Disclaimer: Nothing Twilight's mine. Just borrowing.
3
My first stop is the cemetery behind Forks' Methodist Church. We were never religious, but it just felt right to have Charlie laid to rest here, near his parents and old friends. There are fresh sunflowers on his grave no more than a day old. Billy comes here often, but these flowers I know are from you. I lay my lilies next to your sunflowers and sit on a tree stump near Charlie, talking to him in my heart for over an hour. My tears fall without thought. I'm spent, and return to my motel to rest.
Night falls and swollen grey clouds hang around delinquently, obscuring the moon. I take a short walk around the block to Chelsea's Diner, the town's Pike Place and foundry for local gossip. It's a place I would normally avoid like the plague but I don't have an umbrella and besides, it was also Charlie's favourite hangout to watch the game. The Mariners are playing tonight and the place is packed. I nod at a familiar face, I think that's Angela's brother. One of Charlie's former lieutenants is seated way back, with his family. Somehow, I feel closer to his spirit here, revisiting his past haunts and breathing in the small-town atmosphere. I thought I was done with the smallness of Forks, but for the first time in years this has the scent of home.
As I sip my gin and tonic at the bar I do a double-take. I only see your side-profile but it is unmistakably you. Okay, I tell myself. This is nothing unexpected when the town has only two diners. Still the scene causes me great discomfort. I see another woman with you, only her back, but there are two other young kids, one on each of your sides. The four of you seem like a happy family. Surely I can grant you that, were it true? But my heart is less magnanimous, it forces my body off the bar stool and my feet onto the floor, propelling me towards the exit.
"Ma'am, you have to pay for your drink. It's six fifty," the bartender calls out. I reach for my wallet, turn back and lay two five-dollar bills on the bar.
I am not quite halfway towards the door when I walk into Quil Ateara. He is with a tall, slender nymph of a girl who looks mixed but is exotically beautiful, just the type of girl I always imagined you would end up marrying. I know I am beating myself up over nothing but it makes me feel better for what I've done to you.
"Bella! Hey - I thought you were in Seattle," Quil gives me a bear hug before pulling me towards his girl. "Bella, this is my fiancee, Claire." It seems I need no further introduction, for Claire reaches for my arms enthusiastically. "Bella Swan! Finally, we meet!" she exclaims.
You notice us and reach my side in seconds.
"You like to surprise me," you mutter as your arm slips around my waist.
But it is I who am surprised as a little brown-eyed girl tugs at your pants moments later. "Daddy, I wanna go to the bouncing castle. Can you take me there, please?"
She brings out a side of you I've never seen before as you get down to a squat, curling your hand behind her back. "Nessie, just sit tight with Aunt Becks 'kay? I'll take you there in a second."
Her face crumples and it's the saddest thing I've ever seen. Quil comes to our rescue, and he gets down to Nessie's height too. "Ness, I'll take you. C'mon little squirt, let's go." Her face lights up immediately and she reaches out to Quil, clinging to his pants. You reach out to her little head of chestnut curls, ruffling her hair as Quil and Claire take her to the back of the diner.
"You didn't tell me you were married." I avoid your eyes, staring at the worn oak flooring.
"I'm not." You thrust your hands in your jeans pockets, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You are so close I can hear your breath pick up, but you seem afraid to come any nearer.
"I see." I swallow, and take a step towards the exit.
"Bells." You grab my arm, trying to stop me. "It's..." You hesitate, and your grip softens. "It's complicated."
That makes no sense to me and I don't want it to. I free myself from your grasp and burst outside. It's raining in sheets, the perfect dramatic backdrop to our stormy reunion. I'm waiting for the door to swing open behind me any moment, for you to embrace me in your arms and pin me against the wall as we rediscover each other.
But all I hear is the distant crackling of thunder, and the relentless sound of rain.
Back in my room, I'm drenched and shivering from the cold. I forgot how erratic the weather gets in May. Peeling off my clothes, I stand under the shower until the hot water runs out. I'm exhausted and fall asleep with my hair wet. In the middle of the night I think I hear the doorbell ring and someone shouting my name, but the sound fades away by the time I'm conscious. Stumbling to the peephole, I look out but all I see is a light in the manager's room; the street is silent and still. I must have been dreaming.
The first thing I do in the morning is call United Airlines and change my return flight to the afternoon. I've had enough of Forks, said my peace to Charlie and it's time to get out of this nightmare. As I open the door of my motel room I fight back disappointment when I don't see you outside. My eyes scan the car park but you're not there either. I quash the irrational feelings churning inside me and quickly load my rental car.
At the check out desk the manager passes me a large sealed envelope. "Someone left this for you," he says.
I toss the envelope on the passenger's seat, glancing at the rear-view mirror every few minutes as my Ford laps up the gravel, but no one is sending me off, no one is following me out. I keep looking over my shoulder, even as I check in and board the plane. But you are not there, someone else is keeping you close to home. Like the drama queen you once called me my chest heaves with pent up pride and unspoken words. Yesterday's tears spill from my eyes as the plane pulls away from the gate. "Ma'am are you alright?" The chief stewardess asks as she passes me a box of tissues. Sniffling, I try to nod but a huge sob warbles up my throat. She leaves me alone for the rest of my flight.
The sky is clear and azure blue as the plane lands in San Francisco and my tears have dried. There's something about this city, it's eternally optimistic, and there's no room for my angst or unhappy memories. I'm a different person here, and maybe that's why I stayed so long. I resolve not to shed any more tears for you and our relationship; it is, as you once called in a moment of anger, 'a lost cause'.
Caught up in my own emotions, I forget all about the envelope, left behind in the seat pocket. I don't remember until United calls me up on Monday afternoon, asking me to verify my identity.
"Thanks for confirming your identity Miss Swan. I believe you may have left a package behind last Saturday afternoon." The male voice seems to chide my forgetfulness.
I demur for several moments whether to claim it. Finally, I assent. I'm due on a flight to LAX on Thursday, so I arrange to pick it up at the airport then.
A/N: Sorry, just a little more pain before we get to happy times.
Review if you want to know what's inside the envelope!