Leah and the weirdo, redhead vampire/potential-murderer.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
"Want some help with those dishes, Mom?"
"Actually, could you clean - wait a minute, I didn't have to yell at you."
Sue turned to look at her daughter, noting Leah's clean hair, ironed clothes, and unwavering smile.
"Oh, Leah," she breathed, pulling her into a hug.
"Yup, back to normal," Leah mumbled sheepishly.
"Back to yourself." Sue noticed the keys in her hand. "Going somewhere?"
"Yeah, just getting some air."
"Be home by dinnertime or you're grounded." There wasn't a trace of humor in her voice and Leah felt guilty knowing her own behavior caused this severity.
With a curt nod, Leah skipped into the living room in search of her jacket. Her father munched on potato chips while watching a sitcom. When she came in, he leaned back into his armchair, his arms crossed tightly.
"You're chipper today," he said.
"It's a nice day out." She gestured to the afternoon breeze blowing bright leaves off of trees.
Harry didn't look up from the television screen. "Gonna see your friends?"
"Yup."
"Rachel?"
"No, some girl I met..at a bookstore."
"Your mom might be disappointed. She loves that girl. Poor Rachel will flee the country ten years from now when your mom starts trying to fix her up with Seth," he laughed.
Leah grinned. "For everyone's sake, let's hope not. What's for dinner?"
"Hopefully, your mom's frying that chicken." He poured the chip crumbs into his mouth.
"I saw her cleaning the grill."
"Just can't win today, can I?"
Laughing, she gave her father a quick hug and headed out.
It was tempting to roll down the windows and let in the fresh air. For once the music was off in her father's sedan. It was nice to be alone, the only sound the hum of the car. Of course, with nothing to focus on, it was easy to build negativity.
It frightened her, to fling herself into the mercy of people who were designed to murder and feed on her kind. But what was the other option? If they could help her find Sam, no matter how strange or dangerous, she had to go. He would do the same.
The answers were within her reach and she would unearth them. For everyone's peace. But especially hers and Sam's. It crushed her, to think of the possibility that their relationship might be so damaged he wanted to run away and leave her behind without a word. Whatever was between the may be repaired or shattered, but it would not go unresolved. She would simply steel herself for any truth or possibility yet to come.
She arrived at the Cullen house ten minutes early. Surely that wasn't too much of an imposition?
Knock, knock. Softly, because of their ears.
Knock, knock, knock. No answer.
Knock, knock, knock. Oh come on. She knew she was coming, she invited her!
Knock, knock, knock. Okay, screw manners.
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG –
Her red knuckles halted in the air right in front of Edward Cullen's golden gaze.
For a moment neither of them moved nor spoke. Her heart nearly stopped when he cracked a smile.
"You want me to kiss your hand? This area's not very progressive but I had no idea young people practiced such outdated greetings."
He couldn't have been serious, but she was annoyed with his amused expression. Obviously, he heard her at the door. She moved past him, careful to keep her distance. "Ha. I wasn't banging on your door like a police officer because I had nothing better to do. Where's Alice?"
"Relax, she had something to pick up," Edward leaned against the piano, a wide smile revealing his straight white teeth. No fangs. Did the vampire that night have fangs? Either one of them could have killed me that night, yet she now stood within six feet of one of them…
Who looked as nauseous as she felt.
She headed onto the porch. "Alright, maybe I'll come back in the evening."
He grabbed her arm. "She'll be here soon. I insist, make yourself comfortable."
She looked down at his marble hand, seeping cold through her jean jacket. Her face must have been terrifying or terrified because he hesitated then dropped his arm in a somewhat awkward fashion.
"Okay, I'll wait" she agreed, not really processing what she was saying until it was too late.
"I'll be upstairs if you need anything. There's food in the refrigerator and the cabinets." He sped up the stairs.
Plopping down onto the piano bench she stared at the spot where Edward had just been. To her side, was his portrait, which did not do him justice. Not in the sense that he was more attractive or impressive in person, but she met an awkward teenager not the confident young man in the photograph. In the few times she interacted with him (in a civil manner), she found him odd, amusing, and a bit irritating. Very regular. Which was very disturbing, considering he had a third side, one that counted more than any personality trait or a character flaw - his true nature, a Cold One. He would take her life if given a chance, yet something in him made her trust him enough to be in a house alone with him.
She knew her fair share of multifaceted men. Who said women were complicated?
As if in a trance, her fingers slid into position for the opening notes of something long forgotten yet stubbornly clung to. Was it in the key of G or D? Did she speed up at this part? Shouldn't there be a crescendo by now? She started again and again. She managed to get halfway through the first movement before the perfect flow became stagnant. Her fist came down on the ivory but the abuse ended when she recalled that this was not her piano nor a cheap one. Stretching her dry bony fingers, she went for it once more. If there was one thing she'd get right lately, it'd be "Moon Dance", my cure-all. This time she stared off into the distance as she pictured the same story she always imagined for the song. The beginning was dark and foreboding, then light snuck in so quietly you didn't realize it until the end. Like a malevolent God, she banged on the keys with fury, caught up in her story.
A little girl was lost in bare open stretches of land under gray sky. Her family had vanished and she was all alone. After walking for days, she reached something but dust – water. The girl, waist-deep in, squinting, peered into the ocean.
Her hands froze. Her mind couldn't hold the next part of the story or the song. She was ready to give up when she felt a shock of cold. Someone's hands underneath hers placed so smoothly as if they had always been there. Larger, colder, and paler than her own.
"This part used to trip me up, too," he said, almost shyly. His voice came from her right, his breath tickling her neck. She flinched but didn't withdraw her hands.
He played with admirable confidence, catching each note and coaxing it into its most melodic form. He added embellishments here and there, which only further helped paint her story.
The girl leaned into the ocean, and a slimy hand pulled her in. It was that of a mysterious, cloaked figure that pulled her silently through the dark, dangerous sea. The girl gasped when they landed on the ocean floor and the figure removed his hood. To her surprise, it was a friendly young boy. He grabbed her hand and they continued to walk on the ocean floor. Soon they had reached the underwater kingdom, the only place in the dark sea where the moon shined its light. Joyous villagers danced and sang as the children entered. The girl looked up and locked eyes with her mother and father then ran to hug them.
His fingers paused before drawing out the last few lazy notes. She stared at the glossy black piano lid, buzzed after finding the rest of the tale. Her hands remained on his, which remained on the keys.
"Where did you hear that story?" he asked.
"Sort of just unfolded in my brain. Don't you do that? Think about how it feels, not sounds?"
"Yes, but it's only emotions. Never has a complete fairy tale written itself in my imagination."
"Hm. When you grow up hearing legends some are bound to get stuck and swirl together."
"It certainly seemed to help you. How long have you been studying piano?" Almost unconsciously, he began to move their fingers into a child's song.
She snickered softly. "Studying? Okay, I haven't played in years. Can't believe I cranked this one out. Guess you've been studying for centuries, Dracula?"
Edward hit a wrong note, crumbling the harmony. He turned fully to look at her, his face unreadable. She hadn't been sure of the joke when she said it, but she decided to establish some air of friendliness between them.
"Or not," she smirked.
He refocused on the keyboard while she continued to watch him. His hair was pretty messy for a rich kid. Didn't they all keep it neat? His shirt was probably expensive, though you could find a plain blue Henley at Old Navy.
"Decades," he said.
"Hm?"
"Decades, not centuries. I think I'd grow bored of the craft before playing that long."
"So you've been alive…"
"I've been dead for about a century, yes."
What it must be like to bottle up that much age…
"And that's how you can stand to be next to me," Leah murmured. "You're used to it."
"With most people, yes. But with you, in my home, I've taken an extra precaution."
"Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."
"I don't breathe through my nose."
Ew, mouthbreather.
She wouldn't have been able to perceive his laughter if it weren't for his shaking shoulders. This mind-reading was going to take some getting used to.
Their hands stilled. "So you plan on getting used to this?"
And it was such a simple question. But she recognized that trace of worry, of bracing oneself for a crash. It was awful that he could hear the whirlpool in her brain, her own repressed fear, how much it was taking her to sit here with him, and her own question of why she didn't just leave.
"Yes, I am," she said, trying to sort her thoughts.
"That's silly. You should be afraid of all of us." He was getting frustrated.
"You want me to fear you?" For some reason, the idea made her want to laugh.
"Yes, Leah, I really do." His voice was harsh.
She sent him a single intentional thought: "You don't make it easy."
She resisted the urge to look at him, afraid of what'd she see. She thought she did fear him, but it was hard to tell if she was just being brave or subconsciously had a death wish.
Finally, she found her voice."We're going to have to see each other anyway as long as Alice is helping me," she said evenly.
Edward sat next to her on the small bench. Her hands were still cool. "Right. To find your friend."
"Right," She nodded. "My friend."
"I'm helping, too."
"Really?"
"Yes, then you never have to return to Dracula's castle again."
"And you'll have me out of your hair forever."
"And what awful hair to be in," he smirked.
"Hey, I…I didn't say that!" she protested weakly.
"No, you thought it. A lot."
She growled at him the same way he growled at her the night they met. Edward blinked in surprise at her audacity.
"Wow, you're scared of me?" she laughed.
"I admit that you can be quite fierce, but I wasn't scared."
"Yes, you were."
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were."
"No, I wasn't."
"Then why'd you flinch?"
"I thought you had lost your mind. I'm still not fully convinced, you haven't."
"Ugh!"
He smiled triumphantly as he began to play again.
It hadn't been a sunny day to begin with, but the room had grown dim quickly. Edward didn't seem to notice. She watched him play like a concert pianist. He was so talented it was inspiring yet obnoxious.
Another laugh.
He had a nice laugh. Deep and unusually pretty. Most people snickered or cackled, but he sounded like he was singing. His hair looked better in the dark, too. Not so odd, just auburn. Was that it?
No, "auburn", didn't do him justice. Not in the sense that his hair was better than "auburn". The word just didn't capture him.
Much later, she left the house with the sense that someone crossed the line at some point of the visit.
Later, she would feel glad someone did.