AN: Thanks for the reviews and alerts. Unfortunately there are no secondary characters present in this chapter; nope, just Edward and Bella. I'm not sure if it was too soon but this was their seventh session so I felt I should do something a little different.
Chapter Three: part two
"So how'd your test go?" Edward asked effectively changing the course of our conversation.
I pulled the three sheets of test paper that had been stapled together out of my binder. He took the pages, gripping only the smallest corner. My mouth opened before I could control myself, "I really like talking to you too, Edward. You're unusual but I like you," I blinked stupidly, "your personality, I mean," I rushed; surprised by myself, I was never so bold.
The test slipped from his fingers, landing so it was readable for me. My eyes darted up to Edward. His head was shifted to the left, making him look sort of like a lost puppy dog, you know that look; head to the side, eyes a little wider than normal and lips pursed. He seemed to collect himself quickly, righting the test so he could read it as his eyes went up and down; not sure where to focus, the test or me.
He picked me. "How do you know me so well, so soon?" His eyes were clouded now, somehow disguised as they watched me.
"Don't you know me?" It wasn't exactly word vomit but it wasn't intelligent or well thought, no I was just speaking, just answering without considering.
"No." His answer was short and completely honest like he was a little too sure.
And his answer wasn't true. He did know me, didn't he? I'd told him about my father, a little, didn't that count? Or did it only count if he was the only person that knew about that exact part of my life? I was a very open person or at least open with those close to me. So Angela knew about Charlie and Alice knew a little bit. Of course Renee, having married Charlie at some point, understood it all.
Even our talks about books had mostly limited themselves to him. I'd forced him to talk about all the books he'd been reading and yet I'd mentioned only one that I'd been reading and that one had been a slight lie.
"What do you want to know about me?" I settled on.
He grinned like I'd surprised and surpassed his expectations. I hoped I had. "What do you want me to know?"
I stood up before I could stop myself and walked around the table; now that I was in front of him I wasn't so sure. I grabbed the test from in front of him, my hair falling against his shoulder, my arm brushing against his upper arm, I'd never felt so brave.
"Come on," I said as I walked away. It was a bad habit to get into, assuming people would just follow but, nineteen times out of twenty, it's true. I took the stairs two at a time, being extremely careful not to trip. I didn't want to fall back on him, and I knew he was back there, his footsteps, muffled by his socks, made tiny pit patters.
I opened my bedroom door, leaving it open for Edward as I entered and flipped on the light. I knew my room would be clean, which for some people was always a toss up. I wasn't a clean freak but I did like my personal room to be neat. If I was more into my physical appearance I probably would have had clothes littering my room.
For a second I had a terrible thought; maybe I'd left one of Edward's reading material books lying about but even as it swelled I checked out the bookshelf in the corner and everything was straight and appeared accounted for.
I sat on the bed, bending my knees to my chest as I got comfortable so I could watch Edward's expressions. "This is my room." I knew he'd figured that out but sometimes obvious can be important. "This is everything there is to know about me."
His eyes roamed the place seeing seashells at the windowsill; seeing the Polaroid that Renee had taken those couple sessions ago; my smile still over extended, her dress a blur in the reflection of the mirror. I'd framed it a day after it was taken, leaving it on the dresser beside my brush and other female things that you pick up over the years. His eyes moved as he took in the few other pictures, the ones that had been stuck just in the frame of the mirror. Alice and I, Angela and I, Alice and Jasper, one of my mother and an old picture of my father and I. Me as a child sitting in a red painted wooden wagon, Charlie standing with the handle smiling at the camera as I smiled at him.
And now Edward was seeing it all, the three quarters I'd left on the desk next to a necklace with a fancy script reading 'love.'* The quarters I'd separated out because they were old. His eyes saw the birthday cards I'd left on the bookshelf top, all but one laying in a pile. The 'but one' was standing up with it's cute over the top pinkness making a weird juxtaposition against the purple walls. Suddenly I felt that my room was very girly.
The card was one Alice had given me; she'd made it herself, drew the cover, a beautiful flower, and wrote a very touching memory inside. I should have been embarrassed that Edward was seeing all these things but I wasn't, I liked it and that was worrying more than anything.
I wish I knew what he saw, what he actually took in. Maybe all those things I thought he'd take note of didn't even make a mark. Maybe when I saw the necklace he saw the old panda stuffed animal that I'd kept regardless of the fact I hadn't slept with a stuffed animal since I was four. Maybe when I saw photographs he saw the poseable wooden drawing doll on the shelf above my bed.
The only thing I was certain of was when his eyes found my books. He walked over, eyes consumed in wonder. His hand came up and his fingers stroked the spines in a strangely intimate way. I blushed, heaven only knows why.
And he laughed, "I was wondering where you kept these." He pulled out 'Peter and Wendy' maybe because we had just talked about it or maybe not. He examined the brown front, the small gold leaf picture on the cover, before he set it back.
He turned to me then and he looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. How he should look so when I'd just barred myself, who knows.
Instead of asking I patted the bed, not sexually charged, just logical. "So, uh, this is how my test went." I held the test out, the front facing me hoping that I could lead him out of the comfort zone. He took the bait, he sat on the other end of the bed; nobody could ever look so graceful, and took the test in his hands again.
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Time fell around us, every time he'd get us back on topic, talking about the exam, he would suddenly see something different in the room. "Why did you paint your room purple?" He was so serious when he asked I had to giggle, just a little.
"Have you ever seen native violets?"
"Viola hederacea; uh, yeah."
I screwed my eyebrow up a little awed he knew the flower by that name. Most people didn't know things like that, did they?
"Yeah, well, something like seven summers ago my mom went on a flower kick. She bought all these books, like a lot of books," I rolled my shoulders back, staring at the walls, "And well I guess I read them too. There was a picture of those flowers and they were the most beautiful colour…" I trailed off.
"Hmm," the simple sound held a form of respect and I wasn't sure why.
"What colour is your bedroom?"
"It's, uh, I guess I could say it's the colour of animal crackers." His smile pulled my heart apart. He laughed deep and carefree.
"Why?"
He rolled his eyes, "I didn't care enough to paint it." It was my turn to laugh.
"How did you know 'Viola hederacea,' I mean, the word?"
"My mom is obsessed about gardening." His eyebrows frowned, "You say your mother had a two month summer kick years ago?" I nodded, "Well imagine that all the time. Summer, spring, fall, hell even winter, she's crazy.*" His eyebrows released the crease.
"She sounds amazing."
He pulled a hand up to scratch his slightly scruffy cheek, "She kind of is."
"So, let me guess, same kind of thing? Read her flower books?" I smiled when I asked. I could just imagine Edward with his face is a thick book examining picture after picture, reading the information and translating it into a billion languages.
He played with his lip distractedly, "I have a strange hobby," he finally admitted.
"Which is?" Was I forcing something else out of him or did he want to share? He wouldn't have led me to the question if he didn't want me there, right?
"I whittle*."
"Whittle? Like carve wood?" My cheeks hurt I was smiling so hugely. If I thought Edward with his face in a book was cute it was nothing to my vision of Edward in a plaid long sleeve shirt, like a lumber jacket, outside sitting on a log with a knee up; a knife and branch in hand. I could see that frown line that sometimes appeared between his brows that came from intense concentration. Best of all I could see magic being worked through the blade and his skill.
There was something so beautiful imagining his long fingers working a piece of wood to perfection.
"Well carving and whittling are actually different but yeah, you have the idea."
"What do you make?"
"That's where the books come in. Uh, flowers." His face bent down and I could see a blush rise on the sliver of neck left unobstructed.
"How did you get into that?" I was daunted by Edward's many talents. How can one person do so many things and still be so kind?
He looked up as if taken unexpected. "When I was quite young my mother took my brother and I to this craft fair just out of the city. It was full of pottery, paintings; you know that kind of thing. I was examining a booth of wooden carvings, whittlings really, and the man there offered me a gypsy flower. He didn't ask for payment or anything, he just gave me something because he saw my interest*." Edward looked contemplative for a moment, "I'm not artistic or anything not in the traditional pencil to paper sense but there is something about creating something. Do you like to draw?"
His hand twitched and pointed to that poseable doll I'd thought he might have noticed before. Now it was my turn to feel vexed, "I draw, or sketch, but, you know, nothing great. People are kind of fascinating…"
"Yes, they are."
His eyes magnetized to mine and the moment grew critical. His words held more than they should, or at least sounded like they meant more. I popped the moment, knowing I had to, "Well sometimes I just like to capture expressions or the way their hands move," I twisted my face away to watch the bottom of my curtains dance against the vent, "That probably sounds really weird."
"No. I think I understand."
I wasn't going to admit it to him or anyone else but since I'd met him I'd started doodling green eyes on the margins of my math homework; I'd started sketching long fingers on the inner sleeve of my English binder. Since I'd met Edward there'd come to be a stack of loose-leaf with his likeness stuffed in my sock drawer. Edward mixed with characters from the books he'd been reading and Edward with that silly lopsided grin.
I wanted to remember him how he was, in these moments, because soon that was all that would be left… right? Yes, that was all I had.
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Edward was half way through a sentence about the plural form of apples when he broke off, "What is that?" his eyes were pointed up at the shelf that was just out of heads way. I peered through the contents. Not much, the biggest thing was my CD player.
"Which?"
"That green box?"
I reached over to grab it. The box was about the size of his palm, it was covered in a green cloth with burgundy and gold embroidery. There was a gold clasp in the front that kept it closed. I popped the clasp and the lid sprang back. I grabbed the little instruction booklet from the lid and handed it to him.
"Chinese health balls." I laughed to cover up the slight embarrassment, "Renee went through a no pill health thing."
Edward flipped through the three English pages in the small pamphlet before eyeing me. "Do they work?"
I picked them out of the red velvet lined box. "I don't know," I admitted honestly. In one hand I passed the spheres to him. He laid the booklet on the green comforter before he took them in both his hands. His long fingers twisted one around. There were two little pandas on each, painted on. "I bought them for the artwork." One side of his smile turned up.
He put one to his ear and shook it gently. The bells inside rang beautifully clear, "That's sort of amazing."*
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"So what are those things on your windowsill," that was his answer when I asked him about the pronunciation of a sentence I'd written on my test 'do you have some change for the parking meter?'
"Those little bright things?" I asked clarifying.
"Yeah, what are they?" his eyes were open, bright green; the overhead light was picking out a slight smattering of gold flecks near the pupil.
"Worry dolls."
"Worry dolls?"
"You put them under your pillow at night and they're supposed to remove your worries," I sighed, "I think they're from, uh, Guatemala, or something around there. Renee gave them to me for my birthday one year."*
"Do they work?" Why did he always want to know if something worked? It didn't matter so much if they worked, not to me, it mattered that they gave illusions of help.
"I don't know."
He seemed to think about that for a moment. I rested my head on my hand just watching him. He looked so contented on my bed. His legs were hanging over the edge, his back leaning against one of my pillows.
His gaze flicked down and he looked at the silver watch on his wrist. "It's late," he said and I looked over to my alarm clock. It was twenty minutes after our session was supposed to have ended. I stood up immediately.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to keep you." He followed suit.
"No, Bella, don't worry. I made you talk about non-French topics more than half the time."
He took the test papers with him and walked out the door. I scurried to grab one of the worry dolls and then to follow after.
Then we were standing in that awkward half goodbye way. I just wanted him to stay, how strange.
He put his coat on, shoving his feet in the shoes and otherwise bundling up, his face a little red. "I'll look over the rest of this and we'll talk about it Saturday." He raised the test just a little so I'd know what he was talking about.
"Okay."
"So, yeah, Saturday…" He trailed off unsure.
"Saturday, yeah, of course." I smiled as reassuringly as I could. "Here," As I'd spoken I'd gotten a twenty out of my pants pockets. I passed the money and the worry doll to Edward. He took it and opened his mouth as if to say something and then thought better of it and closed it. "I thought you should try the doll for yourself."
"Thanks," and it sounded like he really meant it.
"Tell me if you think it works on Saturday." He smiled at that and nodded offhandedly, his eyes too busy examining the little yellow doll. Then he smiled and I jellied, right on the spot. My legs felt like they were about to give out.
He didn't look up as he left, he didn't say goodbye but it felt more important for all those things.
Notes:
* 'love' necklace: The other night when I was out and about and actually living my life, which is rare at best, a girl I know was wearing this necklace. I liked it so much I stole the concept of it. Wow I sound crazy… anyway I just thought it was really pretty.
* Gardening: My mother used to work at a green house so sometimes I start writing about plants and flowers and I don't know why…
* Whittle: I didn't want Edward to be a piano prodigy though I'm not knocking when people do that, I like that, I really do but… I just wanted to do something different.
* Gypsy Flower: When I was young I went to 'The Forks' in Manitoba and a man gave me a gypsy flower. The story Edward tells is very much similar to what happened to me except I don't whittle, I never have and I probably never will.
* Chinese Health Balls: I don't know how popular these are so in case they aren't I'm making note of them. They are generally two balls slightly smaller than golf balls that you twist through your fingers. They are supposed to do a handful of things, namely flexing your fingers and so on, and can come in any colour of the rainbow.
* Worry dolls: Another quirky item to find in a bedroom. The dolls are supposed to take on the persons worries so the dolls 'worry for you.' As with the Chinese health balls, I'm not sure if these are a popular culture thing so you can just ignore me if I'm over explaining.