So, I'm trying to get this chapter done as fast as possible for you guys... I thank you all from the bottom of the deep, dark abyss that is my heart for bearing with me and my sluggish updates for all this time. xD
Carlisle Cullen
Shuff, shuff. The soft sound of footsteps made its way to my ears just as the door clicked into place. A sigh seemed to echo through the room; I sensed another being, but decided against opening my eyes for the sake of trying to make up for the many hours of lost sleep. Minutes of silence passed without any form of conversation, before the door opened again and another pair of quiet footsteps crossed the floor. The sound stopped at the side of my bed, a few moments of silence once again occupying the room.
"Who are you?" asked a male voice, breaking the heavy quiet that sat upon the room.
"Esme Platt. A, um... friend of Carlisle's." Esme, of course. She was always here, confining herself to this small room just to keep me company, the only one who did so for that matter... but who was this man who had, strangely enough, decided to join her? "And you are?"
A short pause wedged itself between her question and the man's answer, doing nothing but heightening my curiosity to an extremely distressing level. At last, the long-awaited answer voiced itself, "James Cullen. Carlisle's father."
Again, silence.
No, I had to dreaming. There had been a gaping hole shot through my brain, there had to be things such as drastic dreams and a highly-altered imagination that went along with that degree of injury. Six years... six years had passed since he'd shown his face. What made him suddenly decide to come to my aid now? A coincidence that my long-lost father just so happened to be walking throughout town when he heard that his son had been shot?
That would be one hell of a coincidence.
My thoughts halted in place as Esme began to speak again, "What brings you here?"
"I heard that my son had been shot; of course I'm going to come see him." My father paused for only the slightest of moments, as I imagined that Esme had given him a questioning look just about then. "I heard about this on the radio. Some of the Californian news drips into the Oregon stations when you're right on the border."
"Oh, so you live in Oregon? I've heard that it's nice up there." I fought the urge to let a small smile show itself in response to Esme's statement. The tone of her voice hinted at a question like, 'You live in the state right above us. Where the hell have you been all these years?' I itched to ask him that very question, to inquire of his whereabouts and reasons for the all of the too-long period of time he had chosen to spend away from his only son.
"It is," James replied, carrying on Esme's pathetic attempt at small talk for a slight moment before changing the subject. "How has been lately?"
"Carlisle? He's been doing well... the doctors say that he's recovering much more quickly than normal, so that's a good sign."
"Good... that's good." His voice quietly trailed off as I felt two pairs of eyes settle on my form. I struggled to keep my eyes closed so I was able to eavesdrop, hoping that the two would carry the conversation on in a more interesting direction.
Esme suddenly cleared her throat and I could picture her shifting awkwardly on her feet, "So do you plan on staying here long?" she asked in the most polite manner possible.
"Well... no. I'm only able to take a little bit of time off of work, and I just got a new job offer in New York, so I'll have to start getting ready to move there fairly soon." New York? He was moving to New York? Hearing those words, it felt as if my heart had dropped a mile out of my chest into the deepest pits of Hell; my father, one of the only people that had shown me any sort of love during the nearly sixteen years of my life, had come back to see me after the extensive period of six years, only to leave a few days later to move across the entire country?
It seemed as if things just couldn't get any worse.
"... but I don't plan on going alone." I tuned back into the conversation, hearing James finish a sentence whose beginning I had not heard. "I'd like to take Carlisle with me."
I was wrong. Things could get worse.
The pressure of Esme's hand on my arm made itself known as her distressed voice questioned my father's notions, "You want to... take him with you?"
"Yes, that's what I said. Is there a problem?"
"I can't imagine that he'd want to leave his friends so suddenly. That, and he's only got two years of high school left... what would be the point of moving him to a new school when he's nearly done with it?" she reasoned, instantly jumping to my defense.
"That's the idea. He'll be going off to college in two years after high school, I want to at least have him with me for a little while before he leaves. Besides, school systems in New York are so much better than the ones here -" James's response was cut off by a quick snap by Esme, her voice harsh and demanding:
"It's his choice, not yours."
"He's still a minor. The court has the right to make that decision," James replied, his voice acquiring the same tone as Esme's had before.
"He's old enough to think for himself. He shouldn't be forced to do something he doesn't want to do."
"And how do you know that he doesn't want to go, Emily?"
"It's Esme," she muttered, before recomposing herself and answering, "I don't, but he has a life here. He's not going to suddenly drop that to move across the entire nation."
"Carlisle's my son. I know him. I'm sure he'll be just fine."
"You know him, do you? You've been gone for how many years, and you say that you know him? I probably know him better than you do!" Oh, Esme... no. This was going much too far. Beginning to grow restless with their conversation, I finally decided to open my eyes, for sake that it would possibly distract them from the heated argument and let me voice my own opinion. No, I wasn't exactly capable of speaking just yet, but it was at least worth a shot to try.
"Dad?" My weary eyes settled in on the man before me, scanning his face and ever-so-changed appearance. Each of the features I had acquired from him had diminished drastically; his blonde hair had faded to grey, the ice-blue eyes that were once filled with constant rapture had dulled to an aged tone of greyish-blue that held some sort of what looked like joyful sorrow in reaction to my simple recognition of his presence.
"Yes, Carlisle?" he said softly, seating himself on the edge of my bed.
I sucked in a deep breath, hoping that it would help my voice form the words I wished to say, "I... can't...go...with you."
He paused for a moment, one eyebrow raised, "And why is that?"
"I can't... leave..."
"Can't leave what?"
"Her." My gaze then removed itself from my father's face to set on Esme's, who had her head turned towards the floor with her arms crossed over her chest. After a few seconds, she chose to look up at me, a single tear threatening to escape the corner of her eyes.
"Why not? Is she your girlfriend or something?"
"... yes. I am," Esme cut in quietly. "And I know that makes me biased, but he still shouldn't go. He has other friends here, too."
James sighed exasperatedly and ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated, "Really, Carlisle? You don't want to come because of a girl? That's not like you."
"You haven't...been around... since I was... nine, Dad. You... don't know a... thing... about me." The pauses between my words seemed to make my statement much less straightforward as I had intended it to be. "I'm not... going."
He stifled yet another sigh before standing up, "I appreciate your opinion, son, but it's still up to your mother and myself whether or not you go. I'll be talking to her about this later. For now, I'll leave you and your girlfriend," that particular word adopted a slightly disgusted tone, "alone. Take care." He then proceeded to walk out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. I listened to his heavy footsteps disappear down the hallway, before leaning my head back into the flattened pillow and letting out a distressed sigh.
"I thought you would have been happier to have seen your father after all those years," Esme said softly, perching herself on the chair that sat at the bedside. "You didn't seem very surprised."
I lightly shrugged my shoulders, my eyes falling halfway shut, "I would have been... happier... if he hadn't... asked me to go...with him."
"It's not because of me, is it?" Esme questioned. "I don't want to be the reason that you're holding back from going, Carlisle. You know that I'll miss you if you go, but I don't want to stop you from having a father in your life."
"No, I just... I... I don't want to... think about it... right now. We'll discuss it... later," I stammered, my eyelids winning the battle between myself and fatigue and sliding all the way shut. "Just stay... here." I felt her hand lay itself on top of mine as I drifted off to sleep, hoping that somehow it would do the opposite and wake me from this awful nightmare known as life.