Chapter 20

Days passed. Carlisle and Esme visited my home regularly to check in on Ana and me. Despite the agreement I had made with the werewolf leader Peter, Ana and I had not discussed any plans as to moving. She was hesitant to engage in that conversation; I had made attempts and hints at it, all of which she either flat out ignored or redirected into some other topic.

In general, Ana was distant. Her normally incessant cheerfulness was dulled, her boundless energy subdued. I would come home from school to find her gone more often than not. I tried not to take this personally; Ana was surely just as stressed out by the situation as I was. I wondered if she perhaps felt some personal responsibility over the situation. Jacob had blamed me for James' presence, but he had been Ana's ex-lover, not mine. If she hadn't offered our home to him, this never would have happened.

I didn't blame Ana at all. She couldn't be held responsible for the actions of another, only her dreadful taste in lovers. One would think a matchmaker would be able to choose well for herself.

That weekend was quite sunny and pleasant. Jessica had called and invited me to come hiking with our usual group, and I was sorry to have to turn it down. The list of mortals that could see me in the sunlight was supposed to be kept to zero. There was one on my list now, and it could not grow beyond that.

"Oh, it's going to be such a gorgeous day," Jessica said when I told her I could not come. "Why can't you come?"

There was an ache in my chest as my mind ran over the truthful words which I could never share with her: Because I am a vampire, and the sunlight shines off my skin like diamond. It would shock you and frighten you, and then I could never talk to you again. I gave Jessica the excuse that I had a lot of homework to catch up on and simply couldn't justify the time.

"Right, you did miss a bunch of time," Jessica said, the disappointment in her voice clear. "Well, maybe the weather will hold out till next Saturday, you know?" she added in a more cheerful tone.

I stared out the window of our living room listlessly for some time after getting off the phone. Spring had taken over Forks, and the trees had grown thick in their foliage. The lawns of the well-kept houses in our neighborhood had returned to their neat, green state after their wintery hibernation. Some of our neighbors had planted colorful flowers in their front yards, and they rose up cheerfully to green the sunlight which fed them.

Unlike popular vampire myths, the sunlight did not hurt me, but I was nonetheless cut off from that warmth. I couldn't step out lest I expose myself for what I am to every mortal with working eyes. I hadn't felt the sunlight in so long that I couldn't remember a time when I missed it. Yet that Saturday afternoon, sitting in my empty home, gazing out into that neighborhood where children ran up and down the street and couples walked by hand-in-hand, I felt that grief.

Grief. I was grieving the loss for what was to come. And what was worse: I did not know when it would come. I didn't know when James would return and give us the chance to take care of him for good. It could be any minute, but it could also be weeks or months. And I had to continue in that routine which brought me close to the mortals I had come to care for deeply, because I was the one who had to protect them.

These were my thoughts, uninterrupted save for a brief visit from Carlisle, until the evening. As the sun, that barrier to life, returned to the dark western horizon for another night, my phone rang, shaking me from my stupor.

It was Edward. I answered immediately.

"Hey, Bella," he said, his voice altered by the frequency of the call. "Are you busy right now?"

I glanced about myself in the darkness where I had sat for hours. "Not at all," I said, standing to turn on the lights.

"Would you like to come over?" he said after a moment's hesitation.

"To your home?" I asked.

"Yes. That is, I'd invite you for dinner, but, well…you don't eat."

I smiled. "I would love to, Edward."

The Masen family lived on the very western edge of Forks. The home was nestled just on the edge of the forest, so that the tree line surrounded the property on three sides. The house was massive, built in a starkly modern style that clashed with the natural foliage of the land, and a wooden deck which circled the house gave a distinct line between the natural and the man-made. The yard and driveway were immaculate, manicured, and entirely utilitarian. There were no cheerful flowers or even a lawn but only decorative ferns and moss which, while aesthetically-pleasing, leant to a cold look.

The house rose up for three stories, challenging some of the surrounding trees for height. Much of the exterior walls were glass, although beige shades were drawn over most of the windows on the second and third stories. There was light on the first story; from the driveway I could see into the foyer and living room, although these places were dark. The light came from a room a little beyond, separated by a decorative wall.

The front door was closed, but when I stepped out of my car, I could hear faint piano music. Walking along the deck, I followed the sound of the music around toward the back of the house. There the deck widened considerably to allow for an arrangement of patio furniture and a fire pit, all of which looked little used. The back door, which looked identical to the other panes of glass set into house's edifice, had been slid open, and I peered into a dimly-lit den.

Within I found a room furnished with stark, modern-styled furniture, set in a pleasing arrangement beside a black grand piano. There I found Edward, playing a morose piece with striking feeling.

I watched him in silence, taking in his form and the sound of his music. In his posture, in his movements, and in his very breath, he held the beauty of life. His copper hair had grown a little longer than he normally kept it, and it curled over the collar of his shirt. His heartbeat quickened and slowed along with the music he played, which I could hear with just as much clarity as I could the piano. I stood in silence, wishing this moment would never end, so that I could gaze upon Edward Masen forever without any of the worries which plagued my mind every day and every night.

But that wish could never come true. Edward finished his song, and the piano fell into gradual silence as the strings within ceased to vibrate. He was silent for a beat, and said to me over his shoulder, "I thought you might have come in by now. Or do I have to formally invite you in?"

I admit to surprise that he knew I was there. Although I did not hide the sound of my footsteps on the wooden deck, I thought he had been too lost to his music to realize I had approached. "I didn't want to interrupt you," I said, stepping through the opening in the wall of glass.

He looked at me and gave me that smile which could always raise my spirits. "I thought about you a lot today," he said as he rose from the bench.

"Do you not normally think about me?" I asked.

"Oh, I do," he admitted. He approached me, closing the gap between us with two strides of his long legs. "I think about you almost constantly." He cupped my cheek in his palm. "The weather today had me thinking that you might have been stuck inside all day."

I took his hand in mind and planted a kiss on his palm. I felt his heartrate increase in his fingers. "Did you invite me over to meet your parents?" I asked, wishing not to recall the day I had had.

"No," he said, his own smile faltering. "They're out of the country."

"Still?" I asked. "When do they come back?

Edward shrugged his shoulders. "Whenever their business in Belize is concluded," he said with a note of bitterness. "Then I think they go to Turkey, and then they should come home for some time."

"Do your parents often travel without you?"

He nodded. "I have school, after all."

"Can't you do it remotely? House-schooling, or whatever it's called?"

"Home schooling," he corrected. "It's possible, but I didn't want that for myself." He took both of my hands in his. "Enough of that. Come on." He turned and led me through the first floor of his house. I passed by tasteful sculptures set in places where they might be admired with convenience and paintings set on walls with care taken so that they might be noticed. There were no family portraits or knickknacks, not a speck of dust or smudge of a fingerprint. Everything in the house was coldly chosen for its aesthetics and maintained with austere care. Mortals lived here, but this home was just as cold and as little inhabited in as my own home with Ana.

Edward led me up one flight of well-designed wooden stairs and then another, so that we reached the third floor. From there he brought me into a large room which, in a normal house, I would have classified as the master bedroom. The spacious bedroom stretched out to the glass walls, currently covered in shades, and the concentration of Edward's scent in here told me this was where he spent the majority of his time.

The walls were painted a warm beige, accented here and there with pine paneling, and the floor was made of a light wood. Bookshelves were built into the wall which separated the room from the rest of the house, and a collection of books and CDs filled the shelves to their capacity. An oak desk was set up by these bookshelves, and there laid his green backpack as well as a stack of textbooks. His bed was nestled by the windows, neatly made, a beige duvet covering the spacious mattress. Beside this was a large wardrobe where I imagine he kept his clothes. He had a flat-screen television set up on an oak credenza and a set of very comfortable-looking easy chairs arranged around it. Two controllers for a video game system set under the television betrayed the machine's purpose.

In many ways it was exactly the bedroom I had pictured a modern-day teenager would have: books, music, video games. Yet at the same time, it was alien, detached. Despite the fact that this was clearly where Edward spent a majority of his time, the space was just as spotless and neat as the rest of the house. If I hadn't been holding Edward's warm, steady hand, I might have wondered if I hadn't been standing beside a ghost.

He released me as I walked through his room, taking in all that it had to show me. I ran my hand over the spines of his books, peered at the titles of the CDs. I felt the soft upholstery of the chairs near the television and came to the bed. I sensed Edward watching me from the doorway where he had stood as I explored, and I turned to meet his dark gaze.

"Your home is not so different from mine," I said to him.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Your home doesn't look like a private museum," he said, approaching me now.

"You have more things, certainly," I responded. "But it seems just as…"

"Sterile," he finished.

"Exactly."

He sighed and sat on his bed. He reached out for my hand, which I gave him, and I let him pull me down beside him. His thick arm encircled my shoulders, and he held me close. "This is how my parents wish their house to be, and I am here to maintain it." He shook his head. "Not even that, really. I just make sure the housekeepers and landscapers show up."

"Are you lonely?" I asked.

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Not really," he said. "I'm not imprisoned here, or not any more than any other teen is imprisoned by their home. I can come and go as I please. My parents bought me that car, so I can go anywhere so long as I show up to school at seven in the morning on Monday." He scoffed. "Right now, other than a few obligations, my life is pretty free. I'm trying to enjoy that as much as it lasts."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is a prestigious art dealer," he explained. "That's why he and my mother jet-set around the world. As soon as I graduate, I'm to join him in the business."

"And you don't want that."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't get to choose."

I rested my head on his shoulder. "I understand."

"You do?" he asked after a pause.

I smiled tightly. "I didn't get a choice in what I am. I don't know if I would have chosen it if given the chance."

"When did that happen, exactly?"

I looked up into his eyes. "Are you asking me how old I am?"

He smiled. "Is that rude?"

I chuckled and kissed his cheek. "1796."

His eyes widened. "So you must be acing history," he said. I laughed again. "To think all you've lived through. You've seen the entire evolution of this country."

"I can't say I would be a great source on historical events," I said. "I was hardly interested in the matters and cares of the human world. My world was one of night. I've only taken what I needed for survival from your kind."

Edward was quiet for several moments. I could only wonder what he was thinking. He broke the silence with another question. "So what are you doing at a high school?"

I leaned in closer and kissed his lips. "Finding you," I whispered. He blinked in surprise, silenced once again. I moved away from his warm grasp and laid down on his wide bed, gazing up at him as he watched me. I beckoned him to join me, and he obeyed.

I snuggled in close and rested my head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his thick waist. He ran his fingers through my hair gently, and we laid together in blissful silence for a long time. Fantasies of what I wished to do with his body danced through my mind, encouraged by that scent of his. I thought he might have fallen asleep, but when I shifted to sit up, he pressed his arm into my back to hold me there.

"Bella," he said, almost whispering himself, "would you give me a choice?"

"A choice in what?" I asked, although I knew what he was talking about.

"To become your kind."

I didn't like this question, because I truthfully did not want to give him a choice. The baser, vampire part of me didn't want to give him the choice to say no. She wanted to claim him, to turn him and have him be hers forever. He wouldn't be in danger any longer, and I would never had to be separated from him. But another part of me, that part of me which I thought had died with my natural life, had reawakened. She didn't want to give him the choice to say yes, to curse him with the centuries of misery and pain which I had endured.

But I didn't have the words to express this to Edward, so all I said was, "I don't know."

He was silent again. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. When I opened my eyes and looked at him again, he was asleep.