded to tell me that, though he appreciated colored photography, he preferred black and white. His passion for his job intrigued me. I liked hearing him talk about it. Seeing his face glow as he described it. It was very rare to see that reaction from people, especially about their jobs. It reminded me of Edward and the way he loved being an architect. I pushed the thought aside.
Garrett went ahead to tell me that he would like to photograph me one day because of my au natural looks. I laughed.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I don't think I'm photogenic." My fingers skimmed the stem of the glass.
"I disagree."
A hypothetical image of Garrett taking a picture of me the morning after we have sex flashed in my head. I wondered what he would think of my expression, then. I blushed. The waiter arrived with our main courses. He placed a plate of Mexican lasagna in front of me and the salmon fillet with tropical fruit mole for Garrett.
"So," Garrett said, capturing my attention away from the food. "What made you change your mind tonight?" He flashed those cute dimples that made me smile.
"Well…" I swirled the wine in my glass. "I just couldn't resist that smile. But mainly because I couldn't stand the thought of you alone…with Joey." I giggled.
"Well, I'm highly flattered that you considered my feelings." Garrett laughed. "So, tell me, what's your story?"
"I don't have a story."
"C'mon, everyone has a story."
"Well, then, what's yours?"
"I had my heart broken once. I know the signs and you have the symptoms."
"I do not." I took a sip of the chardonnay. "When did your heart get broken?"
"When I was twenty six. Her name was Rachel. She left me for some other guy on the night that I was going to propose."
Thoughts of Jake flicked through my mind and I suddenly felt sad. The situation wasn't exactly similar, except if you substituted the proposal for a wedding that didn't happen. And I didn't exactly leave Jake for Edward…did I?
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said genuinely, wondering who would dump handsome Garrett for someone else. Was the world filled with thousands of people with broken hearts? And if so, who mended them? Were we all just someone else's rebound?
"It's okay. It happened years ago." He took a bite of his salmon. "I've gotten over it." He smiled.
"How'd you get over her?" I asked, curious.
"Well, I found out that as easy as it took her to walk away from me, it was that easy to let her go."
I wondered if Jake had let me go. I also wondered why I hadn't let Edward go. Perhaps, that theory didn't apply to all situations. The world wasn't entirely black and white; there were grey areas, too, right?
Garrett and I focused on less emotional topics after that. I hadn't been on a date since forever (if you could call this a date), but I was pretty sure first dates were not the ones you dumped your emotional bags on the table. After all, if I told Garrett about my past, I doubted he'd even consider another date.
After dinner, we walked back home. Garrett asked if I minded him smoking a cigarette and I said no, thinking about Edward and the way the cig usually balanced between his lips. He should really quit smoking. Garrett took a breath mint after the cigarette.
When we got back to our apartment building, Garrett and I passed his place and stopped at my door. He brought out a little pink gift bag that contained a small pink box. I tried to refuse but he was persistent. Finally, I took it when I knew my refusal wasn't an option.
"I had a really great evening, Bella." His deep voice made the space between us charged. He leaned closer to me, while I leaned against the door. His hand rested above my head as his lips brushed mine in a kiss.
For a moment, there was that rush that accompanied kissing someone new. That thrill that made your stomach clench when the person's tongue swept against your lips, but quickly the thrill expired and I recognized something was missing. A fundamental element. You know, that sensation that made you feel like your heart was going to explode. The current that rushed all the way to your toes.
I angled my head to the right, searching for that missing element. The element that made you want to claw his clothes off his body and go to his apartment where both of you would succumb to the whims of your desires. Or the other element that made you want to wrap your arms around his neck, all just so the kiss could last for a little while longer. The one that made you feel like there was something to lose.
But as I kissed Garrett slowly, I realized what I felt. Content. And maybe, just maybe, after a few more dates, and a few more laughs, and a few more kisses, I'd feel that something. And then maybe we'd go back to his apartment and have sex. And maybe we'd fall in love and I'd marry him and we'd have kids. And, finally, maybe I'd kiss him without thinking of Edward.
The kiss lasted for a few seconds, although it didn't feel like it. And it wasn't that Garrett was a bad kisser, he was great. But maybe I was the wrong partner for him to be kissing.
Give it a few more tries and you'll become an expert! My mind threw words back at me. You've been away from the dating game for too long, you're rusty. You can't just suddenly expect to fall in love with the guy, love takes time to grow.
"Thanks for the evening, Garrett." I smiled, knowing that it was going to be my last date. Garrett was a nice, handsome guy, but I couldn't have a repeat of what happened with Jake. So I told him I wasn't ready for dating yet, skipping the whole "it's not you, it's me" cliché. He smiled and said it was okay and he understood, before I entered my apartment.
At least, I survived a first date, I thought, walking through the darkness and toward my bedroom. My guess was that my friends had gone into hiding after that little incident.
I took off my coat and stripped off my clothes, lying on the bed in a supine position, wearing my favorite sweats and a grey t-shirt. My phone blinked and I picked it, seeing Edward's number on the caller ID.
I sighed and answered, "Hello."
"Hey."
I hugged my pillows and we didn't talk for a while, just hearing each other's breaths through the phone. This could have lasted for five minutes.
"I'm sorry," he finally said in a soft voice. "I wish I could fucking say something else."
"Me, too," I whispered.
More silence.
"I love you." The words tumbled out of my mouth like a dice being thrown on a casino table.
I love you. The words echoed into the phone…or were they just resounding in my head? I hadn't said them directly to him in such a calm manner in a long time. The last time I said it to him, I was fighting the words and the feeling. Normally, I threw them at him viciously, like arrows aimed to hurt him.
I love you, but you left me.
I love you, but I don't want to.
I love you, but you won't leave me alone.
I love you, but I hate you.
Now, it was just a confession. An acceptance. Almost as if I was admitting defeat. They sounded so different. So foreign. So strange.
When in another era, I had confessed them so willingly almost every day.
"I love you," I said again, trying to get used to the way the words sounded. "But it hurts, Edward. It hurts a lot and I don't know if you can make it stop hurting. And believe me, I want you to, but there are a lot of things that you've done that just…that hurt me deeply. And I know that…I know you want to take them back and you're sorry. But this is something that you can't change and I've accepted that…And I'm just so tired, Edward. I'm tired of fighting you and these feelings I have for you. I'm tired of hanging on to the past. And I'm scared. I'm so scared to give you another chance and have you walk away again."
There was silence as I chewed my nails.
He breathed. "So what does this mean?"
"It means that I have to make a decision. To be with you or not be with you. And I can't decide right now because I need time to think about it. But I have to." No more hanging in limbo.
"Okay…" he trailed off, digesting what I had said. "So do I…can I…is it okay for me to still call you? Or do I just give you space to make this decision?"
I knew, as much as I didn't want to admit, I enjoyed his calls. They were usually the highlight of my days, that was when we weren't arguing. Besides, if I decided not to be with him, I didn't want this to be our last conversation.
"Yeah, you can," I said. "Just not…just not every day," I added.
I needed some space for myself to think and I couldn't do that with him hovering with his phone calls.
"Okay. And Isabella?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you, too," he said.
It caused the same reaction I usually got whenever he called my name. It was like I was back in high school and he was telling me how beautiful and special I was. "I really want to be with you," he continued. "God, it will be fucking hell otherwise. But you have to forgive me, not because I want you to, but because even if we don't end up together, you can't continue carrying that stuff around. If you don't choose me to be in your life, I need to know...I need to know that you're not still hurting over me."
In that moment, my childhood best friend surfaced – the one who was always my friend first before my lover – and I forgot how much I missed him.
~%~
"On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you? With ten being fucking overjoyed like when you've just received the greatest orgasm of your life and one being just downright depressed," Alice said on the other side of the line, as I looked at New York's skyline.
"Um, why am I grading my emotions?" I asked, checking the time and wondering when Randall was going to arrive.
Randall Jenks was a very good friend of mine, who actually got me my job at B-M. We met at a bar in Alphabet City a year ago, when I first moved to Manhattan. I was sitting by myself, missing home terribly and trying to adjust to the new environment I was in, when he offered to buy me a drink and keep me company. At first, I thought he was hitting on me, taking advantage of a lonely woman in a huge city who looked like she was drowning in it, which was really embarrassing when I found out he had a girlfriend. We laughed it off and buried the whole meeting in shots. Randall proposed that we meet at Brooklyn Bridge to talk about his girlfriend's freak out reaction to him moving into her apartment.
It was the beginning of July and New York was hot and sunny, with the occasional breeze here and there.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Just humor me, please?" Alice continued. She sounded nervous, which, in turn, made me nervous.
"Um, six?" I replied, though it sounded like a question.
I wasn't overly ecstatic or downright depressed. I was never one who felt really extreme emotions. I was content for now, and content in my book rated a six. I had a job that provided a very good salary, if you excluded the whole billable hours thing, which I hated. I had new friends, who could even trust me to discuss intimacy issues, not that I was an expert. I had settled quite well in Manhattan, and I had a therapist who spent one hour a week, helping me deal with issues of my past. Edward and I were talking, though not all the time, and I could tell he was waiting for the day I'd tell him my decision. I was still thinking about that.
So six was good…for now.
"Okay, six is good," Alice said, confirming my thoughts. "Because I have something to tell you. Something big," she said, and I could almost hear her fidgeting.
"How big is big?" I asked, trying to guess what was making her so anxious. I hadn't heard her like this since the first time she said she was meeting Jasper's mom when she was twenty one. And, in the end, Jasper's mom didn't like Alice.
"As big as…that time Rose told us she wanted to move in with Em. No wait, even bigger."
"That's really big." I observed.
Rosalie was not one who made light decisions, so when she told us she wanted to move in with Emmett, we were shocked. We knew they liked each other, we just didn't think Rose liked Emmett enough to want to be with him almost twenty four hours a day. I mean, she always complained about the state of his place when she visited him. Emmett wasn't very fond of cleaning. All that changed when they got married. The sex must have been very persuasive.
"Yeah, it's really big news." I knew she was stalling. This was what Alice did when she was nervous.
"You're not pregnant, are you?"
"No! Although, my news may be bigger than that, depending on how you look at it."
"Bigger than pregnancy?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, out with it!"
"Don't freak out, okay?"
"Well, if you keep talking without actually saying anything, I'll start to."
"Okay, okay." She paused. "I'm getting maaaaaaaried!" she squealed in a sing song voice.
"What?" My eyes widened.
"Yeah." She laughed. "I still can't believe it either."
"To who?" I asked in a quick second of stupidity.
"Who else? That loser, Jasper Whitlock," she said, but I could hear the happiness in her voice. "I know, it's a lot to take in. So just take a few deep breaths and it will register in about five minutes. I still can't believe it myself."
I knew she and Peter had broken up last summer. She had called me on the day it happened, and I knew she got back with Jazz a month after, but I hadn't predicted a wedding. Although, I guessed I should have. Those two were bound to go that route some time.
"Omygod! Alice, I'm so happy for you," I said, smiling. "I'm so glad Jazz finally came to his senses. I knew he would."
"Err…well, Jasper didn't exactly come to his senses, per se. I had to give him a little push. I proposed."
"What?"
"I know. I know. It was all so…I don't know. It happened really fast and I wanted to tell you. I really did, but I had to keep it a secret for a while longer because I wanted you to focus on yourself and not me. And I wasn't even sure if I'd go through with it."
"Wait, when and how did you propose?"
"Well…it was September, last year. It wasn't anything glamorous, shocking, I know. It was a Friday night. We were on the couch. I was lying on top of him and my head was on his chest, hearing his heart beat. We had just eaten a whole box of pizza, like gluttons, with a bottle of ice wine." She laughed, savoring the memory. I suddenly remembered Garrett's talk about capturing moments.
"And I just said, "I want to spend all of my Friday nights with you, maybe not on this couch, but lying in your arms. I want you to always have the last slice of pizza, even though I really want it for myself. I want you to kiss me goodnight for the rest of our lives, even when I start to have wrinkles on my face and I no longer look pretty." And I just kept going on and on, telling him about all the things I loved about him. And then I said, "And I want you to marry me and if you don't say yes, I might die from embarrassment right now, because I didn't know how hard it was for guys to propose. My heart feels like I'm about to die and" – and then he stopped my ramblings with a kiss. And you know how I hate it when you're talking and people kiss you to stop you from continuing. It's like the kiss gives them an out to ignore what you were saying. And I was getting distracted, so I stopped and told him that he better answer me so I'll know if I needed to kick him out again. And then, he laughed and said in all his stupid glory, "You didn't ask me a question. How am I supposed to reply when I wasn't asked a question?" And then I punched him really hard in the chest, hoping to inflict serious pain. I mean, wasn't it embarrassing enough that I had to express my feelings? And he knew I was asking, so why couldn't he just answer?"
I laughed, through my teary eyes. It was so typical of Jasper to say that. And it was so Alice to remember the exact detail.
"Anyway, so I look at him ridiculously. And he's like "Well? I can't answer if you don't ask. I'm not even making you kneel down, which is the ideal way to propose anyway." And I'm sitting there gaping at him. And then I strip my pride, because when you're madly in love with someone, you no longer have pride, and actually say, "Will you marry me, you fucking idiot?" And he laughs and tightens his arms around me and says, "Yes" over and over again. And B, it was so…it was the best moment of my life, ever. I almost felt like I was in a John Hughes movie. Although, I think John would agree that the guys propose, not the girls."
I couldn't stop smiling. I wiped the tears from my face. I knew I should have been angry with her for not telling me sooner, but the joy overshadowed the anger.
"And you're my maid of honor, so I need you to get your ass back to Forks and watch me marry my high school sweetheart."
"When's the wedding?"
"In a few weeks…" she trailed off, knowing she was in trouble.
"A few weeks?" I yelled.
"I know, this sounds really bad. But remember, it was in your best interests. Although, I really didn't expect to wait that long. It's just that I didn't know you were going to the Hamptons last weekend, so that sort of pushed back things a bit and I had to wait until you returned."
"How the hell am I supposed to leave New York in a few weeks?" I asked, thinking of how I was going to inform my boss about taking vacation time on such short notice.
"You'll figure it out. But I need you, B. Please, please, please. I promise, I'll owe you for life."
I ran my fingers through my hair. "I'm going to come, I don't know how I'm gonna do it but I will. Alice, you should have told me sooner. You're so gonna get it when I get there."
"I know."
"So wait, since you proposed, did you give him a ring? Or did he give you a ring? How exactly did that work?" I continued, looking down at the water below the bridge.
"Um, yeah, that's actually a funny story. I have a sort of rope tying my engagement finger. It's substituting as a ring. Jasper wanted to buy me a proper ring but I kinda like this one. It has memories attached to it."
"A rope?" I asked in disbelief.
She laughed. "Yeah. You'll see it when you come."
I figured it wasn't the type that you showed your friends when you went to visit and said, 'Oh, I got engaged, look at my sparkling diamond…or rope with zero carats.' I thought the use of the rope as an engagement ring was not Alice's usual style, which meant some things had changed. Because the Alice I knew back in high school and college had searched for an engagement ring and said she was showing it to me so I could tell her fiancé to buy that exact one when the time came. I still remembered what that ring looked like.
I spotted Randall walking toward me in the midst of pedestrians and people on bicycles. He waved as soon as he saw me and I had to tell Alice that I would call her later to finish our discussion.
As I walked to meet my friend, I thought about Alice's wedding. Alice, who was scared that Jasper may never want her to marry her, had taken a leap of faith and proposed to him. And in the end, she was getting what she wanted and she was happy.
I knew I needed to take that leap of faith in either letting go or hanging on.
Like jumping off a bridge. And I happened to be headed for the most beautiful bridge in New York City. In that moment, I saw the Brooklyn Bridge as a symbol of optimism. Because for the first time, in a long time, I felt hope that happiness was somewhere just around the corner. All I had to do was jump.
Author's Notes:
I probably sound like a broken record by now, and it's amazing how you people put up with me, but I have to apologize. First of all, I'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter. It took way longer than I expected. Secondly, real life has been insanely busy, that I wasn't able to reply everyone's reviews for the last chapter. Please, forgive me. I want you to know I'm really grateful that you're still reading this story and sharing your thoughts. I promise to reply this time. Thirdly, I'm sorry for the length of this for those of you who hate long updates.
Major thanks to Kuntrygal and MrsBoyscout for all their help in editing this. MrsBoyscout took her time and answered all my questions about New York. They're both amazing. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to give you this chapter.
Love is Hell is going to wrap up in a few chapters. Bella has a decision to make. The big question: 'To let go or hang on?' will be answered. We'll see what she chooses.
I think Garrett is a nice guy, don't you? My Garrett is Hayden Christensen.
Thank you for your patience and for reading. Let me know what you think.