Chapter 6
"Wait, Angela," I yelled as she bounced down the cracked sidewalk.
She slowed enough for me to catch up, and grabbed my hand.
"Come on Bella, we have just enough time to explore before we have to be back at the hotel," Angela shouted over the noise of city traffic, "We said we would look at the Macy's windows," she added.
I laughed, "Okay, lead the way, Miss Tour Guide."
My sophomore year started out full of nervous fears and ended with a sense of coming into my own. I followed my passions of music and books and let the politics of high school fall away. Our little group lost Jessica to the cheerleading squad and Lauren Mallory, who made our Jessica seem like Pollyanna.
Mike and Ben were on the football and basketball teams and were required to spend large chunks of time away from our humble group, but they always came home to roost. Mike invited me and Angela to parties and sometimes we ventured out with Mike and Ben hovering over us, but I usually declined. It wasn't fun for me. If I was truthful with myself, I would say it wasn't fun without Edward.
I worked hard at living in the moment, of following my passions and not allowing myself to pine for what was not. In my first year of middle school, on a whim, I had taken choir as an elective. In ninth grade, I was invited to join the high school mixed ensemble that competed in folk and ballad music. I fell in love with tight harmonies and lyrics that told a story and held history between its notes.
This year, our first of high school, we won our statewide competition, which found me and Angela traveling with our school's madrigal group to New York for the United States Madrigal and Chamber Music Festival.
I worried about missing Edward today. I had never been away from Forks on our day. Although I didn't see him every year, I felt the need to be available should he visit. However, this trip was too important to pass up, so here we were in New York City with all of its diversions.
As we race around people on the busy New York streets, I thrilled at being in such a vibrant metropolis. Everything about this city was bigger than imagination with sounds and smells accosting you at every turn. It was thrilling. It was overwhelming. And I found myself shutting down my mind and letting my senses run away with me.
We rounded the corner to Macy's with its renowned window displays. Angela, passionate about art and design, was floating. She squeezed my hand to the point of pain, vibrating next to me.
"Oh my, it's all a spring theme! Take pictures, lots of pictures, watch for glare," Angela instructed in an awed frenzy.
I followed in her wake taking pictures with my phone while she clicked away with her digital camera. The displays were stunning. The first window had three mannequins walking in flouncy spring dresses with a swirling pattern of leaves wafting after their passing movement. I dutifully clicked away trying to be conscience of the reflective glare.
The second window held a tall, broad-chested mannequin. His headdress and petal-like plumage gave the illusion of him being a flower amid a bed a fern. I took pictures with abandon while laughing at Angela trying to see under his loin cloth. Remembering the glare, I took pains to get a few good shots of the Flower Prince.
We continued on from window to window making the full city block and ending at the window to the right of the main entrance to the store.
"It's Sunday in the Park with George," I called out.
Angela clucked at me, looking at the mannequin. She wore a bustled skirt and carried a parasol made with flowers. There was a wave of blue silk material making the river's background, "It's Seurat's 'Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande, Jatte'," she said with a mock haughty air.
I laughed and made little jabbing motions with my hand mimicking Mandy Patinkin's pointillism painting technique from the play we had watched. Angela laughed and bumped me with her shoulder.
As we stood panting and drinking from our water bottles, I scanned the crowded bustling of 34th street.
And there he was—in New York City—with me.
He was across the busy street leaning against a yellow cab. Edward looked casually cool in his blue jeans and a suit jacket, along with Ray-Bans finishing his New York look.
I smiled brightly and waved, so glad to see him. He gave me a cute smile-smirk and a stiff wave with two fingers. I couldn't help but dumbly wave again. He laughed at me and I laughed back. There was a sea of movement and noise rushing between us, but we were alone, as we always were—just solitarily entwined.
"Bella, look at the detail ofthis flower dress," Angela called. I glanced over my shoulder at the mannequin covered in a gown of red flowers.
When I turned back to him, he was gone, lost in the crowd.
"I hate when he does that," I mumbled and could almost hear his rumble of laughter bounce off the skyscrapers' walls.
I couldn't help but smile to myself as I turned back to the excited energy of my friend.
~o0o~
We placed third in our Mixed Ensemble and second in our Ladies Ensemble the next day. Our sixteen-member group flew home victorious in our matching madrigal T-shirts; Angela sat next to me chatting up a college boy across the aisle. I looked out the window and played with my charm bracelet. It held two new charms. A musical note and a heart.
That morning when we had checked out, a gorgeous bouquet of exotic flowers awaited me at the front desk of our hotel. A note of well wishes for a victorious outcome accompanied the arrangement. I got quite a bit of teasing about groupies and secret admirers, but I just shrugged and smiled.
He remembered.
He still cared.
~o0o~
Coming home after my first real adventure into the big world outside of Forks, my room seemed smaller than I'd left it. I pinned mementos on my corkboard and unpacked as my bracelet jingled.
After a 'Welcome Home' dinner with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Renee, I returned to my room and sat cross-legged on my bed with my laptop to begin loading the New York photos. I kept tabs on the uploading as I checked my email and wandered around Facebook.
Suddenly, an image flashed and I froze momentarily before racing to pull up the screen.
My God, there he was over Ronnie's shoulder.
I looked at the shot takenin Central Park of my smiling friends with their arms around each other and bright 'wish you were here' smiles. But in the background Edward stood near two ancient trees, looking off to the side. If I hadn't seen him on 34th street, I wouldn't have recognized him. I longingly ran my finger over my screen.
I flipped through all of them and stopped at the Macy's shoot. The Flower Prince—most of the shots had too much glare since I was busy laughing at Angela. I had planned to delete all but the last four, but now I knew I would save them on a separate flash drive.
Edward was there behind me, mirrored in the glare, knowing I would see these. He was smiling and wagging his finger at me for being naughty with Angela and the hunky Flower Prince's loin cloth. I hugged my phone to my chest.
My eyes stung.
He was there, my God, he was there.
I found one more. It was our early morning practice in the Main Hall, and he was sitting off to the side, looking at the program for the next day's competition. I had a program pinned on my corkboard. Curious, I unpinned it and unfolded it. There—right there, in small, masculine print.
My Songbird
How did he do that? I had that program in my messenger bag. I sat back on my bed.
He was with me all day.
I sat staring as the shadows lengthened and darkness settled outside my window. As I tipped over on my bed and pulled my quilt over my shoulder, I settled on two thoughts. I had been able to share our day with him on the greatest adventure of my life, making it so much more real and complete. And secondly, I knew I loved him beyond friendship. Not knowing what that meant for us, for me, I gave over to sleep, hugging my program and phone snug against my heart.
~Edward~
I watched her bouncing through the sunny New York day with her friends.
She was happy, alight—beautiful.
And my heart ached with longing for her.