Chapter Five: Left
As we wound our way through the too-familiar tunnel of trees, I began to seriously doubt my own judgment.
It was definitely a bad idea, coming here. What could possibly have led me to believe that Edward's presence would make it easier?
Well, Edward's presence made everything easier. But that was beside the point. I could already feel the tears stinging my eyes as the Cullens' former residence came into view.
The house was the same in many ways; still white, still three stories tall, still a hundred years old. The stream still tumbled musically in the background, and the lawn was still dappled with shade. However, it was clear that no one had lived here for a while. The grass was long and uneven, and the garden looked wild. Though its exterior was as bright and cheery as ever, the house's gloomy windows gave a distinct impression of dusty vacancy.
I stepped out of the car, in a trance. I barely registered the sound of the door slamming behind me, or of Edward's soft steps as he followed me guardedly.
"Bella," he muttered, "are you sure…" I held a finger up to my lips and took another step toward the house. It seemed to be a living thing, highly magnetized, pulling me toward it. I had a strange compulsion to see inside it. I had to know.
I hesitated at the door, wondering what I would find inside. After a long moment of uncertain stillness, I nodded to Edward, who mutely opened it for me. I walked in…and gasped.
If I had been expecting anything, it certainly wasn't this. All of the furniture remained in place, as if it were still being used. The white couches, the light wood coffee table, the big-screen TV…they'd left it all behind. Only a thick layer of dust was there to attest to the fact that they'd ever gone.
I shut the door behind me and turned to the corner that housed the grand piano. Impossibly, undeniably, it was there, shrouded by a white canvas cover. I stepped up to it and lifted a corner of the cloth. Yes, it was definitely the same instrument—I recognized the smooth contours, the glossy black finish. My breath caught, and I had to grab the piano bench for support.
"Are you alright?" Edward murmured, coming up behind me and catching me around the waist. I nodded.
"Silly of me," I muttered.
"What?"
"To think that you'd taken it with you. I should have known better. But somehow, it made so much sense to me…"
"Why would I? I was already leaving everything of value." I looked at him. "What's a piano," he elaborated, "when you're separating from the love of your…existence?"
"Still, it would have helped me to know that you were still playing"—my voice broke then, and I couldn't hold the tears in any more. Before I could catch my breath, I was sobbing, feeling like an utter fool. Edward gathered me up and let me collapse against his shoulder.
"Maybe we should get you home," he suggested when the worst of it had passed.
"No," I protested faintly, "I need to see the rest of the house." Edward nodded, and together we started up the stairs.
Some of the doors I simply passed, but others I had to open. Carlisle's office remained intact, the majority of the books still on the shelves, only a few paintings missing from the wall. The nail where the wooden cross had hung was bare, however; that comforted me a little.
Next I looked into Alice and Jasper's room. The furniture was exactly the same; that I'd expected. I wasn't here to check the furniture. I turned immediately to the right and opened the closet door.
Just as I'd thought—every rack and shelf was bare. It was just like Alice, to leave everything except the clothes. That should have made me laugh, but the tears inexplicably resumed their flow.
"Don't worry," Edward soothed, "you'll see her again soon." I didn't respond, instead heading back up the stairs to Edward's room. It was still intact, everything. Even the CDs remained on their shelves, organized in their mysterious way.
I sat down on the couch, and Edward joined me. It felt comfortable, almost normal, to resume our usual spots. Like he'd never left at all, I thought derisively. I looked at Edward. He didn't say anything, but I could tell by his expression that he was trying to read me.
"I bet you're wondering why," I murmured.
"Why?"
"Why I needed to come here. I know it doesn't seem to make sense."
"Yes, I was wondering, actually. But you don't need to explain yourself to me." So understanding.
"Yes, I do." He started to protest, but I continued, "It'll make me feel better, maybe slightly less crazy, if I at least have a reason." He nodded and waited for me to proceed. "I guess I figured…I just needed to see it. One last time. Allow myself to remember." We both cringed as we watched that fateful night replay in our minds. The night that started with a party and ended in disaster… "Besides," I interrupted our joint reverie, "if we hadn't come, I always would've wondered how you left it."
"You could have asked," Edward told me.
"I wouldn't have, though. I wouldn't want to make you answer that."
"You know, Bella," he sighed, "there are times when I'm really sorry I can't read your mind."
"Trust me," I replied, "you really don't want to know what I'm thinking." I grinned, but the effect was somewhat ruined by my still-blotchy face.
"I would have to disagree," he replied, taking me into his arms. He leaned down to kiss me. I responded with enthusiasm, but my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting. Edward withdrew and chuckled. The sound of his laughter still delighted me.
"Oops," I said, "please disregard that."
"Not a chance," he said, helping me up from the sofa. "I have already caused you enough pain; I'm not letting you starve yourself for my sake." His tone was joking, but I sensed undertones of real conviction.
"Fine," I grumbled, "I'll go eat."
"Sounds like a plan." He led me out of his room and back down the stairs. We drifted past Alice and Jasper's and Rosalie and Emmett's rooms, past Carlisle's office, past the kitchen, down to the spacious living room…and then I stopped.
"What is it?" Edward wondered. I drifted over to the piano corner, where a speck of brown had caught my eye. I reached the instrument, and sure enough, there was a long-dead dried rose on the floor, right next to the leg. I picked it up, letting several brittle petals fall to the floor as I did so.
"Alice left one," I whispered, staring at the flower.
"Come on," said Edward, gently taking my free hand while I let the one holding the rose fall to my side. As we exited what I would always think of as the Cullens' house for the last time that century, a trail of fallen petals was left in our wake, a testament to things never forgotten.
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By the time we got back to Charlie's house, I realized I really was hungry. I headed straight for the kitchen, taking a box of spaghetti out of the pantry. I turned around and saw Edward, sitting in his usual chair at the kitchen table. I paused in my tracks, struck by another bout of painful déjà vu.
"Bella?" Edward questioned, looking concerned.
"It's just so strange."
"What is?" Cautiously, ever so cautiously. Would it always be this way with us? Would he always have to be careful around me, watching his every step, measuring his every breath? Even when I was his equal—powerful, beautiful—would he be able to break his habit of alertness around me? I thought back to the months before he'd left. What we had seemed so fragile now, so breakable. I knew we would have to rebuild it if it was going to survive.
"All of this," I finally answered, "You being here. I mean, for months I sleepwalk through a waking nightmare, and then, in the space of a few hours, my life becomes a dream of heaven. I keep thinking…I have to wake up sometime."
"And what makes you think you're not awake?" Edward asked sadly.
"You're here," I repeated. "This can't be real. My mind must be tricking me."
Edward crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed me softly.
"There now," he murmured, "Could you possibly have made that up?"
"Probably not," I acquiesced.
"Good." He let me go and, in a flash, got out a pot, filled it with water, and put it on to boil. "Now make your pasta." I complied. We lapsed into a peaceful silence, me stirring, he sitting. We were soon interrupted, however, by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
"Bella?" came Charlie's voice from the hallway.
"Dad? I thought you were fishing!" My tone was, perhaps, a bit higher than usual, pitched with nervousness.
"It's storming like crazy out there," Charlie informed me. I could hear him approaching the kitchen. "I'm surprised you didn't notice." I looked out the window. The rain was sheeting more ferociously than usual, and as I watched, lightning struck hotly across the sky, shredding the clouds in two for a brief second. Thunder rumbled hugely, making me jump. How had I missed that?
But there wasn't much time to think about the storm; Charlie soon entered the kitchen. I watched as he looked straight through Edward, started toward the living room, did a double take, and stopped, facing us.
"Hello, Charlie," Edward greeted calmly, rising from his seat.
"You," Charlie hissed, looking livid. The color was rising in his face, a vein in his left temple pulsing. I'd never seen him this angry before. "…out…" was all he managed to say.
"Now, Dad," I soothed, panicking a little, "be reasonable. Let us explain…" I knew my efforts were futile, however. What we had to say would just make him angrier.
"Bella," he choked, "you can't honestly…you know what that…that…did to you?"
"Yes," I replied coldly. Edward stared at me, startled. "He came back. Now sit down and let's talk like rational people." I guided Charlie into the free chair, then moved to stand resolutely behind Edward.
"Charlie," Edward started after the vein had stilled, "I can understand why you're not exactly pleased to see me." I could guess from Charlie's expression that this was a major understatement. "But I'm here because I've realized what an utterly moronic and pig-headed decision I made, and I want to make amends." I looked at him; this was laying it on a little thick. However, Edward's face showed only the greatest sincerity.
"And then what?" Charlie exploded. "Leave again, with no way for her to contact you? Turn her into a…a zombie? Disappear, never to be seen again? Do you have any concept of what your leaving did to her?"
"Yes," Edward replied, his voice burning with regret, "I do. But I assure you, I won't do it again. I could never hurt her again. Charlie, I love your daughter." I gave Edward a warning look—this was a little much for Charlie to handle. Indeed, the aforementioned looked positively apoplectic with rage. "And this time," Edward continued, "I'm staying."
"Well…well…" Charlie seemed to be struggling with this new information. All this time, he'd made Edward out to be the bad guy, told himself the same thing I'd been telling myself—that Edward left because he didn't care about me. I think it helped him deal with what I'd become. "Well…what if she doesn't want you to stay?" he looked uncertainly at me, and I glared back at him.
"Then I'd leave," Edward replied without hesitation. "If that's what she wanted, I'd be gone in an instant."
"But it's not what I want," I cut in, shivering at the prospect. Charlie seemed to recognize the truth of this.
"When you say you're staying…" Charlie glared at Edward.
"Excuse me, I should have been more clear. I mean I'm staying with Bella."
"As in, we're not staying here," I clarified. Charlie looked like he was about to speak, but I plowed on, "we're going to Alaska, to visit his family."
"His…family…" Charlie's mouth continued to open and close. He looked like a rabbit in shock. "Alice?" he finally muttered.
"Yes," I replied, "we're going to see Alice. And Dr. Cullen, and Esme and Jasper and Emmett and Rosalie."
"Can't they come here?" Charlie wondered.
"Well…" I had no answer to this.
"I watched my daughter wander around like a ghost for eight months," Charlie said quietly, "and now the person who made her that way turns up and expects to take her away from me just when I get her back. What am I supposed to say to that?"
"Char—Dad…I know it's a lot. But I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions…"
"No, Bella!" Charlie said forcefully, "You are not an adult. You're just eighteen! You're a kid—you don't know what you want!"
"I know what I want, Dad," I said, moving to put my hand on Edward's shoulder, "and he's sitting right here."
Charlie was deathly silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "And after Alaska…what were you planning on doing then?" I let out a breath, relieved that he was finally being reasonable.
"Going to college together. In Maine. There's this little university, Carlisle's just gotten a job there as a professor. Think about it, Dad—I'd still be going to college. We'd have supervision from Edward's parents…"
"Go away," Charlie repeated. "To Maine."
"That's the plan," I agreed.
"No," he replied.
"Wait—what?" I had been sure he'd readily agree to this plan.
"Too far away," he said.
"Dad, be reasonable!" I seemed to be saying that a lot today. "This is my best chance at a successful college career. Because Carlisle works there, he can get me in as a special favor." I wondered if this were true. Unlikely… "It's also the only chance I have at happiness," I added.
Charlie pressed his lips together and settled back in his chair, thinking. As I watched his profile, which was illuminated by the intermittent flash of lightning, I was suddenly struck by the enormity of my decision. The thought of what my disappearance would do to Charlie was almost too much to bear.
Then I glanced back at Edward, reminding myself why I was doing this. I looked into the face that my life orbited around, the eyes that were my religion. I realized again how very aware I was of him; every movement of his hand, every breath that escaped his lips registered in my subconscious mind. Here was my strength. Here was my resolution. Here was my Edward.
I turned to face Charlie again. He was just preparing to speak.
"Well…" he was struggling again. "We can…talk about the college thing." I sighed in relief. No ultimatum, no lecture. He was finally being reasonable.
"After all," he continued, "it's not like you'll be going away forever. I'll still see you on holidays and all that…besides, the important thing is that you go to college, even if it is in Maine. But…are you sure you'll be okay?" He looked so concerned that I was momentarily overwhelmed by an urge to walk over and hug him.
"I'll be fine, Dad," I informed him, looking him in the eye. "I'll be great."
He nodded. "There is one condition." I opened my mouth, but Edward spoke first.
"Name it," he said.
"You stay here for the summer," said Charlie.
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