Twenty-Six
It was morning when Jacob got home, and he hadn't slept yet. He had left the Cullen's late the night before and rather than returning to his loft apartment above the body shop he had driven the streets of Forks on his motorcycle. He had been alone with the night and these thoughts, his mind still racing, and his body still reeling from the void Alec had shown him without his imprintation on Renesmee. He had wondered, while he road, the rain slicking his visor and his jacket, if Alec had removed the imprint completely, or if he had just blinded Jacob to it. Could that bond be broken? And if so, how and why? He gritted his teeth against the notion of life without Renesmee. Since the moment she was born he had known that she was meant to be his. Every earlier feeling of inclination that he had with Bella, all those years of pinning and longing for her, had been his body recognizing Renesmee in Bella's genetic makeup. He couldn't explain it, he was no scientist—his sister Rachel probably could, if she ever felt the inclination, but not him. His body had recognized Renesmee within her mother, long before she was ever born. He wondered even, if he had known it in childhood when he and Bella had played in the backyard of the Swan house, making mudpies, and getting into mischief behind his sister's, Rachel and Rebecca's backs.
He drove up to the gravel lot behind the garage just as the sun was starting to rise. He removed his helmet, kicking the pedal on his bike to park it. His jacket was slick with rainwater and he shook himself off like a dog. His jeans had gone from dark blue to black from the water.
The body shop didn't open until after ten; there was still a few hours left before his boss would show up to open and he would have to find an excuse for his unexplained absence for the last few days.
His mind was racing as he made his way up the rickety stairs behind the building. Across the street, the Evergreen bar was just now closing, the neon green sign on the roof flashed twice, then shut off, as the first fiery rays of dawn exploded over the trees. Jacob paused, taking a moment to witness the breaking dawn of a new day. As soon as he saw it, he wished, with all of his body and soul that Renesmee could have been there to see it to. Arguing with himself he reasoned that she was likely still sleeping, as she should be. She had nearly died, a notion that made his chest feel like a gaping maw had opened up inside of it. He clutched his helmet tighter to his side, grounding himself, as he unlocked the front door.
The apartment was nothing to speak too highly about. It was one rectangular room adjoined to a small closet size bathroom with an old RV shower with folding doors in the corner. It was furnished sparsely, just a couch, that folded out into a bed, and a TV at one end, with a makeshift kitchen on the other end. The kitchen consisted of a hotplate and a microwave resting on one half of his kitchen table. The only thing he particularly enjoyed about his home was the windows. Three out of four walls were covered in windows, giving him sweeping views of the forests that surrounded Forks.
Jacob hung his helmet on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, nestling his keys inside the skull. He wasn't tired, his thoughts were all over the place, but his body ached. The remembered loss of his feelings for Renesmee had hit him like a freight train, he felt his body bleeding inwardly, and he knew sleep would not come to him easily for days. Even if he had her—Renesmee—in his arms, he doubted that sleep would come quickly.
The fold out bed was still messy from the last time he woke up here, sheets tangled and tossed to one side, the pillows still showed the indents of his body. He had dreamt, that last night here, of Renesmee, of her face, in particular the way her lazy smile curled up one side of her mouth. Jacob remembered waking up gasping, forlorn, aching for her, and it had been a chore to get through the work of the day at the body shop just to get back to the Cullen house so he could see her again. School had just started, and she was so happy to be there. It had taken her nearly a year to convince Bella and Edward to let her go. Ness loved her family, but for so long now, she had longed for other company, particularly people her own age, or as close as that could be for someone like her.
He remembered the project that she had spoken about earlier. She had to do a report on a country—originally, she had wanted America, not because it was the easiest choice (that's what he would have gone for, if he were still in school,) but because she had wanted to focus her report on the indigenous tribes of the Pacific Northwest, his people, and she had wanted to do this research for him and even with him. The thought of it brought a smile to his lips, an unguarded wide-mouth grin.
He had a laptop on the coffee table, buried under a stack of unopened mail. It was one of Rachel's old ones. She had built it herself, as she did with all the family computers since she was a kid, a hobby that had turned into a profession for her. When the computer booted up, he opened the internet browser, scrolling until he found the Netflix homepage. Quickly he added the first DVD disk of Vikings, Season One, to the top item in his que. He had gotten an action movie more than a month ago, that he had never watched. He would have to track that down somewhere in here and return it so he could watch this show with her.
The image of Renesmee's stomach, just the bare inch of it that was visible underneath her tank top when she lifted her arms up to stretch, filled his mind. He slammed the laptop shut, on edge, worrying. He should go back to the Cullen's. What if Renesmee was still, in some way, sick? What if she needed him?
Jacob stood, discarding the laptop on the rumpled sheets. He needed to clean. In his dream the last time he was home he had seen her here, in his apartment. They had been alone together. He had ushered her, with his flat palm against her back, into this same space, and she had sat, where he had just been sitting. The memory of it made him catch his breath. Renesmee had been over here plenty of times. Bella and Edward didn't like video games in their cottage, even though Emmett and some of the others played all the time, so Ness had often times come over here to play his Nintendo. She had teased him that it was an ancient relic from the nineteen-nineties, which always made him balk. Explaining to her that when he was a kid that same machine was the coolest one on the Rez, and that the other kids, mostly Quil and Embry, had always been pea green with envy that he had his own set. He remembered, somewhat fleetingly now, that she had often chaffed at being called a kid. Was she wrestling with the same feelings that he was? Jacob was twenty-one now, legal to drink and vote, and he hadn't lived at his father's house since he was eighteen, and yet, he still felt like a kid sometimes.
Someone knocked on the front door, startling him. For the briefest of instances, he had thought it might be Renesmee, but he quickly chased that feeling away. It was replaced quickly by the fear that something had happened. Could one of the Cullen's come here looking for him while he was out driving? He rushed to the door, heart hammering in his chest.
He opened it quickly, and a flat palm smacked into his forehead as he pulled the door open.
Jacob staggered back, grasping his nose, spluttered, "Jesus Chr—"
Just as a very familiar female voice echoed, "Jesus Christ!"
Jacob eyed her from between fingers, tenderly exploring his face for any blood. "Rachel?" He asked, he couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
"Surprise!" She said, exuberantly.
He was shocked. He had to think about the last time he had seen his sister Rachel. It must have been the 4th of July. Now it was almost Halloween. "What are you doing here?"
"I brought coffee," Rachel said, holding out a white paper cup with the Starbucks mermaid on the side.
Jacob crossed his arms, "I don't like hot drinks."
Rachel tilted her head, all-knowing as older sisters were meant to be, and she held up her other hand, showing him a frothy iced drink with ice sloshing against the sides of a plastic cup. "That's why I brought you this."
He took it slowly when she held it out to him. "So," she went on, offhandedly, "Can I come in?"
Jacob looked her over, she was wearing a puffy white coat and her oversize glasses were dirty. He saw that her fingernail polish was chipped, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Begrudgingly, he gestured for her to enter. "What's going on with you?" He loved his sisters, both of them, although he was closer with Rebecca. Rachel had been the bossy twin, smarter by leaps and bounds than he was. Seemingly the only one in their family with their shit together.
"Well, 'hello' to you too, baby bro. I've missed you, too."
He was ashamed. He hadn't meant to sound as callous as he had, the shock of her appearance worried him more than anything. "Sorry," he professed. "I just—you look different."
Rachel examined herself, self-consciously, then she looked up at him, eyeing him with the judgmental glare of an older sibling who just as easily could have been a mother. "Have you ever thought that might be because we haven't seen each other in, what…" she counted on her fingers, "Three months? And I could say the same about you. When's the last time you shaved? You look like you haven't had a shower in days. There's also a… wet dirt smell about you."
Jacob scratched his jaw, feeling the harsh brush of stubble against his fingers. He had been outside waiting to see Renesmee for at least two days.
Rachel eyed him again, seeing his expression change. Sadness swept over her brothers features quickly and unevenly. "Paul said," she began, staggering. "That you've been at the Cullen's house."
"He's not wrong," Jacob offered.
Rachel hesitated, "Were you with that little girl?"
Jacob tensed; he couldn't help it. "Her name is Renesmee."
Rachel nodded, shrugging at the ridiculousness of that name. "Is she still…" she raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk, "Four?"
"In human years, yes. Visually—physically—she's a teenager."
"Human years…" she couldn't keep the contempt from her tone.
Jacob countered, "I'm not human either, neither is Paul. And if you really want to get down to the nitty gritty of it, neither of you. You carry the wolf gene just like the rest of us. It just as easily could have been you who transitioned rather than me. And when you have kids," he shrugged, his body language indicating that the truth was obvious. "They'll have a greater chance of becoming wolves to."
Rachel stared him down. There had always been a darkness in her eyes. "I don't want children. In fact, I can promise you that I'm never going to have them."
Jacob wasn't surprised. Even though Rachel had, in part, raised him, she had never been motherly. "What does Paul think about that?" He didn't think Paul was exactly fatherly, either, but he had always wanted everything that Sam had, and since Sam was about to be a father, no doubt Paul would follow suite.
Rachel scrunched her face in disgust. "He doesn't exactly have a lot to say about it. It's not like he'd be the one giving birth, or raising the thing."
Thing. The word had teeth. "Rach, I'm sorry."
Their mother was all around them. The unspoken, fraying edge, of all the conversations they had together. Rebecca and Rachel had been ten when their mother died, Jake had only been six. His memories of his actual mother had always been hazy. When he thought of the word mother, it was Rebecca's, but also Rachel's face that came to mind.
Rachel looked taken aback. "I didn't mean that, I love you. I can't change anything that happened when we were younger, I just don't want to have a child. Paul knows that. He supports me."
Rachel, Jake thought, was so much older than Paul, nearly five years older, and asking Paul what he would want in a year could change every day.
"Have you heard from Beck?" She asked, referring to their sister by her endearing nickname.
Jacob smiled, relishing the change of topic. "Of course, she texts me every day. We try and talk every couple of days. She likes sending me memes of surfers, surfing as metaphor for life."
Rachel cackled, a deeply strange and amusing personality quirk. The sound brought Jacob back to his childhood and he laughed as well. "Sounds like her."
"What's going on with you two?"
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Twin things," she offered.
Jacob didn't buy that excuse. Although twins, Rachel and Rebecca could not be more different. "Like what?" He wanted her to elaborate.
"Female things," she countered. Nothing made Jacob more uncomfortable than thinking of his sisters as women, dealing with female things. It was an abyss of uncertainty that Jacob did not want to go in to.
Jacob held out his hands, adding delicately, "Whatever you say." He still held the iced coffee in his hand and after giving the ice a generous shake he gulped half of the cup in one generous swallow.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable herself, Rachel also took a long sip.
"If you too are having a problem," Jacob hedged, "You should talk it out. You always made me talk it out when Dad and I had a problem." He realized he had misspoken as soon as he said it.
"Speaking of dad," she began, testily. Finding an opening. He wondered if that had been her plan all along.
"No," Jacob insisted. "I don't want to hear about it from you, he made his opinion of Renesmee very clear."
Rachel sighed. "It's been months since you two talked."
"I'm not going to ignore what he said," Jacob argued.
She closed her eyes, invoking patience. "Can you blame him?"
Jacob's voice deepened, "For what he said?"
"He wants you to be safe. We—I—want you to be safe. I understand the imprint bond. You know I do. But you can't ignore that she's a vampire."
"Half vampire," he asserted.
"It doesn't matter if she's three quarters or one eighth, she's still a vampire. Her kind are the mortal enemies of our kind. You are a wolf because her kind exists." She put her hand to her forehead, shaking her head. "You remember dad's stories, the cold ones, the third wife. You know what they're capable of."
"Are you listening to yourself?" He was disgusted. "You don't know her. You're only seeing her family for her genetic makeup. What if she was half African or half Asian, you're discriminating on her because of that. I know you, Rach, you'd never do that under any other circumstances."
"This isn't about race, Jake. It's about species. Fuck," she explained, exasperated. "I can't even believe I'm having to have this conversation. You and she are different species. It's the same as a fish falling in love with an eagle. It's futile. It's not natural, it's wouldn't work."
Jacob kept his calm, "You don't know Renesmee. She's no fish."
"What makes you think I was thinking she was the fish in this analogy. You dummy, you are the fish. She'll take you away from everything you've ever known. Your entire family. She'll destroy you. And maybe you're right, maybe I don't know her, but I do know what a vampire can do."
"Wolves are just as dangerous," Jacob countered. "Look at Sam and Emily."
Rachel raised her finger, pointing it at him, "That's different, and you know it."
"Paul is more volatile than Sam, more quote un quote wolf then the rest of us and you're still with him."
Rachel inhaled, breathing in a heavy sigh. "I just want what's best for you. Dad just wants what's best for you. Beck want's what's best for you. We all want what's best for you. If I had the choice, I wouldn't wish imprinting on anyone. If I could take it away from you, I would."
Jacob was shocked. He would die without Renesmee. He felt like he had died earlier when Alec had taken his feelings for her away. "Why would you say that?"
Rachel tilted her head, trying to articulate. "If I had could go back, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have come back here that weekend. I would have avoided Paul at all costs. I would have never seen him again, and therefore he never would have imprinted on me."
"But you love him, don't you?"
"Yes, I love him deeply. I'm entangled with him. I've been living with him for years, and by living here, being with him, I've lost sight of everything that I've ever wanted."
Jacob felt his skin crawl, slightly. "Don't ever tell him that, Rach."
She looked away, avoiding his eyes. "He can't live without me."
"The imprint," he tried to explain. "The bond. It's not just that he can't live without you, it's so much more, so much deeper."
Rachel bit her lip. "If I ever leave, he'll find me."
A horrible thought occurred to Jacob. "Has he ever hurt you?"
She scoffed. "Jesus, Jake. I'm not a battered wife."
He stood up taller. "No, I mean it," he could feel the plastic of the coffee cup quiver underneath his grip. "Has he hurt you?"
She approached him, bridging the gap in a few quick strides. She moved too quickly to appease him, putting her hand on his chest to center him. Something he had seen Emily do to Sam when he was upset. He stilled under his touch; a child scolded by a mother's insistent hand.
"I can take care of myself," she insisted. "Besides," she added with a smirk, "He's more afraid of me."
Jacob laughed, begrudgingly. "Like we all are."
Rachel stepped back, giving him more space. She lifted her cup of coffee and took a long sip, keeping her eyes on him. "Seriously, though. You need to talk to dad."
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Not interested," he declared flatly.
"He's worried about you," Rachel argued.
He shrugged. "No need. He made damn sure that we could all take care of ourselves. Just look at you and Beck, you both raised me more than he did."
Rachel shook her head. "That's not true."
"Oh, yeah," Jacob countered. "Why did you or Beck always do the grocery shopping growing up? Why was Beck the one signing my report card, or you the one helping me with my homework? He cares more about the tribe, and the legends than he does about me."
"He loves you," she added, pitifully.
"I made my choice. My future is with Renesmee. Whatever comes of that, I don't know right now, but this is the life that I've chosen."
"Where does that leave us then?"
"Us?" he questioned.
"Our family."
"You'll always be my sister." He shook his anger off. "Beck will always be my sister. He will always be my father."
"You will always be Quileute," Rachel mocked.
"Yes," he added matter-of-factly. "But the tribe isn't my home anymore."
Rachel nodded, defeated. "She is."
"My home?" Jacob was certain. "She is."
"Then nothing has changed since last summer…?"
He thought back to the summer, when the sun was hot against his shoulders. Coldly, he had gone back to this child home. Beck and her husband Solomon were visiting from Hawaii, and he hadn't seen Rachel or his father in months. The house seemed smaller then, and Billy, in his wheelchair had seemed frailer. Jacob had wandered the hallways at the tiny house, stared into the paintings that his mother had once painted, which still hung, like a memorial to her, on the walls. One thing about Rez folk that the rest of the world hadn't caught onto yet, was how passionate they were about the 4th of July. There had been boxes of fireworks on the lawn and in turn he and his sisters had lit them off. Rebecca, his wild oldest sister, in her flowery print dress had run across the grass barefoot dancing with sparklers in her hands, while Rachel, the sternest of the Black siblings had stood off to the sidelines, warning both Jake and Rebecca to be careful. Jacob, for his part, had been setting fireworks off for hours, from noon while into the dark smokey night. As happy as he was to see his sisters, he had been longing for Renesmee, and had offhandedly remarked that he would bring her with him the next year.
The argument had started when Billy had declared in a monotone bark that, "Renesmee Cullen would not welcome on the reservation." Billy had continued, saying, with a strange calmness that made Jacob's blood boil, that, "Renesmee was an unnatural thing. Separate from what the rest of the Cullen's were, and just as dangerous."
Paul had backed Billy up, the veins in his neck pulsing from disgust. Rachel in turn had agreed with Paul.
Rebecca and Solomon were the only ones to side with Jacob. They were both unaware of what Renesmee was and for that matter what the rest of the Cullen's were. All they knew was that Renesmee was a local girl in Forks who was a bit younger than Jacob, and none native. Jacob had spoken of her to them, and it was easy to see that Jacob had feelings for her. Beck thought it was a Romeo and Juliet scenario and she was happy to see her brother so in love.
In the end, Jacob had left, and even know, he hadn't been back to that house.
"Nothing has changed. This will never change."
"So, you're just never going to come home again? Loose your family?"
"Renesmee is my family."
"You keep saying that," Rachel went on. "But I don't think you know what it means. It sounds like obsession to me."
Jacob shrugged. "You're intitled to your opinion."
Rachel took another long sip of her coffee, tilting the cup all the way up, draining the dregs. Afterward, she shook her wrist, jangling the cup, saving time. "I guess that's it then," she finally said. She approached him, putting her empty cup onto the table top, and then embraced him tightly. He felt an ache in his bones when she pulled away.
"Will you text me?" He said, sheepishly.
She was pulling her purse up over her shoulder, and had already turned her back on him, heading away from him toward the front door. Rachel turned to face him; she couldn't hide the tiny grin that was tilting up across her mouth. "Will you text me, back?"
He smirked. "Probably not."
"I love you, baby bro," she warned as she opened the front door, seeing herself out.
The door had already closed with her on the other side when he started to say it back. Her absence left the apartment quiet and ghoulish. Her empty coffee cup remained on the edge of his kitchen table. A strange replacement for the familial bond of his sibling.
Jacob pulled out his phone, examining the screen. There were no messages or missed calls. He fingered into his contacts and dialed Bella to check on Renesmee.