Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, you know the drill. All character copyright Stephenie Meyer.
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In all aspects, my mind tried to convince my heart that things would change – that Charles would be the husband I always wanted him to be and then I could finally be the wife I longed to be.
As 1919 drifted to 1920, the war was finally over. Husbands returned to their wives. My friends received their husbands with open arms. They were elated with pure joy and I, too, was elated for a few weeks' time. A few days after Charles's return, we spoke of having children. We dined with his parents and mine once a week until he returned to his old job in Columbus, and I was left to dread his return home, remembering years ago.
Then the abuse came back slowly. Small things I would do set Charles off into a rage, worse than ever. The war had changed him but not in the way I had hoped. He was more violent, and he shouted this time. His voice was so loud, I wanted to cover my ears, and when I attempted, he jerked my hands away from my face. It felt as if he were ripping the limb from my body. My body ached at night, from the previous bruises and from the new ones. Even so, Charles did not care.
When I was weary, aching much more than usual, he would force himself on me, trying to recreate the night he first came home. He whispered my name into my ear, harsh, almost like it pained him to say it. It pained me to hear him say it.
While Charles was at work, I planned in my head a way to escape. I couldn't tell anyone where I was going or when I was leaving. Such notions broke my heart. I would have to leave everything behind – there was no other way to do it. I thought about where I would go. To the west? Yes, like I always wanted.
I managed to get a hold of a cousin – a second cousin, actually – named Caroline who lived in Milwaukee. I told her nothing of the situation. I lied. Again, it pained me to do so. I told her that Charles died shortly after he came back from the war. I told her that staying in the home which Charles and I shared together was too much pain. In a sense, that part was not a lie. For the next two months, we wrote back and forth to each other. She arranged for my way from Columbus to Milwaukee.
It was decided I would take a car to the nearest train station in Columbus. From there, I would ride from train to train to the nearest city, taking a car only when necessary. When a train arrived in Milwaukee, I would take a car to the road her house was located, be dropped off, and walk from the road to her house. I wanted to be seen by as few people as I could. This sounded like a good plan, and I hoped it would work.
—
A fortnight before I was to leave, I had lunch with Claire in her home. I didn't have the stomach to eat anything, and no conversation we had sparked much interest.
"Esme! Goodness, what is wrong with you?" Claire asked.
"I'm not feeling well, that's all." Well, almost all.
Claire cocked an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten anything. Are you sure you're feeling well?"
I hadn't been able to each much of anything the past three weeks. If I did, I would eventually throw it up later. "Claire," I looked at her, "can I ask you something? And can you be serious?"
She looked at me, incredulous. "Of course."
I breathed. "What did it … um, feel like to be pregnant?"
A smile broke over her face. "Esme!" She eyed me. "Esme!"
"Claire! I just – oh, I was just asking!" But my cheeks were warm with embarrassment.
"Yet you wouldn't be asking unless there was a reason!"
I flushed. The thought of being with child had crossed my mind, but I pushed the thought away. My mind would always tell me I couldn't bring a child into the world with Charles. "It's just … I've never really felt like this and I thought it was nothing at first, but I…"
"You should go to a physician," Claire suggested.
"But don't you just … know? Claire, it's as if I just know that I am with child. I don't want to go to the doctor only to be disappointed."
"But Esme, you might as well be with child! I'm sure!"
I crossed my eyes, wincing slightly at the pain. "You think? …" my voice trailed.
"If you are! Oh, Esme! Can I at least say 'at last'!?"
I smiled. "You can."
On the way home, I stopped at the hospital. Instantly, it brought back memories from years ago. His golden eyes, his pale skin, his gentle smile. But no, he left shortly after treating me. It would be a miracle if he walked through the door and I didn't want to hope.
A nurse at the front desk managed to squeeze me in if I waited for fifteen minutes. I sat in a cold, metal chair, nervously twiddling my thumbs. My mind couldn't help but wander to Dr. Cullen. I hadn't thought of the doctor in over eight years yet I could still remember everything about him. I felt my heart beat faster. I took a deep breath just as a different nurse walked over to me. She led me to a small room that held one cot and a sink.
"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said, and walked away.
A few minutes later, the doctor walked in. His hair was jet black and short. His eyes were a piercing blue. He wore a typical white doctor coat with a clipboard in hand. He smiled at me.
"Miss…"
"Evenson," I said.
"Ah, Miss Evenson. Pardon, but you aren't on the schedule, are you?"
I shook my head. "No, the nurse—"
"Squeezed you in?" he finished.
"Yes."
His smile widened. Suddenly, I wished I knew what his thoughts were. "How can I help you?" He pulled a chair next to the cot.
"Well, I'll be blunt, if you don't mind."
He shook his head.
"I think I might be with child and I just need to know if it's true."
"Ah… Would you rather have a nurse…?" his voice trailed off.
"If that's convenient…"
"I'll send one in."
A short, stocky nurse came in minutes later. Her blonde hair was pulled into a chignon. Her brown eyes were warm, matching her gentle smile. "The doctor bid me here."
"Yes, I would like to know if I'm really with child or if I'm imagining…"
"Ah, yes, well, I can manage that."
—
I'll let Charles take care of that hospital bill, I thought as I walked from the hospital elated. It was true. I was with child and I had been for almost seven weeks. It was a miracle the baby wasn't killed. (Again, I had to lie to the nurse when she asked about my bruises. I told her I ran into things and just bruised easily.) Although happy, I thought about my friends, my family, and mostly Charles. Would I be able to tell him? He would be angry when he found out about the hospital bill… The least I could do was tell my friends, especially Claire. She too would be joyous. I couldn't tell Charles. I doubted he was honestly ready for a child. And then another thought: I should leave right away. I wasn't sure if Caroline was ready for me to come. She wrote that she had to make room, but the more I thought about leaving, the more I craved it – craved it like a drug. I needed to leave.
So it was decided. On the way home, I stopped by the bank to pick up some money. Charles would be furious once he found out, but at the moment, I didn't care. The thought of leaving him lifted me to the clouds. At home, I made dinner. Surprisingly, Charles came home at a decent hour. We ate in silence. Afterwards, he drifted to his library with a flask of Scotch.
Never again would I have to eat dinner in silence with a man I didn't love. Never again would I face his abusive hands. I would leave tomorrow, I decided, after Charles left for work.
As Charles was in his library, I floated quietly to the bedroom, removing the letters from Caroline from my vanity. Caroline suggested I bring only one bag. I removed a suitcase from the closet, stuffing the letters and a few pairs of clothes into the suitcase. I put the money in a small pocket in the suitcase. Then I tucked it back into place, hoping Charles wouldn't notice. He wouldn't, I was sure. He only walked into the closet to get his clothes.
I quickly changed into a nightgown. However, I lingered at my vanity, staring at my half-naked body in the looking glass, covered with purple and black bruises. I winced as I touched a few of them. My hands gravitated towards my stomach: my child growing inside of me. I smiled. Yes, I would leave and the babe would grow in a good home, away from Charles, away from this home, away from Columbus. I pulled the nightgown on fully and decided to sleep. I wouldn't be able to read downstairs.
That night, I dreamt of Dr. Cullen and the baby.
—
I felt ill the next morning, but I didn't let that dampen my mood. I made Charles breakfast and lunch to take to work. I cleaned the house the best I could. It was around nine o'clock when I was sure Charles was in his work office. I flitted to the bedroom, taking the suitcase out and placing it on the bed. I opened it, going over my things again: clothes, Caroline's letters, and money. I took the money out and stuffed it in my dress.
My heart was beating quickly. I was actually leaving. For so long the thought crossed my mind but to believe I was actually doing it was a different thought completely.
In my heart, I felt bad for Charles. I never loved him. I couldn't love him. I tried – really, I tried – but I couldn't. I married him for the sake of my parents' happiness, not my own. I wanted a man who loved me, who treated me like I should be treated, to look at me the way my girl friends' husbands looked at them.
But I could love the child. The child growing inside of me, although part Charles, I was determined to make it all of me. I set my hand on my stomach and smiled. Yes, I thought.
I decided to leave Charles a note. I wrote one word: goodbye.
I walked into his library and set it on his desk. I prayed it was the right thing to do. Walking into the kitchen, I picked up my sketchbook, deciding I might need it. When I reached the door, suitcase in hand, money in my dress, I turned and looked at the house for one last time. I sighed. I would miss the house but I was now stepping into a new, hopeful future.
A future that would never end.
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Author's note: We're getting closer to Esme meeting Carlisle again. Very close, I promise. Reviews are highly appreciated. Also, if you all would be enough to let me know if Esme sounds OOC? Somethines, I think she does and that I'm adding too much of myself but I need feedback, please and thank you.