Presently (what a ridiculous word. It means soon, really and yet has the word present in it. One of the many quirks of the English language, I concluded), presently I decided I ought to occupy myself usefully and went to carry on designing my latest dress. Fashion design was a hobby of mine and Rosalie's and though this dress hadn't got a particular purpose yet, it should come into use sometime in eternity.
I rose and went over to my computer in the corner of the room, folding the screen up from where it was tastefully concealed in the desk top and sliding the keyboard out from a drawer underneath. There was no mouse, since it was a touch screen format. We'd had to re-jig that system slightly, since it had originally been designed to respond to heat, rather than pressure. Edward had slaved away for hours over that thing, getting into full on geek mode. He later told me it was one of the few things that required so much concentration that he could block out Emmett's mental imaging at night. Almost. We had worked on it together for a few hours – well, I looked for blueprints of future models and he implemented the changes. As a consequence, it had a load up time of eleven point three seconds, despite the huge amounts of used RAM, instantaneous internet connectivity via a system that I really didn't understand, and a host of new – or nearly new, since they hadn't actually been released yet – software for everyone's personal interests.
I flicked the on switch and waited the usual eleven point three seconds before tapping a shortcut on the screen which brought up three corresponding windows: front design, back design and a view of the material I would need to make the dress in its entirety. I hit another button, opening a fourth window, this one a picture of a revolving 3D image of my body clad in the half-finished dress, composited from pictures and numerical measurements. It was a tool many designers would kill for. Maybe one of us could get a job designing computer software in half a decade or so, sell the program and quit. Then again, it wasn't as if we needed any extra money.
I mused over this possibility for a few minutes as I worked on the dress. It was a relatively new project, so I only had a basic outline to work with at the moment. It was black (depressing, I know, but the colour worked so well against my white skin and midnight coloured hair) and tight fitting against my tiny frame. The hem sloped in a sharp diagonal, showing off one pale leg. I toyed with the neckline for a while, trying a scoop, a V, strapless, off the shoulder, but none of them quite worked. I was not particularly curvy; oh okay then, I had no curves to speak of whatsoever. More proof that I was probably around thirteen years old.
Sighing, I gave up on the neckline. I'd do it when Rose was around. Half the fun of designing was arguing with my sister over whether or not a certain shape or colour or pattern worked, trying to convince her that this style or that style would be in fashion next season. It wasn't the same working alone. Disillusioned, I tapped the cross at the corner of the screen and closed the program.
An all too familiar conundrum reared its ugly head: what should I do now? I wondered how many times I had asked myself that in the past fifty or seventy years. There was always too much time, no sense of change, never any hurry, no deadlines. It was why I liked to pretend there was a rush, and why I was always eager to move on. When you were immortal, there was far too much time. Too much, and yet there was always a feeling that there could never be enough.
Killing time now, I searched the stock markets on the internet and in my head, looking for any particularly promising companies, checking the investments we currently had in place and making changes. I withdrew and reinvested a couple hundred thousand dollars, safe in the knowledge that it would multiply by three hundred in the next twenty two days.
Safe in the knowledge… that was another reason why I was so energised. There was simply no way for me to take a risk since I knew the consequences of any choices I made. Of course, vampires had no adrenaline, but there was still a craving for excitement which was why we all liked fast cars. Even Esme was fond of racing with the rest of us. I had sold my last car just before coming to Forks because it was getting boring; I really needed a new one…
My thoughts drifted, pulled by multiple strings down thousands of paths, weaving a complex symphony of words, images and mixtures of the two. Idly, I wondered how Edward coped, listening to all of this, all the time. He said human minds were less complex, but some of the brighter ones had three or four layers of thought and very rarely did any sentient creature have only one thought in their head at a time.
A tendril of thought drifted to Bella. It must be so peaceful for Edward to be around her. Infuriating, yes, but still quiet and calming.
Where were they now? Pulling that thought into focus, I looked for them and saw Bella's darkened room. Of course, the dark didn't affect the quality of my vision, whether in the future or the present. I had always loved the dark and the night, the ethereal beauty that moonlight lent everything, the purple and blue tones brought out by the absence of sunlight. Bella's hair looked mauve, darkened by the night and a shower; it curled over her pillow like seaweed.
Edward was curled around her, his chest to her back, as though they were actually sleeping together. Whichever way you wanted to interpret that. In reality, both of them were awake and whispering to each other. I made no attempt to work out what they were saying; though I did watch their faces, I never tried to read their lips. I wasn't sure why I didn't; maybe I was finally getting an idea that they might want some privacy. I saw Bella's blush, though, and Edward's shoulders shaking with gentle laughter. Curious, I watched her cheeks darken further before Edward froze, and I sighed in sympathy. I could guess what they were talking about.
Their relationship had been impossible from the start. They had got past so many boundaries just by being alone together, by touching each other, by being so close, and – unbelievably, amazingly – by kissing, but I doubted they could ever overcome this barrier. They could never become one the way Jazz and I could unless she was changed, and since he was so determined that would never happen…
How could he stand being sure that they would not be together forever? He thought they would have sixty, maybe seventy years together, but that was no time at all, at least for us. Every second he spent away from her he would detest, but every second spent with her would be a second closer to the end. How could he look to the future when it must end in death? How would he cope after she was gone? Would he even try to cope?
Still in my vision, I saw Bella let out a gentle sigh and her eyes close. I watched, fascinated, as her breathing settled into a slower, deeper rhythm and her arm moved to hug herself, conserving heat. So this was sleep. A foreign concept to me, and not an entirely pleasant one. To be so defenceless, totally unaware of where you were, it would scare me. I was never unaware of exactly what was going on.
Bella looked so young in her sleep, her face softened somehow, and so vulnerable! I guessed that last observation was a subconscious reaction; I only ever saw sleeping people when I visited Carlisle at the hospital so maybe I equated sleep with sickness on some level.
Perhaps Edward felt it too, because the look on his face was now so protective, almost possessive, and completely saturated with love. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, the other propping his head up so he could watch her face.
Bella remained still only for another five minutes or so (which I, of course, skipped) before her lips moved, shaping illegible words. Sleep talking again. This went on for a little while, Edward's lips occasionally curving into an amused smile. Forgetting my earlier restraint, I tried to read what she was saying. Nope, couldn't get it. Never mind. I doubted it was worth 'listening' to.
The look on Edward's face dismissed that notion pretty quickly.
He didn't have to decide how to react to this for me to see it. Maybe he had been thinking about how this would feel before, or maybe it was just so predetermined, so inevitable, that there was no decision to be made. He would always have reacted like this.
His eyes widened and glittered like jewels, in a face that was alight with emotion. I had never seen Edward like this before; even his joy in the meadow could not compare. This was beyond mere happiness: he was almost unrecognisable, an entirely different person, transformed by love and by Bella. His lips parted to release a gasp at her mumbled words, and I was suddenly absolutely certain what she had said in her unconscious state. Edward confirmed it a second later as he regained composure, and his lips formed words that were clear as day.
"I love you too, Bella," he murmured.
She loved him. Of course I'd never doubted it, but to have indubitable confirmation, spoken without any restraint or care… it was wonderful. Amazing. And just so right. They were made for each other.
Beaming, I skipped through a few hours, but she didn't speak again, and my smile began to fade as the time got later and later, and Edward didn't move. When was he going to come home?
I groaned as I realised he wasn't intending to leave her at all. That was sweet, but absolutely no good for us: he had to come and tell Esme what had happened before she started torturing me, and I had to get him to bring Bella over, and we would all have to hunt after that. We needed a few hours, at the very least.
Well, if he wasn't coming home, I would have to go and get him home. As soon as Bella had told him she loved him, I decided. I wasn't heartless enough to make him miss that. But two minutes afterwards, I was so dragging him out of there.