When we arrive at the hotel, I'm somehow able to make it to our room without collapsing into a heap of tears.
Greg, ever understanding and wonderful, gently leads me to the bathroom. Without a word he turns the knobs and softly undresses me. I watch him, marveling at his selflessness. There is not even a hint of sensuality as he deftly unbuttons my blouse, pulls down my skirt, removes my underclothes, and places me beneath the warm spray. He is fulfilling his role perfectly as my caretaker, my friend, and I am regarding him like an awed child. I wonder with a sad heart if that is all I've ever be able to give him.
He steps in behind me, naked and patient. His hands caress me, the skin rough from years of hard work. Soap suds cover the both of us and I would laugh at our innocence if I was positive it wouldn't turn to sobs.
His hands shampoo me and then bring me close to him. It dawns on me that he's rubbing my back soothingly and murmuring to me like I'm a lost child. I hadn't realized I'd been crying.
Wordlessly he brings me out of the shower with him and dries me off carefully with the towel, treating me delicately as though I'm covered in bruises.
We head to bed together but I don't sleep. Instead I wait for Greg's reassuring snores before I creep over to the window where the streetlights faintly shine through.
I'm not positive I want to do this, to admit defeat and weakness like this, but I do it anyway.
With two fingers I separate the blinds and peer outside.
The parking lot is practically empty, and there is no contrite vampire standing in the drizzle. Not that I expect him to be there, but I have to look, just to be sure. I stare for a few minutes, lingering on the shifting shadows and darkened crevices, but no one appears.
I pull the blinds shut even tighter than before and step away. I bury myself in Greg's arms, though I know sleep won't come for hours.
X
I haven't dreamt of Edward in years. Mostly my dreams are void of anything too deep these days. In light of being back in town, I'm not entirely surprised that I dream of him tonight, but I'm not used to the pain anymore. For years I lived in complacent, comfortable avoidance. Now, it seems everything has caught up to me.
"Bella!"
The voice reaches through the darkness of my nightmare. My eyes pop open to Greg shaking me.
"You were having a nightmare…"
"I'm sorry," I say automatically, feeling embarrassed. I haven't had a nightmare like this since a little after Greg and I started dating. I can't remember any of it—just that it was about Edward. And that it hurt. Staring back at Greg, I wonder if I said Edward's name. I'm not worried he will bring it up, though it will burn, but I'm afraid of hurting him.
Greg doesn't appear hurt. He just looks worried, and more than a little tired. "Are you okay now?"
"Yes. Go back to sleep."
He protests for a few moments but then his face is back into the crook of my neck. I focus on his hot breath on my skin and the faint rapping of the light rain on the window. It doesn't lull me back to sleep, but it helps relax me. I stay that way until dawn, thinking of anything but forgotten piano melodies and icy kisses.
X
Morning has always been my least favorite time of the day, and it's no different today as Greg tries every approach possible to rouse me. I must have passed out somewhere around 5AM. A glare at the alarm clock tells me it's around 8. It's much too early for me to be up and functioning, but Greg is insistent. We're leaving for New York in two days and there is much to be done.
The most important thing is cleaning out Charlie's house.
Greg silently hands me my coffee cup with a rueful smile. I know he hates waking me; I get such little sleep as it is. I manage to muster up a little smile in return for him, though I wish I could give him a great deal more.
"We should probably head over now," he says, watching me for a reaction.
Though I've always been careful when telling Greg about my past, I have always found myself unable to leave out descriptions of Charlie's house, especially my bedroom. It's funny, considering I grew up in Phoenix, but I have always considered Charlie's house to be my "childhood home". Perhaps it is because it's where I spent a great deal of time with Edward. Perhaps it was the first, and last, time I ever felt home anywhere. I'll never know, but I do know this is going to be painful.
But it also could be good for me. A sense of closure, maybe.
"Yes," I hear myself telling him, standing to get dressed. "Give me a half hour."
Greg is surprised by my response, no doubt, but he says nothing. Instead he lays a comforting hand on my shoulder and a fluttering kiss on my forehead.
I watch as he changes into a more comfortable shirt and puts on some sneakers. His body is fit, well-known. He is the second man I've ever been with, my third boyfriend, but I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him. He takes care of me; he never hassles or pressures me. He doesn't know my past, and never will, but that's fine because for some strange, crazy reason, he understands me anyway. He gets it, and me, without me having to say a word.
He looks up and catches my appraising stare. Mischievously he grins, misinterpreting my thoughts. I can see lust in his eyes but I also see the love and concern that always live there, the emotions that haunt me. He loves me but there's nothing I can give him. I don't deserve him. I never did. Though staying with him for life would be comfortable for me, it would be unfair to him.
But I always have been a selfish creature.
X
My childhood home looks more or less the same as it did when I left 10 years before. The grass is a little unkempt, and a few shutters definitely need to be replaced, but I experience a comforting déjà-vu moment as I stare at it. For a moment, I feel like Young Bella again and the warmth that feeling brings me is the closest thing to happy I've experienced in a long time.
A rough hand takes mine, pulling me back into the present. I look over at the strange man belonging to it, startled for a moment. Then I remember and smile weakly at Greg. Any and all pleasant tingling of a time I knew what it meant to feel completely human is gone.
"Lost in memories?" he asks knowingly.
I don't have to answer.
The inside is musty, as I figured it would be. Charlie had never been much of a housekeeper. Guilt overwhelms me when I think about all the opportunities I had to come visit him over the years. He came out to New York a few times, but I know how hard that was for him. More than anything, Charlie loved being home.
The living room is the same. Renee and Charlie's wedding picture is still there, though a great deal dustier and sadder than the last time I saw it. My eyes catch on the remote, left beside a dirty glass on the coffee table. Tears are inevitable today, but I refuse to cry yet.
"Do you want to finish the rest tomorrow?" Greg asks, taking a box from me.
"No," I say. "I want to get this done by tonight."
Then the tears fall without warning, despite my vow to not cry until much, much later. Greg holds me, offering the solace of his warm body. After a few moments, I pull away and rub my cheeks. I'm disgusted with myself for being so emotional. Greg eyes me while I attack the kitchen, picking up stray newspapers and random containers Charlie's left behind. He helps me silently and we're done with the kitchen and living room in just an hour. As much as it relieves me that Charlie had few possessions, it also fills me with immeasurable sadness. He, too, was living a shell of a life, with everything around him being merely props.
As I peruse the rest of the house, I see nothing inside has changed at all. Not surprisingly, either, my room looks just as it did the last time I left it. I hesitantly sit on my bed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. It feels as though I've literally just stepped through a time warp.
I hear Greg moving downstairs, figuring he's begun to pack away some of the things we're keeping. I know I should start sorting out my room but the strength won't come.
The warm, prickling sensation of being watched comes back to me again and I look around, expecting someone to be in the corner or in the closet. But a quick walk-through assures me I'm as alone as I've ever been.
Then I trip on something and land on my knee. I yelp in pain before I can stop myself and Greg calls out my name. I open my mouth to answer but something catches my eye.
A floorboard is poking up. This is obviously what I tripped on. I don't remember it being this way when I left, and the ten inches of dust over everything assures me Charlie never came in here to clean.
Curious, I crawl closer to it and examine it. It seems like it's been pulled open and carelessly put back. I reach out to touch it, wondering if perhaps something is buried beneath it when a hand grasps my shoulder.
I scream out and fall back, but then I see it's only Greg.
Who else would it be?
"Bella, I've been calling your name. Did you hurt yourself?"
We both look down and see the little scrape on my knee and the obvious beginnings of a bruise. Greg sighs, not impatient but amused. "We've only been here for ten, fifteen minutes tops and you've already hurt yourself."
I smile at him but my thoughts are focused on the floorboard. Is there something beneath it? I have to find out. Something inside of me must know now.
"Could you get me some ice?" I ask. Greg doesn't notice the anxiety in my voice and quickly heads downstairs.
Staring at the board, I curse myself for thinking of the Cullens as I wonder if they have something to do with it. I can't just accept it as a loose board, and the impulse to think this way drives me nuts. Will I ever be able to stop imagining them?
I put the thoughts out of my head. I don't have enough time.
I gather my courage and pull away the board to discover… nothing.
Nothing's there.
This is becoming a habit.
The whole thing is so anticlimactic that I start to giggle. I can't stop, not even when Greg runs in and stares at me. He says things to me but I can't hear. Tears stream down my face, but all the while the laughter goes on and on.
It just won't stop.