ginginlee beta read this for me, but I went ahead and added a bunch of stuff later. So, yeah, all the mistakes and all … definitely all mine.
Falling
Part II
The next day, a grey humid one, she calls in sick, turns off her phone and drives with Kate to the beach. Riley returns that Saturday. His hair is cut shorter than she remembers, and his skin's lightly tanned.
"You look terrible, really. I think you missed me," he tells her with a smile after his three month long sojourn in Mexico (and a weekend in Sin City that she'll never know about).
Isabella feels hurt and snubbed by his callous attitude, but does nothing to shut him down when he, after some drinks, takes her hand and places careless kisses on her mouth.
Surreptitiously, she liberates a bottle of Xanax from her mother's medicine cabinet that night, and she goes to sleep every night after that lulled into a dull comfort. It's easy; it's convenient. She no longer dreams.
When Riley's hand creeps between her legs one night before she can escape to her dreamless state of oblivion, she goes limp, pretends to be asleep. With a grimace on his face, he turns away. He's certain she's feigning deep slumber. Though he prefers to reach his apex between other legs, and the clouds of melancholy that shroud her are not something that has never seen before, the rejection of his advances is new and it confounds him.
In his eyes, Bella has always been prone to depression (his mother has confirmed his view) and this latest bout may just be another phase, one she'll eventually grow out of. To some extent, her strange torpor used to appeal to him; it left him free to do whatever he pleased without her inconveniently meddling in his affairs.
But this is clearly something else. This is different. Her rebuff bruises his ego, and for the following days he tries to pull her out of her gloom the best he knows how. He buys her underwear and flowers and jewelry.
"What's wrong, honey? Just tell me," he tries to convince her over lunch at her favorite restaurant when she can't muster a smile.
"Nothing." She picks at her lettuce with a fork.
He's a busy man these days—a new ambition to make a name for himself having finally settled with him—yet he took off for lunch just to see her and has promised to spend the weekend with her at his parents' summerhouse.
So he snaps, "That's bullshit and you know it." He's annoyed with her nonchalance. His life shouldn't revolve around her (or anyone else but himself for that matter). He has other, better things to do. "You've been acting strange since I got back and I've been nothing but supportive. Do you know I have to defend you on a daily basis to my mom? She thinks you're completely manic and I'm starting to think she's right. Tell me, what exactly is wrong with your life?" He tosses his napkin in anger on the table. "I tell you what, your life is too fucking charming! That's what it is."
His ego tells him to get up and walk away; she wouldn't object if he did and secretly he knows this.
The outburst doesn't do anything to squash her doubts and fears, only confirms what she suspects all along: she's weak, pathetic and so undeserving.
"Spoiled," Edward would say.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I don't mean to be a drag. I promise, I'll try harder." She always tries her hardest to be polite. "It's just work."
Her words appease him, and he stops concerning himself with her mood. Her quiet deference—as he misinterprets it—is something that he always liked. He can't tolerate disagreement; his equal in temperament would not be a good match for him. It's not the only reason he's always returned to Bella after short breaks during which he's let his desires run free, but it's an important one. Yes, he appreciates her cool beauty and her unassuming attitude. He did right away after that night at the Black Swan. But those all are merely likes. What he loves about her above all else is her last name. It makes her his perfect match. Even his parents admit as much. In the realm of money and social standing, only an equal would do.
He doesn't see her again until her birthday, a week later.
"So, how did you like your present?" he says, fishing for a compliment on the cab ride home.
"Thank you. It's nice," she replies absentmindedly, thinking about the boring pearls he gave her. Edward's appearance at the party Alice threw for her rattled her. He didn't seem like the man she remembered; his bitterness is haunting her after his hasty departure. Riley didn't notice the brief encounter between the stranger and his girl. In fact, he only took note of Edward when the focus of the girl he was talking to shifted to the stranger standing in the corner with a drink.
"Alice threw you a nice party," he says, checking his phone for text messages from a new conquest, "though, I guess it's the least she could do."
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" she lashes out in irritation he quickly dismisses.
"You know she threw you the party so she could network with your friends. She's obviously looking for clients. You can't be that naive?" he comments with a smile.
She turns to him as she speaks. "The last time I checked half the people in that crowd didn't have their own checkbook with large enough accounts just yet. Besides, Alice hates most of them."
"Don't get upset because I'm telling you a truth you don't want to hear." He shakes his head, dismissing her words. "I've some work to finish up. I'll go back to my place. I'd only disturb you."
"Fine. Have a good night," she tells in as friendly a manner as she can muster when the car comes to a stop in front of her building. A brief kiss and she's flying out the door, happy to have avoided him coming upstairs without the effort of making excuses.
When she unwraps her other presents the next day, she finds a large parcel from Edward. She likes the painting that's inside, but the note tucked into the twine that holds the brown packaging in place is more important to her.
"Happy Birthday, Edward" she reads and feels disappointed. The note is sadly impersonal, and she was hoping desperately for a more meaningful one to give her sign. More than anyone else before in her life, she misses him.
She misses the teasing, the tension and their talks; his smile and the feel of his arm when she clung to him—hard and steady; the way he always told her truth without being cruel. She misses her friend.
With the realization fresh on her mind, she writes him a letter telling him she made a mistake, tells him that she misses him. He doesn't respond, but she can't give up. Anxious and desperate like she's never felt before, she calls him. He doesn't pick up.
When she can't sleep at night—not even the Xanax can calm her down—she calls Alice.
"It's late, B. What's up? Can't sleep?" her friend answers when she picks up the phone.
"No. Not at all."
"Take an Ambien."
"I already took a Xanax. I can't. I …" she mumbles, staring at the ceiling.
"What's wrong? What are you worrying about?"
"Edward," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. "I tried calling, but he won't pick up."
"About that … yeah, well. I don't think he's too keen on talking to you."
"Why?" she asks, feeling jilted that her friend knows more about him these days.
"I don't know." Alice sighs. "Disappearing into thin air might have something to do with it," she points out the obvious.
"I screwed up. I really wish I hadn't. I made a mistake."
"What exactly did you do … that night?"
"I slept with him."
"I guess he's less of a player than he seemed."
"I don't think he's one at all," says Bella defensively despite the fact that she used to share Alice's opinion on the matter. "And I made a mistake, okay?"
"What do you mean by that?"
She shifts uncomfortably in her fresh Percale sheets. "I like him. I miss him."
"Did you tell him that?" Alice is fast losing patience. Her friend's troubles seem silly to her. Life's simple for her; you take what you want if you can.
"Yes. I wrote him."
"Are you going to break up with Riley?" Alice asks with a chuckle, unable to hide her pleasure at the thought.
"No!" she exclaimed too fast and for no reason. "I don't know … maybe? It's just … I don't know what to do," she admits with a resigned sigh.
"What do you want to do?" Alice probes, hoping that this would set her straight; once she knows what she wants, she'll know what to do.
"I don't know," Bella replies evasively. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Before she hangs up, an idea is sparked in Alice's head. "Hey, I'm taking a private yoga class tomorrow. You should come along."
"I'm not very flexible. At All. I don't think so."
"Pretty please? I don't want to make a fool of myself. I haven't taken a class in forever. This way it will be the two of us looking stiff."
"I'm sure you'll be fine, Alice." Bella is keenly aware that her friend is lying.
"Come on. We can have dinner afterwards," Alice begs. Bella is used to Alice dragging her along to events, classes and trips; she knows Alice hates being alone sometime and so she obliges.
"Fine."
The next day, dressed in a tank top and old jogging pants, Bella finds herself sitting on a rubber mat in Alice's loft, staring at a beautiful blonde who instructs her in strict prose to give in, give up and surrender.
"This is not happiness. Let go," she instructs Bella while she adjusts her downward facing dog. "I know you always think, if I just had a different job, I would be happier; if I just had a different boyfriend, everything would be perfect. But it never works. More never, ever makes you happier.
"So how do you find happiness?" the limber blonde asks them as their limbs start to shake in warrior-three. "You need to give, and not just when you're getting something back. Stop mistaking money, sex, looks, food, status, whatever, for love. Wake up!"
By the end of the hour, Bella is deeply in thought. She admires and envies the woman in front of her who seems so at ease with herself and the world.
"So what made you book her for a private class?" she asks Alice over vegan dumplings and green tea.
"I met Tanya through a client. She's all the rave currently. Lots of famous clients and stuff. She's good, right?"
"Yeah. I like her, and I don't even like yoga."
"Mmm," Alice hums. "She amazing and gorgeous. It's hard to believe that even she has man trouble."
"Really? Well, then you know there's no hope for me."
"I don't know about that. I introduced her to Edward, and he kind of ditched her, so I think you have one leg up on her in that department."
"You did what? Why? I don't understand …" Bella shakes her head, then narrows her eyes in anger and outrage. "Wait! Did you run into him or did you seek him out on purpose?"
"Relax. Jasper invited him to a party I was hosting last week. You already said that you weren't going to come, so..."
"Oh," is Bella's only reply, feeling betrayed by her best friend's admission.
"Honestly, I didn't think you'd care. I mean, it's not like you two were dating or anything. Plus, he told me that you didn't part on good terms at your birthday party." Alice's last words only serve to anger her more. Not only did she get to hang out with him, she also talked to him about her.
"It's fine," she lies, and they soon part ways.
~o0o~
When Riley pops the question the next day, handing her his grandmother's ring, she lies again, "I don't know." She then adds, "Give me some time."
Time is not what she needs. She knows what she wants and has known it for some time. She wants to stop doing what she's told. She wants to quit her job, tell Riley to shove it, her mother to shut up and her father to leave her alone. And she wants Edward.
But she becomes aware right then that doing what you want can be much harder than doing what you're told or what you think you have to do.
Thank you for reading.
