Metamorphosis
Hoping for the best, prepared for the worst, and unsurprised by anything in between.
― Maya Angelou
24. Prepare
The party that Renee had been talking about develops into the usual frenzy of decorating and organization for catering services. Sometimes, Bella goes downstairs only to hear Renee's dissatisfied voice with some of the event managers. She can hear the arguing of where the tables should be situated and the discussing of what color the theme and table cloths should be.
She walks by all of that. The drama of the charity ball and the preparation of such superficiality. Everybody who attends Renee's events wants something in return. Whether it's a good name or a beneficial affiliation. Charity is just the cherry on top. Underneath that cherry are swirls and swirls of young socialites enticing older men and older males keeping an eye on young heiresses.
She walks around the house, her shoes making echoey sounds on the marble floor. She swings her arms like a child, making her her hand glide over the things she passes by. From golden wall panels to polished, wooden furniture. Her handprints are left scattered all over her house, as if setting a reminder that she is a ghostly spirit leaving her mark. Hovering around but aimless in nature. Bella is here but her mind is far away.
Thinking and drifting to the little, blue house in Forks.
"Come here, Bella," her mother calls. "I'm thinking that you will need a new dress for the ball. Dark blue looks wonderful on you, don't you think?"
Bella approaches, seeing a photo Renee is pointing to in a high-end boutique magazine. Renee looks at another catalogue as Bella stares at the one she's been given.
The glossy paper flows under Renee's fingers as she flips through the pages, leaving an impression of superiority as the printed prices are of no importance to her. Bella sees her mother pausing and thinking for a few moments before continuing to scan for a suitable attire.
She can hear muttering under Renee's breath. "Too bland... too plain..."
Bella's eyes then travel back to the blue dress Renee showed her. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and jewels embroidered underneath the breasts, acting like a diamond belt. The silky fabric is almost a navy color. She knows what Renee wants to hear so she gives it to her.
"It looks lovely, mom," Bella says. Renee gives Bella a satisfied smile before taking back the catalogue and placing note on the page.
"We'll go get it tomorrow morning, honey," Renee says with finality, turning back to the pages in front of her. Colors are littered across the pages. Jewellery and expensiveness. Ball gowns and designer heels. Renee doesn't bat an eyelash. She lets out a huff of breath as she continues to look for her dress, going back to her mumbling. She doesn't speak anymore so Bella excuses herself.
"Bella, come back here," Renee says in a bored voice. Bella pauses before walking back again.
"Honey, what's going on between Edward and you?" her mother asks, looking into Bella's eyes as if she's withholding a collection of dangerous secrets.
"Nothing, we're just being... teenagers," Bella says, choosing her words carefully.
"Well, just a piece of advice, you're still young. You're valuable, desirable and my beautiful daughter of course. So have a bit of fun, if you get what I mean," Renee says, occasionally looking at the magazines in front of her.
Bella isn't sure what her mother is implying. "What do you mean?"
Renee closes the catalogue and rests her chin on her elbows. "What I mean is, have a bit of fun. You don't have to be too faithful now. You're not married for heaven's sake. I'm sure there's a lot of young men in New York who are interested in you."
This cannot possibly be sex advice from my own dear mother, Bella thinks to herself.
"Okay," Bella says, slowly. Her eyebrows are slightly raised in confusion. Renee seems oblivious to Bella's uncertainty as she gives her daughter a wink.
She's only trying to help, Bella tells herself as her feet carry her away from her mother's ludicrous words.
Later that evening, Bella's parents leave, saying something about attending a birthday dinner party. Bella ends up being indulged in a hardcover copy of Pride and Prejudice, smiling at some of the parts. She loves Austen's characterization of Mr Darcy. He seems moody and confusing, like he has a painful story behind the handsome mask. She finds his façade very appealing but at times, totally irritating. Yet she finds herself crying at his rejected proposal.
"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
She swoons at the mere thought of Darcy's gradual, character development where he proves to Elizabeth Bennet how kind and generous he really is. Bella finds herself acting as her usual hopeless-romantic. She floats away in her fiction. She is book loving and cloud nine. She hopes for that love again.
Bella is pulled out of her happiness and set back into the space of reality when her cell phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, she sees it as Marie's telephone number.
"Grandma?" she answers.
"Hello dear, how are you?" Marie asks.
"I'm fine," she replies. She's not fine. She knows it. Marie can sense it too.
She's heartbroken and missing. She's a pearl in her oyster that has been polished by its new owners and left in a safe place. A jewellery box that sees no light. What's the point of shining when the person you love the most isn't there to witness it all?
"Please don't be mad at me, dear, but give him a chance," Marie says. Bella's body freezes.
"What are you talking-"
"He's told me everything. Well not everything everything. But he's caught me up on what's been going on with you two," Marie says. "Darling, let me tell you, what you two have is something out of this world. I knew it as soon as you two met. You are kindred spirits."
"Grandma," Bella says, choking back her tears. "He's hurt me-"
"I know, dearest one. But he's begging for forgiveness. He's repenting. You should have seen his eyes when he came over a few days ago. I had to force him to lie down and catch up on some sleep," says Marie.
Bella suddenly imagines eyes that are sad and bloodshot like hers. She pictures heavy bags and lines of worrisome.
"Sorry Bella, I don't mean to interrupt your phone call but someone's waiting for you downstairs," Camille says, popping her head into Bella's room.
"I'll let you go now, dear. Remember, trust yourself. Trust your heart. You know yourself the best. No one can take that away from you," Marie says, ending the call with wisdom lingering in the air.
Bella walks down the stairs and into the foyer.
He sits there, unmistakably. He's looking down. He's a bundle of nerves and a bunch of sleepless nights tied together like a ribbon on a bouquet. She's the same.
He looks up. He's desperate and frantic. She knows it won't be the same.
Leaving it on a promising note. As always, feel free to share your thoughts. Have a great day, y'all.
Love, perpetually.