I don't own Twilight. If I did, I'd go on a long trip.
~ IV. ~
Sunday, June 28, 1931
The heat in my room is becoming unbearable. I'm growing restless. I want to see her and I know that I won't; at least not until tomorrow. I miss her already. It doesn't make sense to me; how can you miss someone you barely know? Yet, the feeling of emptiness that settles over me when she's not near me tells me it's possible. I don't have to work tonight. It's only twelve o'clock and I'm already going stir-crazy, sweating like pig.
~000~
It's my own fault that I feel hopeless, disappointed and sore this evening. I should've just gone back to campus and studied in one of the empty lecturing halls, but I didn't. I couldn't stand the heat in my room any longer. Searching for an escape, a trip to a different place, a different time, I wandered outside to catch some rays of sun in the hopes of turning the pasty pallor of my skin golden while daydreaming of the girl, imagining her light singsong laughter and the places I would take her if she were mine.
So I found myself strolling down the streets in the blistering summer sun on this Sunday afternoon until I found a park. It was in a nicer part of town – nicer and richer than the one I live in. Among the tree lined paths and lusciously green meadows, there were families taking strolls or simply resting on one of the wooden benches, dressed in their Sunday best; others were in carriages riding the outer path of the park. The scene was idyllic and reminded me of Central Park. I found a shaded bench underneath a tree and started flipping through the pages of a book I'd carried along with me.
The book didn't hold my attention, and I must have fallen asleep for some time. When I woke up, the sun had gone down a bit, and the heat was no longer menacing and all consuming. I decided it was time to head home.
I stretched my legs, stood up and was on my way, when I saw her. I stood there frozen in the middle of a path leading around the great meadow staring at her, willing the image to be a figment of my imagination. I wanted to turn around and run in the other direction. She wasn't by herself; her arm was casually slung around the elbow of dapper looking young man in a well-tailored grey suit with a waistcoat and a hat. He was probably about my age but he looked younger, more alive and happy. She carried an umbrella to shield her from the sun; her face was turned up to him and I could see her talking animatedly. He leaned down to her and they both laughed.
I felt like an intruder. I realized it wasn't the time or the place for us to meet. I turned on my heel like a gutless stalker, too afraid to face reality, and started walking briskly in the opposite direction. I thought I was a safe distance away when I heard her voice.
"Edward, is that you?" I was surprised and shocked when I heard her voice calling out my name. I willed myself to take another step before I heard feet approaching on the gavel of the path.
"Edward! I know it's you!" Laughter followed.
I couldn't avoid her. Sooner or later I would've had to confront reality anyway, I told myself reassuringly; she was above me; not one step, but a whole staircase full of steps. The sooner I faced the music and saw her with another man, the better. I turned around to look at her. She was standing close to me now, her arm bent behind her head to hold her hat in place. She'd let go of the man's arm; he stood two steps behind her.
"Gosh, Edward, how are you? I was just telling Alec here about our lunch hours together and there you are!" she exclaimed in an excited voice. She smiled, closed up her umbrella and clutched her hands together in front of her chest.
I dared to glance into her eyes; they were sparkling with youthful mischief at that moment and instantly I felt regret at the realization that this guy she was with made her feel this way and not me. My eyes shifted between them, trying to figure out what their connection was.
"Oh, how rude of me," she gushed, while I remained silent. "Edward meet my friend Alec, Alec meet Edward," she introduced me to the man still standing a couple of feet behind her.
He nodded in my direction, politely extending his hand to me. I grasped it firmly. His touch was the opposite of mine. His hands felt warm and soft like Bella's hands; his touch as light as a feather.
"How do you do," he said courteously, taking his hat off.
"Fine, thank you. And here I thought you didn't have any friends, Isabella," I accused her playfully. Part of me wanted to chide her for telling me so much and yet so little about her life. Clearly she does have friends – male friends other than me – and judging from the sight of her walking arm in arm with him, friends whom she is close to.
"Oh, Alec and I grew up together and our families are very close, so you see we practically had no choice in the matter," she explained with a light laugh. "I think we may have been friends while still in the wombs of our mothers." She giggled.
I managed to tear my eyes off of her for a second to glance over to him. He was not quite as tall as I and was of slender build. His dark eyes looked kind and protective as he smiled at Bella. I could see affection and trust between them.
"I am happy to finally meet you after having heard so much about you during the last couple of days from Bella. I should thank you, Edward. My father's business in this town keeps me unfortunately very busy, and so I don't get to spend much time with Bella. I'm afraid I've failed miserably to entertain her and show her a good time. She usually gets bored quite easily, but you seem to have captured her attention," he said with a friendly yet cautious expression on his face.
"Is that so? Well, I'm glad to be of service and I can assure you there is no need to thank me since the pleasure of her company is all mine," I replied with a broad smile, trying to gage my competitor. I wanted to hate the man who had held the arm of my girl mere moments before, but I couldn't.
There was something about his demeanor that was so inherently non-threatening, a combination of docility and bookishness, as if he'd never lift a fist or even utter a rude word, that it was impossible to feel anything other than pleasant kindness toward the guy. His manners and appearance were quite literally disarming.
"It is such a nice surprise to run into to you. We must accidentally run into each other more often, please!" Bella begged with a childish grin on her face.
Even though both Bella and Alec acted like our meeting was perfectly normal and we were nearly good friends, I couldn't stand there and talk any longer. A look down at my worn out shoes was all it took to realize that their world and my world shouldn't mix.
"Well, I apologize for not being able to stay longer to chat, but I must run now. It was a pleasure meeting you Alec . . . Bella." I nodded to both of them and after they said their good-byes, I walked away.
When I found the nearest exit out of the park, I started running. I ran until I was out of breath and my shirt was soaked through.
Of course as I sit here in my dull room surrounded by yellowing, peeling wallpaper and old scraped furniture, I regret my hasty exist. I should have stayed around and talked. Maybe then I wouldn't sit here wondering whether he is formally courting her; maybe I would know what they are to each other. It feels like I'm going mad with jealousy in this hole; jealous of a perfectly nice, wealthy man who can give her all the things she likes; her fancy dresses, the luxurious perfume, a nice house complete with a green lawn and servants.
I have nothing but a couple of crumbled up dollars from my last paycheck, and I won't be able to earn a remotely decent living for years to come. I have nothing. I am nothing.
I need a drink to numb the pain. Wheeler and the temperance movement be damned!
~000~
Monday, June 29, 1931
I just woke up still dressed, but without a hangover. Whatever swill they were serving at Aro's dark speakeasy last night did not kill me, though my mere presence at his establishment got me into some trouble, resulting in a job offer that I refused without much thought. I'd avoided the place for a long time even though I drink there free of charge.
As appealing as Aro's offer looked for the status of my bank account, getting into business with the scariest proprietor of an illegal liquor establishment seems like a bad choice either way you turn it. God knows what other ventures Aro is involved in. I'm pretty certain none of them are within the realm of socially acceptable forms of business or even legal. Yeah, I'd have some more money, but in all likeliness I'd also end up in the very place that currently employs me, probably sooner rather than later.
The poor, unlucky, and above all, loosing sob whose life I tried to save last night might eventually turn up on my table too. Just hopefully not tomorrow. No, tomorrow might very well be his first day as Aro's accountant. I'm not sure whether I was successful in my attempts to convince Aro to hire Jasper Whitlock, but I gave it my best shot. Good luck hiding the money his establishment is bringing in, I'm thinking. But according to Alec, Jasper Whitlock is a master at fudging the numbers.
When I arrived late last night, a chubby girl, accompanied by a lousy piano player, was up on stage doing a bad rendition of 'Pirate Jenny.' Smoke was hanging thick in the air and half the customers where past the stage where they should have been served another drop of liquor. In my hurry to numb my jealous, petty mind, I ran into the worst place. Aside from the usual drunken disorder going on in places like this, there was always something else, something more sinister going on at Aro's.
Imagine my surprise then, when I had barely ordered my second drink, and noticed Alec, Bella's friend and the cause of my somber mood, sitting in a dark corner of the room. I could barely discern him through the smoky air, but I was certain it was him right of the bat. His expensive suit and stiff posture made him stand out in the rowdy crowd. He had a pipe in his hand and a glass filled to the brim with clear liquid. Alec nodded in my direction when he caught me staring.
His presence didn't make sense to me. I'd figured him rich enough to procure his own supply of illegal liquor for his home, and I wasn't sure what he was doing there in this run down, grimy basement. I was still puzzling over what brought him to this place, when they dragged in a badly beaten fellow dressed in a torn, dirty suit. As the goons who held him stopped by my table to wait for the backdoor to open, the badly beaten guy looked at me for a second too long. I could see desperation in his eyes, and in a last ditch effort to pray for mercy, he croaked out "help me, please!" The injuries he'd sustained so far looked gruesome and he'd probably look worse once Aro's crew was done with him. But there was nothing I could do about it.
My guess was that the guy probably couldn't pay his debts to Aro, and I sure as hell couldn't help him in that department. Though Aro did owe me a favor for pulling a bullet out of the arm of one of his handlers, saving him a trip to the hospital and trouble with the authorities, I knew I shouldn't get involved. It was pointless. You see, in my experience, even if you helped a fellow like this, they inevitably always ended up in the same spot you helped them out of.
I was about to shrug my shoulders and take a sip from my second drink, when I noticed Alec standing next to my table.
"May I?" he asked, pointing at the empty chair at my table.
"Suit yourself," I answered in a tone that sounded hostile, even for my taste. He wasn't discouraged by my cantankerous attitude and sat down as if I'd given him a well-mannered invitation to have a drink of the finest bourbon with me.
"I don't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help notice you exchanging words with Mr. Whitlock a minute ago. It's really quite a shame, the predicament he has found himself in, and I can't help but feel responsible for his demise."
I wavered for a second, wondering who Mr. Whitlock was when it dawned on me.
"Pardon me, Alec, but who are you referring to? The fellow who they dragged into Aro's backroom a minute ago? I wouldn't say I exchanged words with him," I said searching for confirmation of my suspicion. "And why would you be responsible for his troubles?"
If, indeed, he was to blame or had any hand in that guy's trouble, Bella's friend might not be as nice and clean as I originally thought.
"Well, Mr. Whitlock worked as an accountant for my father's business for some time. He'd always been an excellent employee until he developed a soft spot for my sister Jane, and made the doomed attempt to court her. I say doomed, not because I thought he was beneath her in status. No, rather doomed because my sister had certain expectations of life, and it was very clear from the beginning that he did not fit what she was looking for–"
"Alec? I may call you that, correct?"
He smiled and nodded once.
"I'm not sure how I come into the picture here? Or what I could possibly do to help him."
"Please give me moment of your time to explain further, if you don't mind?"
I shrugged my shoulders and let him continue.
"Unfortunately, you see, my sister, well she encouraged his misguided infatuation and made him buy her presents, which were most certainly beyond his means. Eventually he started gambling – cards I believe – to buy the gifts dear Jane desired. For a while he even won. Of course his winning streak ran out and inevitably he lost. In order to cover his debts, he took money from my father's business. My hands were tied in the matter and I had to let him go. The pity is that, other than his ill-fated love for my sister, Mr. Whitlock is a very honest man and an excellent accountant."
"That sounds like a sad story, but I'm still not certain I follow you on how this pertains to me?" I asked, corking an eyebrow at him questioningly.
"Well, I couldn't help but notice, when you walked in, the owner of this place greeted you personally. Something I see quite rarely happen at a place like this. So I thought you might be the right person to talk to him – Aro Volturi is his name, I understand. Maybe the proprietor could use a good accountant in handling the finances for his business. To put it plainly, I was wondering whether you might be able to broker a deal of some sorts whereby Mr. Whitlock's life would be saved in return for his services. Surely a good accountant could be quite advantageous for the owner of this fine establishment."
I chuckled at his description of Aro's place. There were a lot of words to describe it, but fine was definitely not one of them. I stared at him and he didn't avoid my glare. He seemed sincere from what I could tell.
In a bout of temporary insanity, I replied, "I can't guarantee that anything I say will help this guy, just so we are clear."
"Of course."
I got up slowly to knock on the door to the backroom. I really didn't even know why I got involved. Maybe it was the pathetic look of Mr. Whitlock or the story Alec had imparted; this poor slob in love with the wrong kinda gal. I'd never dare admit it, but empathy was possibly the reason that made me knock on that door.
One of Aro's men opened up and rushed me inside. I walked through a narrow corridor farther down into the pit of the building to where his office was, passing Mr. Whitlock still awaiting his punishment on my way.
Aro, the slimy fat old greaseball, sat behind his desk counting dirty dollar bills when I reached his office. He dropped the money and looked up at me with a wicked grin, revealing a row of tar stained yellow teeth and a fast receding gum line. I try my hardest not to cringe and back away every time I see him, but I'm not sure how sincere and friendly the expression on my face was when I approached him last night.
"Mr. Cullen, what can I do you for? Is there something wrong with the prime distilled liquor I'm serving tonight?" He grabbed a cigar slowly with his fat pudgy fingers, cut the end off with precision and lit it.
"I'm not here to complain or pay compliments about your product. I'd like to discuss the man, Jasper Whitlock I believe his name is, who is sitting out there waiting for an audience with you."
"What's he to you, Cullen?" He puffed on his cigar and narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what my game in all of this was.
"Nothing really. It's just that a friend of mine asked me to put in a good word for him. He mentioned that Mr. Whitlock is a very capable accountant and what a shame it would be not to put such valuable talent to good use. So I was wondering whether you'd have any use for him."
He laughed out loud and continued for some time. His roaring laughter reverberated in the room with exposed brick walls.
"Good accountant, huh? Okay, I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking," I said and motioned to leave.
"Cullen," he called after me.
"Yes." I turned around and saw him blowing smoke rings into the air, petting his protruding belly with his one hand as he did so.
"If you ever need for a job outside the morgue, come see me. I could use a fellow with a cool, clever head like yours. God knows the prohibition won't last forever and I'll need to find new ventures."
"I'll keep that in mind." I nodded and bade him farewell.
Not in a million years, I silently chanted to myself as I made my way up the stairs, not in a million years.
In the clear, upstairs, I relayed my conversation with Aro to Alec. He thanked me profusely and handed me his business card, insisting that if I ever need anything to contact him. I got the hell out of there. Something about the night's events made me lose my taste for liquor. I fell into a deep sleep when I got home.
It's too early to go to the library now, and so I stay here lying in bed. I'm playing with the card now in my fingers. Alec is wealthy indeed. Even I – a nobody who knows no one in this town – am familiar with his last name. I pull out some matches and light the thick paper card in the sink.
When my watch reaches almost eleven o'clock, I'll shave and get ready to leave. I don't know whether I should mention to her that I ran into her friend last night.
Lemme know what you think?