Chapter Three - Seneca & 4th

-Edward-

Her tears had stopped, but the evidence of the phone call was still there if I paid attention. Not that I wanted to. I wasn't trying to pay attention any more than I'd wanted overhear her conversation, and I didn't want to know why she was upset. I wished I had remained standing or looked harder for a different seat.

Anyone else, I would have tuned out, but for some reason, I couldn't ignore her. Her book never went back into her bag. Her tense posture contradicted her carefree appearance.

I didn't know what exactly transpired on that phone call. I only knew I felt like shit. A few times, I glanced over and almost said something. What the hell would I say? "I'm sorry?"

Sorry for what? It wasn't like we were going to be friends, and I didn't feel the need to have a conversation with everyone on that stinking bus. I could ask if she was alright, but again, I wasn't interested in a bus buddy. I knew when her stop was coming up. She made an obvious show of her disdain for me as she brushed past and went out of her way not to touch me in the process. It was probably just as well. She still had crappy taste in books, even if she had more going on in her head than I'd originally assumed.

I'd never been a judgmental kind of guy, at least I didn't think of myself that way. My formative years taught me that nothing was black or white. You couldn't put everything in a box with a single label. In my three foster homes, I saw really good people have the shittiest luck, and the shittiest people having the best luck. It didn't make sense, so I tried to let go, not worry about it.

My path to sanctimony involved quite a few twists and turns. The most obvious, and probably the most influential, was the Army.

Who knows, maybe the seeds were planted long before that, but the entire experience was about wiping away any possibility of gray that might have existed. In the Army, you couldn't think in terms of maybes, you had to act. It wasn't my style. I knew that going in, but I went anyway.

I didn't go for me; I went to piss off my parents. Of course, that's not what I told them. I said it was good for my future, and cited a line of bullshit the recruiter had used.

A tour of duty later, I could finally admit that I was a liar. I just couldn't admit it to them…yet.

For several days after I overheard her phone call, I tried to make eye contact with the girl. I just wanted to see her face. Maybe I wanted to know she was okay, or maybe I wanted her to realize I wasn't entirely an asshole. I just wasn't sure why I cared.

She never even glanced in my direction. She must have known I was there, but she was a doing a damn good job of acting like she didn't.

I reverted back to my pre-incident mode—pay no attention to anyone. That's what got me in trouble in the first place.

I missed a few signs that I was about to be ambushed. Too many missed calls, and one short conversation with Esme, when she asked me a few things about my classes and my schedule and little else. I took it as small talk. It never occurred to me that Jasper would be standing outside my class one afternoon.

He stood with his back toward the door, his fingers pressing the keys on his phone. I thought maybe I could get away if I slid past him while he was engrossed in his email, but I was still planning my route when he said, "I know you're there. You're not that stealthy."

"What do you want, Jasper?"

He turned around, a smirk on his face. "Good to see you too, brother. Do I get a hug?"

"Fuck you."

"I feel the love."

"Jasper? What's up? I have to be somewhere." I looked at my watch.

"We need to talk."

"Can't it wait? I really need –"

"Now, Edward."

I didn't fight it; I led him to a small café a few blocks from campus. I'd never been there, but it seemed like neutral ground. We both ordered coffee, then settled into a small booth.

"We're worried about you, Edward."

"Don't be. I'm fine."

"You're shutting down."

"Look, you've only just graduated. Don't go all psychobabble on me. I don't have PTSD if that's what you're worried about."

"Are you talking to someone? I mean, do they make you see a therapist?"

"Not anymore," I answered. "Listen, Emmett told me about the party. I'll try to be there okay?"

"Do you really think that's the only thing we care about?"

"No, I-"

"Because that's bullshit, Edward. I don't know why you've got such a stick up your ass about us, we're your family, damn it. You're killing Mom and Dad with this whole 'we're not good enough for you' thing."

He stopped to draw a breath, during which time I looked at my cooling coffee. I could barely make out the reflection of the light from above. I kept watching, waiting for something to change.

"I have to get going, Jasper."

"No, you don't."

"Actually, yeah, I do. I...I'm meeting someone." My lie came too easily.

"Yeah, whatever. Just so you know, Emmett and I are done. This is it. I say don't bother with the party. You'll only get their hopes up again." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He threw several dollar bills on the table. "Go be a hermit. Go be nothing. I don't care."

He started to slide out of the booth, and I remained fixated on my coffee cup. "That's not-"

"Edward?" a vaguely familiar female voice interrupted. "Oh my god, am I late?" I looked up to see the brown-haired girl from the bus standing next to me at the booth.

Jasper froze mid-scoot, looking from me to her.

"Late?" was all I could articulate.

"Well, I got caught up reading-" she held up one of her trashy novels, "you know how I am. I thought I had more time, but then I saw you sitting here, and I figured I might have screwed up." Her tone was a little frantic, but endearing. She kept her eyes on me with a knowing smile. I cocked my head, and she gave a slight nod, telling me all I needed to know.

"Um, no, it's okay. Jasper showed up, but he was just leaving."

"Your brother, Jasper?" she said, turning toward him. "Hi, I'm Bella. It's great to finally meet you. Edward talks about you a lot."

Jasper hadn't moved, and his mouth was open a little, indicating his confusion. "Nice to meet you, too." The words came out slowly.

"You don't have to hurry on my account," she said. "We can study later, if you need more time.

"No," I said, "he's got to go."

A stunned Jasper slid the rest of the way out of the booth, stood, and gave a slight wave.

"Uh, see you."

I nodded my goodbye. The girl sat down in his spot but said nothing.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"Is he gone yet?"

I shook my head.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know," she said.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"No more than you were when I talked to my dad. Now we're even. Is he gone?"

"No, he's on his phone outside the door."

"You could say thank you." She glared at me, arms crossed.

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. "I didn't deserve that."

She turned her head to see Jasper shut his phone, look back through the window and then take off. "That's my cue." She was out of the booth, and I was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

"Bella? Is that really your name?"

"I'm not the one who goes around avoiding people at every turn, so why would I make that up? If an alliteration will help you remember, just think of me as Bad Book Bella. That way you'll have a name to put with my face when you're judging me by my reading materials." Her face was serious, but the inflection in her voice told me she might've been teasing.

"I don't judge-"

"Oh, sure you don't," she said, unbelieving.

"But why …"

She didn't let me finish. She waved her stupid book at me and marched off down the aisle of the café, pushed open the Employees Only doors in the back, and then she was gone.

I sat there numbly. The entire situation was surreal, and my head hurt from the double assault.

I'd been living in an emotionless fog for a while, and Jasper was right. I had been purposefully avoiding dealing with people. It wasn't for the reason he thought, though. I knew how badly I had messed up my life. I knew what I'd become. I couldn't face family or relationships until I could do so with my head held high. I meant what I said to the girl from the bus. I didn't deserve her random act of kindness.

Now, it was just one more thing I had to feel guilty about. One more thing I messed up.

One more person I had to prove something to.

I just had to figure out how.

-Bella-

When I walked back into the café from the back room, Bus Guy—Edward—was still sitting at his table with back toward me and his head cradled in his hands. Despite our chilly bus interactions, when I heard him talking to his brother, I felt a strange wave of sympathy for the guy. There was also a not-so-small part of me that wanted him to know that he wasn't any better than I was, regardless of what he thought.

Besides, I never really liked judging people based on their appearances. We'd both done it, but did that make it any better? How well did being judgmental ever work, anyway?

Anyone could tell that the old man with the matted hair who sat on the bench across the street from the café was homeless. The dirt smudged on his skin was evidence that the only showers he ever saw with any regularity were the ones that came on warm summer afternoons, pouring out from behind the gray sky. His wrinkled clothes told me that laundry detergent was foreign to him, and that a dollar placed in his hand by a sympathetic passerby went into his belly rather than a washing machine. But how he looked on the outside didn't tell you the most important things. Like, that his name was Peter and that he served with honor in World War II. That his wife, Charlotte died of cancer ten years ago, and that their only son followed soon after. That he told me the best stories about his compatriots when I brought him a bag of day old muffins and pastries at the end of some of my shifts.

It took effort and patience to look beneath the surface to find those things out. When I looked at Edward, I couldn't help but wonder which one of those he was missing.

"I'm gonna go," Jessica said, as she untied her apron and lifted it over her head. "Ben's in the back. You okay here without me?"

Tuesdays were usually slow here this time of year, and I'd be lucky to serve another ten customers before it was time to close up.

"Yeah, I think I can manage."

"Well, I'm off tomorrow, so I guess I'll see you..."

"Friday. I think we're working together on Friday."

"Okay," she replied, smiling that bright, friendly smile that had a way of making the dollars pile up in the tip cup. "Have a good one."

"You, too."

The second she was gone, I pulled my Poli Sci book out from under the counter, and started going over my notes from the day's lecture. I positioned myself behind a small pyramid of tea canisters, hoping that no one could see me. Page after page of notes about trade swirled through my mind, and I occasionally looked up to make sure that no tables needed to be cleaned. I was just finishing up my third page of notes, when-

"So you do read other things, huh?"

Edward stood awkwardly in front of me, fidgeting a little while he bit the inside of his cheek nervously. I plunked my pencil down on my notebook, and stood straight up. "Yeah, you know, it's amazing how one-dimensional I'm not."

I could see Edward's throat tense as he swallowed. "That was...fair."

"Yep," I said, smiling, hoping it would relax him a little bit. Much as I would've liked him to get that stick out of his ass, I really didn't have any desire to stand there and have an uncomfortable conversation with the guy.

"What's the deal with those books you read?" Edward asked, straightening one of the tea tins that were slightly askew.

"You pay that much attention to what I read?"

This thoughtful crease appeared between Edward's brows, and he looked down at the counter. "No, I just..."

It was weird seeing him so flustered, trying his damnedest to be nice to me. He probably felt like a fish out of water; so I gave him a little splash. "Relax, I'm just messing with you," I said, running my finger along the edge of my notebook. "Don't you ever just...wanna forget about your life for a while?" Edward looked at me then, all apprehensive green eyes with the tiniest little chink in that armor he always lugged around.

"Yeah."

The way Edward's eyes narrowed, along with the stone-hard set of his jaw made him look like someone who'd been through a lot more than daily bus rides with strangers, and confrontations with his brother.

"Well, those are my escape. My trashy little escape." The right corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin, and I thought it might be okay to tease him a little. "It's an easier escape than, say, a stranger bailing me out of a conversation." I thought that stone-hard jaw might shatter with the way he seemed to be grinding his teeth.

"My brother and I...well, my family...we...we don't..." He struggled, and I could tell by the way the words reluctantly fell from his lips that he was trying to tell me things he probably didn't tell too many other people. "It's complicated."

"When it comes to family, it's always complicated," I said empathetically. Whether it was a temporarily disabled father, a mother who barely ever spoke to you, or a brother who stalked you into coffee shops, there was always, always a complication when shared DNA was involved.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Listen, um...earlier. Thanks for that. I know I said it before, but I got the feeling you might not think that I meant it, and...well, I do. Thanks."

"You're welcome," I said honestly. "I felt kind of bad seeing the two of you over there-"

"Don't feel bad for me," he snapped, his eyes intense.

"Oh, I don't. I was talking about your brother. After dealing with you on the bus, he's the one I felt bad for."

Then, something kind of miraculous happened. That stone-hard jaw gave way a little bit, and his lips, they melted into a smile. A huge, glowing smile that brightened his whole face. A laugh broke through all that hardness, too; one that made me laugh right along with him.

"I should probably go, and leave you to your non-trashy book," Edward said, smiling.

"Okay."

"I'll, um...I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Bella."

He said my name almost as an afterthought, but those five letters were so huge. Each one of them made a tiny dent in that wall that surrounded him, and I could see a little bit of what was hidden beneath shining through.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Edward."

The bell on the door rang has he left, then he stopped outside the front window and waved before he disappeared.

When I got home later that night, I found my dad splayed out on the couch, sleeping with the tray from a microwave dinner resting on his stomach. The testosterone-fueled guitar licks for the opening music of some sports show played as the screen flickered across his peaceful face. I gently pried the plastic tray from his fingers, and I decided not to wake him. Instead, I laid a warm quilt across his body, then turned off the television, leaving him looking more comfortable than he had in months.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel kind of nervous while I was waiting for the bus the next morning, wondering what would happen when I stepped inside. Would he offer me a seat? Would he go back to his cold indifference? Such silly, trivial things to occupy my mind with, but they found their way in there just the same.

When I boarded that bus, Edward didn't look up. Two rows behind the empty seat I chose, he sat expressionless, looking down at his lap. I hated the wave of disappointment that crashed against my gut; the way it felt like everything inside of me was sinking all the way to my toes.

Maybe it was better this way.

As the bus jolted forward, I pulled a new book from my bag, hoping to get lost again. I got so lost, in fact, that the sudden movement in the seat next to me was startling. What surprised me still, was the soft smile that graced Edward's face as he said good morning.

"Good morning," he said, tapping a magazine against his knee, before he opened it up and began reading.

"Good morning."

I couldn't hide my grin when I realized that he wasn't reading a magazine at all.

It was a Spider-Man comic book.