*V*V*V*V*V*
When I wake up, I find myself pressed against cold leather. Turning my head, I realize I'm lying in the back of Alice's car, my jacket thrown over me like a blanket.
I shift and groan, but Alice chides me from the front seat, "No, don't get up yet. You fainted."
"What happened?"
Even though I can barely make out the profile of her face in the dark, she is clearly upset. "It was terrible. I got so mad at Jasper for not telling me more about his brothers because imagine how much could have been avoided if we had just talked and then he said I shouldn't be lecturing him about being forthcoming because I didn't tell him how old I am and introducing me to his family made him look even more like a pervert and I just . . . fuck, I'm sorry." She sniffs loudly and wipes her eyes. "Anyway, then Emmett dragged you over and you told me you wanted to go home and then your eyes rolled back in your head and you fainted. It was so scary, Bella. Jasper and Emmett caught you before you got hurt, but it caused such a scene carrying you out. Jasper kept arguing with me that we should just take you to his place and then Emmett got all pissed off about it, saying he didn't want you at Jasper's place and Jasper called him an idiot and I just told them I was going to take you back to Forks. Jasper took you and loaded you into my car and he offered to drive home with us, but I told him I could do it. We're about half an hour away."
Jesus. "Ok." I don't have the wherewithal to say more.
Alice uncharacteristically does not press me to speak, driving on in sniffling silence while I watch the highway streetlights flash past the window. It's surprisingly easy not to think, not to replay tonight's events and shocks. I just exist for half an hour, wiggling my toes and fingertips to stay grounded in my own body, curiously examining the effects of intoxication like an ambivalent scientist.
As we pull into town, Alice asks, "Do you want to crash at my place or yours?"
"Take me home, please." I want my own bed.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"No, I just want to sleep."
She nods, making the turn to my house, parking and jumping out to help me walk, though I've already sat up and pushed the door open. I feel more stable now.
"Do you need help getting in?"
"No, I'm good." I walk towards my front door without assistance though my legs feel disjointed, fumbling with my key.
Alice hovers behind me, anxious and ineffectual.
"Thank you," I add. "For everything. I promise I will talk to you tomorrow, but right now -."
"I know; you need some sleep," she says patiently. She always understands. "Text me if you need anything."
"I will," I say as I shut the door.
Inside my house, my mother is standing at the foot of the stairs in a robe, her eyes wide.
"Bella! Jesus Christ, I thought you were a burglar!"
"With a key?"
Her mouth opens and closes and she sighs. "I thought you were going to that work party and spending the night with Alice."
"I just wanted to come home," I mumble. I was hoping she would be asleep, but I suppose it's still relatively early. We didn't stay at the party long.
"Are you ok, baby?"
I nod my head, but she's my mother. She knows I'm not.
Her question changes: "What's wrong?"
I burst into tears on the spot, feeling everything I've been numb to all night.
"Oh my god, what's wrong?" Her arms are around me in an instant.
How do I begin to explain this? I just sob harder, tucking my face into her neck, wondering if she smells the whiskey on my breath.
"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong," she pleads.
"I j-j-just want t-to go to b-bed," I stutter through my tears, shaking hard.
"Ok, ok, let's get you upstairs," she says urgently, eager to do something to bring me solace.
I trip twice on my way up, but my mother's arms are around me the whole way, anchoring me, keeping me aloft, keeping me whole. Aside from kicking off my shoes, I don't even bother to change out of my dress when we make it to my room, collapsing into my bed and letting her tuck me in like I'm five.
"Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?" she asks, her face taut with worry.
I nod, sniffling and trying to stop the flow of tears. She pulls over the ancient rocking chair next to my bed and sits in it, reaching out to stroke my forehead in a soothing, rhythmic motion, never asking for more information. I know it's hard for her to not know why her only child is falling apart at the seams, but I have never been so grateful for silence.
Cocooned in a quilt my grandma made in the house my father helped build with my mother's calming touch at my temples, I succumb to sleep.
*V*V*V*V*V*
In the morning, I wake up to the smell of bread and the sound of my door opening.
"Hey, baby, I brought you some food." My mom looks worse for the wear, carrying a steaming mug of tea and some toast with butter and strawberry jelly. She never brings me breakfast in bed.
"Thank you," I croak, sitting up and finding my head aching, still wearing last night's dress like a tragic prom girl.
"Toast and ibuprofen always made me feel better when I had hangovers," she says knowingly, an edge to her voice as she hands me two capsules from her robe pocket.
I take them in silence, swallowing scalding tea.
She sits in the rocking chair still posted by my bed, setting the toast on my lap. "Are you ready to talk?"
I wonder if she'll leave me alone if I say no. "Can I eat first? I feel nauseous."
"Did Alice drive you home?" she asks. I guess that's a no.
"Yeah." I take a bite of toast anyway.
"Was she drinking, too?"
"No."
"Were you actually at a work party?"
"Yes."
Her eyebrows rise on her forehead. "And they served alcohol to minors at this party?"
I just look at her, thinking I pretty much served it to myself, taking another bite of toast. The sugary jam tastes perfect.
"What happened?"
Chewing slowly, I debate with myself about how much to tell her. My mother is liberal in many ways. She was the first one I told when I had sex with Emmett; she responded by letting him stay in my room overnight, telling me she trusted me to be safe, offering to show me how to use condoms. Her attitude has always been about preparation rather than prevention. Still, there is so much I have not told her for months – so much insanity to confess.
"Mama, I don't even know where to start," I say, tears threatening at my waterline. "I'm so scared you're going to hate me or think badly of me."
"Honey, there is nothing you can say to me that will make me hate you. You are my daughter and I will always love you no matter what, ok? I just need to know what is going on with you."
"Ok," I breathe, swallowing a few times to gather myself. "It, um, it all started before school began, after Emmett broke up with me."
This is not the opening line she's expecting, broadening the scope of last night's issue to encompass a much larger span of time.
"Alice took me to a club in Port Angeles to cheer me up and – yes, I know we're underage. We were going there to dance more than drink," I defend, seeing her about to interrupt. "I, uh, met someone there." Without looking at her and not wanting to draw this out, I add, "Turns out the guy was my English teacher."
Her audible intake of breath draws my gaze. "Oh my god, Bella. Was it . . . have you been physical with him?" she asks in a low voice.
I push a crumb around my plate under my thumb.
"Bella."
"A little."
"Oh, god. What kind of sick man –?"
"He thought I was older. I look older, Mom. You know I do. He wasn't trying to prey on me. I was the one . . . I instigated it. It was my fault for acting like I was twenty-one. Neither of us knew until the first day of school and we decided to just pretend it never happened and make the best of it."
She puts her head in her hands and I sit up straighter, leaning towards her.
"It was all a bad mistake, Mom. I swear."
"Has he . . . has he been inappropriate with you?"
"No, of course not." Ok, I'm lying, but I can't tell her everything.
"Ok," she says slowly, deciding to take me at my word and let it go for now. "What does he have to do with your work party?"
"I'll get there."
Her face bunches up. "Ok." Yeah, buckle the fuck up.
"So turns out Alice met some guy the same night I met Edward and they're dating now, which is great. He's fine with her age and he's a cool guy. Meanwhile, I started my internship, right? Guess who my boss is."
"Alice's boyfriend?"
"Yeah. Which isn't a big deal because, like I said, he's a great guy, but, you know, it makes the supervisor thing weird since we joke around pretty freely."
"Ok," she says hesitantly.
"So, I was going to this work party last night and Alice was coming anyway because her boyfriend is my boss. He was going to introduce her to his family because his dad owns the company and it was, like, a family get together for them at the office party. I'm friends with him, so he pulled me along, too, and I swear I thought I was going to throw up."
"Why?"
"His two brothers and father were there. His brothers are my English teacher and Emmett fucking McCarty and their dad owns the whole company."
She stares at me for a moment like she's waiting for a punch line. "Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"Shit," she says again, shaking her head.
"Yup. That's pretty much when I started drinking."
"Wait, how did this happen? I mean, you dated Emmett a while – you haven't met any of his family?"
I shake my head. "I've only met his Mom a few times, but his parents are divorced and Edward and Jasper are his half-brothers with a different mom. I mean, I don't think Emmett ever mentioned them by name and there weren't any pictures of them in his Mom's house because they're not her children. Besides, they all have different last names! How crazy is that?"
"Shit." Eloquent, Mom. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?"
"I was so ashamed of myself," I sigh. "I mean, telling you about Edward would have meant telling you I snuck into a bar and the stuff with their family and how they're related . . . well, I just found out."
"So what is your plan now?"
"Plan?"
"Are you . . . good lord, are you planning on pursuing this Edward?"
"No, but . . ." – the tears spring to my eyes with such speed that I'm startled by my own reaction – "I don't know, Mom. It's not like I want to get him fired and I know he's older, but I just have a lot of feelings for him and . . . and . . ."
"What, baby?"
I sob in earnest. "I-I f-f-found out l-last night that h-h-he's dating my c-coworker and they look p-p-perfect for each other."
Her eyes laser focus on me and her voice is eerily calm when she asks, "Are you in love with him?"
"I d-don't know. I haven't l-let myself be because it's n-not like we c-c-can be together."
"Oh, honey," she sighs, leaning forward to wrap me in her arms. "It's going to be ok."
"I'm s-sorry. This is all f-fresh for me."
She shakes her head. "It's ok, baby. This sounds like it was just a terrible coincidence. You know I love you so much no matter what." She tells me it's going to be ok over and over like a soothing chant, rocking me.
It takes me an embarrassingly long time to breathe more normally and calm down, but she finally lets go of me and looks me in the eyes, waiting for me to speak.
"I don't know what to do," I admit. "I feel like such an idiot."
"Let me ask you something. How does this guy – Edward? – feel about you?"
I shrug. "I know he's attracted to me and I think it's more than that, too. I mean, I think he likes me as a person. He told me he would take me on a date if I was older, but we both realize how futile this is."
"How old is he?"
"Twenty-five."
My mother shrugs, blowing her blonde-bordering-on-silver hair out of her face. "Eight years isn't terrible and you're mature. It's not like you'll be in high school forever. Who's to say it's futile?"
It takes me a solid ten seconds to pick my jaw up off the floor. "Are you serious?"
"Bella, there is nothing about this situation that sounds great. No mother wants to hear her teenage daughter is involved with her twenty-something teacher. Yes, I think you made some poor choices along the way, but it sounds like a bad coincidence and I think we need to be realistic about it."
"Ok, but what is realistic here? He's dating the most gorgeous woman ever and I'm just some high school student that he accidentally had a thing with." I'm oversimplifying and I know it; Edward and I . . . there's something genuine there.
She seems to feel the same way, skeptically raising her eyebrow at me. "You act older and yes, you're right that you look older, too. Daddy was nine years older, you know," she reminds me.
"I forgot," I admit. I don't think about my father in terms of his age. He died when he was forty-five and I only have snapshot memories of him. "How old were you when you met, though?"
"I was twenty-one and he was thirty. My mother was furious with me when we started dating," she laughs. "But we knew we were right for each other even though I was just finishing college and getting on my feet and he had been a police officer for many years already. We married a year later and then it took us so long to have you because of all my reproductive issues."
This is a story I remember. "You found out you were pregnant on your eighth wedding anniversary," I finish for her, a small smile forming on my lips. I've always liked the thought of my parents, happily married and desperately wanting a child, grinning at a positive test on their anniversary.
"The best present we ever gave each other," she says, looking wistful and fighting back tears. "Look, baby, your high school English teacher is not the man I would pick for you, but your father wasn't the man Grandma Marie would have picked for me either and we did just fine. If you're meant to be together, then you're meant to be together."
"But he's dating someone else now."
She shrugs. "Then focus on yourself and on school and see how things go. You can't go breaking up a relationship, but maybe it won't last. Or maybe it will and this is all some difficult phase right now and you'll meet a boy your own age. I don't know."
"Um . . ." That's not exactly helpful.
"I'm saying just be yourself and see what happens after you graduate. I don't condone a relationship with this man while you're in high school, but if you both end up single and feeling the same way, then you can wait it out. Believe me, neither one of you – especially him – is going to want to deal with the consequences if someone found out."
"I know. I think about that every day."
She nods. "You're smart. I know you've considered every angle and thought through everything – but if you're still so hooked on this guy regardless, then wait and see," she repeats.
I stare at her in awe, amazed by her patience, calmness, and positivity. "I love you, Mama. I was so . . . it terrified me to tell you all this."
"I love you, too. Don't ever be scared to bring things to me, ok? I just want you to be happy."
I bite my lip. "What if Edward makes me happy?"
"Then invite him over for dinner or something so I can meet him," she says with utter seriousness.
I can't help but laugh, hugging her. "You're the best."
"I know," she says. "Ok, I am going to do some laundry while I actually have the energy to do it. Do you need anything?"
I'm still too dazed by her acceptance. "No, I'm good. Thank you."
"Ok. Eat your toast, though. It really does help with hangovers."
*V*V*V*V*V*