Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight
The Other Side of Me
Chapter 28
I checked my watch, a shiver running through me that hadn't come from the wind. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen minutes and some seconds, I'd been standing there staring across the street at my old apartment. Jessica wasn't expecting me for another four minutes. I had four more minutes to work up my courage to cross the street and knock on that door.
Alice, Jasper, and Emmett had flown home last Sunday. The goodbyes weren't easy. Especially between me and Alice, who refused to let go of each other.
"I'm so excited for you, Alice," I said against her shoulder. "Your engagement, you're going to be so happy! Jasper is your Edward."
She yanked back to stick a finger in her mouth, pretending to gag. "Yuck! Edward is my brother. Jasper is my Jasper. Edward is your Jasper - that's how it goes." We were high school Juniors all over again and we laughed together just the same.
"I'm going to miss you, sister," I said.
"Me too. You take care of yourself. Stay strong."
I gave her a half smile. "Sure."
I'd hugged Emmet goodbye next, postponing my interaction with Jasper, but I couldn't avoid him forever. I inched over to Jasper, who seemed to dwarf me. In my hesitation to be sure panic wouldn't make an appearance,I felt smaller than I actually was. Once positive I was in control and would remain that way, I hugged him, thanking him for all he'd done for me in such a short time.
Our apartment quiet again, I turned to Edward. "Things are changing. I think I can feel the ground beneath my feet again. It feels… solid."
He smiled.
"There's just one thing I have to do before the week is over."
"What's that?"
"I have to talk to Jessica about everything."
"You know she already knows, Bella."
"It's time she heard it from me. I owe her that much."
He gave a quiet laugh and shook his head. "You don't owe anyone anything. But do what you have to."
And here I was, readying myself for that conversation. Empty branches on the trees were being whipped in all directions. Above me large ashy clouds moved as if running away from something. After the next car passed I stepped into the street, wind blowing at my hair, shoving it in my face. My legs, as heavy as rooted trees, somehow got me to the other side and down the steps, where I stared at the door. I didn't time how long I stood there, but eventually, I did lift my weighted hand, smoothed my hair, and knocked.
I was greeted with a spiky bleached head, and a face just as white and almost as pointy. His eyes reminded me of diamonds.
I asked for Jessica.
"Hey, you're - you're… don't tell me." He squinted at me. "The old roommate... Bella."
"Yeah, how did you-"
"Pictures." He smiled and widened the door. "Come in."
I didn't move. "So Jessica is home?"
"No, no, but she'll be back in, like, ten minutes. She's just around the corner. Wait in here."
"Are you sure she'll be right back?"
"Yeah, sure." He waved me in with his hand. "You know, as long as she doesn't get distracted by, uh, beauty products, or a hot guy."
"I'll just wait out here."
"Oh yeah, I have been known to bite," he said.
I stepped back. My heel hit the bottom step.
"Man, my jokes are getting lame. Yeah, I'd wait out there if I had to face me, too." He moved aside. "Come on. Have a drink. It's Saturday." He said it as if the day of the week held some significance in my hesitation, as if any other day of the week was fine for waiting outside, but Saturdays were the days for coming in and having drinks. He left the door open and walked away.
Watching him as I entered, my back scraped along the door jamb. He was already headed toward the kitchen.
"You're Matt?" With him retreating from me, I relaxed. That was, until I caught an accidental glimpse of the floor. The spot. A shudder ran through me as ghostly pieces of my attack flashed before me. There I was on the ground, and there he was. Noises filled my head that couldn't possibly have been in the room. I recognized my own voice, my own cries out. My eyes burned. I turned to stare at the bookshelf, which wasn't the ideal place for my eyes to land, but safer than the floor.
"Yeah. Just drop your coat wherever and have a seat," Matt called, opening a cupboard.
I held my coat tighter around me.
Without watching, and nearly drowned out by all the racket in my mind, I could hear the clinking of glassware followed by Matt's shuffling through the fridge.
Where my books had once lined the bookshelf, framed photo collages were their replacements. There was a picture of Jessica and me hugging. We were nineteen in the picture and we both looked so young to me, so innocent and even pure. It couldn't have been, but our laughing faces seemed to glow. It was almost enough to bring a smile to my face in that apartment.
When Matt handed me the glass of white wine I recognized the glass as mine. It was from a set I'd left for Jessica. I took a sip then set it down, not really wanting it.
My head turned toward the window. It had the same white curtain, letting in the light but blocking out the goings on of outside, or inside. Curtains were more consequential than they seemed. They hid secrets, or they revealed them. They could keep you safe or they could further endanger you. They could do all that and most people probably didn't even notice them most of the time. There was a chair in front of the window now. It didn't look right. The chair blocking the path to the window made me feel more caged in.
"Can I open the window? Do you mind?"
He laughed. "Because it's so... hot?"
"Just, do you mind?"
After a shrug and a strange look at me, he leaned an arm over the chair and pushed the window open. The curtain blew.
"I have something of yours." He pointed a slow finger at me, as if trying to remember what he had or where he'd put it. He disappeared into my old bedroom. The last person I'd seen go into that room had been Edward. I felt like I should warn Matt about something, but I was unsure what. I started to rationalize with myself with the reminder that it wasn't the apartment's fault, what happened to me. Just like I'd told my dad it wasn't New York's fault.
Matt came back with an empty pewter picture frame - the one that used to hold the photo of James. The photo that was now with the police. He aimed a thumb over his shoulder toward my old room. "How did you deal with the ruckus of that kitchen behind us? Mornings are like battle grounds here."
"I kind of liked the noise," I said, taking the frame from him and then going over to the trash in the kitchen, I dropped it in.
"Well don't throw it away. I'll keep it." He dug it out. I didn't try to stop him. The frame wouldn't do any harm just existing in the world, as long as it didn't exist with me.
"Don't put a photo of anyone you really care about in that frame," I said. "Not someone you care about the most."
He raised an eyebrow. "Bad breakup?"
"Something like that." It was nothing like that, but I knew he'd like that answer.
When Jessica walked through the doorway, the relief that blew through me came with freezing air. I began also to feel the cold from the open window that I hadn't felt before.
"God, that wind!" She slammed the door. "Sorry I'm late. We needed toilet paper. I mean, who runs out of toilet paper, right?" She handed her bag to Matt. "We do, that's who. We've been using napkins."
Matt laughed. "Why do you tell people that, weirdo?"
"Bella isn't people. Why in the name of all that is holy is the window open?" She shoved it closed. "It's colder than Hell in here! You're the weirdo, Matt!"
"Hey, Jess," I said, as if I hadn't heard her ranting.
"Hey, stranger!"
"Can we talk? In your room?" I needed to be out of the living room. As much as I loved Jessica's reference to Hell being a cold place - and nothing could be more Jessica - it was a short-lived distraction from my anxiety. Everything in the living room was like rattling chains, so loud. The noise seemed to grow louder after the window was closed.
I followed her. She tossed her purse on the bed while I shut the door. I felt normal in there, quiet. Her room was set up just like before. She picked up a brush from her vanity and started brushing her hair.
"What's up? Is this about Mike? Did he call you?" She pointed her brush at me.
"Why would he call me?"
"Never mind." She brushed faster.
"Why would he call me, Jess?"
"Nothing. I told him last night that if he wanted to be with me at all then he could only be with me. And if that wasn't good enough, I told him to call you because I didn't want to hear it. Not from him. And you were the one who got me thinking about talking to him about being exclusive, so…"
"Well, he didn't call, so I guess that's a good sign for you?"
"What did you want, then? Is everything okay with Boytoy?"
"Yeah, Edward's fine. I just... I've been thinking about what a good friend you've been to me. Giving me what I needed when I needed it most. And I haven't. I haven't thanked you or even given you the respect you deserve. What you did for me in my apartment that day, nobody has ever done anything like that for me before."
"What in the universe are you talking about?" Her brushing had stopped. I had her full attention.
"Jess, it's something you already know about me. I know you know." I paused, and eyed her until her gaze fell.
She nodded, started to open her mouth, but no words came out.
"You figured it out that day when you helped bring my things over, and you pretended you didn't. You can't know how much that meant to me. If you hadn't done that for me, I don't know what would've happened. I would've fallen apart - I was barely put together as it was. But I think you deserve to hear it from me." Her eyes met mine again. Mine hadn't left her face. "James raped me."
I was able to say the word this time, and even though I'd said it quietly, it still quaked through me. I could almost see the capital letters as they came out of my mouth: R-A-P-E-D. They were so big and strong that they could shake the earth and take my dignity with them. I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes and took my dignity back, let the ground under my feet settle.
She nodded, she swallowed, her nostrils flared. She swept a hand over my hair, pulling some over my shoulder and brushed the ends. "I know, baby."
"You found out on accident. You must've been horrified, but you took it like an angel. You were perfect, Jess."
"And now you want to talk about it?"
"Not really, no. I just wanted to tell you myself. The thing I should've done in the first place, before you had to find out on your own and then deal with it on your own."
She shrugged one shoulder. "It wasn't that hard to deal with once I saw you were okay."
"What do you mean?" She thought I'd been okay?
"You're sad sometimes, I can see that, but you're the same."
"I am?"
"You haven't really changed. Not the way I'd expect."
This was shock, this feeling I had. Shock followed by gratitude. To see myself through her
eyes. It was exactly what I needed.
Her hand caught my shoulder. "Thanks for telling me." She hugged me. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"Where to?"
"I'll show you."
I followed her, but stopped in the living room. "Wait a sec," I said. I went over to the window - pulled the chair aside.
"What are you doing? That's Matt's."
I opened the window, felt the chill. Wind blew the curtain at me. I pushed it behind me and began to remove the screen.
"What are you doing?" Jessica asked again.
"I want to try something."
I set the screen on the floor and hoisted myself up, a leg out, then another. I let myself drop to the ground.
"Your friend is hilarious!" I heard Matt say somewhere far away behind me. "Nothing she's done has made sense since she got here. We must have her over more often."
Jessica began a reply. I blocked the voices out, closed my eyes and put all my focus on myself. Did I feel any different?
I didn't know what I was expecting; it had all been an impulse when I looked over at that window - the window that had been haunting me since James attacked me. I knew then it wasn't expectations that had me climbing through the window. It was hope. I stood there and hoped for some supernatural change. The wind slapped my face as if to wake me from a dream. I opened my eyes. I felt nothing different except embarrassment. I heard laughing behind me. Jessica was climbing out the window too.
She put an arm around me, smiling big. "See?" she said, "You're still the same goof you always were!" She punched my side. "Come on."
She took me to a bar two avenues over, one we used to frequent a lifetime ago. It was a long, narrow place, dark as night in the afternoon. It smelled of stale cigarettes, dirty ashtrays, and beer stains. An old beat up pool table stood all the way in the back. It took three tries to get the thing to swallow our quarters and spit out the balls.
We played a few rounds and talked about nonsense. They were the types of things you talk about with Jessica, the types of things that seem like they don't matter, but sometimes they're what matter the most. I was smiling, laughing, not worried about who was around me. Though, in honesty, at 3:00 in the afternoon, not many people were in the bar.
A second cocktail came and I texted Edward that I'd be later than expected.
"You know," Jessica said, pulling up a chair at the high round table. "When my dad retired, he and my mom bought a house in The Hamptons. We could go there sometime. You know, just girls?"
"I'd like that. Someday. I'm sure I can do that with you someday. Just girls." I started to say "someday" again, but caught myself and just nodded.
"Whenever. Just let me know when. It's an open invitation. No expiration. Here." She went through her purse, scribbled something down, tore the paper and gave it to me. "It's an open-ended ticket. Official." She smiled.
I took the "ticket" and slipped it into my pocket.
"Angela can come if you want. I like her. And that other friend of yours, Rosalie, and Alice too, if she can get back here."
"That actually sounds pretty awesome. Here, add them to the ticket." I started to give her back her torn paper when I heard my name.
"Isa-Bella?" I recognized that voice, that accent, that pronunciation of my name. I turned. "Hello, lady! How are you? It's been years, I think."
Maria kissed both my cheeks, then pulled me into a tight hug. It was one of those real hugs, the kind that embraced and squeezed. I could almost feel her heart beating against mine. Her black hair was as long as ever. I felt it fall well past my arms as they wrapped her waist in the hug.
"Not that many years," I said. "I think one year."
"My goodness," she said. "I can't believe I'm actually seeing you, and in here? I didn't even know you came here! Did you know Dom tends to the bar? They don't make him pay for the drinks."
"Dominic? You still hang out with him?"
"Sure, why not? Oh, I heard about our James… Could it be true?"
"He's not our James." My shoulders tightened in disgust. "But how do you know?"
"A detective, uhmm… oh..." she waved a hand "... I forget his name. He asked me all kinds of questions. Did you get asked these questions, too?"
"I'm sure I did."
"But it can't be. That's what I told that detective. It just can't be."
"It is," I said.
"No… it can't be. There must be a mistake."
"It's true, Maria. James is wanted for rape because he raped someone, and I know it's true because I'm the one he raped." That time when I said it, I'd said it out of anger and I said it loud. I was stronger than the word that time. It had sprung from my mouth three times and flown away.
"If you see him or hear from him, you have to turn him in. Have you heard from him?"
"It can't be. You?"
I wished she would stop repeating, It can't be, before I blew up at her.
"He loved you."
"Maria, please." I'd been doing so well up until that point. My eyes were begging her to stop, and that was when it finally hit her. I was telling the truth.
She covered her mouth, which is what she should have done in the beginning. "I'm sorry. I-I…"
"I know. You're shocked, but just don't say it's not true."
Her eyes turned to sapphires as they teared up.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Maria. I mean, I'm not sorry. I'm tired of being sorry. But I know it's hard. I know it's shocking."
"Hard? This is like… catastrophic."
I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. It was one of those things that seemed impossible, yet it was so. One of those things that should only exist in some alternate universe, yet it existed in ours.
She stared at me and I waited for her to say something. When the wait turned into almost forever, when I started to feel like a caged circus freak, I was ready to get out of there.
"We should get going, Jess."
Maria stopped me, a hand at my shoulder. "Wait. If I hear from him, I'll turn him in. And if there's anything else I can do for you, you call me, sweetie. Here," she said backing up, reaching into her purse. It glittered with every movement. She pulled out a business card and handed it to me. "You call me. I'll have you over, fix you up some nice drinks."
I thanked her and she asked me to wait again, snatching the card back. She puckered her lips and smashed them onto the back of the business card, making a lipstick stamp. "Now you have my love to take with you." She gave each of my cheeks a kiss again and said, "Until next time, Isabella."
Something inside my throat tightened when I heard this pronunciation of my name. It wasn't the way Maria was supposed to pronounce it, and I felt the too big significance of this very small change. I wanted to tell her to say my name again the other way, the way she always had. But like so much that I wanted to say, I never said it. I accepted the change.
"You know her?" Jessica asked once we were outside.
"Used to. We had James in common."
I declined when Jessica offered to walk me home. There was a time when I might have let the alcohol take the credit for my courage, but not now. I knew it was in me to push myself; I'd been doing that for a long time now. Maybe soon I would ride the subway alone. Just sit and see where I ended up.
The wind had died down some and the sun was beginning to set when I climbed the steps to the main entrance of my apartment. The overcast sky looked like watered down tomato soup - thick, and light red.
I found Edward in his art room mixing paints. Some had dried on his fingertips. I felt their roughness when he held my face to kiss me. He asked me how it went and I told him everything, watching his face contort into different expressions as mine must have changed with different emotions throughout that afternoon. I smiled, glad he was going through this with me, that he could feel what I felt.
"Here," he said, tugging at my fingers. "I want to paint you. Come here. You mind?"
I shook my head.
He pulled the comforter off the bed and spread it over the floor. "Go ahead, lie down."
"You want me to pose?"
"Nah, just lie there." I lay down as he went to a new box of different paints, not his oils.
"Can you take your clothes off?" he asked. "Is that okay?"
"You want to paint me naked?"
He nodded, asking again if that was okay. I pulled my shirt off and pushed down my pants. "All of it?" I asked.
"Whatever you're comfortable with."
I felt my eyes narrow. He was up to something I couldn't quite figure out. Was he trying to challenge me? I took all my clothes off, meeting whatever challenge he was placing before me.
"Blue," he asked, "or purple?"
"For what?"
"You'll see. Pick one."
"Purple."
He brought his pallet over - colors already mixed - along with a brush and a cup of water. He kneeled over me. "Don't worry," he said, "This'll wash off easy."
"What?" I lifted my head.
"Close your eyes. I mean, if - if you're okay with that."
"What are you doing?"
"Painting you," he said, and brought the brush to my chest. It was chilly and wet. Above my breasts he drew curves across my chest, and then he drew down my side, along my waist and over my hips.
I laughed. "You're crazy," I said.
"I think this is the best idea I've ever had." He added more paint to his brush, or maybe a new color. I shivered.
"Is it cold?" His voice was so deep.
"Not too cold." I closed my eyes and let him paint me, felt the brush all over the place, and then a new brush, a thicker brush, filling in the center of my body with color. Every time the brush swept along my lower stomach, I laughed and curved upwards, pulling my knees in. It tickled me in every part of my lower body when he touched me in that one spot. He drew the brush away, pushed my knees down, and when he had me nice and relaxed again, he brought the brush right back to that spot on my stomach. He kept teasing me there, wanting to see me out of control with wiggling.
Finally he gave me some relief, dragging the brush up from my belly button to one of my breasts, and I lay there, pinning myself to the floor, never having felt anything like this before, and not wanting it to stop. I chewed on the side of my tongue to keep any moaning at bay, but there was nothing I could do to relax my breathing, my chest lifting with every touch from Edward and his brush. He blew on me then, as if to dry the paint. It was driving me out of my mind. I started to reach up to him to kiss him, but he held my shoulders still.
"I'm not finished yet."
"Edward," I said, groaning, kicking my legs a little, throwing a slight tantrum. "This is torture. Kiss me!"
He covered my eyes with his hand until they closed, and then he surprised me by kissing me. Giving me what I'd asked for. His kiss was deep, and his brush dropped to the floor.
"It's over now," he said in a near growl. "I'll never finish the dress."
"You were painting a dress on me?" I reached for his lips.
His clothes were off fast and when he was as naked as me, I told him I didn't think I needed a dress anymore. He laughed, his lips flowing over my breasts like his brush had. He must have been tasting paint.
We made love. I lifted my legs, the curves of my feet resting on his hips, and he moved faster, but always with control. And he spoke to me.
"Bella," he'd say, and his voice was starting to strain. "Bella," he'd say again, and it seemed my name was all he could say. And each time my name came louder from his lips. "Bella… are you…"
I was close. I was ready, and I let him know by giving him his name. He let himself release inside of me, and I shuddered around him.
We held each other tight afterward. I laughed, and he did, too, but still asked me, "What?"
"You have paint all over your face," I said, smearing some across his cheek with my thumb. There were also paint splotches down his chest and stomach, some just colored his chest hairs.
He smiled down at me, and then something hit me. I sat up quick.
"Do you realize what we just did?"
He lay there looking up at me. "Why? Do you want to do it again?" His hand caressed my stomach, his middle finger tickling my sensitive spot.
"Edward, what I mean is… we just had sex… in here."
"I remember." He smiled.
"On the floor." I whispered it.
His eyes widened in understanding. "Bella! Why did you let me? I'm sorry. I was so caught up in you, I didn't even - I should've stopped."
"Because, Mr. Edward, I didn't want to stop. I didn't think of James once. I didn't panic once."
"Why?"
His question confused me. "I don't know. I just didn't."
"Did you do what Rosalie taught you?"
"No, I didn't have to."
He sat up with me, pushed my hair over my shoulder and ran his hand along my hairline and down my face, and then cupped my cheek. "You're getting better."
"Edward?" I touched him just under his eyes. "You're crying."
He moved his lips to kiss my hand. "No, I just… you're healing. Everyday, you're progressing."
"Finally."
"Since the beginning," he said. "But are you okay? Do you want to move to the bed?"
I shook my head. "Stay here." I put my head on his shoulder. My window of escape was close, I thought. It wasn't the one in my old apartment; there was no physical window. I had to find my window on my own, somewhere inside myself. Wherever it was, it was close.
I touched his face again, the faint purple and yellow streaks. "What an ugly dress that must've been. You look ridiculous." I smiled.
"I'm going to marry you," he said.
I lifted my head. "What?"
"I-I I mean, I just thought you should know. I know this isn't the right time. I'll wait, but I'm going to marry you. If you'll have me."
"If I'll have you? Who knows, maybe I'll ask you. If you wait too long, I'll have to ask you."
He laughed, lying down again and pulling me on top of him. "Unpredictable. That's one of the things I love most about you." He kissed my lips. "When I first said it, it was an accident. I didn't mean to say it out loud. I was afraid you were going to freak out, and instead - instead, you tell me you might ask me?"
"I'm not the only one who's unpredictable. You painting me? I thought you meant on canvas."
He turned on his side so he was looking down at me again. "I wanted to do something different. Have some fun with you to get your mind off things."
"It was fun," I said. "Got my mind on new things."
"That was the plan."
"Edward?"
"Hmm?"
"Paint me again? Let's see if I can last until the dress is finished this time."
"On one condition," he said.
"I have to wear it everywhere I go?"
He dropped his head laughing. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen him do. He was turning red, blushing. "No. No way." He laughed some more and pulled at my waist. "This body is for my eyes only. The condition is, I want you to lie on the bed, not the floor."
We relished each other that night. We were all smiles and paint, not letting anything get in the way of our happiness. We teased each other like we used to, like we did when we were just friends. And there was an entire night of laughter. It was as if we'd known - but we couldn't have known - that it would be a long time before we made love again, a long time before we felt this free together again.
Thanks for reading!
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