I just can't get over losing you
And so if I seem broken and blue
Walk on by, walk on by
Foolish pride
Is all that I have left
So let me hide
The tears and the sadness you gave me
When you said goodbye
Walk on by, walk on by
Walk On By - Dionne Warwick
Bells,
Sorry it's been a while. We've been moving every day since we got here, so I haven't had much time to write. I also had to switch to pencil since the humidity was starting to blur the ink.
I take back what I said about Florida. They've got beaches over here too, but they also have mosquitoes. It's about a thousand degrees, you're up to your ass in standing water filled with snakes and leeches and God only knows what else, and I don't know if they have alligators, but I'm not excited to find out. I know I'm comparing apples to oranges (that's what they've got down there, right? Oranges?), but I'm crossing Florida off my list of places to move to. Jared says there's tigers here. It's got some of the guys more spooked than the damn Viet Cong. Good thing I can outrun all of them.
Leah sent me a letter, if you can believe it. Some of it was harping on about Seth's new girlfriend, who isn't good enough for him, apparently, and it's making him goof off instead of looking after the shop. I think she's getting soft in her old age, and I told her as much. She says the pack is doing alright, and they're checking up on Dad and Rachel. I had some cash saved up just in case something happened while I was gone, but I've got backup, so that's one less thing to worry about.
And who's looking out for you? I know you don't really need it. I know you don't want it either, but tough shit. I want to know that you're doing alright without also being under daddy's thumb, or someone else's. I told myself I wasn't going to worry about you so much, but it's impossible. You're meant for much better than that.
I've been thinking about you a lot. This morning, I was thinking a lot about the night we first met. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we met at another time, maybe somewhere else. I wonder if things could have been different. I wonder if I made the right decision. I'm not so sure that I did.
-Jake
She tossed the letter onto her quilt. That wound had only recently scabbed over, and now it was open again, making her heart throb pitifully inside her chest. Part of her thought that she should feel happy, vindicated almost. She had word from the horse's mouth: Not only did he regret leaving, but some part of him was still imagining a life with her. Yet, validation of her foolish desires was not as welcome as she might have expected, and in fact only served to twist the knife. There was no denying those feelings anymore, no more dismissing them as a messy crush or purely concern for the welfare of a friend. Once the realization hit, that unnamed pain felt like a slap in the face, and swiftly turned to anger.
What could have possessed him to say that? Why in the world would he bait her further, making her entertain the possibility that he still wanted her? Her lower lip trembled, and suddenly scalding tears began to run down her cheeks. An icy wind cut through the wind from the open window. She stomped over and contemptuously slammed it shut. Staring out into the yard, she watched the trees shiver off the last of their leaves before the cold season began in earnest. The one by her bedroom window was the first to shed them all, leaving a soft orange and brown carpet on the ground below. With a sharp inhale and a flick of her finger, she latched the new lock shut.
Dinner with Charlie was quiet. It didn't take much convincing for him to agree to watching television while they ate, something he was accustomed to doing in her absence, and she was content to sit there with him until the broadcast ended for the night. Another episode of The Beverly Hillbillies later, she left to tend to the arduous task of putting the kitchen back together. The low gurgling of the tv set was audible from the kitchen, carrying with it the odd commercial jingle that was almost soothing in its mindlessness. Without warning, it was replaced by an unmistakable noise, one that sent the plate in her hand back into the sink with a loud clatter. She rushed back to the living room to find her father watching the news.
Gunfire. Constant, rattling gunfire over the anchor's droning narration. Images of dozens of young men trudging through jungle, helicopters, dirty children crying in their mother's arms, all flashing across the screen faster than she could comprehend them. She didn't hear a word that Cronkite said, only guns and grenades and the triumphant musical score that turned her stomach. It was the sight of a Buddhist monk sitting peacefully in the road as he set himself ablaze that finally spurred Charlie to turn it off.
"Bella?" He rose, his face etched with concern. "Kiddo, you're white as a sheet...Gosh, I'm sorry. I should have switched it off sooner. You shouldn't have to see that."
Why should anyone?
"You okay?" She pressed her lips together and nodded.
"I'm going to go study for a little bit."
Instead, she settled onto her bed with a tiny stack of paper on a book in her lap. She gnawed at the pencil. The words were coming out all wrong, never more than two sentences before they were erased and replaced by two more. It finally rubbed through the paper, and she tossed the crumpled failure onto the floor, tired and frustrated and only vaguely aware that she was in no condition to pen anything. That didn't stop her.
Jake,
I've got bad news: I looked it up in the library, and they definitely have crocodiles. It says they're nocturnal, so just keep away from the water at night if you can help it. Then again, so are tigers, and they can swim AND climb, so maybe you should just call the whole thing off.
You were half-right. I don't need someone else to take care of me. I used to, back before I had a spine, when I just believed the things everyone told me. I've since discovered that there is a huge difference between needing and wanting. I can make my own way, and I'm going to, but that doesn't mean I want to do it alone. I don't have everything figured out yet, but that much I know for sure.
I understand some of the reasons you left. You did what you needed to do to get out of Washington and go after what you want. I understand your other reasons too, but I still think you were wrong, and what makes it worse is that you never let me decide for myself, or even asked. You just left. I wouldn't have kept you from enlisting if it was what you wanted, but I would have stayed. I would have figured out what to do. I didn't get the chance to try.
I loved you too, Jacob. You said you wondered how things could have been different. Maybe if you had stuck around long enough, you could've found out.
-Bella
Her sleep that night was blissfully dreamless, a strange respite from the nightmares that plagued her for weeks. It was the closest to Alice's fabled "beauty sleep" that she'd gotten in ages. She woke late the next morning hoping that it had worked its magic. Alice said that half of feeling good is looking good, and she hoped that she could conceal everything well enough to face the day and be happy for Rosalie.
The "looking good" part did not come naturally to her. After staring hopelessly at her hair for far too long, she elected to put it up into the neatest approximation of a bun that she could muster. That looked alright, didn't it? She coughed and gagged as she tried to spray it all down into submission. A handful of products sat on the bathroom counter in front of her, some borrowed, some relics of her time spent with Edward. Powder, blush, mascara, lipstick; it all seemed like a lot, but she was somewhat pleased with the overall effect. The dress she borrowed from Jessica was spread out on her quilt. It was a much more form-fitting thing than she was used to, with a skirt that clung to her hips and thighs, making her feel as if she was being swaddled in green satin. Seeing it in the mirror now, she couldn't argue with results.
But there was that envelope, stamped and sealed, sitting on her desk and waiting to be dropped into the mailbox. To send it, or not? What was the point in telling him, other than make things even harder for herself?
"Bella!" Charlie bellowed from the living room. "I think your friends are here!"
It was the principle of the thing. Clutching the letter in her bony fingers, she cautiously made her way down the stairs, aware that her range of motion was more limited than usual, and was about to get even worse.
Alice and Jasper were waiting for her in the foyer and looking like a million bucks. Her pale pink sweetheart gown made her look like a ballerina, though she wondered how she was going to fit in one seat with all that tulle. She paused her rapid-fire conversation with Charlie to squeal at Bella's arrival.
"Oh, Bella! You look wonderful! I knew that dress would compliment you."
"Are you sure?" she asked, nervously scanning the skirt.
"Of course. I'm always right about this kind of thing. It's perfect." She glanced at the hall clock "Rats, we need to hop to it or we're going to be late. It was wonderful to see you again, Chief Swan."
He snapped back to attention, shifting from the expression of a father struggling to reconcile pride in his daughter's appearance with her undeniable adulthood to that of a man who had no idea how to interact with any other woman.
"Uh, yes. You too," he replied stiffly. "Just be careful. That's a long drive to make at night."
"We will!" She practically dragged Bella out by the wrist and into Jasper's car. After a momentary halt in their journey at the public mailbox on Elm, they were off to the nuptial races.
There was hushed chatter echoing through the high vaulted ceilings of the church as guests milled around between the pews. Alice was quick to find seats with their friends. She only stayed long enough to drop off her purse before launching herself into the fray with her boyfriend in tow. He must have had the patience of a saint.
Bella began to flip idly through the program, occasionally surveying the room for anyone she recognized, but enjoying having a few moments alone. There was nothing to be nervous about. All eyes would be on the bride and the metric-ton of flowers and ribbon festooning the sanctuary, and she was happy to blend into the scenery. Mixed feelings and personal turmoil aside, tonight was about Rose.
Just smile and look pretty. That's all that's expected. You've done it before, and you can do it again.
Though she couldn't guarantee the second mandate, she was willing to take Alice's word for it in the spirit of not overthinking things. The church certainly looked like what she expected from the Cullens; Pink, white, and lavender roses adorned every vertical surface and most of the horizontal ones as well, with blush ribbons and tulle draped along the aisle ends of the pews. One could only marvel at the lengths and expense taken to turn a nearly hundred year old building into a cotton candy fever-dream.
"I think our mother went overboard, don't you?"
Edward had materialized next to her, hands in the pockets of an immaculately pressed tuxedo, his strawberry blonde hair perfectly coiffed and his shoes at a mirror-shine, like a Brooks Brothers mannequin come to life.
"Maybe just a little bit," she replied. "But it does look beautiful. I was just wondering where the pumpkin coach was."
"Oh, that's not until the reception," he chuckled, and so did she.
"Would you like to sit?" she offered.
"Oh, no thank you. I just wanted to say hi. Things should be starting very soon and I have some Best Man duties that need attending to."
"Of course. I guess I'll see you later, then."
"I'll see you later." With that, he gave a deferential nod and departed.
After getting over the hump that was their previous meeting, their relationship seemed to be steadily improving. The melting ice came as a great relief, and she could only hope that things would continue to thaw.
Soft chords began to drift in from the organ, a polite signal to all to find a seat so they could get on with things. The men began to assemble: Edward, the priest, and the groom, who was smartly dressed in a white tuxedo with a color-coordinated bow tie, the seams of his jacket clearly straining to stay together under the pressure of his frame. The organ's meandering finally ceased, and with a deep breath from Emmett, the march began in earnest. First, a bitty little thing no older than six came barrelling down the aisle, tossing fistfuls of petals into the air to the delight of her spectators. She was proceeded by a trio of women in poofy pink satin gowns with bouquets and headpieces to match.
But there was no match for Rosalie Cullen, who arrived like an enormous wave crashing on the beach. The dress was a mass of blindingly white silk with a train several feet behind her. The straight neckline was adorned with tiny pearls, and the long sleeves disappeared into the bouquet, its long tendrils of ivy trailing nearly down to the floor. An elbow-length veil of stiff tulle hung over her face, concealing all but the cherry-red lipstick, without which none would have recognized her. Alice and the girls were overcome with 'ooh's' and envious whispers. The music began to subside, and she arrived at the altar. Bella held in her breath, watching as Carlisle offered her hand to Emmett, who lifted the veil away from her face to reveal an almost bashful woman with a schoolgirl grin. She saw neither anger nor bitterness, nor the melancholy of their impromptu meeting before. No contrivance, just a smile that spread across her cheeks. Bella finally exhaled.
"Dearly beloved…"
What a blessing it was to have such strictly-enforced limits on speeches. Though her mother's wedding to Phil was smaller than the first, it was not safe from the inebriated ramblings that often spewed from the mouths of a Best Man or newly-minted in-law. Phil's older brother, while not part of the faction within the family that disapproved of Phil marrying a divorcee, still felt the need to work in a joke about it during the toast. Given the attendees and the phenomenal expense of this wedding, there were no doubts that a very close eye was being kept on Mrs. Cullen.
"Isn't her dress absolutely stunning?" asked Alice for the third time since Rose's debut. The sheer spectacle of the ceremony had been the primary topic of conversation at their table, much to the frustration of their dates.
"Stunning," Jessica echoed. She finished her second glass of champagne with a hiccup, and then carefully rose to her feet. "I think I'm ready for another one. What about you, Angie?"
"Absolutely." Alice's face lit up
"Ooh! Me too!" She was less stable on her feet, and very nearly rolled her ankle upon standing. Luckily, Jasper was there to catch her.
"I think you've had enough, darlin'" he said. "How about we go dance a little?"
"What a wonderful idea!"
And just like that, Bella was alone at the table with Mike. Within seconds, she was cornered, sinking into the conversation like a mammoth in the tar pits and flailing helplessly as every question and offhand comment grew more probing.
"So, I haven't seen you out and about with the girls since school started."
"I've been pretty busy this semester."
"With a new man?"
"With classes," she answered flatly. An incredulous smirk spread across his face.
"Oh, really? That's an awful long amount of time to be spending all alone in the library. Sounds like you need something better to do."
It took everything she had not to groan. Instead, she sat there stiffly, hoping that he would leave if she looked bored enough.
"What time do your classes end for the day? Because I cou-"
"-Excuse me. I hate to interrupt."
Edward swiftly leaned down between them. "Bella, would you mind helping me for a moment? I'm in kind of a pickle."
"Oh, sure," she said, scrambling to her feet.
"Good to see you again, Michael." Edward gave him an unenthusiastic pat on the shoulder before leading her away and out of Newton's sight. They had barely reached the back of the ballroom before he stopped and leaned against the wall.
"What's the matter?" A low chuckle rumbled in his chest in response to her confused expression.
"Nothing. It looked like Mike had you trapped. I thought I'd help you out." Instant relief.
"Thank you," she sighed. "It could have been ages before Jessica came back."
Edward looked over her head at the accused and shook his head disapprovingly.
"Shameless. He's still trying to win you over with his girlfriend just feet away. Absolutely shameless."
"She could do a lot better," she agreed, watching the girls crack their champagne flutes together at the bar, giggling like children. "At least she probably won't remember any of it."
"I don't suspect Alice will either, by the look of things."
"She'll be alright. Jasper will keep her vertical." They watched him twirl her around, always with one hand ready to catch her should things go south. She looked so carefree, so unbothered by anything in the world, as if dancing with him was her only reason for existing. Even though Bella never cared for it much, she had developed an appreciation for the feeling of a strong pair of arms holding you steady, being poised to catch you if you fall. It was comfortable and freeing in a time where the two seemed mutually exclusive.
"Would you like to?"
"Hmmm? What?" she said, breaking out of her trance. He tipped his head towards the couple
"Would you like to dance?" She glanced anxiously around at the dancers. "I couldn't let you go in good conscience knowing Mike might find you again."
"Alright," she acquiesced with a wry smile. She took his offered hand, and he gently led her out into the middle of the floor.
One thing that she liked about formal dancing was that any competent male lead could make her look like she knew what she was doing. With his hand on her waist and her own on his shoulder, even she could manage in heels.
"You look beautiful tonight."
"Really?" she asked. "I feel a little ridiculous in this thing, but Alice insisted."
"You don't, and she was right. Not that I'm surprised," he added. "Though I am a little surprised you know how to waltz."
"You and me both. I remember it a lot better than I thought a cotillion flunkie drop-out would. Now I can tell my Dad his money didn't completely go to waste."
"Nothing spent on you could be a waste, Bella."
Her cheeks grew warm, though it could have just been that second glass of champagne. His eyes were on her again, a relaxed smile adorning his face. She looked away, over his shoulder and into the crowd as they traveled around the floor. Jess and Angela had found the table again, but she and Edward seemed to be their new entertainment. For whatever reason, she didn't care. In fact, she was rather enjoying herself. In light of everything that had transpired between them up until this point, his unfailing sincerity and kindness towards her compelled Bella to speak.
"I meant to say- Um, that is, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry...for how everything happened."
"No, I'm sorry," he said, his voice low enough only for her to hear. "I didn't listen. My head was too far up my own ass."
"Edward!" she giggled in surprise. His tone turned more serious.
"I mean it."
I know you do.
Still, it was nice to hear. With no elephant hogging all the space, things were looking up. The concept of an "amicable ex" appeared to be less of a myth and more like a possible reality. Truthfully, it was Edward who was the amicable one. The harsh thoughts, the cold words, and the envelope-pushing that characterized her summer still lingered on her conscience. She felt queasy just thinking about it.
"I know I have a lousy track record," he continued. "But I will listen, if you ever need it. I wasn't there when I should have been. I'd like to fix that."
"Thank you, Edward," she murmured.
Quietly, comfortably, they floated, letting the strings of a slow ballad fade as the band wrapped up their set. She could only imagine what a confusing sight this must have been for everyone they knew. There wasn't much time to consider it before his head craned around to find the source of a loud, squeaky laughter.
"Hey, Eddie," drawled Jasper's voice from behind. "Sorry, Bella, but I need to get Alice home before she makes a fool of herself."
After observing her from the other side of the floor, she had to agree.
"Sure. Just let me get my purse."
Edward slowly relinquished her hand and said his goodbyes to Jas.
"It was nice to see you again, Miss Swan."
Such a strange day. Such a strange week. With Alice out cold for the majority of the drive home, only the rumbling of the Cadillac's engine accompanied her thoughts. She was pleased to see that she and Edward could be on good terms, exhausted by the day, frustrated by Jacob, and most of all, relieved that life could possibly return to normal. So the feeling was mutual after all. Days once marked by grief and solitude might finally be coming to an end, and her bottled-up anger with it.
She thanked Jas for chauffering for the night and waved him off, wincing as the sticks and gravel jabbed at her bare feet. She could see the television was still flashing through the front window, and crept inside to avoid waking Charlie, who was likely snoring in his chair.
"That you, kiddo?" He rose slowly with a grunt with a few bones cracking in the process.
"Sorry, I was trying not to wake you."
"No need. I wanted to stay up until you got home." She set down her purse and made her way to the kitchen, her father following awkwardly behind her. "So, how was the wedding?"
"Very pretty," she replied, taking an empty glass from the pantry and heading to the sink. "The ceremony wasn't too long."
"Good, good." He looked rooted to the spot, watching her fill the glass and lean heavily against the counter as she drank water for the first time since lunch. Darty-eyed. His mustache twitched. Seeing him fidget like this was so odd.
"Dad? What's the matter?" His sharp inhale puffed out his chest, and he straightened up, just like she imagined he looked when he approached a suspect.
"Who is Jacob?"
A/N: Oops, something let it slip. In the next chapter, Bella wonders if she'll ever hear from him again and if their agreement will survive. More surprises are on their way.
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