A/N: Thanks and hugs to my great beta and friend Ms Kathy for her eagle eye (even if we do disagree on the Oxford comma).
You don't get all the answers in this chapter. But you get one of the big ones.
##
For the first few days, denial came easy. But as the days passed, Edward realized that Bella had meant what she said. There had only been one short message that had come in the day after Bella departed.
I need to focus on work. You have some thinking to do about the future. Let's give each other some space. Please.
He had been alternately furious and disdainful. He partied at all his favorite clubs, carousing until the early hours. He scored some top-notch weed and indulged in a line or two of cocaine at someone's house party. He screwed Tanya silly. Anything to drown out the gnawing, empty feeling inside.
After a couple of weeks of this, Edward woke up, hung over and bleary-eyed, in Tanya's bed. It was raining outside. His girlfriend was sleeping heavily beside him, her face still streaked with make up from the night before. His hair reeked of smoke and stale cologne.
Without a word, he slid out of bed, pulled on his dirty, wrinkled clothes from the night before, and walked downstairs. Tanya's family was mercifully absent as he slouched through the living room and out the front door. Edward walked home in the rain, his mind blank. When he got home, he went straight up to his room, ignoring his family. He pulled off his wet clothes, dropped them on the floor and collapsed into his own bed, where he slept for the best part of the next 24 hours.
When he awoke, Edward was ravenous and clear-headed for the first time in days. He also had no idea what day it was, and hoped like hell he hadn't blown off any shifts at work. He checked his phone (no texts from Bella) and was relieved to discover he had been off the last two days. He was scheduled to start at 4:30 that afternoon. It was Thursday.
Stiffly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, scrubbing at his disgusting hair. The empty feeling inside was still there.
I'm lonely.
It was a strange admission for Edward, who spent most of his time constantly surrounded by friends and pretty women who wanted to bed him. He realized now that most of those people didn't know a thing about him. They were friends as long as the booze flowed and Edward partied. But he couldn't imagine having a serious conversation with any of them about his plans for school, how nervous he was to flunk out again, or how much he longed to be good at something that mattered.
Bella had been that person, the one who had always had time to listen and didn't judge. But Bella was gone now, and Edward didn't know if she'd ever be back.
Somberly, he showered, dressed, and went downstairs to find some breakfast. With an orange juice in one hand and a bagel in the other, he walked into the living room and stopped short. His father was sitting in his arm chair, reading the paper.
A year ago, Edward would have walked out without saying a word. Now, he stopped, shifted indecisively on the spot for a moment, then cleared his throat. Carlisle put the paper down, surprised.
"Edward. Sorry, I didn't hear you come down." An awkward silence filled the room as they looked at one another. "You sure were tired."
"Yeah," said Edward lamely. He looked around. "Is Mom at work?"
"No," said Carlisle, folding up the newspaper. "She's just gone down to the bookstore to do a little shopping; it's her day off." His father looked at him with concern. "Did you want to talk to me about something?"
"Yeah," said Edward, shuffling over to the couch to sit. "I … um … wanted to talk to you about … something." Remembering Bella's advice, he looked into his father's face. He could see worry etched into Carlisle's face, and realized belatedly that his behavior since Bella left must have been concerning to his parents. "I … uh … I'm thinking of going back to school next year."
"I see," said Carlisle. "Do you know what you want to take?"
"Um … yeah." Edward got up, found his backpack in the kitchen, and rummaged through it to find the brochures he had picked up. "I was thinking about, like, graphic design. There's this course in … um …interactive media design? At the Illinois Institute of Art? It's got like a good reputation, and I looked at their website and I think maybe I could do it. They don't make you go to a lot of theory classes, so I might be good at it …" He trailed off miserably, holding out the brochures and feeling like a first-class idiot.
His father took the papers and looked through them.
"What would you do with this kind of training?" he asked.
"I could become a graphic designer and work in an ad agency, maybe, or a design studio. Or I could get a job working for a big company that had its own art department. Maybe start my own business." His father rubbed his chin and looked at Edward speculatively.
"And how are we going to pay for this?" Edward knew his father would ask that question, and he conceded – grudgingly – that Carlisle had every right to ask. His parents had already handed over tuition for two different programs he had flunked out of.
"Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'll probably apply to next fall's semester, so I can finish paying off my debt to you. I guess I'll keep working at Poppy's next year to earn part of my tuition. I took a brochure on like, financial aid and scholarships and stuff?" Edward handed his father that booklet too.
"You didn't think we would help you financially with this?" Carlisle asked softly.
"I guess I figured you wouldn't want to because I fucked up the last two times," Edward replied, looking down at the floor.
"Well, I'd need to talk it over with your mother, of course, but I can see that you've thought this out carefully, Edward. This seems like a good plan, and I'm sure we can find a way to help."
"Um … well, thanks. Thanks." Edward wasn't used to thanking his father – or maybe anyone – and he felt awkward. He rubbed his bare toe against the rug.
"Did you talk this over with anyone else?" asked Carlisle. "Bella, maybe?" Edward felt his face flush, and for a moment, his throat tightened. He cleared it roughly and took a drink of juice.
"I … uh … I was gonna. But in the end, no, I didn't." He glanced up and saw that his father's eyebrows had shot up so far they were nearly lost in his hairline. "Me and Bella had a … a fight, I guess. And now she's … well …"
"She's gone away, hasn't she?" asked Carlisle gently. Edward nodded, trying to swallow away the tightness that had returned to his throat. It barely registered with him that his father already seemed to know that Bella was gone. "Do you not have any way of contacting her?"
"Yeah," Edward replied. "But she thinks it's better if we maybe don't talk about it right now. If we don't talk at all right now." His voice faltered a little. "I said a really bad thing to her, Dad. I don't think she wants to be my friend anymore." His father looked at him questioningly. "She didn't say it that way. But I just … I dunno. I just fucked it up."
"I think maybe you're reading too much into her words, son. Bella is a very busy woman with a lot on her mind …" Carlisle broke off as the front door opened and Esme walked in. She halted at the sight of her husband and oldest son sitting together in the living room. For the past few years, it had been the scene of a lot of fights between her husband and her oldest boy.
"Oh," Esme said, a little flustered. She put the book she was carrying down on the table by the door. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Is everything okay?"
"Yes, of course," said Carlisle. "We were just tossing some ideas around." Edward shot his father a grateful look. "Find what you were looking for?" Esme began chatting about her find at the bookstore and Edward took the opportunity to make himself scarce.
He made his way upstairs to his room and sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. More out of habit than anything else, he checked his phone. No texts from Bella. There were, however, some very irate ones from Tanya demanding to know where he had been since the morning before. Edward sighed heavily, knowing he'd have to clean up that mess too. It was all part of this process of … whatever it was that Bella had started him on the path of doing earlier that year. Becoming a better man, he guessed. A better person.
He would finish what he'd started. But doing it alone, he was discovering, was so very hard.
##
Everyone at the diner seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief when Edward came into work for that shift – and his subsequent ones – without the hangover and lack of touch with reality that had been his trademarks for the last couple of weeks. He had no idea how many people knew about his confrontation with Bella. All of them, he supposed, since people always talked. But everyone seemed to realize that whatever had happened, Edward was starting to put it behind him.
It made what happened the following weekend no less difficult to see.
He was wiping up a spilled glass of water when he felt the collision of the little body against his legs, making him stagger sideways. He looked down to see Frankie beaming up at him. Like lightning, his head flashed around to see if Bella was there. But the hope in his eyes went out like a blown candle when he saw Marcus standing nearby.
"Just me, I'm afraid," Marcus said kindly. "Frankie was missing you very much, and insisted I bring her to visit you today."
"Of course," said Edward automatically. He scooped up Frankie, who clung tightly to his neck. "I'm glad you did. I've missed you, peanut." Poppy gestured to a nearby table and he settled them both there, making small talk with Marcus. After he placed their orders, Edward took a couple minutes in the kitchen to pull himself together.
"Y'ok?" asked Rosalie unexpectedly as she passed through with a tray laden with plates. Edward nodded and followed her out the swinging kitchen doors.
Talking to Frankie was bittersweet. She was impossible not to love with her quick mind and adorable mannerisms, but too often, Frankie reminded Edward of her mother, and her absence would prick his heart. As Frankie colored, Marcus looked up at Edward with compassion in his steely eyes.
"You and my wife – pardon, my ex-wife – did not part on the best of terms, I understand," he said. Edward gaped at him, shocked and embarrassed. It would seem that everyone had heard of his fight with Bella.
"She told you that?" he finally croaked.
"Yes, of course," replied Marcus, looking surprised. "Bella and I get along quite well. I could tell as soon as she called from New York that she was terribly upset. She told me that you had words. But nothing else, you understand. She does not betray a confidence." Edward puzzled through this for a moment.
"She didn't tell you what we argued about," he said at last.
"No, she did not. Only that she felt very bad about it. She cares about you very much, you know. I'm sure you two will patch it up when she returns."
"I miss Mommy," sighed Frankie across the table. Edward crouched beside her to get down her level. Frankie looked at him, then put down the crayon and patted his face gently with her little hand. Edward was surprised by the sudden gesture.
"You look sad," she said by way of explanation. "Do you miss Mommy too?"
"Yeah," Edward said at last. "I miss your mom. She's a good friend."
"She'll be home soon," Frankie assured him, picking up her crayon again. "Every morning, I cross off another sleep on the calendar, and I know that the day when Mommy comes home is closer. Maybe you should do the same, Mr. Edward. It might help."
Edward was genuinely sorry to see both of them leave after brunch. He let Frankie choose two candies from the bowl and shook Marcus' hand on the way out. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
"You're like a single parent for three months, aren't you?" he asked Marcus. The older man smiled and pulled Frankie close. His daughter put her arms around her father's leg and smiled up adoringly at him.
"Yes. We're having lots of fun together, aren't we Francesca?"
"Do you have someone to help out?" Edward asked curiously. He didn't know any single fathers among his parents' friends.
"She has many cousins and friends to play with, so we go visiting," said Marcus. "But I'm happiest when we're together on our own." He smiled at Edward with a sharp eye. "I'm not quite the ogre you thought I was the first time we met, am I?"
"N-no, sir," stammered Edward, realizing at the last minute that he had just insulted the man. But Marcus tipped back his grey head and roared with laughter. Frankie blew kisses to Edward as she followed her father out the door.
"He seems like a totally different guy," remarked Edward to Poppy, who had come up beside him.
It never occurred to him that the change had been in himself, and not the people around him.
##
The next week, Edward split with Tanya. What started out an unhappy but necessary conversation slid rapidly into an ugly confrontation, with insults on both sides. At the end, Tanya flounced out the door, screeching like a harpy to the entire neighborhood that Edward Cullen was a lousy fuck with a tiny dick. Edward was just happy to see her gone. He leaned against the door, feeling shaky in the knees and vaguely sick.
"That didn't seem to go very well," said his father dryly, entering the room.
"It could have been better," Edward agreed.
When he arrived for his shift at Poppy's the next day, Edward learned that Tanya had quit without notice that morning, leaving the restaurant short-handed until a replacement could be hired. Edward couldn't help but notice that he was assigned a disproportionately high number of Tanya's old shifts. He kept his mouth shut.
As a result, he very nearly spent every waking hour at Poppy's for the next 10 days. He wasn't sorry; the work kept him busy and Poppy was giving him more responsibilities. She had him working on everything from receiving shipments of goods in the morning to drawing up schedules for the coming week. It made the time pass more quickly.
By mid the following week, Edward could barely remember his last day off. He signed for a package from the UPS man who had arrived unexpectedly at the front door, handing him a coffee-to-go and reaching for the shipment Poppy was receiving.
"Careful, that's heavier than it looks," warned the courier. Edward carried the heavy little box back into Poppy's office and dropped it on the desk. The restaurant was already gearing up for lunch, so he was back at his tables a few moments later, not sparing the package another thought.
At the end of his shift, he poked his nose into Poppy's office and found her perusing a book. She put it down immediately and gestured him in.
"You've been working a lot lately," she said with a frown. "Take tomorrow off, would you? Tanya's replacement is catching on fast, and we should be okay without you." A greasy spoon not far from Poppy's had closed up the week before, and Poppy had picked up one of their more experienced servers to fill Tanya's spot.
"You sure?" asked Edward.
"Yeah, we'll be fine. But maybe keep your cell phone with you and stick around, just in case we need you."
"I'm probably going to sleep all day anyway, so no worries there." Edward nodded at the book on the desk. "Is that one any good? I think my mom is reading it too. Must be popular."
"It's interesting," said Poppy briefly. "Off you go now. Get some rest."
##
Edward got up after noon, ate some leftover pizza, and played video games. He knew he should probably get together with some of his friends and hang out, but he just didn't have the strength. Instead, he flopped down on the couch and took a nap.
His phone woke him up some time later, ringing annoyingly loud beside his head. He squinted at the display; it was Jasper.
"Fuck you, I'm not coming in," he said by way of greeting. He could hear the bustle of the restaurant in the background, the clatter of dishes, and the sound of the television over the counter.
"Edward, you need to watch Oprah," said Jasper, ignoring what Edward had said.
"What the fuck? You woke me up from a great nap to tell me to watch fucking Oprah? Are you nuts?" Honestly, the touchy-feely stuff from Jasper was getting to be a bit much.
"Dude. Listen to me," Jasper answered, sounding strangely alarmed. "You need to get to a television and turn on Oprah right fucking now."
Cursing, Edward rolled over and found the television remote on the coffee table. Grabbing it, he flicked on the television and found the right channel. The show was just coming back from commercial, and Oprah was jawing on about some novelist who had "done for personal information security what Dan Brown had done for cryptography." Edward was pretty sure he didn't know who Dan Brown was and he sure as fuck didn't know what cryptography was.
He had dropped his phone in the cushions of the couch, and it took him a minute to dig it out. If Jasper was still on the end of the line, he was going to rip him a new one for this stunt.
"Please welcome Isabella Swan to the show …" The audience gave way to wild applause as the author entered the studio. At the same moment, Edward found his phone, picked it up and was about to start yelling – but didn't.
She was slender, flushed by the response from the audience. The tailored suit she had on looked like it was made for her. She looked sophisticated and sexy, head to toe.
And she was Bella. His Bella.
##
A/N: I'll admit I've chuckled a little at some of the more … exotic … guesses that people had about Bella's profession. A prostitute? Really? I can't remember who guessed it first – it was several chapters back and I was verrah impressed with their detective skills.
Just so you know, any old schlub can order up car service to take them to the airport. I do it all the time.