A/N: Enjoy and review Chapter Five of We Walk the Blue Hour. Chapter Six will be added tomorrow - Saturday October 4th!
smeyer owns everything
Chapter 5: Dinner
"Are you two okay?" Renee's worrisome voice called out from the receiver.
"Yeah Mom, why wouldn't we be?" I said, trying not to yawn. It was eleven o'clock, but Renee insisted on keeping tabs on me through many late-night phone calls after my little incident.
"Well, you know… you do have your tendencies to be a little...," she hesitated.
"A little what, Mom?" I urged half-heartedly.
"Depressed, aloof, distant? Ah Bella, I don't know! I'm just worried. I don't want things ending up like they did back here"
In all truth, I would have rather skipped out on my last couple of months in Phoenix. I had lost so much. Renee's trust, which only until recently did I begin to gain back, my friends, my passion for anything, my voice, my identity. I was an empty glass no one was willing to pour anything into. I didn't understand why everyone was freaking out all of sudden that one night - when Renee had had enough, and for the first time in forever she called Charlie purely on her own will.
"Charlie and I are great. I promise," I said after a moment. Charlie would be leaving in a couple of days to visit his friend, Billy, in La Push. When Charlie described the beauty of La Push and First Beach I felt an immediate familiarity with it all. It was probably because of my prior but many visits to Forks and La Push as a child. Now these things remained, but were obscured in my mind.
"Alright, I'll believe you. Maybe you can do something nice for him?"
"Uh, any suggestions?"
"Hm, that's a toughie. If I can recall all he did was eat, watch football games, and sleep when we were married" Renee said reminiscing.
"I guess some things never change," and she laughed at this.
"Hey, why don't you cook him a nice dinner? I'm sure all those microwavable stuff's nothing but junk."
I looked at the kitchen clock; my eyelids fluttering from tiredness.
"Alright, maybe I will," I agreed out of sheer capitulation.
"If I remember correctly he loved my homemade spaghetti. I'll e-mail you the recipe tonight" she said and I could feel the instantaneous grin that gleamed across her face now.
"Great, Mom. I've got to go now, it's late. How about I check my mail in the morning?"
"Okay, honey. Be good. Tell Charlie me and Phil say hi," Renee replied and with that she hung up the phone.
I'd relay the message to Charlie, but I wouldn't include the Phil part of it. I could sense that Charlie's heart still ached with the mere mention of my mom. I may have inherited a lot of Renee's looks, but I hoped I didn't get Charlie's perceptibility.
Monday after school Jessica and Angela came over to help figure out the set up for the Masquerade party. I was a little wary at first; Jessica's infamously discerning and picky eye would detect every nook and cranny of the Swan household. Not to mention when she realized my house wasn't exactly gargantuan in size. Mousey Angela would never say anything as rude as what Jessica was capable of.
As we entered the front door I immediately checked for Jessica's first reaction. She lifted her head once she stepped through the door - panning across the ceiling then the living room in its entirety and even sniffing the air. Not too bad.
"Light," she said as if I should be passing her something.
"Light, right," I said trying to sound as if I knew what she was referring too.
"This place is as dark as a dungeon! And if you remember correctly, Bella, we did not pick the Medieval Dungeon theme. The Masquerade's all about the twinkle and sparkle!" Jessica beamed.
"Nice place, Bella. It's very quaint," Angela said with sincerity.
"Thanks, Angela," I said, "I'm glad someone appreciates it"
Jessica walked off, disappearing into the kitchen. In a moment she was back again this time with a notepad in hand. Her countenance was preoccupied as she wrote down a couple of notes as she touched the large couch in the middle of the room. Suddenly she bolted up the stairs. Angela and I looked at each other and shrugged. At this point, we were used to Jessica's antics and if she was going to supervise this whole party planning process then, so be it.
"Would you like something to eat?" I offered Angela.
"Oh alright, thank you. I didn't eat much at lunch today," Angela said meekly.
We walked into the kitchen. As I prepared her a small snack of microwavable pizza we began chatting about the recent assignment we received in English, the party (a given) and the SATs when she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes growing wide.
"Angela? What's wrong?" I inquired when she remained in this state for sometime.
"Nothing, I just got this really weird feeling in the pit of my stomach," Angela said her face growing paler.
"Is it the pizza? I hope I didn't undercook it," I offered.
"No, no. It's just this feeling I get sometimes… that someone's watching," she looked up at me from the kitchen counter where she sat. She could tell I was not convinced, "my grandmother used to be a psychic, you know. I know what you're thinking, fortune tellers! All fakes, but my grandmother wasn't. When she passed seven years ago I felt like she kind of passed a dose of her power to me. If you can call it a power."
Angela shook her head, and I stared at her unsure of what to make of her 'funny feeling.'
"I'm sorry if I'm scaring you or anything. It's nothing serious. It's just I'm getting this feeling a lot here being in your house."
"Don't be sorry. I think we all get like that sometimes," I said.
Just then Jessica came rushing into the kitchen looking as flustered as ever.
"Geez, Bella you think you could have informed me about the fact that you don't have one stereo in this entire house? Do you think a piano from the dinosaur era is going get the party started!?" she said with indignation, "Angela we've got to go. There's so much that needs to be done here!"
Angela turned to face me with an apologetic smile. When they both left, the house distilled into an eerie quietness, but I strangely did not feel alone.
Charlie wouldn't be home for hours, and I had the rest of the afternoon to myself. I went to my room and logged onto the computer. Ten new e-mails were in my inbox. About half spam mail, but I immediately clicked onto Renee's attachment sent last night. The recipe was for Garlic Spaghetti with Pan-fried Vegetables. Sounds delicious, I thought to myself, and complicated. Nonetheless, I printed the recipe out. Afterwards I checked the clock beside my bed – 4:25. I would have plenty of time to stop by the local market in town to pick up some ingredients.
My drive into town was pleasant and calming. The crisp, cool October air filtered in through my lungs. The matured leaves of Fall were just beginning to split from their branches. As I drove through, the dancing leaves fell like a rain storm of sunrise and rust-colored paper planes onto my windshield; a shame that death could be so beautiful.
The sky was a brilliant periwinkle layered on top of a deep magenta that glowed through a melting sunset. The beauty was distracting and I couldn't focus much on the road before me. I glanced quickly at my rearview mirror when something silver and bright caught my eye.
The beauty of this hour reminded me so much of Edward who, once again, decided not to speak to me during school today. He remained in his usual quiet solidarity through English and art where he focused on a blank canvas. He was breath-taking even in deep thought, but his was a sad, haunting kind of beauty. There wasn't youth and vigor beneath those bronze eyes that were glazed with centuries of experience. Just when I thought I had discovered an inkling of truth, my perceptions fell apart, leaving Edward open to interpretation once again.
Suddenly, a horn honked at my side. It was Mike Newton in his mom's cherry-red Toyota Camry. He waved at me winking as he did so.
He rolled his passenger seat window down and I could see there were two other people whom I did not recognize inside.
"Hey, Bella where ya headed?"
"The market," I yelled across the threshold; the road between us, "I'm cooking for Charlie tonight."
He grinned a grin that required all his teeth. He drove with one hand, but lacked control as his car swerved dangerously close to mine. Laughter was heard within Mike's Toyota.
"We're actually heading somewhere around there too! Maybe we'll see each other there."
"Alright. Bye, Mike!" I said straining my voice.
He sped off into the distance.
After fifteen minutes of driving I turned into the parking lot of Fork's Market. It was located smack between two other convenient stores – one an alcohol liquidators and the other a small postal service. There didn't seem to be many parking spaces available, except one.
I inched carefully into the tiny, enclosed space near the end of the lot hoping the bulbous fenders of the Chevy would remain unscathed. I sighed with relief when nothing appeared to be damaged, and slowly slithered out of the car.
Crap.
The space was way too narrow. There was only barely enough room between each car for me to move through. It took concentration to maneuver across the thin space. I was glad when I reached the end, giving myself a mental pat on the back, and hoped that the adjacent car would have left before I came back.
Then the sound of a sharp turn mixed with laughter pervaded through the October air. The source of the guttural screech came from the same cherry-red Toyota Camry I had seen earlier, and it was headed straight for me.
I felt cold all of a sudden, and thought maybe I'm dead. Blackness lined my vision and I felt the blood in my face drain away.
Turbulence.
Gravel met my frail palms and knees sinking deep within them. In the following moments a crash finally sounded and the voices of men, women, and children rang in my ears.
I knew I wasn't dead, because I could feel the sharpness of solid rock against my skin; the blood squeezing through the thin membrane. My eyes were sore I had closed them so tight. As if closing them would make the death-mobile headed directly for me go away.
"Bella, I've got you," whispered an angelic voice. I realized then that I was in an entirely different position; the hard rock had disappeared beneath me and I was lying face-up. Icy fingers traced my temples to my eye lids to the middle of my cheeks.
"Wake up," he said again this time stronger, fiercer.
The sounds of a car door shutting and then a male voice's wail.
"What have I done!" it yelled out, "Did I kill her?"
"No," the familiar, serious voice spoke back, "she's still breathing."
"Bella, I'm so sorry, I…"
I opened my eyes and it was like déjà vu. There he was again, my savior, holding me tight as if he'd never let me go.
"Edward," I managed to whisper out between short breaths.
"Bella," his voice and countenance strong, "how are you feeling?"
"I'm not sure. What have I done this time?"
He looked at me as if he couldn't believe I was speaking full sentences.
"Car crash," Edward said with a crooked smile.
"Hmm, I'm remembering now. Do I have all my limbs at least?" I asked half joking, but serious enough that I prayed I wasn't damaged for life.
"Everything seems to be intact," he said; jokingly perusing over my body and held my hands together, "but your hands are bleeding a little."
"Edward, before I get up, is everyone staring at us?"
"Not quite," he said, "Mike Newton's freaking out thinking he's killed you and its generating a lot of attention."
I smiled at him, intrigued by the depth of color that golden eyes held.
"Bella, are you ready?" he said after some time.
"Yes, Edward," I replied back and he lifted me up in his arms slowly so I could catch the ground beneath me.
I cast my eyes over myself. I was alright except for the cuts on my hands and probably bruising in the morning. Otherwise, I was 100 okay, but the scene before us was a whole other story. The truck was surprisingly in equal good shape, but the station wagon that was parked next to it was in serious disrepair. The entire bumper was smashed in by the Toyota Camry nearly inches from where I stood. I realized then that Edward and I were standing fifteen cars away from the incident. I gasped in shock at this, and looked up at Edward who had resumed his usual stoic disposition.
"Bella! Bella!" Mike Newton's frantic, slurred voice called out to me when he saw I was standing up, "are you alright? I swear I didn't see you I-"
I stepped back on instinct, but my knees gave out a little from a dizzy spell that suddenly hit me. Edward, as quick as lightning, held my arms and waist balancing me.
"Edward, what happened? How did you-"
"Bella, please. This isn't the time nor place to talk,"
"But I want to know why I'm perfectly fine when I should be over there, smashed into pieces! At least tell me how I got here!"
"No," he said curtly. I was mad now.
"No! No? Edward, I can't keep up with you."
"Bella," he said apparently annoyed.
"Edward," I said matching his caustic tone, but kept his expression like stone.
"Okay, fine. I guess we'll talk at school. Oh wait- that is if you actually decide to talk to me. Later," I said walking forward at first tripping over my feet, but took stride once I regained my balance. Edward was at my side in seconds.
"Bella, I'm sorry. I just can't now. Let me take you home."
"No, I came here for a reason."
"That is?"
"Too cook for Charlie!" I yelled, surprised by how irritated and completely fed up I felt. Edward's face darkened and looked as if he was hurt by my biting tone, "I just can't take not knowing if you hate me or not, if you'll ever speak to me again, if I'll ever see you again at school! You've saved me twice already and I don't know anything about you!"
I didn't add that all I wanted was to know everything about him. He stopped in his place.
"I'm… sorry, Bella," he said, "Truly I am. It's as difficult for me as it is for you."
"Huh? You're an enigma, Edward Cullen," I said, finally surrendering my tough front. Inside I was weak as jelly just being near him, knowing that he saved me. I felt abashed at how my heart palpitated like a hummingbird's wings when he was around. We walked through the parking lot, through the faces of bystanders ogling the crash of metal against metal; the glean of the cars in the evening light was oddly beautiful. The audience didn't pay attention to us; for all they knew, I wasn't even part of the accident. Only Mike Newton was aware that I he nearly killed me by his own hand.
As we approached the scene a frenetic Mike, his eyes growing large, rushed over and embraced me. Edward had to tap his shoulder when his tight bear hug became more of a choke hold.
"Bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't- We didn't- It's just that- We had a drink. Just a little, ya know? And then Nick's mom called all mad telling him he wanted him home and-," everything about Mike was shaking and he pointed to Nick and another boy from school standing in shame; the two backseat passengers from before.
"I swear I'm fine, Mike. I'm fine, my truck's fine. You didn't kill me, okay?" I tried to say in a soothing voice, "Your car, however, is not fine."
"Yeah," Mike said, sweating bullets through his blonde hair, "but as long as you're fine, Bella. Look, my parents are gonna kill me and if the police find out we – Well, I don't want to think about it now."
Edward snorted at Mike, staring down at him. Mike turned to him then.
"Hey, man thanks a lot. I don't know what happened, but I'm so glad you were here."
"Stupidity," Edward said his voice was absent of sympathy, "is what happened."
Mike nodded, taking the hit.
"You're right, man."
Edward did not respond, but glared at him through stern eyes.
"Well," I said cheerfully, "I really need to get dinner ready before Charlie gets home. I'm sure he's going to be starving tonight after all this."
"Right," Mike said solemnly.
"Hopefully I'll see you both at school," and with that I walked on into the Market's entrance but, as I expected, Edward's tall, cold frame was right there beside me.
"How on earth did you get-"
"At least let me help you make dinner," his elegant voice was odd juxtaposed with a woman's scratchy one announcing a special on cantaloupes over the loud speaker, "you may be fine, as you put it, but your hands aren't in the best condition."
"You're right," I said, admitting to the truth of his words "and we need to talk."