A/N: As always, references to Twilight Series belong to Stephanie Meyer.
This chapter will mention a sculpture named "Laocoon and His Sons". Please see :
the link was supposed to be here but I'm having trouble getting to load - I used wikipedia for my info.
if you're interested in learning more about the piece and seeing a picture of it.
Chapter 23 BPOV
A museum, fine art or otherwise, was the last place I'd expected Edward to take me on our first date in Boston.
Well, second date if you count Christmas night.
And I do count Christmas night!
The night I'd been craving for so long. To have him touch me, kiss me, love me. His unbridled passion was more than I could have ever hoped for.
More than I'd ever experienced in my life.
In his strong arms, his secure embrace, I felt safe, and loved, and wanted. He explored my body with tenderness and devotion and all of my inhibitions disappeared.
No man had ever made me feel that way. Never touched me so deeply, so beyond the physical and into a realm of immeasurable intimacy.
That night we became one person, one kindred spirit, atleast for a little while.
I had hoped it would never end.
"Bella?" Edward was looking at me with a confused expression. "Are you ok?"
"Yes, why?" It was natural for me to blush in situations like this.
"I asked if you recognized this piece?"
"Oh," I studied it for a second. "No. I don't."
He went on to tell me a reprint was hanging in the library of his parents' home.
"Great." I feigned. My thoughts were much more interesting.
It didn't take long, once I paid attention, to realize his attraction, his connection to this place.
Edward escorted me through the floors, through each room, describing details and an understanding beyond that of someone with only casual interest.
When a particular piece was especially meaningful to him, we'd stare at it and linger for a long time before moving on. Edward called on his extensive knowledge and describe details and intricacies that I really didn't need to know.
Not that I was completely bored. There were some pieces that I thought were pretty or interesting, or some combination of both.
For me, it wasn't the art, it was him. I enjoyed watching him. His eyes grew large with innocence and purity. His appreciation for his surroundings and all that it contained was incredible.
A side of him I didn't expect.
Paintings and sculptures and other objets de art, were of no particular interest to me. I preferred family pictures over Monet and popsicle creations over the works of Donatello and other famed sculptors.
The experience, however, the fact that he wanted to be here with me, share this with me, was far more meaningful than even his extravagant gift that hung comfortably around my neck.
We traipsed up and down the corridors, not from room to room in logical sequence but rather in succession of Edward's likes to loves. A map embedded into his brain from years of coming here, hours upon hours of patronage.
His passion was absolute and I was in awe, as I witnessed this new side of him.
"How many floors are there to this place?" I asked.
"This is the last one. I've just got one more thing to show you." Edward ran ahead, then turned back and motioned for me to hurry.
We stood, facing an elaborate wall mural. It didn't speak to me, at all. Personally, I thought it was a little over done with bad...who am I kidding? It was awful, pure crap, in my opinion. "It's beautiful," I lied.
Edward laughed, "You're not enjoying this are you?"
"No, I am, really."
"This wall is the museum's attempt at making the arts interactive for children. The kids get to create and feel like they are really part of something." He explained.
"Oh," I blushed.
"Watch this." Edward walked to the far side and felt around the wall until he found whatever he'd been searching for.
A portion of the mural nudged forward in an awkwardly stiff manor, "Edward." I said nervously. After a few hesitations it seemed to move forward a little more freely, exposing a thick entrance into a showdowy cave-like abyss.
"What is this?" I asked in astonishment.
"It's a private collection." Edward grabbed my hand and almost pulled me through the gaping hole.
The room was dark with only a dim light, high above us to offer some relief from the blackness. Edward, obviously not a stranger to this hideaway, released my hand and disappeared into the darkness.
Moments later, a much brighter fluorescent light flickered and buzzed until its full force was realized.
With my vision no longer obscured, I looked around the room. It was much different than I'd expected, much larger.
"Private collection? I don't understand." I asked.
"Well, all museums have rooms like this. Not that anyone would admit it." Edward chuckled under his breath, amused by his own privilege, I think. "The items in here are the most exclusive. Sometimes they'll be displayed in an exhibition or something, but mostly they're used to barter with other museums for better items. And the curators will permit some of the more serious contributors the honor of private viewings, like this."
If I were to guess, I'd estimate the room size to be about the same as my clinic, without the dividing walls. The ceiling was just as high as the other ceilings on this floor, giving the illusion of airy, but with no windows a musty odor loomed throughout.
The walls were covered with methodically placed pieces, oil paintings in elaborate frames, old photographs, collages, abstracts that baffled my mind.
Oversized wingback chairs were strategically placed in various places around the windowless space, providing the best seating for the observer who may choose to sit and enjoy.
Sculptures sat on pedestals, larger pieces on stone mounts. The feeling I got inside this room was indescribable, surrounded by the ages, the history, the value, was quite intimidating.
I felt the difference in myself but it was in Edward that I saw the most change.
He was at peace here. The excitement he'd shown earlier as we toured the rest of the museum was gone now.
There was a certain tranquility about him as he strolled around, touching, experiencing, bringing life to each piece. He was vulnerable here. All defenses were dropped and he was simply Edward.
Not wanting to interrupt his experience, I remained quiet and chose a comfortable place to sit near the center of the room. My central location allowed me to follow him from piece to piece without intrusion.
"Do you have a favorite," I asked, eventually.
Edward, completely enthralled, said, "this one."
I joined him in front of a moderately sized sculpture. The gold plate affixed to its pedestal bore the description "Laocoon and His Sons".
I stared at the odd looking depiction of a tortured man, surrounded by two much smaller men with peculiar expressions, his sons, I assumed. All of them entangled with snakes.
"It's a replica but it's my favorite." His words were slow at first but gained momentum as he continued.
His detailed accounts of Laocoon, his eventual demise, and the mysteries and theories surrounding the actual sculpture were intense, extremely thorough and heartfelt.
"How do you know so much?" I asked in amazement.
"The first time I saw this piece I was touring the Vatican Museums." He said.
"You've been to Rome? The Vatican?"
"Yes, of course," He said casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence. "I kind of stumbled on to this piece and when I saw it, I don't know, it just seemed to come alive to me. I spent hours that day just staring at it. Then I had to find out everything I could about it."
"Wow. I…wow." I said, not really sure what else to say. Edward, especially after his spiel on learning to appreciate art even if you don't like it, didn't strike me as someone who'd be so emotionally affected by such things.
It wasn't until he connected the piece to himself that I was able to understand his attachment to it.
"I don't know," he said out loud, though his voice trailed off as if he were in a different world, as if he were only talking to himself. "I can feel his pain, somehow. All of them. Over the years I've been Laocoon, I've been the son. Christ, there are times I've even been the serpent."
There it was. His connection.
The sculpture, its representation, encompassed everything about Edward, his life, his being, atleast on some level.
Suddenly, it seemed to make sense. I looked at the statue again through new eyes, Laocoon, each of the sons, the serpents.
In their expressions, their pain, I think I got a better understanding of the internal unrest Edward experienced in his day to day life.
And maybe a new appreciation for art and its effects on the soul.
Edward's hard chest pressed up against my back as he whispered into my ear, "it's time to go."
It took a few moments for either of us to work up the desire to leave. It was the weirdest feeling. Walking away from that statue, I felt mournful, lonely…I don't know…tormented?
I didn't think art could do that. I just didn't know….
The brisk winter air was refreshing, as we headed back to the car. It seemed to break the spell Laocoon had cast over us and we were able to smile again.
Atleast I was.
Edward was still distracted. "A penny for your thoughts?" I asked, softly.
He smiled but before he could respond his phone rang. "Cullen." He said into the receiver.
Two quick, sharp beeps from the SUV indicated the doors were unlocked. I got inside and waited for him.
"Who was that?" I asked when he slid into the driver seat.
"Tonya."
"Tonya? At eight thirty? What did she want?"
"Nothing that can't wait." He said nonchalantly.
"Why did she call?" My new attitude wouldn't let Edward get away with his flippant response.
He laughed. "You're jealous." He stated happily.
"No I'm not but I don't think it's wrong of me to wonder why your lawyer is calling you this late in the evening."
"You're right. She wanted to remind me that we'd have to get together in the next couple of days to discuss the trial. Jury selection will be starting as soon as the holidays are over. Not really a topic I wanted to discuss with you tonight."
"Oh." His answer was fine but I thought Tonya could have waited until morning to make that call.
"You don't have to worry." Edward's charismatic charm replaced his earlier distraction, "I only have eyes for one lady. A beautiful veterinarian, maybe you know her?"
I grinned, in spite of my suspicions, as Edward leaned over and kissed my cheek.
With Edward speeding through the city streets, the restaurant didn't seem far from the museum but his fascination, along the way, with the rear-view mirror was unnerving.
In three to four second intervals, his eyes darted from side to side then rested on the rear-view. A scowl consumed his face at whatever it was he saw back there.
"So, what restaurant are we going to?" I asked, hoping it would bring his attention back to the road ahead.
"An old favorite of mine. You'll love it." He said absentmindedly, checking the mirror for the millionth time.
"What's up with you?" A direct approach would hopefully have more luck.
Edward glanced over at my troubled face and sighed in defeat. He seemed to understand there was no point in denying the issue. "We're being followed by my security and I was trying to keep an eye on them."
"Why?" I asked. "Isn't the point of security to watch you and not the other way around?"
"I'm paying those guys to keep shit away from us," he said. "That reporter should never have gotten so close to us."
"Edward, it's ok. We handled him."
"That's not the point!" He exclaimed.
As soon as we pulled up to the restaurant, he excused himself then ran up to a black SUV on the other side of the street.
It was impossible to hear his conversation with all the street noise, traffic, pedestrians, and other patrons of the restaurant.
Hearing it wasn't necessary. His body language told me everything I needed to know.
His arms flailed out from a stiff upper body, his forward push was daring, threatening. The driver, a man taller than Edward and broad like Emmett, stepped out of the car with a few choice words of his own. His physical appearance would have been enough to intimidate me.
Edward was definitely not me.
They stood in the street. Each man yelled above the other in an effort to overpower the conversation. To win the argument. Angry words drifted across the wide street as faint whispers, but there was no mistaking their intentions.
When the pushing started, a second man exited the car, from the passenger side, and put himself between Edward and the first hired goon.
Thankfully, Edward came to his senses and crossed the street again. The two goons got back into their car and sped off.
"I guess that leaves us unprotected." I said with a little snark. If he thought for one second that his brutish behaviour would impress me, he had another thing coming.
"They were paid to do a job and failed. Would you prefer I let them get away with their incompetence?" He said still riled up from his encounter.
By this time the valet had returned. I caught him in the corner of my eye, watching, amused by our public discussion.
Argument.
His blatant disregard for our privacy only added to my fury, "Can I help you?" I snapped.
"Oh, no miss. I...uhm...I..." Without further explanation, he turned his back and busied himself arranging keys at his station.
Edward grabbed my arm and forced me forward, towards the door of the restaurant. "Let go of me." I demanded.
"Calm down." His jaw was clenched tighter than I'd ever seen.
I yanked my arm from his grip, "I will not. This is your doing. You calm down."
"I'm not interrupting a potential rape, am I?" Victoria Sutherland's voice chimed in out of nowhere. People walking passed us immediately stopped in their tracks and stared.
"Well, holy Fuck! Really?" Edward's arm flew up into the air in defeat. "See? See? This is what I'm talking about."
The whole scene was like a badly executed play and I started to laugh. I couldn't help myself, like when you were a kid and started laughing in church. The more you were scolded, the funnier things became.
Edward and Victoria looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "I'm sorry." I tried between giggles.
"Bella, what's so fucking funny?" Edward fumed.
"Detective, we're fine. Thanks for your concern." I turned Edward and pushed him inside the restaurant.
He was still miffed when the maître d' greeted us. Atleast I had my laughter under control by then.
Once we were seated, I said, "Smile baby. See, all you need to protect you, is me." I laughed again. This time he couldn't help himself either and smiled just a little.
As the evening progressed, Edward lightened up. "I'm sorry Bella."
"I know." I said simply. "But there's something you need to know as well."
"What's that?"
"To be with you, I have to make certain concessions and compromises. I have accepted that. You mean that much to me. But there are things you'll need to work on too, to be with me."
"Like?" He asked, sipping his wine with a straight face.
"Like...how you conduct yourself in business, and as a somewhat single man, will not be tolerated in my company." I stated firmly.
"Bella." He pleaded. "What happened outside..."
"What happened outside almost ruined our night out. The first night out we've had since I got here."
He nodded his head in silence.
"And..."
"And?" He was surprised there was more to my list.
"Yes, and...I will not be man handled."
"Oh come on...I know you like it." He said teasingly, his eyebrows bobbing up and down to ensure I caught his drift.
"Edward, get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean."
"I do."
"And…."
"Another one?"
"Yes, an important one. I won't participate in the relationship if I can't trust you. Don't lie to me. Don't cheat on me. If some woman calls you in the middle of the night, I don't want to have to worry about it and wonder if you're cheating. If something unflattering is written in the papers, I don't want to have to worry about it because I'm sure it's lies or we've already discussed it. Do you understand?"
"Bella, You're the only woman I have ever been in love with. Can you imagine what that means to me? What you mean to me? I will do whatever it takes to hold on to you." He reached for my hand and kissed it gently.