A/N-t&a-Thank you for the kind words and exuberant responses.
We don't own, but we twist and tweak to make something new
Mamma said, lift your head from the sieve of your hands.
Mamma said eventually this hurting will end.
But the shockwaves on my bones will linger,
Like the ghost of you here in my bed.
When I was lost you thought me a beautiful find.
Sometimes I think of you sleeping, so sleep for a while.
I find myself asking who'd do this to love?
Beggar's Prayer- Emiliana Torrini
Words are meant to redeem. Redeem, define, even reassure. But what if they don't even get the opportunity to even try? If words aren't given the chance to work their magic, to smooth things over, then all that's left is the lack of hope. The truth of knowing that there is nothing lingering, hovering to plead your case.
He didn't even let me speak. He threw all his sharp, pointed words at me and left me defenseless against the wounds they created. Didn't even let me try to fix them up when he was done. He left me.
The shock wore off slowly. I stood in the doorway of my bathroom long enough that the sun made its way across the sky, dancing across the floors of the studio. My hand frozen in its attempt to reach out to him, my hand and muscles long cramped into place.
Maybe if my reflexes had been better. If I had chased after him instead of becoming a statue to my pain and grief. But my mind didn't leave that option open. He stripped me of everything that held me up and I simply stood.
When my body finally rebelled against me and I fell to the floor, there was no pain. Physical pain has ceased to matter, cased to compare to the ache, the fissure in my chest. My mind couldn't wrap itself around what happened.
Eventually I pulled myself from the floor only to make sense of the agony. My computer was still sitting open on my futon, long dark from lack of use. I made it to the bed before the next wave of pain hit. I could smell him, us here. His scent still strong from the night and morning spent there. How could things have reversed so quickly?
It was another pass of the sun before I could find the strength to boot up the screen. It flickered to life revealing the disastrous words. My eyes took in each word feeling the pain and betrayal that he must have felt. The last word a driving stake into my heart. Why would she do this?
I curl into a ball, tears not even willing to be my companion in this moment. My eyes stay painfully open and glued to the words. I understand his pain, feel it for him, but still didn't understand.
He should know me. Should know the love I have for him and for Finn. How could he toss aside all the words, all the moments, for the jealous ramblings of a tiny girl who loves nothing more than herself?
And then I'm sick. I barely make it to my sink before I empty the acid from my stomach, time ridding it of any other contents. I lean against the cool metal and wait for my breathing to steady, but it never happens.
I drag myself back to my futon and clench the pillow that carried his scent to my chest. And then things go black.
xx
On the third day I drag myself from his scent and my misery to try and take action. I burst from the apartment with an energy I shouldn't posses and make my way to the bar. The place is barren, but it's the middle of the day. I push on the door, but it doesn't budge. I push harder digging my nails into the wood, but all I get is a sliver underneath my fingernail.
And then I see the sign. A single sheet of paper tacked to the door announcing new ownership and thanking people for their business. The words bring tears to my eyes realizing there will be no more La Bella's and that the next owners may not like the single navy wall.
I slide down the brick facing not caring that people are cursing me as they try to step around me. He really left. I knew he left my apartment, knew he wouldn't come back for me there, but for some ridiculous reason I didn't think he'd actually leave. My eyes slide closed and picture the inside of this building like I remember it, trying to cling to those last memories.
My eyes finally open and focus on the windows across the street. He's moving on. I should try too.
xx
I go back to work, telling them my previous notice to quit was a false alarm and settle into the familiar monotony. My script provides a mindlessness I need to function. There is little else I focus on. I get up, I go to work, I utter lines like a trained chimp and I go home. Once home the day comes back up to greet me and I'm sick. Every day I'm sick. It becomes part of the routine.
I eat simply because I have to, not caring about the texture or taste. People talk to me, but I feel like I'm underwater. I can see their lips moving, but the words never reach my mind. Eventually most people stop trying. The silence becomes my companion.
The mirror in my bathroom mocks me so I take it down. Not caring what its reflected back at me and not wanting that reminder every day.
My computer is completely abandoned. Alice takes to calling me. I don't answer. The only calls I take are from my parents and that's only to assure they don't show up to see me like this.
And I wait. I wait to feel anything but empty, wait for anything to effect me, move me, but nothing does.
xx
I've been staring at the same wall of cereal for a long time. People move around me, in front of me and I don't even know what I'm looking for. This was supposed to be a turning point. The grocery store was going to inspire me to eat something other than crackers and stale marshmallows. But I'm still at a loss, still waiting for something to bring me back to life, to slap me into reality.
Another shopper bumps into me again and I pick up the first box my fingers touch, tossing it into my cart. Its full of things I'm supposed to want, but they don't appeal. I lean heavily on the cart and push it slowly down the aisle in no hurry to get back to my studio, where his scent has long disappeared just like he did.
I stand in line grateful for an excuse to be still. The beeping of the scanners gives me a rhythm to match my heart to. A hand touches my shoulder and I instinctively move to let the person pass, but the hand stays in place.
My eyes blink at the hand, trailing along the arm till it reaches a body. I tilt my eyes up and see a face that makes my throat tense. The face in my memory is always stretched into a smile, dimples prominent, but this face is stoic.
"Bella?" Emmett's voice breaks through the haze slightly and I blink up at him like a mirage. He tugs at my arms, pulling me gently from the line and towards a less crowded corner. His hands brace my shoulder and he leans down to look me in the eyes. He swallows thickly and his eyes cloud slightly.
"What the hell Bella?" he sputters. I blink up at him and try to smile. My chapped lips crack with the effort and it presents as a wince. My fingers reach up and my tongue flicks out to taste blood.
"Emmett?" my voice sounds foreign to my ears. The sugar coated version I use for work the only thing I've allowed myself to use. He takes a deep breath and pulls me into him.
"Good lord, little girl. What happened to you?" he breathes. I simply stare at him feeling more alive than I have in weeks.
"How are you?" I ask because its all I can think to say. I don't know what he knows and I don't want to invoke pity. That's the last thing I want from anyone. He shakes his head and pulls me under his arm. With one hand he takes charge of my cart, guiding it to the line and pushing it through. I let myself lean on him, happy for some kind if support.
I pull my money from my wallet at the right time and he gathers the bags easily, keeping me pressed to his side. He asks me my address before tucking me into a car. I lean my forehead against the cool glass and feel my nightly routine start to bubble inside of me.
He parks outside my building and I don't argue when he takes the bags into his arms again. I just need to get inside before my stomach empties on the sidewalk. I teeter up the stair and push open my door making it to the bathroom just before I am reintroduced to the soup and crackers I forced down earlier.
Emmett stays out of the bathroom at least. I rinse my mouth and stare at the wall where my mirror used to be. I step out and see Emmett leaned against my counter.
"Ed told me you broke up. Wouldn't tell me anything else. I assumed you decided not to go to Cali or that he did something assholish. What happened Bella?" he asks. His head raises and I avoid his eyes.
"Do you want something to eat? To drink?' I ask. I busy myself around the kitchen trying to put away the groceries. Emmet grabs my shoulder and stills my actions.
"I'm going to say this hoping that you will know that I mean it with the best intentions. You look like shit run over Bella. And what the hell was that in the bathroom?" he demands. I chew on my raw lips and taste blood once again.
"I'm fine Emmett. I've just been sick. Maybe I caught what Ed…what they had," I offer. Can't say their names, won't. He lets out a frustrated sigh and slams a single fist against the counter. My heart flutters and it feels good to feel something.
"This is not fine. Nothing about this is fine. Have you seen yourself?" he heaves. I shake my head. That was the point. I don't want to know.
"I'm getting better. I promise. I mean I just bought all this food. It's nice that you care, but I'm fine," I insist. I clench my jaw in defiance. It's all lies, but I want to believe them. Emmett takes a deep breath and pulls me into his chest.
"Tomorrow morning we're going to the doctor. You're going to make sure you're healthy and then I'm going to make sure you start to get better," he breathes. I shake my head in defiance, but he grunts.
"Do not argue. I need to know you're ok. There are people, idiots really, who would want to make sure. So you just be ready to go at 10, got it?" he orders. I nod my head and he smiles. The gesture makes me try a smile again. It goes a little better this time.
"Fine. 10. I'll see you then," I answer hoping to appease him. He doesn't move.
"I think I'll stay just to make sure," he decides. My eyes widen and drift to my futon. There's no way.
"Relax Shadow. I'll pull up a chair or take the floor. I don't have a death wish," he laughs. I don't question his comment. It might be nice to not be alone.
xx
My hands twist in my lap and I try to ignore the large enforcer next to me. I hate doctors. I've never liked going and as soon as my mother could no longer make appointments for me I stopped going. And now I'm being forced again by such a different kind of bully.
Said bully is currently trying to complete one of the children's' puzzles. One that apparently is quite popular because several children are glaring at him as he makes his attempt.
"Isabella Swan?" I jump at the sound of my name and Emmet reaches over to pat my back reassuringly. I follow the nurse through the door and wonder if I can bribe her into telling Emmett I went though with this. She tells me to take off my shoes and step on the scale.
"This isn't really necessary. I mean I'm really fine. My friend is just being overbearing," I argue. She glares at me over her glasses and I slip my shoes off and step up. She fiddles with the scale and makes some kind of noise in the back of her throat.
"When was the last time you saw a doctor Ms. Swan?" she asks. I smile nervously and tell her six years. The shock is apparent in her face. She whispers something to a passing nurse and turns back to me.
"You'll need to go with Jeanette here to have your blood drawn and get a urine sample," she instructs. Please no. I shake my head.
"No really I'm sure I just have the swine flu or something. There's no need for all that," I tell her. Another stern look and I'm being led down a hallway. A half hour later I'm seated on a table covered with paper, only wearing paper and clutching a cotton ball to the inside of my elbow.
Evil thoughts about Emmett are passing through my mind. Things like locking him in a room with the nurse from hell out there. I shift slightly and cringe when the paper rips beneath me.
People stream in and out asking me questions and telling me the doctor will be in shortly. A small part of me feels vindicated that Emmett will have to wait this long. This whole doctor thing is silly. I'm going to eat more. I'm trying to be better. It's almost like Ed….will not even think like that.
Finally the door opens again and a woman with a clipboard steps in. I try to straighten and only manage to rip the paper more.
"Isabella, I'm Dr. Monroe….it's been awhile since your last check up. Was there any reason you decided to come see us today?" she asks. She doesn't even raise her eyes. I take a deep breath.
"I've been sick for awhile and my….friend thought I should come make sure everything is ok," I offer. Her eyes finally raise from the board and she quirks an eyebrow.
"Your friend huh? And what do you mean by sick?" she asks. I sigh and talk about the routine sickness. I'm sure she'll give me some lecture about taking better care of myself and send me on my way. I mean what can they really do for the flu?
"Well, that seems to align with some of your test results," she adds. Again with the staring at the clipboard. I chew on my thumbnail and wait for her to reveal what ever it is she's so consumed by. Damn clipboard may as well be a magic mirror.
"When was your last menstrual cycle?" she asks. My head rears back at the question. I was expecting a diagnosis not another line of questioning. I try to shift through the mess in my head to remember. It's always the beginning of the month so…
"I don't know. A couple of weeks ago," I offer. Her eyebrow rises again and I'm starting to get angry. She pulls up a stool and finally puts down the damn clipboard.
"You sure?" she presses. I throw my hands in the air.
"No, I don't keep track of it. I'm usually really regular and that isn't part of the problem here. Aren't you supposed to be shoving something up my nose to check for the flu?" I demand. I watch news I know how this should be going. She laughs and pats my knee.
"You have elevated hCG levels in your urine Isabella," she offers. Like that's a real answer. I don't speak this language. She obviously sees my confusion.
"You're pregnant," she states. And just like that the world spins out of control. I fall back and black takes over. Too soon I'm being pulled back and I sit up sputtering and breathing deep. Emmett's face is too close to mine.
"You ok Shadow? They said you passed out," he asks. I nod furiously and push him away. I blink several times and try to regain my equilibrium. A bottle of water is shoved towards me and I press it to the side of my face.
"The news was obviously a shock," A voice breaks in. My eyes adjust enough to see the Doctor behind Emmett. And then I feel light headed again. I teeter a bit before Emmett steadies me.
Pregnant. Baby. Edward's baby. Not possible. He always used condoms, well almost always. There were a few times…
"What news? Is she ok? Do we need to go to the hospital?" Emmett spits. The Doctor laughs. I glare at her. Nothing about this is funny.
"No. I don't think I should be the one to tell you, but she's fine for all intents and purposes," she assures him. I lean forward and place my head on my knees. I can't handle this. Can't process this.
"I'll give you guys a few minutes alone," she offers before slipping out the door. Emmett stands in front of me and tilts my face up. His eyes are full of worry and I can't look at him.
"Bella what's going on? I know that we're not exactly friends and maybe you don't really want to tell me, but shit if there's something wrong just tell me ok?" he pleads. Tears well up and spill over my eyes and he steps back, clearly overwhelmed. I can't blame him, I'm almost in a panic. My hand goes to my stomach and I can't even comprehend.
I look up at Emmett and his eyes are frozen on my hand. He looks up at me, his eyes watery and I know he knows.
"You can't tell him Emmet," I stammer. His eyes widen and his jaw constricts. He breathes heavily. We enter a staring contest until the Doctor slips back in.
"I take it we're all caught up?" she asks. Emmett nods and she smiles.
"Great. As you know there are options in this situations," she begins. I gasp at the thought and shake my head.
"No, no. I'm having the baby." And just like that it's real. I've said it out loud. She nods and launches into a speech about confirming with blood results within 48 hours and prenatal care. The episode is a blur and too soon I'm outside the office my hand full of pamphlets and a card with an appointment with an OBGYN.
Emmett keeps a hand on my back steering me out of the building. The car ride is completely silent. He eases the car into park in front of my building and I reach for the handle.
"He would want to know," he tells me. I take a deep breath and turn to face him. The fog rises and all I feel is anger.
"He doesn't want to know Emmett. He left. I know he told you we broke up, but something happened and he didn't even let me explain he just left. And now, now there's this. And I know that I should tell him, but he made his choice and right now I just need to be alone. I need to process this without thinking of what HE deserves," I spew. Emmett nods solemnly and I throw the door open and burst into my building.
I take the stairs quickly and shove my door open anxious to be in a familiar place. I tear my clothes from my body and just stare down at my stomach. There's nothing different about it. No bump nothing to even suggest that there's something, someone inside. My hand ghosts over the place where the baby would be and I collapse onto the bed.
He would want to know. If things were different he would want this baby. Even if it wasn't what we planned, he loves being a father. That much I know. Everything in my body clenches and I'm pissed. So angry at him for taking this moment that should be something special, something exciting and tainting it. My hand darts out and knocks the lamp next to me to the floor, the ceramic shatters and it feels good.
The picture frame is next, and then a misplaced glass. The floor is now covered in shards and I feel a little better. My stomach turns and reminds me of the cause of my daily sickness.
I lay back and intertwine both hands over my abdomen. My eyes clench shut and I just breath. I breath and resolve to be better, to feel better. This isn't just about me anymore and I won't make this baby suffer for my or his mistakes. I shift and the papers from the doctor crackle under my weight.
I pull them to me and start to read. This is happening. With or without him. It's not the story I wanted, the story I saw, but I will adjust.
xx
"Shadow, you gonna cook for me tonight?" Emmett pesters from behind me. I swat at him and unlock my mailbox pulling the stack of papers from inside. He's attached himself to me. Says it has nothing to do with Edward that he just likes to bother me and honestly I don't care. It's nice to not be alone.
"Cook for yourself Emmett. I am not your personal chef," I reply. I begin to climb the stairs and feel him behind me. At least he doesn't ask a lot of questions. He hasn't mentioned telling….Edward since that day. Doesn't ask me what I'm going to do, just hangs around incessantly and hovers. I shove the letters into his hands as I fight with the locks on my door.
"The only food happening in here tonight is peanut butter and bananas Emmett," I warn. He laughs behind me and follows me in regardless. He begins to shift through my mail and I step into the kitchen.
Even thought Emmett doesn't ask questions doesn't mean it's not all I think about. The only thing I've decided is that I won't stay here. This baby will have people, even if those people are my crazy health nut mother and overly detached father. I haven't broken the news to Emmett yet.
I have three weeks left at work and then just enough money in my account to last a few months of rent and necessities. By that point I should have gotten up the courage to call my parents. I open the fridge and pause to look at the sonogram picture tacked to its surface.
14 weeks. Apparently that means that I'm in my second trimester. That my baby has fingers and toes and in just a couple more weeks I'll know the sex. Emmett let me go alone to that appointment, I felt like I was denying him some god given right, but I needed to be alone. Didn't want anyone calling him the father.
The newly familiar sadness creeps in with that word. The anger was much more liberating. It let me keep him at arms length, but when I heard the heartbeat for the first time I wanted him there. I wanted him to be holding my hand and swearing with excitement. Instead I cried alone and tried to smile when the Doctor congratulated me.
Emmett slaps down the sorted mail on the counter and I eye the large blue envelope on top. I don't get mail. I get bills and junk, but nothing of substance. The writing is loopy and unfamiliar, but it's my name.
"I thought I was getting a sandwich out of this deal," Emmett complains. I point towards the fridge inviting him to help himself. I finger the letter before lifting it. The return address burns me and I drop it back down. California.
I take several deep breaths just staring down at the paper. It's not his writing, but there's no one else who it could be from. Emmett starts rattling on about some woman at work whose giving him a hard time and I wait for my heart to stop racing.
The urge is too strong. The first contact I've had. I tear at the envelope and slide the cardstock from inside. The familiar face of Harry Potter stares up at me littered with a date and time, Finn's birthday. His fourth birthday, the one he invited me to months ago. I turn the card over and a sob lodges in my throat.
There on the back is my name written he way only a toddler could write it, traced. Under it is a quick message in the same loopy writing.
'You were the first person on the list of people he wanted to invite. I don't know what happened, but it would make his day if you came. –Savannah & Finn'
I sob openly now and Emmett rushes from the other corner of the kitchen.
"Is this one of those moments that you're crying because you're growing a baby?" he asks. I lift the card for him to see and he freezes.
"Ohhhh shit," he hisses and I nod. I cover my mouth trying to stifle the pathetic sounds coming from my mouth. Gradually I reign the sobbing in and brace myself on the counter.
"Shit Bella what are you going to do? You want me to call and tell them no? I'll do that," he offers. I shake my head. There's no way. This tiny boy was half the reason I was so devastated. I can't say no to him any more than I could his father. And if he wants me still, wants me to come I'll go.
"Look for flights Emmett," I tell him. I know he'll know what I mean. This could very well be the worst decision I've ever made, but I won't deny him. He had nothing to do with this. This will be my closure. I'll say my peace and walk away from this knowing that my words were heard.
I straighten and nod to myself. This is what I need. I'll be there for Finn, make sure he knows it's not his fault. And then I'll leave his father with words. My story won't be untold.