I don't own Twilight, or any other authors cited here, the rest is mine.
24.
Confetti and I sit on the front porch and watch as thousands of raindrops thunder down on the emerald grass. I think of Carlisle telling me that Edward's eyes were that color once and I shut my eyes, trying to picture him years ago walking down the sidewalk, arm in arm with his mother. His eyes would reflect pieces of jade when she looked up at him and smiled.
It would be like staring into a rainforest.
The sound hitting the roof in the background along with that image brings a smile to my face. "I suppose Thompson will remain a cold case file or something?" I ask, glancing over at Confetti as he pulls out his tobacco pipe and lights it.
"I suppose. . .he and that other fucker got off lucky if you ask me."
I chuckle, an angry Alice floating in the forefront of my mind. "I don't know. . ."
"Well, John got what was coming to him I guess. You should have heard about all the parts they found in the woods. No fingerprints, nothin'." He smokes a bit and then says, "Thompson, well. . .wherever he is, I imagine he's become someone's bitch."
"How do you know?" I laugh.
He shrugs, "I have a feeling God wouldn't be too kind to his type."
"You honestly believe there's an afterlife?"
"Uh...yeah, who else is supposed to make sure that asshole rots?"
I stare at him for a minute and then reply. "Fair enough."
"Beside's haven't you read The Divine Comedy?"
"Yeah, so?"
"There is a light above, which visible
Makes the Creator unto every creature,
Who only in beholding him has peace,
And it expands itself in circular form
To such extent, that its circumference
Would be too large a girdle for the sun."
"Dante."
"Listen carefully: God doesn't damn anybody. People damn themselves."
"So what happens to the rest of them now?"
"Many of them will get time, just depends on how much. They've already been going through the documents - I got promoted over this shit and everything."
Slapping his back, I chuckle, "Congratulations." And then I stand up and leap off the porch down into the rain, twirling in the liquid stardust. I look back to him and say, "Well, there are a couple things I did learn from all this."
"Oh yeah, what would that be?" He smirks back.
"Helen Keller - although the world is full of suffering, it's also full of overcoming it."
Confetti bows in his seat, "Well done Grasshopper. "
"So now you're Mr. Miagi?"
"How do you think I got so smart?" He holds up his hands, rotating them. "Wax on, wax off!"
I shake my head and laugh silently at him.
"What would the other lesson be?"
"Forgiveness - you have to forgive yourself, Mel."
"Okay, then it appears you have some final forgiving to do too."
Esme opens the door and calls for us to come inside and I look back at Confetti. He arches his eyebrow, leaning forward and nodding to Edward in one of the side windows. My breath catches in my throat when Edward's gaze turns and falls on me. Our eyes lock.
"I. . .don't know."
"Do you love him?"
Edward's stare remains focused on mine. "More than anything," I whisper, knowing he can hear every last word.
"That's what it comes down to then, isn't it? Love or bitterness, and the latter is a great load to carry around."
"It's not that simple," I whisper.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
"JRR Tolkien." I continue looking at Edward, who seems to be with me at an impasse, pleading quietly.
Voices fill my head. "I had to leave for you!"
"You really don't get it, do you? Edward hears just as many voices as you do."
"If I could dream at all, it would be about you."
"Tonight is exactly the kind of thing he fears most, you being put in danger because of what we are. . ."
"Everything, you're everything. . ."
Edward's POV
I can't help but swear under my breath when she looks at me with those deep mahogany eyes. I've been through it a thousand times before, but no one has ever quite put it at the surface like that. And, it's true. It was always true.
God never damned me. He merely forced me across a fiery lake where she was waiting to take my hand on the other side. I had damned myself, which in turn had burned her at the stake.
Newton's Third Law of Motion: to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Does it work the same with love? Does it mean once she hit the ground, she would stay laying there forever? Has the wind changed, making the leaf fly away from its spot on the ground to someone else's tree?
Newton's First Law of Motion: every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.
Or. . .
Is it possible that the same force could have a parallel ripple effect in its fabric? Could the force be so great that when she hit rock bottom, our love could ricochet back up in the air?
Newton's Second Law of Motion: a body experiencing a force F experiences an acceleration A related to F by F=ma, where m is the mass of the body. Alternatively, force is proportional to the time derivative of momentum.
Our love has always been great, beyond any kind of mass I can fathom. Does that mean she can allow me in this time? Does it mean I can catch her and all the mass, no matter what speed it falls?
I don't know.
Staring at her as she laughs and closes her eyes in front of the lit up cake, I close mine also, making a wish. Today is Bella's birthday but I don't have any wishes of my own left. It's selfish, but I'm hoping soul-mates can share.
I wish for Bella . . .
Bella's POV
"Make a wish, Bella!" Alice cheers beside me.
I shut my eyes, knowing that I don't have to spend one second thinking about it. I wish for Edward. . .
After all, Dorothy found her way home again, Sleeping Beauty got woken by the Prince, and they all lived happily ever after, right? And when I lean down, blowing out the fire, the heat and smoke rises up in waves as I glance across the table at Edward. I don't need a prince, just a vampire.
The stare breaks when Alice tugs on my arm. "Presents!"
"This sounds familiar," I mumble.
Jasper smiles sheepishly. "We used good old envelopes this time, and here," he hands me a letter-opener, "Happy Birthday - from me personally."
We both burst into laughter as Charlie and Confetti look on in utter confusion. "What are they-"
"You know, Mel, at this point I don't even bother to ask," Charlie cuts him off with an eye roll.
Alice is tapping her foot impatiently beside me, "You can open it now," she huffs. Cutting the paper down the crease, I struggle to get the thin pieces of paper out. One flitters down to my feet and I bend, picking it up and examining it.
"Uh. . .a plane ticket to. . .well, two different places."
Alice nods. ""Yeah see - Mississippi and Florida."
"Is this more doctor stuff?" I ask her, and then turn to Carlisle and Charlie. Carlisle smiles warmly and Charlie clears his throat.
"No actually, the Cullens were hoping that you would go with them down there," Charlie explains.
"As a vacation?"
Esme nods, "Alice found her birth family and we were hoping you might consider going with us to see them. Plus, Confetti said something about you guys discussing Dali in your letters so we figured why not see his museum in Florida while we're near there? We could see the ocean at night and -"
Hugging her, I pull back and reply, "I would love to."
Confetti stands at the door, hugging me silently. When he pulls back, I wipe the tears from my face and grin.
"You take care." He smells of pickles mixed with chocolate cake.
"You ate that jar of garlic pickles in the fridge, didn't you?"
"It went good with the flour and butter!" He defends.
"That's disgusting," I laugh, punching his shoulder.
"Yeah well, your family creeps me out."
I snort - even Confetti gets a chill from the Cullens. "How do I tell him?" I ask, my eyes glistening with tears.
He shrugs, "That's something you have to figure out yourself. Besides," he leans in a little, "he feels the same way. It would take an idiot to not see how much he loves you." He pats my back and starts to leave, walking down the stairs and across the yard to the front of the house. It's hard, saying goodbye to someone I had leaned on for so long. He turns, waving at me as he pulls out his pipe and lights it,
"It's elementary!" He shouts one last time, referencing another famous author before turning the corner and disappearing into the darkness.
"Sir Arthur Conon Doyle!" I yell back in the crisp night air.
