Devotion 16
The ride home was quiet. It wasn't comfortable. He wanted to have a real conversation, and he feared how disappointing it would be.
The road rage simmered when someone cut in front of her. He figured it was mostly about him…about the way it was between them, two almost strangers who didn't get along. Well, for his part he was willing, but she was too difficult.
"You ah," she said as they neared home, "you're like the sensitive type," she said. She was smirking. Nasty habit, that.
"I thought you didn't care, but you get hurt like…quickly. Yeah, you're the worst type for me to be around. I can pull it off at Vibe. If I don't hang around. Sensitive types. But I guess…I say stuff sometimes." She sighed. "Sue me."
He put a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. She was a terrible apologizer. Insulting. Repentant. Exonerating herself all in one go. She didn't even need his input in this conversation.
"I guess," she continued, "I'll take that lock-box. You still got it, right?"
"Yes," he said. He'd meant to walk it back to the store and get his forty-nine bucks, but Emmett's check came through.
"Well, I'll take it then. I talked to Alice. She…" Bella smirked again. "Alice is impossible. But…believe it or not I can get my way if I want to."
He shot a quick look. He had no doubt she could get her way.
They were at a stoplight, and Edward flinched when someone sprayed the windshield with something. Quick wiping from a man's beefy arm followed.
"Hey!" Bella rapped on the window. The light had changed.
Edward rolled his window down, a fiver in his hand. "Obrigado."
The guy took the money, tucking in his shirt pocket.
"Que a Virgem te abenco," the man spoke back.
"Cuide-se," Edward returned, cranking up the glass.
Someone honked from behind. Bella had been staring at Edward, and now she put her foot to the gas, and they shot forward only to come to a screeching halt as traffic was stalled in the intersection.
Edward managed not to yell out. She drove like she did everything else, it seemed. With fury.
"You're like…is that street Mex or what?" she said.
He chewed his lip a bit. He could say yes and be done with it. "Portuguese," he said instead. He did not say how he had studied the language for two years. That and French, Italian as well as Spanish. He did not say languages came easily to him. Many things…came easily to him. Many things did not.
"Portuguese?" she said as they lurched into movement. "You've been to Portugal or something, dude?"
He laughed thinking how one of his mentors perceived the word, 'dude.' It was the common man's 'sir,' that fellow said. But until Bella, it was never Edward's title.
"Something," he said to her.
She stared at him. Too much. The car was moving. "You ever gonna tell me something?" she said.
"What?" he said.
"You've seen me. You've been watching for weeks now—where I live, my come and go. My work. You've had something to say about all of it, too. I've told you about Marvin. You know I fight with my sister. You know Jasper comes around. You met my daughter, God sake. You even seen me use the Food Stamps. So fuck you, Edward!"
He laughed a little. "Yeah well, maybe I'm too weak to talk to a tough girl like you," he said.
He knew he'd provoked her. Everything did, and he'd flicked her a little with what he said, but he'd taken a great deal of insult from her, and that wasn't out of his comfort zone, he knew how to turn the cheek, but she kept coming and swinging. So he showed up a little. Just a little.
She pulled inside herself then, drove like a nut. They got home in no time. She got out, slammed her door. He followed more slowly. He got to the trunk she shoved his bags at him. "You're ruining my chips," he said.
"Sue me," she said again. Oh man, were those tears in her eyes?
"I didn't want to upset you," he said.
"Yes you did," she said, throwing her weight to one leg. Hip out like that meant he was in for it. "I was right about you. You think you're better than us. Than me for sure. You sleep on cardboard. You're a motherfucking drunk on top of it. Whatever you were…you ain't that anymore, brother. So take a look. A real look in the mirror cause you are on the bottom. And at the bottom…we don't use the same yardstick. You know?"
She slammed the trunk and flew past him.
"Bella," he said, arms loaded but making a futile grab for her. "Wait!" he called out.
She stopped. "I'd like to talk to you. But not while you're mad. Put your stuff away," he said. "Then…come down for some...Bagel Bites."
"You're making fun of them, aren't you? Sure you are. You're too good for Bagel Bites. But you don't have a fucking thing in your refrigerator."
He laughed some. "You're right," he said. "You ah…said I was a loser. A, ah…weak…turkey loser to be clear."
A smile nearly broke through. Finally. "You make me mad," she defended.
"Maybe…that's you judging me because…I'm not out to make you mad."
"Oh no?" she said, wanting him to grovel, it seemed.
"I'm just…trying to live," he said. It was the truest thing about himself he could give her standing on the curb in daylight.
"You ain't trying hard enough," she said with a sincerity that got to him.
He could turn it back on her, and for a split second he nearly did, but he wanted peace with her.
Why?
He just did. So he fumbled around and shook the box of Bagel Bites a little. "Before work?" he said.
And he knew he'd regret it. He waited while she thought it over and he half-hoped she'd insult him again and take off.
"Sure. I'll a…bring Shanni."
"Yeah," he said. He had not see that coming. He suddenly had so much to do. It was good…right? Terrifying. He already felt tired. And…whatever. Too late to turn back now.