Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
An: I love hearing your predictions in your reviews, even if it is not what I actually plan to happen. Thank you to those who have taken the time to review. I hope you now enjoy reading some sentimental Alice & Bella moments. You may be left with more questions than answers, but all will be revealed sooner or later. Slow burn, remember? Oh, and these chapters are still unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.
Can't Help Myself: Chapter 7
Present …
There's an awkward moment of silence as neither of us speaks. I'm not sure if she's afraid to answer, or if she really doesn't have one.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the events of the past forty-eight hours. I returned to Forks for the first time in at least five years, I buried my father only yesterday, I saw the man whom I've loved for nearly half my life, and now I am being confronted by my former best friend.
Nothing seems like reality anymore.
My eyes are glued to Alice's round, protruding stomach. It's hard to ignore the lurking sadness I feel at seeing her in this state. But it's nothing I've not felt before when in the presence of someone pregnant. It's a ghost of regret; a life lost that could've been mine.
And then I think of you, Edward, and I wonder if you know.
Do you know how much I've lost? How many regrets I have?
The line my thoughts have taken is a dangerous route I should not travel. There's been too much sadness already, so I'm quick to refocus.
I take another moment to study my cousin, and I'm happy to see that pregnancy suits her. Despite the look of apprehension upon her face, she's glowing.
In fact, even with her hair cut short and fuller figure, Alice is still as beautiful as she always has been.
I can feel the familiar twinge of jealousy fighting its way up from deep within, but I hold it back. It's not Alice's fault for my own lack of self-esteem. And I want more than anything to repair the damage between us.
Shaking my thoughts away, I ask my question again. "Why?" It comes out much softer than before, my tone no longer accusatory, but instead pleading.
Alice's eyes fill with tears and her chin trembles, "I'm sorry."
She sniffles, and I feel a little bit more of the wall I've put up between us breaking away. I hate to see her cry.
She's obviously as upset, no doubt the extra hormones fueling her emotions. I remember a time I cried over a dropped bite of ice cream on the pavement.
And then my mind wanders to you, and I think to myself, Will I tell you all my secrets?
I want to, if you'll let me.
But right now I must focus on Alice, and I don't want to make her feel even more guilty by demanding further explanation from her, even though I'd like to; because not telling me about her unborn baby is almost as hurtful as all the things I've done to her.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Instead I ask a much easier question. It's a safe question, simple, but one I'm dying to know.
"When are you due?"
Her face instantly transforms, a bright smile appears, and I love how she lights up at the mere mention of her future child.
"I'm due on Christmas!" She explains proudly, a little bit of the Alice I used to know finally shining through.
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I even manage a smile in return. "It's fitting then, seeing as that is your favorite holiday."
"It is, isn't it?"
Momentarily it's as if the past several years haven't happened. I feel like we're sixteen again, my last summer spent in Forks, and the easy friendship we shared has been left untouched.
Unfortunately the moment doesn't last, and I remember that reality shows a much grimmer picture.
There's a heavy pause in the conversation, her brows pucker, and her smile slips into its former frown.
"I'm very sorry about your Dad."
Once again I'm forced to remember why I am in Forks again; only hearing the reminder from Alice is much different than every time before.
I've listened to apologies and condolences from every person I've spoken to since the moment I found out about my father's death. And with each person I bob my head in thanks, sometimes I even mutter the word in return, and on the rare occasion I allow the hug or handshake they will offer.
Never once have I completely broken down. In fact, other than the surge of emotion yesterday as I address my father's family and friends, I have not cried more than a few stray tears.
I don't because I just don't know how.
I've spent years bottling up my emotions, hiding them, and then locking them up carefully in a deep, dark place inside myself. It's one of the few things I'm good at – avoiding the need to feel – but it's also one of many things I am trying desperately to change.
If I can change, maybe I can put my life back together.
Maybe then you can be mine again. Then again,I am not foolish enough to hope for such a thing.
But because it is Alice, the one person who was always there for me, who offers me her sorrow for my loss, I finally feel myself becoming overwhelmed.
I choke back a sob, blinking back instant tears. "Thank you."
Then she's there, the distance between us no more and her pregnant belly pushing against mine. Her arms wrap around my neck and mine hug her as best I can around the waist.
I didn't realize until then how much I needed this. For the first time in days I feel relief, and I let myself relax in Alice's embrace. She's willing to set aside our past, for even a moment, to console me.
I look over her shoulder to see you peering out the front window. You are focused on the sight of Alice and me hugging tightly as we shed mutual tears of pain.
This moment belongs to us, however, so I don't try to catch your eyes.
A few moments pass, and I know it's my turn to give a little since Alice has already apologized.
"I've missed you," I admit when she pulls away.
Alice wipes a stray tear from under her eye. I do the same.
"I've missed you too."
We're not healed, not completely, nor is all forgiven, but this moment is big for us. It's the foundation for rebuilding our relationship, our friendship. It's not as if we were only friends once, we're family.
Family is for life.
The front door clicks open, and we both turn. I expect to see you standing there, but instead Alice's mother is smiling down at us.
"Good, you girls made up. Now get your butts in here to help me please."
We laugh because Aunt Mary has her hands on her hips and she already looks like a sweaty mess. She has yellow, rubber cleaning gloves on her hands and a red, polka-dotted apron tied around her waist.
I would bet anything that it's the same set of gloves and apron she wore when we were kids.
Once back inside my aunt takes no pause in ordering us around.
Taking Alice's condition into account there is little she is able to do, so she is tasked with sorting through the bathroom cabinets. I realize then why you have been asked over. Alice is still able to pack, but you can help to move the boxes.
I've been ordered to start on the living room while Aunt Mary finishes the kitchen. Her plan is to follow behind me as I pack so she can scrub and dust.
She hasn't given you a specific task, which does not escape my notice, but I am relieved when you pick up an empty box and follow behind me.
We may not be alone, but it is the perfect opportunity to attempt to get you talking to me again.
Let me just listen to the sound of your voice.
If I'm lucky enough, maybe you'll even tell me a little about your life, now.
There is so much I do not know.
Like how when you walk over to the mantle and look at the photographs displayed there you show the same stiff posture I saw yesterday. What changed you?
"I remember this."
Your tone is soft, but I catch every word.
I abandon the end table where I am tossing magazines into a trash bag and walk up next to you, curious.
You point to the photograph in front of you, an expression I cannot determine clouding your face.
The picture is one I remember well. Four youthful faces smile back at me, and I am overcome with nostalgia.
I have no idea why Charlie would chose this photo, out of all the ones ever taken, to be placed upon his mantle. Then I remember - it was taken my last summer here, on the night before I left to return to Phoenix.
I should've come back.
In it Alice and I have our arms hooked around each other's shoulders, cheeky grins upon our lips. Alice's hair then was still straight and long, hanging down to nearly her waist, whereas I had gone through a faze and chopped mine short in a spikey, pixie cut.
To Alice's right is Jasper. Blond wavy hair, blue eyes, and entirely enamored with my cousin. I remember then I forgot to ask where he is. I'll have to ask Alice.
Finally I take in the person on my left. Unruly dark hair, one-sided smirk, and ripped up jeans describes the Edward in the photo. The sight of our past staring me in the face makes my heart pound.
This was taken only a few months before it all changed …
Edward from the past is nothing like you. You are one and the same, but with your short hair, serious expressions, and perfect neat clothing I wonder how much of what I remember remains.
"Yeah, I remember too."
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