A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts on the last chapter!
So glad you guys enjoyed the return of these three.
Words happened again, lol—lots of them (long chapter up ahead). So, here you go. Hope you enjoy. The next chapter is half complete, so hopefully, I'll find the words to finish that one too! :)
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me.
Chapter 15 – Mythical Creatures
Bella – Two years before her first real date with Edward
San Francisco - Early Spring:
Assistant District Attorney Jasper Whitlock's office space was on the top floor of the Rhode Island North building South of Market – or SoMa, as the downtown San Francisco neighborhood was known. In the distance, the office had a view of the sparkling bay perched between the nebulous fog and the imposing concrete remains of Alcatraz. Golden Gate's gleaming scarlet steel peeked through the layers of the morning mist, resembling prison bars more than a bridge's suspensions – an apropos likeness from here if one stopped to consider. All the while, San Francisco's hilly terrain steamrolled through the background like a series of Pacific waves.
It was an impressive space, for a leased district attorney's office. It bordered on intimidating with its dark wood paneling, sharp edges and angles, and minimalist décor. Here, superfluousness was nonexistent. Perhaps it was the one-time English major in me, but as I sat at the square, walnut-wood table, I nursed a suspicion that the spartan, cool aesthetic was all a deliberate metaphor, a subliminal message to those who walked through the doors, seeking Jasper Whitlock's counsel:
This prosecutor did not fuck around.
Whether or not the office was purposely intimidating, the view was made gorgeous by the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around an entire corner of the office. Once, such a view would've filled me with a thrill, with reverence for its undeniable beauty. After all, the city by the bay was meant to be enjoyed, whether in the dead of night as the Bay Bridge lights twinkled and melded with the stars above, and my friends and I stumbled out of a club or a bar, ridiculously carefree, happy, and drunk. Or in the foggy mornings, when everything was blanketed in warm gauze as I rushed off to class. Or on days like today, when the ever-present mist suddenly retreated and gave way to a glorious sun resting like a gilded crown. Six months ago, this type of clear day would've indeed left me breathless and lightheaded with wonder.
Now, it just left me lightheaded and breathless.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly turned away from the view.
"You okay, Bells?"
The hint of concern in my godfather's tone made me instantly regret not being more circumspect. Carefully reopening my eyes, I kept them trained on the table until I could refocus, offering Charlie a languid nod and hoping the action threw him off.
"I'm fine, Godpop. It's just…the glare from the sun. It's fine, though. The Ray Ban's help. They're fashionable and functional," I smiled.
My quip merely earned me an unconvinced grunt. "Mm. Yeah, that sun just popped out of nowhere now, didn't it? You won't have to worry much about that in Forks."
"Rainiest town in the northwest," I grinned. "Yeah, I remember, Godpop."
"Mm. You sure you're okay, Bells?"
"Yep. I'm sure," I assured him, keeping my tone light. Yet, for all my attempts, exponential worry seeped into his voice.
"You don't look good."
I sighed. "Way to stomp on my delicate vanity. Not even 'cause I'm wearing Ray Bans? That's when you know you look like shit."
"Now, that's not what I said."
Before we could further dissolve into a ridiculous sort of banter, Sue, who sat on the other side of me, squeezed my hand and jumped in.
"She said she's fine, Charlie. Stop nagging."
"I'm not nagging. I'm just double-checking," Charlie insisted, sounding ruffle-feathered. "Nothing wrong with double-checking, is there?"
"Except when you're triple-checking. Then, it's called nagging." I offered him a chuckle because I knew that his nagging, while occasionally stifling, came from a good place.
Lately, I'd discovered that it was sometimes easier to love the family you chose than the family that tied you by blood. My godfather and Sue had been with me for months, making the trip back and forth from Forks long after the novelty of my situation wore off for my parents. Suddenly, Renee Higginbotham and Phil Dwyer's separate yet busy lives called, and jobs that had previously held no charm could no longer be put off.
Meanwhile, Sue and my godfather remained throughout, even though they had my young god-sister, Leah, to take care of. Fortunately, Sue's parents were back in Forks to help with her.
"Now, Bells-"
The office door opened – thankfully, cutting Charlie off – and the tall, dark, and handsome form of Jasper Whitlock, Esquire, strode in. I admired his confident strut, one that, in tandem with his three-piece suit, meshed perfectly with the well-crafted, sharp, and intimidating image he meant to convey.
"Good morning, everyone," he said as he forewent his desk and pulled up the chair opposite me. He then looked at me and smiled. And with that smile, Counselor Jasper Whitlock dropped his intimidation tactics.
Also, lately, I had a vague notion that in another life, or should I say, in my life six months earlier, I could've been in severe danger of inappropriately finding myself hot for my lawyer. In this life, or now, I knew that regardless of what…abilities I eventually recovered, I'd lost not only any chance or any right to fall in love but any genuine desire to do so.
"Bella, how are you today?"
I opened my mouth.
"She just had a bout of vertigo. There's too much glare in here with those windows."
"Jesus, Godpop," I sighed, "keep treading on my ego."
"Charlie," Sue chided, "Bella is well capable of speaking for herself."
"Oh." Jasper frowned and quickly rounded the table, making his way to his desk. There, he pressed a button on the blacktop. In an instant, the windows surrounding us took on a black shade as if, like me, the windows now wore sunglasses.
Jasper retook his seat at the table. "I'm sorry, Bella. I hadn't expected the fog to lift today. But listen to me tagging a defense onto that apology," he said with a rueful smile, "when tagging a defense onto an apology negates the apology."
"Does it?" I smiled. "I never heard that."
"It was thoughtless of me, plain and simple. I have no defense."
"Stop," I chuckled. "Those windows were made for the view and to allow in plenty of light. So tag on all the defenses, and stop apologizing." I shot Charlie a glare as I spoke, one he duly ignored, staring at his steepled hands. However, his cheeks were appropriately ruddy.
"Well, how have you been feeling," Jasper inquired, "if you don't mind my asking?"
"Not at all. The physical symptoms have subsided a bit. I mean, I've still got headaches and…some lack of coordination. Reading is still difficult with the dizziness. But my speech is back to normal, so." I gave him a thumbs up.
"I can tell," he grinned broadly. "I'm glad to hear it, literally. You're quite verbose this morning."
Again, I chuckled. Meanwhile, Sue leaned in and murmured in my ear. "Yes, quite chatty, aren't we?"
I nudged her leg under the table and heard her stifle her chuckle.
"As for the sensory issues," I continued, "too much light still bothers me, as you can see." I pointed at the sunglasses I wore. "The plus side is I keep being gifted all these cool shades by everyone, which I get to wear regardless of the weather. This pair arrived anonymously just this morning."
"I'm glad to hear you're feeling better," Jasper said, his voice low and sincere. "You look great. And those are great Ray Bans, by the way," he now grinned impishly.
When I looked over at Sue, she wore a quirked brow, her gaze flitting from me to Jasper, who cleared his throat and turned his attention to Charlie and Sue.
"Charlie, Sue, it's great to see you both this morning."
"It's good to see you too, Jasper," Sue said.
"I wish I could say the same," my godfather muttered.
"Charlie," Sue chided again.
"Godpop," I hissed.
"No, it's fine," Jasper offered magnanimously. "I get that a lot. Our association wasn't exactly formed under the best of circumstances. Was it, Chief Swan?"
"No, son. It wasn't. And I meant no offense to you."
"None was taken. Many of my clients wish they'd never had to meet me, though I would hope that in the end, and all things considered, they're glad they did." Jasper's gaze returned to me. "I am glad we were able to work together."
"As am I. I know you put your all into this case, and I'm grateful for all you did to represent me and..." I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, "and Jake."
Jasper nodded solemnly. For a long moment, the four of us fell silent.
"I'm sorry, but I can't sit here and pretend I'm happy," Charlie abruptly said.
Again, I turned to him slowly. "Godpop, do you think that's what I'm doing? Feigning happiness of all things? Because if it makes you feel better, please know that I haven't felt happy in months."
"Bells, sweetheart, that's not what I meant."
"Charlie," Sue cut in, "I don't think any of us are happy here. And while I think that's perfectly normal at the moment, I think we can all agree that Jasper fought hard for Bella, and we can express our gratitude."
"Chief Swan," Jasper said, "as I'm sure you as a police chief know all too well, sometimes there's an infuriating disconnect between what the law will allow and what represents actual justice."
Charlie glared at his steepled hands. "And then all that garbage they spewed about Bella during the trial, making it sound like she'd provoked him. A crime of passion," he sneered, "as if that can be called passion. As if she'd been carrying on with-"
"Godpop, that was Paul's defense. You can't take that out on Jasper."
"I think…" Sue said in a measured tone, ever the voice of reason, "what bothers Charlie and me the most is that after everything he did, that…animal," she gritted through her teeth, "can conceivably be paroled in fifteen years. Naturally, Charlie worries about what that means for his goddaughter's…for our goddaughter's future, and her safety if and when that should happen."
"I…can't even think that far ahead," I said.
"You're young, Bells. Fifteen years sounds like a lifetime. But fifteen years…that's not as far off as it sounds. That he'd be eligible for parole," Charlie spat, then banged a frustrated hand on the table, "in fifteen fucking years. God damn justice system. Pardon my French."
"Chief, as you know, being eligible for parole now doesn't automatically equate his obtaining parole then. A whole lot can happen between now and then. It depends on a few pieces – his behavior and the Victim's Statement you prepared, Bella, being just two of those pieces. Then there's the Victim's Statement from Jake's family."
"As I said, his eventual or possible release isn't even a possibility I can focus on at the moment."
"I understand," Jasper nodded. He then paused. "However, there is one more thing I wanted to meet with you about this morning before you left for Forks. Bella…I know you're ready to put all this behind you…"
My heart raced. Because I thought I knew where he was headed. And I wasn't ready. I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready.
"…but with the criminal case done, I'd like you to consider hiring a lawyer to file that civil suit we discussed."
"No."
In all honesty, I felt relieved. Blindsided but relieved. Angry but relieved.
"Hear me out," he said calmly, lifting a palm between us. "It wouldn't be as lengthy or complicated a process as was the criminal case. Paul has been found guilty of enough crimes where a civil case jury would easily find that a preponderance of the evidence-"
"No."
Jasper sighed and leaned in close to the table. "Bella, filing a civil suit could help achieve a denial of parole in the future. Jake's family will be filing, but your suit would be further corroboration to how this event has massively…and permanently altered not one but two lives. This didn't end for you on that day. This will be an ongoing struggle-"
"Will it bring back Jake?"
He pulled back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Pardon me?"
"Will filing a civil suit bring back Jake?"
"Of course not, Bella," Jasper exhaled. "But you have to think of yourself too. You're going to have medical bills-"
"One of the pros of all this is that I'm now covered under my father's health insurance until age twenty-six, so. I'll worry about medical bills in four years." I waved it off carelessly.
"You don't have four years to reconsider. The statute of limitations on a civil suit runs out three years from the event."
I shrugged. "Then, that gives me two and a half years to decide."
"Bella, do you think this is what Jake would've wanted?"
"Don't go there, Counselor," I spat furiously now. "Regardless of how intelligent and talented and great you are at what you do, you don't know. You will never know. There's no way of ever knowing on what side of 'file the lawsuit or not' Jake would've fallen. There's no way of knowing his final grade in that Shakespearean Philosophy elective he took. There's no way of knowing if he would've ever gotten over his aversion to avocados with little specks of brown on them. I swear, even they had the slightest hint of brown…" I held two pinched fingers up between us. "There's no way of knowing what he would've thought of the latest movie iteration to that superhero he loved. There's no way of knowing what he would've worn to graduation." I paused, out of breath. When I looked up at Jasper and resumed, it was with much less fire in my voice. "So what exactly will that civil suit get me?"
"Money," Jasper replied succinctly. "Money and an extra chance to keep that fucking animal behind bars."
I held his gaze until the dizziness overtook me, and I was forced to look away.
"I can't walk in a straight line or hold a person's gaze for too long without my eyes crossing. Or write my own Victim's Statement. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do those things again. But I'm alive."
Sue squeezed my hand while I heard my godfather expel a series of short breaths at my other side.
"And do you know why I'm alive?" I asked.
Jasper swallowed. "Yes. I do."
I reiterated it anyway.
"Because when Paul delivered the first blow to me, Jake put himself between us. Only, he didn't fight a man. He fought a monster who was too drugged up to feel the pain he should've felt, to feel fatigued when a normal person would've. To feel remorse at the sight before him the way a normal person would've. So that by the time Paul came for me again, he only got in one more blow before the cops stormed in. So…I'm alive," I smiled, lifting my Ray Bans over my eyes to wipe off a tear. "Now, I'm supposed to be greedy too?"
"It's not greed, Bella."
"Jasper is right, Bella. It's not greed," Sue said.
"Thank you, Jasper, for everything from the bottom of my heart. But I'm not filing any more suits. Not now."
When I drew in a deep breath and shakily got to my feet, Charlie swiftly stood and took my arm. Then Sue got to her feet, and Jasper stood too, rebuttoning his sharp suit jacket. We shook hands, his warm grip yet another contrast to his well-crafted image.
"Good luck in Forks, Bella. I hope it turns out…wonderfully for you."
"So do I. Thanks, Jasper."
"I'll keep in touch."
"Sure."
At the time, I thought to myself that maybe, in another life, Jasper and I might've met at a bar, a park, or any of the other myriad of ways people met other than as client and criminal prosecutor. Maybe, had that sort of meet-cute been the case, we would've been perfect for one another.
Maybe not. Who knew? Now, like that mythical creation I'd invented in my mind, what could've been was just one of many unknowns.
At the time, all I knew was that I was alive. And while I would live my life to its fullest to honor the second chance gifted to me, along with my collection of sunglasses, asking for love with a mythical creature on top of it all?
Well, that was just plain greedy.
OOOOO
Edward – Two years before his first real date with Bella
New York - Late Spring:
Heart pounding, I turned the key, unlocked the door, and rushed into the apartment. I only vaguely noted that six months ago, Kate would've chewed off my ear for failing to stop at the entryway and neatly remove my shoes.
But Kate wasn't here anymore.
Still, except for that night, I'd kept to the routine. Always removed my shoes by the door. Lined them up on the mat she'd set out for that specific purpose – one of those mats with the prickly bottoms that supposedly wiped the dirt off your soles or something. I don't know. That night, I had more significant concerns than dirty soles.
A last-minute, late Thursday afternoon meeting had been scheduled at work, one which I couldn't bow out of. As lead attorney in an acquisition of a small company that fit neatly under our umbrella, my presence was crucial. Unfortunately, the purchase had run into a couple of legal stumbling blocks that needed a solution before they jeopardized the whole deal.
Typically, a late scheduled meeting wouldn't have caused too much mayhem. After all, I was lucky – if one could call losing your wife when your son was six months old yet having family around to help you 'luck.' I suppose one could. Life had cheated Tristan out of a mother, but he'd been graced with a maternal grandmother and two paternal grandparents who thought he hung the moon, and the sun rose and set on him, and all those metaphorical manners of expressing adoration. They were also more than willing to spend a few hours with him at the drop of a dime. What's more, Tristan had not one but two aunts, one of which, despite her young age, was always up for quality time with her nephew. The other aunt also loved him, though she preferred to keep some distance from both him and his usually sticky, milk-stained hands.
However, that afternoon, my mother-in-law, Chelsea, was down for the count with the flu. My parents had just left town the night before, on their first vacation since my wife's passing. When I called my sister, Alice, she was quick to volunteer her babysitting services.
'I mean, I've got a final tomorrow morning in Environmental Science that I haven't studied for, but whatever.'
'That doesn't sound like a 'whatever' matter, Alice. Isn't Environmental Science the class you've struggled with all semester?'
'Who knew there'd be so much math in Environmental Science? Anyway, it is what it is.'
"Al, do you have some sort of love affair with summer school? Is it a fetish of yours or something?'
'Eff you, Edward,' she chuckled. 'Look, your pain-in-the-ass mother-in-law is sick, and our parents are out of town. So you either take me up on my offer and accept that I'll probably end up in summer school anyway, or you're screwed.'
'Al, I'm not going to be the one to blame if you fail yet another class. Go study, please – hard.'
'But then, what are you going to do about Tristan?'
'Tristan does have another aunt, you know.'
'No! Don't call her!'
'Why not?' I laughed. 'What do you have against Kate's sister?'
'For one thing, the woman can't pass a mirror whose reflection she doesn't fall in love with.'
'She's a makeup artist," I chuckled.
'Whatever. For another, I don't want Tristan loving her more than he loves me! He's at a very impressionable age. Besides, Tanya doesn't strike me as the babysitting type. Have you seen the way she holds Tristan - for fifteen seconds at a time and at arm's length, literally? It's as if she's scared he'll bite her head off!'
I snorted. 'Yeah, I mentioned that to Kate once. She said it was because her sister was worried Tristan would spit up on her.'
'Ahh. So it's his spit, not his two teeth she's worried about. Also, this is who you want to babysit your son.'
'Beggars can't be choosers, Al. Besides, Tanya's been trying more with Tristan since Kate passed.'
'If by trying more you mean that she holds him for thirty seconds now instead of fifteen seconds, then yeah, she's doubled her efforts. I especially love how she tends to pass him off quick-fast when he's peed or pooped himself. God forbid the woman change a diaper.'
'Not everyone enjoys kids, Al, and that's fine.'
'Yeah, true, but again, this is who you'll call to watch your son?'
'And again, I'm desperate here. As long as she keeps him alive for a few hours, that's all I'll ask.'
'Oh-kay,' Alice sing-songed. 'But I'll keep my phone on if things don't work out or you come to your senses.'
'Turn your phone off and study for that test.'
Not holding much hope for a positive reply while simultaneously wondering what impression it would make if I carted Tristan's playpen into that meeting, I'd gone ahead and called Tristan's other aunt. As a single person living in New York City, she tended to keep a busy social calendar. Even at family functions, Tanya tended to rush in and out like a whirlwind, always in the middle of plans.
I'd been surprised and grateful to catch Tanya in between such plans. She readily agreed to come and spend a few hours watching her one-year-old nephew.
'I don't know how long the meeting will run – it might be a few hours – but I'll be back as soon as it ends.'
I knotted my tie in the oval mirror that hung in the living room, a mirror Kate had found at an estate sale and instantly fallen in love with. Meanwhile, watching my reflection – or more likely, her reflection if my sister was correct – Tanya listened to my hasty lesson in the care of a one-year-old.
'He's down for his nap now,' I continued. 'When he wakes up, give him one of the baby meals I've left ready in the fridge. Just heat it for a minute or so first.'
'Got it. The baby meal in the fridge. Wait, how long do I heat it for?'
I paused in my tying and met her gaze through the mirror. 'A minute. And taste it first to make sure it's not too hot.'
'Oh, okay. Good idea! Five minutes, right?'
'One. minute.' I dropped both ends of the tie and strode to the coffee table, picking up a notepad and pen. 'Here, I'll write it down. And his room is fully stocked with diapers and wipes.'
She was silent. When I looked up, I caught her grimace before she could wipe it off and sigh in resignation.
'Diapers. Okay.'
'There's plenty of wipes, in case you get any on your-'
She lifted a palm. 'Oh god, Ed, don't even go there. Now, what do I do if he gets fussy?'
'You…play with him?'
Her eyes narrowed.
'His toys are in his playpen.'
'Oh, okay, good. Playpen. Got it.'
'If you have any questions, Tan, any at all, give me a call or shoot me a text.'
'Food, diapers, toys. Got it. We'll be fine, Ed. Hey, want me to finish that tie up for you?'
'I'll finish it up in the cab. All right, gotta go. Hey, thanks!' I called out, praying that I'd find my son in one piece when I returned.
Now, I sprinted into the living room and found Tristan standing in his playpen, holding onto the cushioned railing, his toys scattered around him. His face was a canvas representing every food he'd consumed over the past few hours. When he spotted me, his eyes lit up, and he gasped.
"Dada!"
If there was anything in the universe more amazing…fulfilling…and humbling than the joy on my son's face and concurrently expressed in that one word whenever he caught sight of me, I had yet to discover it.
Also, his ass sagged with the weight of his diaper.
But he was alive.
"Hey, buddy," I grinned, exhaling in relief as I made my way over.
"Dada!" He shrieked and bounced eagerly on his chunky legs, returning my grin with a two-toothed one of his own. "Dada, Dada, Dada!"
He kept going even as I picked him up and covered his copper crown with kisses. I inhaled his scent, which mixed with the odor emanating from his diaper. But I didn't care.
"Hey, Edward. How did the meeting go?"
Tanya sat on the couch, with her feet propped on the coffee table and the TV on.
"It went well," I smiled. "How did things go here?'
"Just fine." She stood and walked over to us. "I fed him just as you said, warmed up his food for five minutes."
"Five-!"
"I'm joking," she laughed. "For one minute. Then I changed his diaper and set him down to play with his toys. He's good a kid." She reached over and ruffled his hair. "Didn't fuss for me to pick him up at all. Thank God he doesn't walk yet," she stressed.
"Yeah. Thank God, huh?" I smirked, plucking a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table and wiping my son's face.
"Oh! I meant to clean his face, but I forgot." Then, she drew in closer, sniffing the air around Tristan before jumping back. "Oof!" she grimaced, waving a hand wildly in front of her nose. "I swear I changed him a few hours ago!"
"Yeah. Diapers need to be changed often."
"And here I thought I'd been smelling his leftovers on his high chair. I was like, 'What does this poor kid get fed?'"
A glance toward Tristan's high chair confirmed another mess.
"That's the leftovers in his diapers you smelled," I murmured, brushing my lips against my son's soft cheek.
Tanya cringed, then chuckled. "How can you kiss him when he smells like that?"
"Because he's my son, and I love him," I grinned, "no matter how funky he smells or looks."
She offered me a rueful smile. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," I said genuinely. "You did me a favor, and Tristan is alive and uninjured. It's all good. Now, I'm going to grab him a bottle, take him in for a bath, and then bed. Listen, seriously, thanks, Tan. Okay?"
"Okay. I guess I'll uhm…I'll clean up out here."
"Don't worry about it," I called out as I disappeared through the hallway. "I'll take care of it once he's asleep."
I took Tristan straight to the bathroom and peeled him out of his layers of filth. Then I bathed him while he drank his bottle, and I sang him a couple of bath-time songs – ones I'd learned from Kate when Tristan was a newborn.
"Rubber Duckie, you're the one. You make bath-time loads of fun!"
I squeezed his yellow rubber duck in front of his face, enjoying his belly-laughs of late. Once that was all done, I brushed his two teeth with one of those age-appropriate toothbrushes with extra-soft bristles. Afterward, I diapered and then dressed him in freshly laundered pajamas. All the while, he babbled, and I answered. It was a game we played ever since he'd started imitating speech.
"Dada," he began with one of the few "real" words he knew, "ballacapallakookarashtop. Sheturrapokolo!"
"You don't say, Tristan? All that happened in one afternoon? Tell me more."
Encouraged, he went on. "Attackalakateeponoflinku!"
"Now you're just embellishing. It couldn't have been that bad," I whisper-grinned.
"Teekoloh!"
"Wow. All right, little man. I'll try not to get called off into an emergency meeting until your grandmother is better, your other grandparents are back from Florida, or your Aunt Al passes her finals."
"AnAh! AnAh!" he exclaimed.
I chuckled, and finger brushed his hair. It'd darkened and thickened since his birth…and since the last time his mother saw him. Back then, it was fine and a color closer to hers. We'd been convinced that Tristan would end up with Denali hair – straight and reddish-blond. Instead, over the past few months, his hair had developed Cullen waves and deepened into a color that was a shade lighter than mine but closer to copper than blond. So, Life had proved us wrong about that as well.
"All right. All right. We'll see Aunt Al this weekend then."
I placed him in his crib.
"Lie down, buddy." I gave him a gentle nudge, but he held to his sitting position.
"Fine. But once the story is done, you need to lie down," I said firmly yet gently.
I sat on the rocking chair Kate had purchased for nursing purposes, and I read Tristan a book about a moon in the sky and a child who delayed bedtime by wishing good night to everyone and everything under that moon. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, as they usually did, and he slumped down on his own, as he usually did.
I shut the book and set it aside. "Good night, Tristan," I whispered.
"Nye, Dada," he breathed.
"Good night, Grandmas and Grandpa," I reminded him.
"Nye gahma gappa."
"Good night, Aunt Alice."
"Nye AnAh."
"Good night, Mom."
"Nye…"
He trailed off, eyes completely shuttered, and my heart squeezed painfully for all that Kate had already missed – the first time he sat up, his first tooth, his first word, his first birthday, his first steps taken a few days ago…her name spoken in his baby tongue. And I swallowed thickly, silently railing against all that my son would miss without a mother.
I left the night light on, turned on the monitor, and went into my bedroom, where I took a quick shower and then changed into sweats and a tee shirt. When I returned to the living room, my head jerked back, startled.
"Tan, I thought you'd left."
She sat on the couch, fooling with her phone, and looked up with a shrug and a smile.
"I figured I'd wait around, make sure I didn't cause any permanent damage."
I snorted and turned on the monitor over the coffee table before making my way to Tristan's playpen. There, I pulled out whatever was coated in spit, food, or the scent of dirty diaper.
"No permanent damage. He'll survive a night with his Aunt Tanya."
She laughed as she followed me into the kitchen. I picked up a clean towel and wiped down a few spots she missed in her version of cleaning.
"I guess I need practice, huh?"
"It's up to you. Not everyone has to practice the care of a kid."
"Ouch," she said.
Looking over my shoulder, I offered her a sheepish grin. "It wasn't meant as an insult."
"Mhm," she smirked in return.
Chuckling, I moved on to the sink. I emptied it of the dirty dishes she'd deposited, rinsing them and then loading the dishwasher.
Tanya leaned against the counter. "Kate always said you were a straight shooter. Told it how it was."
"Why not, right?"
"I guess. Though some bullshit once in a while never hurt anyone."
"Mhm," I murmured noncommittally.
Pushing off the counter, she wandered back into the living room. I assumed she was gathering her things and getting ready to leave now that she'd confirmed that Tristan would survive and that the apartment could be set to rights. With the dishwasher loaded, the apartment more or less straightened up, and Trist hopefully out for the night, I pulled out a beer from the fridge and headed back into the living room, popping the top as I went.
Again, I was startled to find Tanya back on the couch. She looked up and caught sight of my beer.
"Mind if I get one of those?"
"'Course not." I made an about-face back to the kitchen.
"I'll grab it, Ed." She jumped up and bypassed me.
"They're on the fridge door," I called out as I took a seat on the couch and flipped through the channels. Tanya returned with her beer and took a seat on the opposite end. She popped the top and took a long swig.
"Ahhh," she said, smacking her lips together audibly when she was done.
I shot her a sidelong glance and quirked a brow. "Hard night, huh?"
"You have no idea," she snickered.
I snorted. "None whatsoever."
"So, what are your plans for tonight, Ed?"
"You're looking at 'em," I said, switching to Netflix.
She tsk, tsk'd. "That's just…it's almost the weekend."
I smirked at her over the rim of my bottle. "You remember there's a one-year-old sleeping down the hall, right? He's about two decades too young to take him down to the local pub." I took a drink. "Besides, bar-hopping was never my thing."
"Yeah, that was more Kate's thing, huh?"
I chuckled. "Kate did like a good night out."
"She did. 'Til she met you."
"Gee, thanks," I said, taking another drink. "Getting me back for that non-dig earlier?"
"I wasn't," she chuckled again.
"Sure. What about you? Don't you have plans for the almost-weekend?"
She shook her head. "I mean, I had plans, but I canceled them so I could get spit up on and change dirty diapers instead."
I chuckled heartily. "I'd say that was a fair trade."
"I wouldn't," she spouted, resting her head against the couch's backrest, getting comfortable. She jerked her chin toward the TV. "So, since you ruined my plans, find us something good to watch."
"I'll try," I smiled.
A couple of hours later, we were at the tail-end of some movie or other and a couple of beers a piece in. The conversation had, unsurprisingly, veered toward Kate. We'd gotten into the topic of their childhood exploits as twins. As kids, they always played tricks on their family members, switching places without them knowing. Tanya told me of a couple of times when they'd purposely tricked others with their identical images. For example, when after two attempts, Tanya failed to pass her road test, the third time was the charm with Kate behind the wheel. When Kate was sick the morning she was due to interview for her first job, Tanya interviewed instead.
"That's crazy," I said as we laughed together. "But I guess none of those people knew you guys that well."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "We were identical."
"Not that identical," I grinned. "I could tell the difference."
She quirked a dubious brow. "Could you now?"
"Mhm," I nodded. "Her hair was a shade lighter than yours. And the dimple you've both got on your right cheek was deeper on her. And your personalities were way different."
She held my gaze.
"I mean, she was a lawyer; you're a makeup artist."
She tilted her head at an angle and raised both brows.
"Again, I don't mean it as an insult or to demean your career. Your career choices simply reflect your varying interests and therefore varying personalities."
For a long moment, Tanya simply stared at me. Then she expelled a long, wistful sigh.
"I miss her," she breathed.
"Me too," I murmured.
And for a moment, she did look so much like her sister that I felt a knot forming in my chest.
"What do you miss most about her, Edward?" Tanya wondered.
I faced forward, elbows resting on my knees, and took a deep breath before exhaling it in a long gust.
"What do I miss the most?" I echoed, my gaze wandering around the apartment and all that remained of Kate. All the while, my mind's eye replayed random moments. "I guess…her companionship? The way we got along. The way she just…got me, you know? And I got her as if…as if we were two parts of a whole, and…and…" I trailed off, unsure of what I meant to add.
We were quiet, the TV droning on in the background, Netflix having used an algorithm to choose the next movie. When I angled my head sideways, I saw that Tanya had wandered closer. As lost in thought as I was, I assumed. She still had sufficient space for folding her legs under her without us coming into contact.
She scrutinized me through narrowed eyes.
"What?" I asked.
"It's just…I guess what they say about selective memory is true."
"What do they say about selective memory?" I asked tightly.
"Never mind." The smile she shot me made my scalp prickle in irritation.
"Just tell me what you mean."
"Just that…did you guys get along all that well and agree all that much? Because I seem to recall Kate coming to me more than a handful of times, pissed off over some fight or another that you two had gotten into. Before she got sick, of course."
My brow furrowed. "What?" I repeated, her words making no sense.
"Never mind," Tanya said again. She shook her head and bounced the bottlehead over her tongue, emptying it of its last drops.
"Stop saying never mind and just explain what you mean," I said when she was done.
She sighed. "You two seemed to fight a lot toward the end; again, before Kate got sick."
I shook my head vehemently. "If that's true, it's only because we'd just had a kid. It was an adjustment." My tone came out sharper and more defensive than I'd meant to sound.
"Fine, Edward. Fine." She ran her fingers through her long hair, hair that was just a minuscule shade darker than Kate's hair – before Kate got sick.
"Don't say it that way," I scowled, "as if you're humoring me."
"Then don't turn her into some sort of an angel and your relationship into some sort of mythical Camelot."
I jerked back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means your memories of her are unreal and, frankly, boring. And it means that whether you like it or not, Kate's and my personalities were way more similar than you want to recall."
"What the hell is this, Tanya? Where is all this coming from?"
She gripped her hair at the crown. "Sorry. Sorry. Look, I wasn't trying to upset you, Ed. It's just…we were twins, Edward, and you have no idea what that meant. We shared so much," she stressed, "so much. Both likes and dislikes. And you're always trying to make it seem as if…as if we were these two polar opposites. As if we were nothing alike. But I remember. I remember how, right after she passed, you couldn't even look at me."
"It was hard, yeah," I admitted, nodding. "Because yeah, you were twins, but I could always tell you apart."
"I bet you wished I was the one taken," she said, no bitterness in her tone.
"Tanya…she was my wife."
"Yet, you can't even tell me what you really miss about her. About the real her. About what your relationship was really like."
My nostrils flared. "I told you-"
"Do you think you'll ever fall in love again, Ed?"
I raked a hand through my hair. "Tanya, I can't…I can't even think about that. Not yet. My only concern right now is Tristan and his well-being."
"What would you want in a woman, though, if you ever did fall in love again?"
I glared up at the ceiling and swallowed, desperate for an end to the conversation.
"I told you, I can't even think about that."
"Would you want someone completely different…or exactly like her?"
My eyes shot warily to her.
"You know you met me first, right?"
I squared my jaw. "What are you talking about now? No, I didn't meet you first. I met Kate first in the law school library at NYU."
Tanya chuckled, but this time, it was a mocking, bitter chuckle.
"I was interning at Red Door on Park Avenue. I wasn't wearing any makeup because they liked us to arrive fresh-faced. Kate and I were supposed to have lunch that day. She told me to meet her at the library, but when I arrived, she texted me and said she wouldn't be able to make it because she had to meet with one of her professors. When you approached me, I said my name was Kate because…well, because that was the type of stuff we did, and because it was the law school library, and she was the law student. I gave you her number because, as a law student, I figured you'd be more her type than mine."
"That's all a lie," I said, breathing hard.
"It's not. Because she wasn't perfect. And you two weren't perfect together." Silent tears streamed down her cheek, and my mind wandered to Kate's last day, to the last time we spoke, and words she said to me that didn't make sense.
'…you don't have to be a martyr, Edward, nor build a shrine to me or our relationship. Don't turn us into a perfection we weren't.'
"She and I…we were the two parts of a whole, not two eggs but one egg split in two. And we were very much similar. Almost…almost the same person. And we shared a hell of a lot of likes. Why do you think I couldn't be around you two when she was alive?"
"Tanya, don't…" I shook my head.
In the next moment, she was on my lap, straddling me…kissing me.
And God help me, her lips felt so familiar. They were the same shape as Kate's lips. She felt…she felt like Kate in my arms. And I was so fucking lonely, struggling just to keep my head above water. And it would be so easy if I kept my eyes shut because they were so much alike.
But she wasn't Kate.
And Kate wasn't who my memories were making her out to be. I'd turned her into someone who…into some mythical creature who couldn't possibly exist.
I pulled away.
For a long moment, our chests heaved, both of our heads hanging, averting one another's shame-filled gazes. Then, she climbed off of my lap. After a few heartbeats, she swallowed audibly.
"I'm going to get going."
"I think that's a good idea."
She stood and this time did gather her things. All the while, I remained on the couch, elbows resting on my thighs, hands cradling my head. In my periphery, I saw her stop in front of me.
"Ed, for what it's worth, I don't think Kate would be upset."
I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a deep breath before I replied thickly.
"Because you look just like her? Do you think she would've seen it as a tribute to her face? Or to all those personality traits you shared?"
She said nothing.
"Good night, Tanya."
The next thing I heard was the front door closing.
I threw my head against the headrest and covered my face with both hands, wondering where the hell the real memories of my wife ended.
And whether or not…and where this mythical creature I'd invented began.
A/N: Thoughts?
So, this chapter hopefully answered lots of questions and gave us some background we'll need going forward. :)
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"See" you soon. :)