21. Boom Clap
No silver or no gold
Could dress me up so good
You're the glitter in the darkness of my world
Just tell me what to do
I'll fall right into you
Going under, cast a spell, just say the word
I feel your love
- Boom Clap, Charli XCX
It's Monday morning and I'm giddy. Which is just wrong on so many levels, no one should be this happy at seven AM. But I can't help it, because I'm walking hand in hand into school with Edward.
I have a cheek splitting grin on my face the entire walk across the parking lot. There are a few people that stare, some of them whisper to one another. But I don't care. The cloud that I've been on since Saturday morning hasn't faded, even though I got the riot act from my mom.
Claire is waiting inside the door for us, my jacket over her arm.
"Here you are, malady." Claire hands it over, using a horrible British accent.
I take it from her, thankful that she saved it for me and that it doesn't have any foreign substances on it, like barf. "Thank you."
"So, how bad did you get from your parents?" she asks, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
"A month worth of weekend shifts at the restaurant and no hanging out with friends for the rest of my life. You?"
"Grounded for a month. And if that wasn't bad enough, I'm stuck going to every single one of my dad's work functions for all of eternity."
"I'm sorry. At least, you'll probably get to see Paul again."
She grimaces at me, probably wishing that I'd forget about that. "It was fun while it lasted."
"Yeah," I hold my jacket up to her. "Thanks again. We'll see you at lunch." I pull Edward toward the double doors, so we can go to our first periods.
"My parents want you to come over for dinner." He blurts, making me freeze.
I look at him, panic stricken. "What?"
He rocks back on his heels where we've come to a stop outside my Biology class, "They, well, Mom, wants you to come to dinner Thursday."
"Dinner with your parents?" Why am I so nervous? Maybe because they're meeting me as his girlfriend… but, they've already meant me as his girlfriend before. So, once again, why am I so nervous?
"Yeah."
"So, they know. Not about the me getting drunk and spending the night at your house, but the… we're together part…" I bite my lip to make the spiral stop. Stupid fucking nervous rambles. It's not a big deal. Technically, I've had dinner with his parents before. Granted, it was a few years ago when the three of them had come to our annual Christmas party… with a lot of other people around. I can handle one on one, right?
Probably not without sticking my foot in my mouth.
He smirks at me, "Yeah, I told them everything." I blanch at him for second, fully believing him. Until I see the mischief lurking in his eyes; he just wanted to get a reaction out of me.
"Asshole!" I huff under my breath as I walk into first period.
The rest of the day goes by as normal. When we meet up with the rest of the group at lunch, Alice can barely contain herself, and gives Edward the biggest, tightest hug that I am sure that it's painful. She goes on to tell us how happy she is for us, all the while still hugging him. I wouldn't be surprised if he had bruises later. While Alice is tiny, her strength is deceiving.
All through lunch, the guys talk about the latest soccer game the guy's team won. Emmett boasts about how it was his shot that had won the game. He's so humble. It's nice for once that Bree isn't at our table, squeezing her way into the conversation.
After fourth period, Edward meets me outside of my art class for the first time. Without saying a word, he sticks out his hand for me to take, and we walk out to the parking lot, together.
Emmett has soccer practice after school, so we have the car to ourselves as we drive to the restaurant. We both have the closing shift tonight. It's a typical slow Monday, I once again find myself helping Charlotte wrap silverware.
When I get home later in the night, Mom's in the kitchen, washing the dishes from dinner. I sit in one of the kitchen chairs, my tired body becoming a lump as I melt into it. I can barely keep my eyes open and I try not to think about the mountain of homework that I still have to do.
"Hi," mom looks over at me, a smile on her face. "There's leftover Shepard's Pie in the fridge if you want some."
My mouth's watering at the mere mention of the food and my stomach growls loudly as I greedily made myself a plate and put it in the microwave.
"Oh, a letter came for you today." Mom says offhanded, pointing to the white envelop on the counter as she finishes up the dishes.
I go over and pick it, the address familiar, sending a lump of surprise to my throat.
Crap, camp.
I haven't really thought much about it the last couple of months. I'd actually forgotten all about going back. Back in January, I'd been excited, practically counting down the days until summer. Now, being a camp counselor, doesn't hold the same amount of excitement as it once did.
Can't imagine why!
"What is it?" her brow furrows, wondering why I have such a sour look on my face.
"It's from camp." I put the letter back into the envelop after I finish reading it.
Mom dries her hands, "I thought that you were excited."
I cross my arms over my chest. "I am, it's just…"
"Edward." She finishes for me when I stop short.
"Maybe a little," I lick my lips, remembering what he told me at school. "Speaking of Edward, his parents want me over for dinner Thursday." Saying it isn't as bad it's going to be to go through it.
A few nights later, and some convincing from my mom to get dad to let me come, I find myself in a dress that I hate on my way to my doom. Edward's holding my hand as he drives the short distance back to his house. My hand's sweating profusely, but he doesn't say anything about it.
"You're quiet," he observes, "Nervous?"
"A little," I look over at him, figuring it's as good a time as any to tell him about the letter. I mean, I already feel like I'm going to pass out, this is the easiest thing that I'm going to do tonight. "I got a letter from that art camp about going back as a counselor the other day." I keep my voice light, like it isn't a big deal.
"That's awesome," his face lights up as he pulls into his driveway, his eyes bright as he looks at me. "You are doing it, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am. I just can't help thinking that it's two weeks that are going to be cutting into our summer." Then I'm suddenly nervous that he won't be around this summer, that he's going back to California again, because we haven't talked that far ahead. "You are going to be here this summer, aren't you?" I can't help the way this falls out of my mouth.
He gives me a soft, crooked smile, squeezing my hand. "I'll be here this summer. Besides, two weeks isn't that long. This is something that's important to you."
"Yeah, it is." My voice is breathy because I can still feel the slight embarrassment over my word vomit.
"Should we get this over with?" he nods his head to the house that seems scarier than the first time that I came here.
"I guess." I gulp. This can't be that bad.
"Bella!" Esme greets warmly when we come through the door. The black dress that she's wearing is a stark contrast to the pastels that I'm used to seeing on her. She comes over to me, enveloping me in a hug. "Come, Carlisle's in the living room and dinner should be ready in a few minutes."
Edward and I both follow her down the hallway, my hand gripping his like it's a lifeline.
Carlisle's seated in a cushy armchair in the living room, reading the paper. He barely notices that we've entered the room. It's not until Esme lightly clears her throat that he looks up at all. His eyes slide from his wife to me, and he closes the paper and sets it down on their coffee table.
"Hello, Bella." His greeting is friendly enough, but I can detect some boredom in his tone, like this night isn't exactly his idea of fun. We're on the same page with that.
"Hi," I take a seat on their sectional, and Edward follows, mainly because I'm still gripping his hand like it's the only thing that's keeping me from drowning, so really, he has no choice.
Once the pleasantries are over, there's a hush that settles over room. It's broken only when a timer in the kitchen goes off.
Esme whisks off out of the room, pausing for a second in the doorway. "Edward, would you mind helping me finish up?"
I grip Edward's hand more tightly as he stands to leave the room, wanting nothing more than for him to stay in here with me. Carlisle and I sit here, looking at each other as Esme and Edward leave. I gulp so loudly that I'm sure he's able to hear it. It isn't that he isn't a nice man, he is. He's a nice man that I never knew what to say to without becoming a bumbling fool. The few conversations that we've had really are nothing more than a hello and goodbye, with an exchange of pleasantries. We never talk about anything other how school's going. I don't know how to start a conversation with him and find the task daunting.
Apparently, he's having the same difficulty that I am, because he just sits there, shifting in his seat as the tension in the room elevates.
Come on, Bella! There must be something that you think to say to the man!
"So… uh… how's work?" Jeez! That's the best that you can do? You already know, you hear about it from your parents!
"Good, good." He nods his head up and down like a bobble head. "We're looking at some locations in Greensboro."
"So, I've heard." My parents kept us pretty up to date with what was going on. Their growth going slowly, but surely. Soon they hope to not only have locations across North Carolina, but also up into Virginia.
Once the subject of work is exhausted, there's nothing else left that I can think to talk about. I sit here, my hands clasped in my lap, looking around the room, desperately trying to find something that we can talk about. But there's nothing. We could talk about the furniture, or the specific color of beige that his wife no doubt picked out. Somehow, I don't think that either of us will have much to say about it.
When Esme comes back into the living room to tell us that dinner is ready, I think that we're both more than a little relieved.
I've never been in the Cullen's dining room before, but it doesn't disappoint. It's as immaculately decorated as the rest of the house. There's a large black dining table and chairs that can seat at least nine people, easily. The placemats are a rich gold and match the dark beige cloth napkins. At my house, we use paper napkins. With Emmett and me and our revolving door of friends, there's no way that cloth napkins would be practical. I have a feeling this is what their table looks like every day, that it isn't just something that do when they have company.
Pot roast and vegetables sit in the center of the table.
It takes me a second to realize that while there are four place settings, Edward and I aren't on the same side of the table. If I didn't feel much like fainting, this wouldn't be a big deal. I also find it a little weird. Why did his mom put us across the table from one another?
We take our seats as the food is passed around, Edward giving me an 'I'm sorry' look.
"So, Bella, how is school going for you?" Esme asks once our plates are filled.
"It's going well." I take a bite of the pot roast, the flavor exploding on my tongue. I hate to admit it, but it's better than my mom's not that I'll ever say it out loud.
"Do you get good grades?" she continues with her line of questioning and it's starting to feel like I'm being interrogated, or in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition. She's never asked me these kinds of questions before.
"Yeah, A's and B's mostly." I speak hesitantly, feeling uneasy. I'm having flashbacks to the interrogation that Edward had gotten that first time he stayed at my house for dinner, only this felt a little more sinister, but I can't put my finger on why.
"Before you know it, you're going to have to start thinking about college. Do you know where you would want to go?"
"To be honest, I haven't really thought about it." And I haven't. The closest that I've gotten, is when Ms. Cope encouraged me to apply to the Rhode Island School of Design, but I'm not sure if I want to or not. It still feels like it's a lifetime away. I'm only a sophomore after all.
"It's hard to believe that Edward's going to be applying to college next year," Esme smiles and it feels like she's on this subject on purpose, and I swear that she gives me a quick glance. "He's always dreamed of going to Columbia." She emphasizes the word always more than anyone should.
"Columbia?" I look over at Edward who, by coincidence, is taking a drink of his soda, not looking at me.
"He didn't tell you?" Esme pipes in and I turn toward her again.
"No," I shake my head. "he didn't."
"He's talked about it since he was a little boy. When he was ten, he asked for a Columbia sweatshirt for Christmas." She's saying this all with a smile on her face, but I can feel the knife she's digging into me very well. She's reminding me, that sooner than I want to think about, Edward will be gone again. "I can't imagine him going anywhere else."
I pick at the pot roast on my plate, no longer feeling like eating or breathing or being anywhere near here. I've always thought of Esme as a kind person, but she can be cruel just as easily as she can be nice, and she's making sure to show me just how well she can do both. Her inviting me over for dinner so quickly, isn't an accident.
Like mother, like daughter.
When I'd met his grandparents, I'd been surprised that two stuffy, cold people can have such a kind daughter. But really, Esme's just better at hiding it.
The rest of dinner, I sit there listening to his parents talking without hearing any of it. I catch snippets of them talking about someone I don't know, and how they'd thrown a party with awful food and décor. Edward catches my eye occasionally from across the table. It seems he's as unnerved by his mother's surprise attack as I am. I now understand more why he doesn't like spending much time at home. I feel like I'm in Wonderland or Oz, and it isn't as fantastical as I thought that it would be.
After dessert, Edward extricates us using some excuse that I need to get home early. It wasn't even seven-thirty, but I'm not complaining about making an early exit from the dinner from hell. I feel like I've been hit by a truck and then rolled over by a steamroller. Tonight, didn't go at all like I thought. I imagined a slightly awkward dinner filled with small talk about the weather and how school was going, but really you end up sitting there in silence because you don't know what to say your boyfriends parents/ your boyfriends parents don't know what to say to you. But oh boy, did they think of things to say to me.
We decide to walk the few blocks to my house instead of drive, I think we both need some time to breathe. We don't say anything as we made our way through the dark streets.
"Well, that went… well." He jokes as we walk up the front path to my house, finally breaking the silence between us.
I laugh humorlessly, "Yeah, so well. I feel like I was led to the slaughterhouse." I take a seat on the front steps and he follows. "So," I start. "Columbia." There's no beating around the very large bush now.
He sighs, rubbing his thumb along the seam of his lips. "Yeah."
"New York, then?"
"Yeah." He looks at me, amused. "I can always go to NC State." I know that he's teasing, but it makes me feel weird.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?" his face falls, not happy that his joke fell flat.
"Joke about not going to Columbia because of me."
He looks down at his hands in his lap like they've suddenly become interesting.
"Can you promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise me that we won't be one of those couples that goes to a college to be with the other. If you get into Columbia, I want you to go."
"Bella…" I can tell that he's about to protest, and I interrupt.
"Just promise me, please?" I'd hate to be the reason that he doesn't go his dream school. "You told me to go to art camp because it's important to me. This isn't any different."
"This isn't just two weeks, Bella." He looks at me, his eyes almost pleading me to understand. And I do understand, I just don't agree.
"I know."
"It means months apart."
"I know." I sigh, more than a little exasperated that he feels the need to tell me something that I already know. "If I got into the Rhode Island School of Design, would you tell me not to go?"
"Of course not!" He makes it seem like it's blasphemous that I even suggest the idea.
"Then what's the difference? If I can go to Rhode Island, why can't you go to New York?"
He sighs, rubbing his face with hands. "This is over a year away, why are we talking about this right now?" There's a frustrated edge to his voice.
"Because… your mom mentioned it." Honestly, the entire time at dinner it felt like I was being Shanghaied. It felt like she was trying to send me a message that I'd received loud and clear. She was telling indirectly that I was not to hold her son back from achieving greatness, and that she saw me as threat to his future away from here. Like I'd ever hold him back.
He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, placing a kiss on top of my head. "I'm sorry about dinner tonight. I didn't realize that she was going to… do that. She shouldn't have mentioned Columbia, I should have."
"But still, I wanted you to know how I felt about it." I don't want to think about him being thousands of miles away, it hurts, and my heart and gut twist in different ways because of it. But, if I'm allowed to follow my dreams, he should be allowed to follow his. Even if it does mean going to New York.