Purple-Green-Yellow Chic

How many wives are abused by their husbands? How many women have lost their strength to stop a significant other from causing emotional, mental, physical pain? I don't know the numbers, but I can guess. And it's a hell of a lot.

Jake never left bruises before. He knew I was someone the public would see and any discoloration of my porcelain skin was sure to draw attention. Somewhere between the time my husband used me like a whore on the sofa and the early hours before dawn, he changed his mind about painting me black and blue.

And then he cried. He broke down beside my aching body on our bed and cried like he's never cried before - not when his dad died, not when his mom was diagnosed the second and third times. He sobbed until the pillowcase was soaked through with salty tears.

"Why did you make me do this, Bells?" he cried. "Why do you have to make me so angry. You're my life and you're tearing me apart."

My gut wrenched. These were words I was utterly too familiar with; accusations I heard regularly, beginning the day I told him I was pregnant with Reny. They were only finger-sized bruises that day, though.

"You're my goddamn life. Don't take my life away. I'll die without you," he sobbed.

I've known two truths in my life: I am nothing, and guilt is the most powerful slave-master.

"Remember, Bells," Jake whispered as his tears slowed to a trickle. "Remember, you left me when Mom needed me most. You were gone when Dad died. And still I took you back. I took care of you. And now you want to leave me?"

"I'm not leaving you, Jake," I rushed a whisper to him, my hand instinctively raising to sweep tears off his face.

"You are. You are leaving. And you're taking Reny, and I was her dad for all this time, and you're leaving our kids, and you're breaking up our family, and you're hurting us. All you do is hurt people," he whimpered like an injured dog.

He's right. Each time he says these words, I'm reminded. I can't leave my kids. I can't leave them here, and I could never leave him because there's nowhere to go and nothing for me beyond these walls. I'm a prisoner of circumstance.

"I'm not leaving, Jacob," I insisted again. "I only want to make sure Reny meets Edw-him, so it's over and done."

"You're such a liar. Such a liar. Such a fucking liar," he said, punching the pillow beside my head with a force which rattles the bed and makes me jump. "Don't lie to me. I can't live without you."

I'm consumed by guilt.

I make sure to get to the restaurant before Edward, and to get a seat on the patio so I'll have a reason to keep my sunglasses on. The less Edward sees of my bruised flesh, the better. I won't be able to stand the rage in his eyes, or worse ... pity.

Reny is sitting on the sand, listening to the new Apple thingy Jake's mom (once again in remission) got her for her birthday. She's really excited about this iPod, and she and I spent hours loading music onto it. Her red hair blows behind her in the sea breeze, and freckles play on her skin.

"Bella." I hear Edward's voice behind me before he takes a seat at the table. He's dressed in khaki shorts and a blue Nirvana tee, with a SeaHawks cap on his head. He's so fucking handsome I want to melt like ice cream on a hot day in July. But he's not mine to melt for.

"Edward," I breathe, relieved he's here, though I know this isn't easy for anyone involved. "Hi."

He orders a sweet tea and waits for the waitress to scurry off before asking, "So, where is she?"

"Look, I want to make sure she's comfortable first," I sidetrack. "She's looking forward to meeting you, but she's just a kid, too ..." My voice trails off because he isn't even paying attention to me. His eyes are focused on her because she's standing right before us. His eyes take in her red hair and Amy Winehouse shirt and skull earrings.

"Are you my dad?" she asks plainly, simply, with the curiosity of a child.

"Reny," I begin, but Edward cuts me off.

"I'd sure like the chance to be, kiddo."

Her face scrunched up in humor. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm growing up fast. Everyone says I look like Mom."

I'm in a state of emotional shock, watching the two interact as though they've know each other from her first breath.

"You look just like your mom," he agrees with the world on this note.

"But Mom says I look just like you."

Edward glances at me for the first time since he arrived; thankfully not long enough to detect the bruises marring my skin.

"You're a pretty good mix, Reny," he counters with a wink toward her and then turns back to me. "How long are you here for?" he asks.

"Four days. Since you said you're on leave, we figured we'd make ourselves available ... uh, Reny would be available for whatever time you want to spend with her." Shit. I don't want him to have the wrong idea. We haven't so much as mentioned the kiss in the hotel room two months ago.

"Yeah," he nods, and for the first time in ten years, I see the excitement lighting his eyes the way my memory recalls. "That sounds like a good plan."

xxxxxxx

A/N:

Let's see how this plays out, shall we?