Disclaimer: I've got no claim on the world of Twilight. I've only got the clumsiness that most people associate with Bella Swan. Now, where's the vampire boyfriend who's going to save my life? (Honestly though, I really am very clumsy. I stuck my finger in an outlet by accident the other night. No, I'm not hurt-- I was just a little shocked by the whole experience)
A/N: I suppose it's fair to let you know now that I won't be writing over my break-- don't be too distraught, it's abnormally short. So, to everyone, happy whatever-holiday-you-celebrate and see you next year!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amazingly enough, it had taken only a few moments to convince Charlie to let me out of the house by myself—I guess, from the way that he figured it, food was essential to his survival, and so was me being out of the small house while I was in this particular mood. Besides, he'd know if I went somewhere I wasn't supposed to—nearly all of Forks seemed to know that I was on probation, despite that the fact that neither my father nor I had ever said a word about it. Really, I couldn't fathom why any of them would care—other than having a vampire for a boyfriend, there wasn't anything interesting about me as an individual. There were times when I even bored myself, to think of it.
I took the turn into the grocery store parking lot slowly: there was no point in risking anything in this old truck in the deluge pouring from the sky. Once I turned the key in the ignition, I sat in the heavy silence for a moment, feeling the dull thud of my heart in my body: the vibration seemed to echo in my empty lungs, driving my cursed blood forward relentlessly. Perhaps a few more months, and it would never beat again. The tapping of rain on the roof reminded me of the ticking of a clock—a few more hours and days of mortality, and that was it. I tangled my hands in my own hair, a distant distress clutching at the pit of my stomach. To have the love of my life, I must walk away from this, from Charlie, from Renee, from Phil even. I knew I couldn't walk away from Edward—but I didn't want this choice that wasn't a choice. I could never turn from Edward, couldn't do it anymore than I could destroy the remnants of my own family. What was it that I had done that was so deserving of this rending of my heart? Would I spend the centuries that were to follow this one wondering what lay behind the door of Death that I had bypassed?
Just as I felt that I was on the verge of an epiphany, violet streaked lightning lit the sky: the thunder that followed it made me jump and sent my heart beating even more quickly. Irritated, I slid from the driver's seat and directly into a puddle: I was going to be soaked. I ran as quickly as my human clumsiness allowed me to the shelter of the building. The warm air from the interior of the grocery store greeted me like a comforting blanket: there was no need to consider mortality when you were shopping for food, which was a relief. This relentless cycle of musings was, quite frankly, depressing.
I ambled through the store, pushing my grocery cart ahead of me. I pulled items from the shelves a little haphazardly, concentrating mostly on instant, dinner-in-a-box concoctions that wouldn't tear me away from studying for long: my schoolwork was desperately in need of attention, as Edward continued to remind me.
I saw the glass jar of maraschino cherries wobble and spin as I nicked it with the back of my wrist. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of my stomach as I reached out to steady it: too late. The small red container plummeted earthwards, despite my fumbling efforts. "Holy crow," I said, wincing as it struck the linoleum, splattering the sweet contents everywhere, even all over me. I stared forlornly at the mess, the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment. Overhead, the PA system kicked on: "Clean up in aisle two". The flush on my cheeks burned now: they must have been watching, waiting for this disaster, for me.
I grabbed a replacement jar of the offending food and darted out of the aisle. I didn't want to have to stay there any longer than necessary to continue to be identified as the culprit. Still, even being absent from the scene of the crime wasn't enough: the crimson stains on my cheeks and the splatters on my pants gave me away. I cursed myself for not bringing Edward along—his reflexes more than made up for mine and usually kept me out of trouble like this. But no, he was with his family, playing for as long as the storm lasted. A gusty sigh ripped from my lips: I wasn't sure if I regretted or wished his absence more. The time to myself was wonderful—except when I started thinking—but then again, he was almost… an extension of myself. Being with him wasn't like being with anyone else. The only person who had ever come close to the kinship we shared was Jacob Black: and he wasn't talking to me right now. Perhaps not ever again. The truth stung when I admitted it like that, but my stubborn mind pushed it aside, insisting that there would be a resolution to all of our conflict, whether Edward liked it or not.
I picked through the aisles, being more careful now and trying to make the thoughts whirling through my head subside. I was going to have a migraine soon, which would not make my evening any more pleasant. As it was, I was not exactly expecting an enjoyable day: I would be stuck in the too-small house, which always made me irritable, even if I had no where to go. Add in the absence of Edward for most of the time and the constant rain that interrupted my sleep and it was a recipe for disaster, even without the threat of the massive paperwork waiting for me on the kitchen table.
No, tonight was most definitely not going to be a good one.