All for Me, to Me, You Sue
Chapter 4: Blank Confessions
I was surprised by the turn of our conversation. After having released a bit of ease, I found myself laughing more and more – found, as in, I had nothing to do with it. He's incredibly easy to talk with and almost impossible to work with. Without permission, he just kept ruining it all for me. He ruined my composure, shattered my resistance, erased my reluctance – and all in such a facile manner, like he was only breaking a toothpick. I was strangely comfortable… in an uncomfortable, disapproving way. A part of me reasoned that it was beyond me, while another admitted that I was enjoying this, therefore allowed myself to succumb to it. I buried that second part deep, deep within.
"You, in choir?" I chortled.
"My mother's big on music, alright? I was ten and defenseless," he defended now, a hint of pure yet suppressed humiliation painted on his face as he kept his eyes straight on the road, focusing more on it now. I could tell it wasn't more that he was focusing on the road than he was focusing on not looking at me.
"Alright, alright. Understandable," I gave him some slack.
"You're cruel, don't you know that?"
"And unfriendly and enclosed. Did I miss anything," I smirked. Why the heck was I smirking about that? Have I forgotten the obvious difference between simple insults and compliments?
"Impeccable," he added swiftly and then glanced at me as he grinned back.
"Oh, please. That hardly counts at all."
"And why is that?"
"Simple – calumny. Simply calumny."
"And unbreakably stubborn, I see."
"How about you?"
He grimaced. "What about me?"
"Profligate."
He laughed heartily. "Hardly, but I am curious about the pillars to that assumption."
"Oh, come on now. You fit yourself in a crowd like a Lego and as easily, too. You can't tell me you have no related experience."
"I do, but profligate? No," he chuckled. Unbreakable, my butt. That chuckle alone – and this whole trip, actually – is committing quite the opposing crime for me.
"I know," I thought with a bit of confidence, "Impossible."
He laughed harder this time. After 'impossible', I don't know what more I could conjure so that his laugh would be even more lively next time. I'm not about to be disheartened, not now.
"Oh, trust me. You're either very wrong or very correct."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to tell you," he grinned at me.
"And impolitic," I added to his list.
Another beautiful chuckle. "Impolitic, how?"
"Because, you said it yourself – I'm stubborn," I smiled.
"Yes," he hasn't even stopped chuckling, "You are," before he simply smiled at me. I returned it, telling myself it will only be just this once. "It won't be impossible for you to figure it out."
"Because I'm a genius."
"No," he laughed, "God, no."
I glared at him coldly, but somewhere in my eyes, even I felt the playfulness of it.
He said something quietly to himself after that, but I let it go.
"That was fun," I heard him comment behind me, and I turned around to face him. I tried to keep myself from expressing any sign of just how stunning he was to me at that moment – or at any and every moment. He leaned his elbow casually by his window that he's rolled down completely. His eyes were friendly as they sat on mine with an elite, warm smile playing on his face. It was dark, and the interior of his car surrounding him would have made it difficult to see his face if not for the fair glimmer of the full moon above his head. Its beacon light showered his face, his luminescent, chrome yellow eyes dancing handsomely with the faint melody of the evening breeze.
I shrugged. "You're welcome to join us again next time," I offered.
"Bella," he smiled, "I'm talking about riding with you, to and from."
"Oh, please," I twirled around again, making sure he caught my eyes rolling before I did.
"Bella," he called once more.
I groaned as I twisted my neck so that I may face him one more time. "Yes, Callum?" I tried to sound annoyed.
He only smiled. "When will it be enough?" Another groan from me forced him to continue with a light chuckle. "When will it be enough until you can tell me all about it?"
It wasn't hard to guess what he was talking about and I needed no further clarification. "When it becomes enough for me to take it," I voiced steadily, thinking that would suffice.
"I can be patient, I think," Callum said softly. He was smiling, and right then, I knew his words were meant to comfort me in their own, strange way. And strangely, it worked.
"Curious," I commented, knowing he'd know what I'm talking about.
He smiled. "Guilty."
'Time, huh?' I smiled to myself.
I wondered if it was strange of me not to have found this boy as creepy as I think he would otherwise have rightfully justified for.
I took a hasty look at myself in the mirror. Fair-enough hair – untied and unleashed bestially around my neck and shoulders – plain face, topped with a dull, white blouse that flowed freely in soft ruffles at the bottom, and skinny tight, black jeans. I sighed as I shifted my eyes out the window. The skies bore a light grey color but it was otherwise a friendly weather. Without another look at the mirror, I grabbed my backpack off my computer chair and paced my way downstairs for a quick grab-and-go breakfast before heading out and onto my truck.
I easily spotted the silver Audi. It wasn't hard to miss, what with its utter brilliance amongst the other cars around. Forks doesn't have a car dealership, much less a car dealership that has that.
"Good morning," Callum greeted with a smile as I came by, automatically twisting himself to my direction.
I groaned.
"What did I do," he asked, his eyebrows already kneaded together in a neat – okay, kind of adorable – way.
"Huh? Oh, no, it's not you. Just tired," I reassured him.
"Didn't you get plenty of sleep last night? You shouldn't think of me so much, Bella, if that'll be the consequence."
"Very funny."
He smiled. "But really, what's wrong?"
"I just can't sleep, or I keep waking up when I do. Butt off," I groaned again.
"Curious," he reminded me, "And patient," he quickly added when I gave him a cold glare. His hands were up in the air, palms forward, as though in retreat – and defeat.
I sighed. "There are just a lot of things on my m—"
"Stop…," he interrupted, "Time, remember? Sometimes, it's the only thing that comes for free – the only thing we can really take advantage of. It takes, but it only gives. Just the same, it breaks and then heals, no matter how hopeless it seems." There was a distant expression in his eyes that developed as he spoke. His voice also became much softer, as though speaking from feeling – from experience. The next thing I knew, my hand was clutching his arm gently. Since when has this stupid thing been keeping its own personal life from me?
"Don't get all theatrical on me. I swear I'll beat you to the ground if any of it actually gets to me," I said with a hard tone. And then something weird happened… I smiled – me.
He smiled back at me, and the shock of my smiling altogether dissolved, glad it at least triggered his own in of all of its pathetic comparison.
Mike didn't take his time in jabbering his new sighting to Jessica, and she didn't take her time from making a big deal about it, either.
"Touching? There's touching? It's gotten that far?" she asked in excited amusement.
"Oh my goodness, Michael," I glared at him and he shrugged with a sly smirk. "Hardly, Jessica. It isn't even considered going anywhere, when there are no intentions of it. I was, well, sort of just comforting the guy."
"Oh, puh-lease," she sounded, "That is the oldest in the book!" And right then, I knew I had no chance in this conversation, so I simply rolled my eyes.
"Shh!" Mike whispered hastily toward Jessica, and I looked up to see Callum on his way to our table.
He sat down casually at his seat between Eric and Tyler – oh, yes, and in front of me, of course. From there, lunch was just a tick of a clock away. No specific topic was covered. It was all jokes and laughs today, which was honestly to my relief. I preferred it much more than when they start talking about particular things, like Megan Scott.
"Hey, check it out," Tyler said then. He was turned around in his seat, his arms still resting on the table as he held his sandwich greedily. I glanced upward, half knowing what to expect – speaking of which.
Megan Scott strolled delicately along the cafeteria as though it was a runway. Her steps were evidently following an invisible straight line on the ground without her having to look down to inspect it. Her hair was dyed charcoal black today, but it only made her features pop a lot more. Gold and brown eye shadows swirled and blended and perfected themselves around her stunning, green marble eyes and her lips were a shimmering, nude pink color. Her cheeks were almost bare, except for a light blush focused around her cheekbones. I watched her sit with a couple of friends, all of whom are completely ordinary people, especially sitting next to someone like Megan. In no time at all, she was smiling and laughing melodically with them.
I averted my gaze back at my table and noticed how all the girls were grunting… and all the guys, staring. Well, almost all of them. My eyes landed on a particular one right in front of me and found him resting coolly against his palm, his own eyes staring blandly – in that attractive, heavenly way – outside through the glass walls of the cafeteria. It was drizzling. When I'd shifted my eyes away after a quick second, I found him already looking at me. Though he wasn't smiling at first, he did once he caught me. In my majestic, grand defense, I stuck my tongue at him briefly before bowing my head low, pretending to be so engrossed on today's cafeteria menu – dry ham and cheese sandwiches.
Mike and Jessica had already begun fighting about the whole Megan issue before the bell rang.
"Don't lie to me, Mike, I saw you staring at her," she accused.
"Okay, unconsciously—"
"Great! That completely excuses it, Mike – makes up for it beyond belief and reason," she argued.
"Bella." Huh? How did I get into this?
"Bella." And I realized with a light blush that it wasn't either Mike or Jessica who was saying my name. I glanced around for my caller.
He chuckled. "Over here," Callum waved. "Interesting little thing," I heard him mutter to himself.
I rolled my eyes. "I was getting there. What?"
"Well, to be blunt—"
"Yes?" I interrupted impatiently.
Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "'I was getting there.' Look, I was wondering if you'd be willing to accompany me over coffee tomorrow morning. It's Saturday, and I can pick you up."
I was shocked at his request – or whatever that was, exactly. Suddenly, I could no longer hear any shouting or arguing of any kind. I quickly looked over at Jessica, unsurprised when I saw her widening her eyes at me encouragingly. She was nodding her head, and for a while, she looked like a bobble head the way she insisted on it so much.
"I guess," I conceded. "Coffee," I clarified.
"Coffee," he agreed, and then smiled. "I'll pick you up then – tomorrow at, hm, eight?"
"Eight. Sure," I accepted. My obvious hesitation didn't seem to bother him as he continued to smile.
"Well, come on, you guys. We'll be late," Angela called. Her warm smile informed me of her friendly rescue once more. My hero.
Sure enough, at eight the next morning, the doorbell rang.
"Bella, I think it's for you," my dad called from downstairs. I heard him open the door, followed by muffled greetings, such, and whatnot.
I hurried to tie my untamed hair into the best ponytail my lack of expertise could manage in spite of the cold weather. I straightened out my outfit in front of the mirror – a lengthy, plain white tank, a brown sweater and a dark green winter coat over it, and jeans – and headed out the door.
"And who did you say your parents were?" my dad was asking.
"Um, Luke and Madison Chandler, sir," Callum answered politely.
"Ah," Charlie replied, with no further need to move on. As I came down into better view, I saw that there was a flood of confusion in his eyes, his eyebrows creased slightly. He stood when he caught sight of me and whatever was bothering him seemed to have been washed away.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Charlie greeted.
"Good morning, Bella," Callum repeated sweetly.
"Hi, hi," I grumbled. "Let's go already."
"Hasty, isn't she?" I heard Callum ask my dad.
"No, boy, just grumpy. It's no headline news," they chuckled together.
I rolled my eyes at them as I began heading out the door, but Callum was there before I could reach for the doorknob.
"I'll get that," he insisted and opened the door for me.
In our immediate view was the out-of-this-uh-town, silver vehicle. I heard a prolonged whistle behind me and I glanced back to see my dad adoring it, his eyes seeming to say it all: I approve. Another roll of my eyes. His car was as dark – and aromatic and strangely calming – as I'd last been in it.
He drove as smoothly as I remember, as well, in a direction I was foreign to. But he seemed to know exactly where he was going. After about half an hour on side streets, he swerved into a lane that which I was not familiar with, but was altogether pleasant. Small businesses flowered along the street – from flower shops to local pizza parlors, to nails and spas, to hair dressers, and other classical restaurants. We parked neatly in front of a café – Café Renée. I smiled at the name of my mother – how I miss that crazy old woman.
"You like it?" Callum asked as he offered his hand to me.
"Yes, actually," I giggled now, "My mother's name is Renée. Hardly a big deal, but—"
"Sure, it is," he smiled as I took his hand. He helped me out of the car in such a gentle manner, and I tried to reason with myself, convincing it to believe that that was the sole reason as to why my heart lost a beat at that moment when he wrapped his arm around my waist to guide me from the car.
Inside the café was an old-fashioned layout. Rusty gold and brown wallpaper covered the entire room with wide frames of historic places and events scattered on it randomly. Old newspaper clippings were stapled as a border where the wall meets the ceiling, where circling fans hang. Wooden, coffee tables besieged the room. A soft, country music played contently in the background and a sweet gingery smell mixed perfectly with the scent of coffee as they danced in the air. It was warm here, and not only that, but everything felt uncannily comforting. It was entirely… me, I think is the word.
Callum seemed to notice this. He smiled as he gestured his hand over to an available seat, not that there were many customers at this time, at this place.
"Callum," I started when we were seated down, "This is nice."
He chuckled. "That sounds more like you're saying it's shocking. Perhaps, that I even knew about a place like this?"
"Obviously," I half-joked.
He smiled this time, now glancing at the place thoughtfully. "I've known about it for a while."
"A while? But didn't you just—"
"Yes, I just arrived… back," he admitted, almost reluctantly.
"What do you mean, exactly?"
"It's not my first time in Forks," he smiled, "I've been here before… um, actually, lived here before."
I felt my eyes widen in spite of me. "You lived in Forks?"
"Um, only for a while."
"Well, I guess that would explain why Charlie doesn't know about you yet. Usually, Forks is too small a town for secrets and strangers."
"Yeah," he agreed just as someone came by to take our orders.
"And what would you youngsters like this morning?" she asked nicely.
Callum looked at me to go first. "Um, just hazelnut coffee, please, sweetened."
She glanced at Callum for his. "I'd like to have black, English tea, please, unsweetened."
She merely nodded before walking off.
"Impressive," I commented. "Too fancy for me to have the slightest clue about, yes, but, you know, nevertheless."
He chuckled. "England was also part of a past."
"Honestly? Then why on Earth are you back at Forks? I mean, England!" I exclaimed. What I wouldn't give to travel that far? But then again, what I wouldn't give and do and say to stay here at Forks…
"I like it here. For me, this is where it feels like home," he simply replied.
"So then your parents must have found jobs around here, right? I'm surprised Charlie doesn't know about it yet…"
By then, the waitress came by to deliver our drinks. I held it firmly in my hands, absorbing its heat through my palms as it washes away the cold from them. I sighed as I began to feel it climbing down my body, outlining me in warmth. I've always loved the smell of hazelnut coffee. Sometimes, I'd make some for myself just for the sake of it. It was my grandmother's favorite and she made sure when I was younger than it would be mine, too. I twirled my table spoon around it almost unconsciously.
"My parents died."
I froze and all the warmth vanished from me in no less than a second. Icy particles seeped through my skin and I couldn't tell whether that was the reason why the hair on my stood, or if it was because of something else – chills, maybe.
"They're what…? But you told Charlie—"
"That my parents' names are Madison and Luke."
My mind was beginning to scramble, unsure of both what to say and where to start. "So who's—? How—? When did—?"
He chuckled lightly. "Would you like a second, Bella?"
I slowly nodded my head unconsciously before realizing it – fortunately not too late – and quickly shook my head no more surely.
Callum smiled. "I was eighteen… er, around Thanksgiving last year. We were in England for a traditional family visit at my Uncle Leon's house. On our way to the airport to head back home, we encountered ill-intended vagabonds – um, nomadic, unsettled people – who demanded huge sums from us. They commanded that my father step out of the car and he whispered that I stay with my mother before obeying. My father acted without hesitation, determined to steer my mother and I from the situation as quickly as possible. He collected all our valuables. His eyes were brave, I remember, and he presented himself just as well. He was a respectful man, and respected in return by others.
The bastards turned to leave right after, but they hadn't intended to leave witnesses alive. My mother shrieked at the gunshots and her arms reached desperately for me in the backseat. I screamed for her – for my mother's safety. Her arms never did reach me as the third gunshot pierced the air. She became incredibly still after that and eventually, her arms dropped numbly with her body. After that, all I could remember was screaming at the sight of my mother's lifeless body and closing my eyes shut from the scene.
The next time they opened, I was in a hospital. My uncle took me in and offered me a home without a moment's thought – along with protection, care, and an identity. I was unharmed from the crime, but not a day went by in which he didn't try to ensure my safety as best as he could – from anything and everything that could possibly make that otherwise. In spite of all that, however, I felt I needed to help myself, as well. And here I am now, trying to walk the future with the glory of the past." He smiled in poorly disguised melancholy, his eyes intent on something on the table.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand, enfolding it securely around my own two. I felt a light strain on my forehead, and I realized I must have my eyebrows pulled together again – though this time, it was far from the reason they normally are with him; this time, it was of concern.
He chuckled softly. "Oh, no, please don't," he pleaded with a gentle yet evidently sad smile. But he gripped my hands with his free other, anyway, and bowed his head slowly as he wept.
"His name was Edward," I whispered. A frosty zephyr waltzed across my face and through the trees as they swayed almost beautifully around us. The forests in Forks were like fresh, spring grass for residential bugs – which in this case, we were the bugs. Everything was green and moist. It delivered winds as fresh and pure as its very existence and a smell as vibrant and as calming as both. Small, crackling noises whined under our feet against the old pavement path. We traipsed contently along the forest – contently and uncaring.
Callum had parked neatly in the driveway in place of Charlie's cruiser to drop me home right after the promised coffee – only coffee – but I surprised him – and myself – by asking if he'd mind a troll through the forest instead of parting.
"Is this the part where you kill me?" he'd asked.
"Mm, tempting," I contemplated.
"Hey, now, I wasn't serious," he almost sounded worried.
I chuckled as I began to walk ahead – half-expecting, half-knowing, half-wanting him to follow.
He carried his eyes to my face now and without having to glance up, I knew they bore curiosity to my sudden choice of words.
I didn't bother to lay out the details, knowing he'd be able to pick themselves up on his own. "He left me, unwarned, last year." I chuckled with little heart into it. "Actually, he'd taken me up right here in this very place to tell me goodbye – to tell me that… he no longer cared. He doesn't love me, not anymore. I— What was I supposed to do? I guess I knew— God, I knew…," I heard myself beginning to pant and I blinked the threatening tears away.
"Not once have I endured a night without him there, seeming to bid my life to be so fragile, because even now… Even now, I dream of him, only him. I dream of that menacing day, only in such lovely terms. And that—that's what—," and with that, I let them flow, "That's what hurts the most. I wanted nothing more, never wanted anyone nearly as much. I fooled myself, you know… Perhaps, I thought, if I tried hard enough, I would be enough, eventually; I'll suffice – perhaps love was enough, it had to be. But eventually came to pass and greeted me with goodbye. It was so impatient, so anxious. It tore me apart and for a while, that's exactly how I felt. Separated from my heart and denied feeling, separated from my mind and refused thinking, separated from my soul and kept from living. From there, I told myself I will – I will, for every moment he didn't." I felt a crowded weight under my eyes as I narrowed my eyes to keep my tears from escaping. My lips quivered invisibly against the agonizing flashbacks that now strolled inside my head.
I felt a warm hand graze mine and an automatic heat seized my body helplessly. I shot my gaze at Callum and found him peering at me gently.
"Does this comfort you?" he inquired. His voice was dripping with such pristine sincerity, sprinkled with tiny dabs of hope and concern.
It was irrevocably difficult to tear my eyes from his captivating, liquefied golden orbs. I felt a heinous sense of relief at the way he irritably knew exactly what I needed – not much. I neither wanted him to pry nor to sit back and nod at the misfortunes of my tinted little world. How could he have possibly rendered my defense transparent? My words lost their way outside my mouth as my heart failed to follow its consistent rhythm at that very instant. I knew I neither wanted to believe, nor disbelieve his actuality. More than anything, I'd hate to tell him the truth. This mysterious, gorgeous stranger – and this foolish, dazed heart of mine, still knocking animatedly against my bruised chest. Frustration permeated my body as I blanked. His eyes drained my mind of reason, just as they do my breath. Finally, I glanced down sideways in shame toward myself.
And I eagerly entangled my hand in his in response.
Yes yes, I know. It's been almost three days, but here's chapter 4. For the next few days, we'll be up and moving to a new house and I'm still unsure when we'll be able to set everything well enough for me to write again. Hopefully, my laptop will do. I'm looking forward to continuing, and I hope you guys are enjoying it so far in return! Sorry if the next one takes a little longer, but I'm also hoping to get a new chapter out before they move the computer. :) See you guys around