Hello Sister, Goodbye life
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight saga. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Warning: Language. Adult themes.
Author's Note: I have a bone to pick. Okay, so I get that yeah, it takes a while to become a practising lawyer – I do want to study to be one, after all, something you can find if you check my profile. Let's get some facts straight. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not perfect, and neither is this fan fiction. Yeah, there's going to be issues with certain facts – like law school requirements and how smart a one year old kid is. You know who you are, whoever you are, anyway. Fact of the matter is, I don't like feedback shown in a negative light. That may not be the way you intended to pass the message across, but that's how I received it. I've been "victim" to one or two flames here and there, some when I was younger than I am now. Two years ago, I would've cried about it and then chewed the sender's ear off about sending me the goddamn flame that may or may not have been completely unnecessary. I've grown up since then- a lot, apparently – and now, I bitch about it to my friend – who has a really good ear (Your the bomb, Freesias) – and now I give a verbal... whatever this is. Sidetracked. Flames are completely unnecessary and, in my opinion, are only given to make the sender feel good about themselves. Now, my school's pretty big on that cyber bullying shit and, to me, it's a form of cyber bullying. God, I'm not adverse to constructive criticism and point outs, but please, you know who you are, refrain from sending them in such a negative light, not only in my story, but everyone else's. It could mess up someone who's got really shitty self esteem or whatever. This rant is massive, and you guys probably got bored half way through. Hopefully, I got my point across.
Another thing, too. I know I suck for not sending you previews. I'm sorry, I really am. I'm a lazy person, though, and when I set my mind to doing something, I probably won't do it, anyway. I promise I won't promise anything like that anymore if I know I probably won't keep my word. So, yeah, sorry for letting you all down and I get if you don't like me no more. I hope this chapter makes up for it. It may seem like a filler, but I feel it's necessary. I know I suck for this, but please review?
Chapter Eleven
Bella Swan
Rosalie woke me up early the next morning in the most unpleasant of ways known to man: ice.
In the middle of a pleasant dream involving Edward, myself and a spectacular set of fingers, a shudder rippled through me at the biting cold of the ice cube when it touched the nape of my neck, followed a millisecond later by a jolt of awareness as the cold began to seep into my nervous system.
Trying not to swear while glaring daggers at the bitch I called my best friend, I chose instead to ignore her in her pink flannel PJs and white bunny slippers as I stalked into my bathroom.
"Okay, I know I've been really pissing you off and all, but seriously, Bella, can't you take a joke?"
I whipped my head around, giving her a look that said "What the hell" all over it. "Rosalie; you get drunk at my parents funeral and continue to do so nearly every week since then, you pull me into a frigging pool in my work clothes and then wake me up on one of my very few days where I can sleep in!" I threw my hands up exasperated. "I love you to bits, babe, but you've got to grow up!"
Rosalie was silent as she began to pour her orange juice.
"I'm not your mother, Rosalie, I'm your best friend. But I've had to grow up since Renee and Charlie died and I've realised something. The way we've been acting for the past, well, forever, is completely inappropriate. We both work full time and have rather big inheritances to look forward to – you at Hale House and me at the firm and design house. We're Madeleine's constant role models and what example are we setting for her? It's acceptable to get plastered at funerals, swearing like a sailor solves everything and eating packaged and leftover foods are healthy? I love you, Rose, you're like my sister and I owe you so much for your help with Madeleine and everything else you've done as my best friend, but Rose, it's time you and I both grew up. Yeah, I get we were sheltered growing up and, to a point, we still are, but we're twenty-five and yet, we're both living together, in my parents house, we're really only getting serious about life now and, well," I huffed a breath and whimpered a little, "We need a direction in life, Rosalie; we can't just live here for the rest of our lives, you can't work as a secretary until you retire – your parents expect you to take the company after they retire in five years time. What will you do until then? Continue to drink, party and everything else? We're not getting any younger, Rose; it's time we started getting serious about life. You've met Emmett and, babe, that's fantastic!"
Rosalie nodded, gulping the last of her orange juice and putting it away. Once she'd done so, she looked up at me, nodding in acknowledgement. To me, it just sounded like I was talking in circles, but I guess she understood what I was trying to say. "It's time we grew up."
We were silent, both watching Madeleine, though neither of us actually processed what we were seeing. It was a daunting prospect – growing up – even if we were already twenty five and supposed to be very well aware of the real world. I really couldn't see Rosalie getting her act together, just because I was so used to her being crazy and insane and a woman who took life as it came.
Maybe that was what seperated her from Alice – Rosalie was a jump the gun kind of girl and Alice obsessed over every step she took – at least, that was the vibe I got in the many short conversations I'd had with her so far. I guess I was somewhere in the middle – I didn't plan out every step I took, but I didn't just jump right into something, either.
Maddie broke me out of my trance as she dropped her sippy cup onto the floor. Rolling my eyes, I bent over and picked it up off the floor, wiping it with a wet sponge and placing it back in front of her.
"No throwing, Madeleine," I instructed, moving to the toaster to make my breakfast.
Rosalie was still deep in thought so I didn't bother trying to start up a conversation, allowing her to think through whatever she needed to. Instead, I made my coffee and toast, ate it, and began to clean up the breakfast mess, packing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and putting the food in it's rightful place.
It was nearing noon and I was in the study, doing paperwork. Madeleine was in that swing-chair-thing that she loved and Rosalie, last time I saw her, had been on the phone to her father. I had another custody case, this time more difficult than Jessica's. For one, it was the child's godparents, for another, social services were involved. It was always tedious when the government involved themselves and, even though we were both after the welfare of the child, it was difficult to work around them, let alone with them.
"I'm going to my parents'," Rosalie said, entering the study in a pale blue sundress, white leggings, dark blue ballet flats and a matching knit jacket.
"You look atrocious."
"I know," Rosalie replied, rolling her eyes, "But this is what Mommy dearest sent me in the mail for my birthday and I thought it'd get me back in her good graces if I wore what she deemed acceptible."
"No, seriously, you look like a wannabe preteen gone wrong; all you're missing are the high pigtails."
"Thanks, bestie, for the compliment," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "But I'm listening to what you said and am going to prove to everyone, mainly my parents, that I am capable of running Hale House or opening a mechanic or whatever and am not the irresponsible, rich dumb blonde that I've been portraying for, well, ever."
"Dumb blondes are stereotypically bleech blondes."
"Same difference," she replied nonchalantly, waving her hand in acknowledgement and turning on her heel to walk out of the room, her blonde hair fanning out behind her. "Anyway, I'll maybe see you tonight."
I continued my paperwork until my eyes ached, my fingers cramped and there was a large thirty-leaf pile of papers that needed to go into the Huntley file at work.
After setting Maddie down for her nap, I began my trek down the stairs and through the hall that would lead to the theatre room, stopping short in front of the double doors that had been closed for the last four and a half months.
I was headed for the theatre room to go and clean it up but I found my plans had changed in front of my parents' bedroom. Tentatively, I reached forward and wrapped both my hands around the two handles as if preparing to turn them and push the doors open.
I'd told Maria not to go into the room – I'd wanted to clear it up – but I hadn't found the courage. It was still too new, too fresh; the wounds were still deep.
I pushed the doors open and entered, shutting it behind me. Their smell, of cinnamon and sandallwood, citrus and vanilla permiated the unventilated air, stale and old. I breathed it in, though as I ran a hand reverantly over the wood framed king sized bed against the side wall. Their smells wrapped around me, encompassing me in feelings of my mother's arms and my father's knee. Of big strong arms pushing me back and fourth on a green swing set and a familiar laugh as I poured flour over the counter top. Of goodnight kisses and out of tune lullabies. "I love you's" shared between each other as a little girl lay in her parents' arms and a joyful squeal as she sat on the shoulder's of a giant, touching the sky. My gaze landed on the family photo taken when Maddie was one – the one that was my facebook display picture – and as tears streamed down my cheeks, I smiled faintly. Charlie's eyes crinkled in the corner as he smiled at the camera and Renee's eyes glowed with a euphoria only a mother could feel as she, too, smiled at the camera. There had been more photos that day – of serious ones where no one was smiling and blooper shots where Charlie stuck his tongue out at the camera, Renee gave me bunny ears and of me rolling my eyes heavenward, Maddie with drool sliding down her chin.
"I miss you guys," I said into the still and silent room. "I don't know if you can hear me or whatever, but I just want you to know that. I miss you and Maddie misses you and Billy and Jake and everyone misses you. She turns two in two months, you know." I sighed. "I hate that you wont' be here to see it."
After another half hour in silence, I stood and made my way to the door. Opening it slightly, I turned back and stared solemnly at the photo. "I guess it's time to let you go and for me to move on. I love you both and I'll miss you both just as much." Turning, I stepped through the door and, as I clicked it shut, I uttered the one word. "Goodbye."
I was in the study when Rosalie returned, Maddie was in bed for the night. I was looking through old family photo albums when she entered and slumped into the leather armchair across the study desk from me.
"How was your afternoon with your parents?"
Rosalie huffed and propped her feet up on the edge of the desk, beginning to twiddle with the tips of her hair.
"What happened?" I set down the album and propped my elbows up on my desk, steepling my fingers and looking expectantly at her.
She eyed me with dry amusement, one eyebrow raised in question at my stance and I lifted a shoulder in reply.
She huffed again, slumping further in her chair and pushing her feet further onto the desk. "This whole 'growing up' shit is going to be harder than I thought."
"What'd they say?"
"They asked me what the hell I've been smoking!" She exclaimed indignantly. "What the fuck!" She sat up, planting her feet on the ground and looking all the indignant employee being made redundant. "Who the hell does that?"
"So, what actually happened?"
She groaned, slumping back in her chair and propping her feet back on the edge of the desk. After explaining how she'd arrived at her house – 'estate' – and was greeted by her "snooty" parents and how she sat and had "tea" with them. She explained that their conversation was stilted – "putting it lightly" – and she was mostly just eyed suspiciously by her parents who, for some reason, seemed to think that their oldest daughter was completely corrupt and "joined the dark side". Both were born again Christians and believed that Rosalie was being possessed by the devil and, after Rosalie explained that she was turning over a new leaf, they had asked her what she'd been smoking.
By that point, I was in tears I was trying so hard not to laugh and Rosalie was bright red she was so aggrevated. When she told me they'd suggested that she join a convent, I'd had enough and burst out laughing. "You?" I gasped, "Join a convent!" I was in hysterics in my seat as she glared mutenously at me. "Ha!" Tears were streaming down my cheeks, my face was crimson, my sides were aching and I was struggling to breathe. I could just imagine Rosalie in a habbit and the image made me laugh even harder. "Ha-habbit- haha!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, I regained my composure, often emitting snorts of amusement until, finally, I was calm again. Rosalie was pouting like a petulant child, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at her feet. "Is that all?"
"No," she grumbled, "I asked them to buy a car garage in town."
"And?"
"And the deed should be finalised next week."
"And?"
"And I'm going to open a car garage." She looked up at me and grinned excitedly. "I'll show everyone; I can run a business."
"Yes, you will."
Author's Note: Song suggestions for the last, like, three chapters? Let me know! Again, sorry for not sending you previews, I feel really bad. x