Dang, you guys like the reunion. Some peeps wanted them to immediately get back together but that's not realistic. They still got a ways to go.
ONWARD- Like I said, this one is all flashback. Wait till next time if that ain't your thang.
Thank you. Seriously. So much for everything.
Review if you feel so inclined.
January 1, 2010
I'm having a hard time making myself step foot on my fathers property. Instead of walking up the short driveway, climbing the four stairs, passing over the porch, and crossing the threshold, I've just been standing out front on the sidewalk for the last forty-five minutes.
I'm in desperate need of a shower. I've gotten used to being a dirty hippy, living mostly out of the back of a van, but that doesn't mean I'm not looking forward to once unappreciated luxuries. The good people of Port Angeles looked at me with distaste when I made a pit stop there to refill my rental car. My hair is a step away from dreadlocks at this point.
I'm in equally desperate need of a good, long nap. I haven't slept since that cab finally arrived to the bar outside of which the van was parked last night.
And I was at a totally loss when it did show up.
"Where too, ma'am?" the cabbie asked with a thick southern accent.
Being slightly drunk, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I knew I wanted to leave but didn't know where I wanted to go.
"Nearest airport," I murmured.
I wanted to be far away from here, away from these people who think they know me and don't want me to get better.
Once at the airport, I found the terminal deserted. It was very late at night and New Year's Eve, so I curled up on several fake leather airport seats, and waited for any airline to open. It was for the best. It gave me time to think.
Boulder was my first instinct and my first desire, but I am nowhere near ready for that. He — Edward — is in Boulder. And if I went back now, nothing would change. I can't control myself around Edward. As much as I believe that his life is better without me, my need for him would trump that. I would weasel my way back into his life, heart, bed, only to end up hurting him again. Maybe if I get better, I can go home and find the strength to leave him be.
So Boulder was out, but still my ultimate goal for the future.
After I ruled out home, James words echoed in my head. You don't got nowhere to go, you selfish bitch. You don't got nowhere to go. You don't got nowhere else to go.
For many dark hours, I started to believe them. I've always been homeless, motherless, fatherless. Unlovable. But somewhere around dawn, I realized this was not totally the case.
Charlie left me a house, his house. My father's house and the house where I spent the first two years of my life. He gave me a home, probably thinking I might need somewhere to go someday. As the sun rose over the horizon, Forks became more appealing. It was a tentative connection to all the people that once thought they loved me. Forks was once the home to Charlie, my dad, Alice, my best girlfriend, and Edward, my…
My Edward.
So when the first ticket agents started their computers, I rushed over and purchased my ticket to Seattle.
The point is, I didn't sleep all night because I was busy thinking, nor did I get much sleep on the plane. As I made the four-hour drive from Seattle, shit got real. Living in Charlie's home freaked me out. The looming need to get better but not really knowing how to start freaked me out.
But I'm here now. And there really is nowhere else to go. It's hard, confronting all the demons I've spent so long burying deep. The moment I step into Charlie's old house, I'm committed to working through my problems.
Maybe I'll just shoot for an even hour.
The sun's setting, and I'm not used to the cold.
"Bella Swan?"
I don't even want to turn to find out who is calling my name. It's sure to bring complications. But I'm done sticking my head it the sand. I'm workin' on a new Bella who confronts the unpleasant shit head on.
So I turn. Shit, I do know him. Blond hair, blue eyes, baby face. I know I know him. What the fuck is his name? The man/boy is standing at the end of the driveway next to Charlie's depositing a blue, wheeled trashcan.
"Hey," I say with an awkward little wave. "Sup?"
What the fuck is his name? All these drugs have caused my brain to slow down.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, sauntering on over and surveying the large duffle at my feet.
"Oh, you know. Just taking in the street I guess," I reply.
"Yeah, it's been a long time. You look…" He does a quick survey and forces a smile. "Wow, you're here."
I try to smile in return, but it comes out a grimace. I'm well aware that my mediocre looks have deteriorated severely in the last fucking year. It's a combo of the drugs and the misery. I'm not very good at eating anymore so my cheeks are hallowed and my bones stick out. Dark circles linger perpetually under my eyes, and I don't even bother to cover them up. Most of the time I look a bit strung out.
"Are you moving back?" he asks when I don't reply.
"Back?" My voice is creaky, and I realize I haven't really spoken all damn day except briefly to the rental car dude.
"Yeah, you lived here one summer, right?" he asks.
"Oh, yeah. Right. But that was only for like a month," I reply. I'm borderline positive it's something with an M. Mitch maybe?
"I remember," he says with a chuckle. "You had some emergency and had to go back to Colorado. You quit working in my store early."
Right. That totally happened. Edward was irrationally jealous of this dude. What the fuck is his name?
"Uh huh," I agree. "But wasn't that your parents store, if I recall?"
Look at me, making the small talk. I'm so proud.
"It was my parents," he replies, beaming now. "They retired a couple years ago, moved to Florida. Newton's is all mine now."
Mike! Mike Newton. That's his fucking name. He was at Alice and Jasper's wedding for fucks sakes. Damn, I really need to stop with the mind alternating substances.
"Congrats, Mike," I say as he continues grin with pride. "That's really great. You enjoying it then?"
"Very much. I've been working there since I was a little kid, but it's totally different being the boss, yah know?"
I nod along, even if I have no fucking clue what it's like to be in charge.
"I can imagine," I reply. Mike's presence is enough to motivate me to enter Charlie's house. "Well, I just got in, and I'm wiped."
"Of course, I'll let you go. Have a good night, neighbor!" He waves jovially before basically skipping up the driveway. His preppy, all-American, good guy thing is really exhausting, and I don't recall him actually living next door.
So I tromp up Charlie's front porch, fiddling with the key that has been on my chain since my dad gave it to me the summer I attempted to live with him. It rests with the key to the house on Goss, one to the Black's house, and the key to my beast of the truck.
They are all so useless at this point in my life.
I push on into the house, dropping my duffle at my feet as I enter the living room. Everything looks the same, excepted dustier. I should have more memories here with my dad. But Renee robbed me of that in my youth, and I fucked it up in my adulthood, and then he died, and now it's too late.
Also, I can't even fucking believe I'm a homeowner.
Someone, presumably Esme, covered all the furniture with big, white sheets. She's been taking care of the property for me.
Holy fuck. Esme Cullen.
Until this moment, I'd completely forgot about the Cullen parents and how they fucking live here and all. They always tried so hard to make me feel welcome. Never was the effort a success, but I appreciated it anyway.
Fuck, they must hate me now.
But there is really nowhere else to go.
I move to the stairs, trying to flick the lights on. I'm thankful they come on at all, but then remember when Edward helped me set up the automatic bill payment right after Charlie died. The heat is set just to keep the pipes from freezing.
Please let this mean there will be running water.
Dumping my backpack in my old bedroom (there is no way I'm ready to brave Charlie's room yet), I bolt towards the bathroom, groaning in relief when the water coming out of the shower warms.
I strip with the speed of a ravenous dog in the proximity of a particularly succulent chunk of meat and remove my hair from the messy knot on the top of my head. It may be the longest, most glorious shower of my life. There is no soap or shampoo or anything, but I don't particularly care.
It all hits me at once during the shower. After a year of slowly killing myself and ignoring all my issues, I've made the decision to get better.
But where the hell do I start?
Most of the longest, most glorious shower of my life involves sitting in the stream, sobbing hysterically.
Thankfully, there are still towels in the linen closet. I wrap myself in a musty towel, and collapse into my purple twin bed.
I realize the last time I slept here, it was in Edward's arms a moment before I fall asleep.
I sleep for a solid sixteen hours, and for once I don't dream of anything. For the first time in a long time, my stomach rumbles. I haven't eaten in over a day.
Step one of getting better officially means getting healthy. I'm starting with my physical wellbeing because it's a baby step. It's the easiest this to fix. All I have to do is eat, exercise, and not do any drugs.
But there is absolutely no food in the house, so I must venture out. After dumping out the entire contents of my pack, I finally find a threadbare black beanie to cover my greasy hair. I also pull on an old red flannel shirt I stole from Edward (the one article of his clothing still in my position), a pair of tight black jeans, and leather bomber jacket.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm seated with a menu at Fork's sole breakfast establishment, a diner. Charlie took me here, and always ordered the same thing.
But I get eggs. Because I love eggs. Because I need to gain at least fifteen pounds to get to a healthy weight.
Listening to my iPod, I munch away in contentment. This is already so much better than being on the road, even if I have no idea what I'm doing with myself. Being here in Forks is what Charlie would have wanted, so maybe my answers are here.
Suddenly a hugely pregnant and vaguely familiar woman slides into the opposite side of the booth causing me to choke a bit on my little piece of scrambled heaven. I quickly remove my headphones and try to swallow.
"Sorry," says the very soon to be mother. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah," I reply, taking a drink of water to clear my throat. "I'm totally fine."
"I just thought I should say hi. Mike said you were back in town," she continues. Damn, here we go again. What the fuck is her name? Brown hair, blond highlights, small, brown eyes.
"Uh huh," I murmur with a nod, feeling very uncomfortable. This is probably going to be a frequent occurrence in Forks. They all know me as Charlie's daughter, probably met me at the funeral. But there is really very little I remember clearly from Charlie's funeral.
"You don't remember me at all, do you?" she asks, smiling kindly.
"Your face is very familiar," I reply. "Sorry."
"A Thanksgiving party years ago, Jasper and Alice's wedding, sharing a hotel room?" she says, successfully bringing back my memories.
"Oh, shit," I say in surprise. "Jessica Stanley. Alice's friend. You look different, good."
"I knew you'd get it!" she says, absolutely beaming now. "And it's actually Jessica Newton now." She sticks her left hand under my nose and I study the pear shaped diamond that rests in a gold band I find there.
"That's lovely," I reply. "Congrats."
This pleasant conversation is so much different than what I'm used to. And although I find the discussion a little strange, it's not necessarily objectionable.
"Thanks. We haven't been married for very long, just shy of a year," she continues. "This little one was quite the surprise. I had no plans on getting pregnant three months into our marriage, but that's life."
I stare awkwardly at her big belly for a prolonged amount of time, wondering what it feels like. If the universe wanted that for me, I would have a sixth month old depending on me now. It's a strange thought, and I can't actually imagine it, but it hurts my heart anyway.
I come to the surreal realization that I may or may not be jealous of Jessica Stanley-Newton.
"When are you do?" I ask, because I'm pretty sure that's what you're supposed to ask in such situations.
"Three weeks," she says, beaming. "I'm so excited! But nervous. Really nervous."
"You'll be great," I reply, feeling my own face tug into a smile. The foreign expression hurts my cheeks slightly. "So boy, girl, you don't know?"
"Boy! It's a boy." Jessica claps, reminding me of Alice. "We're going to name him Robert after Mike's dad. Robbie for short."
"That's damn adorable," I reply, actually meaning it.
"Thanks," she says. "So, what are you doing back in town?"
"Well, to be honest. I have no idea," I say, to tired to concoct anything false. "Jessica, have you ever had a moment where you realize you just don't like yourself at all? Even a little bit?"
She blinks rapidly for a moment, looking utterly baffled. Apparently, I've lost all social graces while on the road, hanging out with nothing but hooligans. I'm going to have to re-learn how to interact with the normal people.
"Well," she replies, looking thoughtful. "My freshmen year at UW, I did sleep around quite a bit. Mike and I had just broken up and I didn't handle it very well. I mean, I slept with three guys that year."
Now I'm the one blinking rapidly as I try to figure out how many guys I've slept with total. But as the number mounts to ridiculous heights, I get depressed and stop tabulating.
"Well, two if you don't include Mike. But then I stopped going out so much and started focusing on school. We got back together when I was a junior."
"So you guys dated in high school?" I ask.
"Yes, on and off. We were one of those annoying couples that were always breaking up and getting back together. It was good for us, being apart and seeing other people in college, made me see that I've always only really wanted him," she continues.
"Good for you, Jessica," I murmur, definitely jealous of her now. Sometimes, I really hate the happy people.
"So what didn't you like about yourself?" she asks. This conversation is gettin' awfully personal awfully quick. Its uncomfortable, sharing what I'm thinking but I force myself to do it anyway. Its part of the self improvement thing.
"Everything," I reply.
Jessica Stanley now Newton, Alice's best friend from high school, laughs at me. Laughs. Throws her head back and fucking laughs.
"Sorry. I don't know why I found that so funny," she says when she finally gets a hold of herself. "You know, we've never really had a conversation before."
"I know," I agree with a sigh. "It's weird isn't it? Me laying that heavy shit on you without even really knowing you."
"Yeah, it's a little weird. But that's okay. So what are you doing here, Bella?" she asks, smiling at me.
"Well… Edward and I broke up," I hear myself say.
"I heard," she says, nodding and look all sympathetic and shit. "Was it rough?"
"Yes," I reply, admitting it for the first time. "But its all me. I'm the problem. I have all the baggage. And now I want to… have to get better."
"To get back together with him?" Jessica asks.
"No," I say, ruefully shaking my head. "I pretty much destroyed that. It's for the best, really. But I need to get better for me."
"Well, good for you, Swan," she says. "So… what are you going to do first?"
Ah, an excellent question.
"Getting' healthy. Runnin', eatin' right. All that jazz. And a job. Those would be the first steps," I reply.
"Oh my Gosh! A job!" she shouts, clasping her hands together and squeaking in apparent joy. "You worked at Newton's, right?"
"Uh… yeah. For like twelve seconds."
"That's perfect," Jessica continues, the gears turning. "You can have my job."
"Your job?"
"Yup," she says. "Since we got married, I've been working there. I'm a certified teacher, but I got pregnant mid job hunt so Newton's was the obvious choice. I'm huge now! Totally time to hire someone else, but my cheap husband is dragging his feet."
"He wouldn't hire me," I reply. "I quit with no notice last time. I'm a flight risk."
"Oh, that was his parents. And between you and me, I wasn't too broken up when I heard Sarah was moving to Florida. That woman tries my nerves. And you will be perfect. You already know the ropes."
"You think?" I ask, having serious doubts.
"Sure do," Jessica replies with a giggle. "Plus, I have to confess. I know how this town works. When people find out that you are back, they are going to flock to you. And if you're in Newton's…"
"They'll flock to Newton's too," I finish for her. The thought is nauseating, but I really need a job.
"So? Want your old job back?" she asks.
"Yup," I reply, shaking her hand. "You've got yourself a replacement."
March 4, 2009
"Lets talk about your mother."
"I don't want to talk about Renee."
"Okay. Then lets talk about your father."
"I don't want to talk about Charlie either."
"Edward then."
I shake my head.
"The baby?"
"Oh, hell no."
Turns out, therapy is really fucking hard. They make you talk about your feelings and shit. Plus, Dr. Charlotte Dean is one tough cookie.
"Bella," she says, raising an eyebrow at me. "Tell me, what would you like to talk about?"
"The weather?" I venture.
This is only my second secession, and I'm still not very good about spilling my guts to a complete and total stranger. Last week, she made me tell my entire life story. It wasn't too terrible because I just stated the facts; bam, bam, bam. No feelings, just info. This week, the good doctor wants feeling, and I am shit at feelings.
"You do realize that you are here willingly, right?" she asks. "You told me yourself last week that you we're here to 'get better'. That you want to 'confront you demons' and 'be happy'. Those are the goals you outlined in our last secession. How exactly is talking about the weather going to help you reach any of these goals?"
"Listen, Charlotte," I reply. "Can I call you Charlotte?"
"I really do prefer Dr. Dean."
I can't believe I chose a shrink called Dr. Dean. Sounds like a cult leader or the inventor of some sort of get rich quick scheme.
"Charlotte," I continue because I really can't bring myself to say Dr. Dean. "This is real, real difficult for me. I'm not used to talking about my fucking feelings and sharing my goddamn woes. I'm much more of a suck it up and deal type."
"Yes, so I gather," she replies. I think I might hate her. Dr. Dean's blond hair is pulled back into a perfect and sever bun. Her grey skirt is without a single wrinkle and her body is totally rocking.
I, by contrast, am a completely disheveled mess in Edward's flannel shirt and a pair of jeans that were once tight, but I've lost so much weight in the last year that they now hang low on my hips. In the month since I came to Fork's, I've gained five pounds and have started running, but I'm still way too skinny. The dark circles under my eyes remain because I can't fucking sleep in Charlie's house without Edward or booze.
"The problem is you're not very good at dealing, Bella. You have to be able to talk about something real," Char says. "Or this is just a waste of time."
Closing my eyes, I take a big breath and exhale loudly. Alright. Something real. Here it goes.
"I miss… my cat," I say finally.
I expect Charlotte to become totally exasperated with this comment, but she remains stoic.
"Tell me about your cat," she replies, thoroughly shocking me. I thought she would flip and tell me to take therapy seriously.
"Uh… Okay. Well, his name is Waldo. He is all gingery and his big green eyes are slightly cross-eyed. He is a total dork, and likes me the best but he always slept on Edward's neck," I hear myself say, smiling slightly.
"Where is Waldo now?"
I giggle at the stupid little joke, but Charlotte doesn't get it. "Ah, well. He is in Boulder. With, um, Edward. I guess. I don't really know, to be honest. I left so suddenly… I didn't really…"
And all of a sudden, the decision to just abandon my life gets a little more enormous. So I completely break down and deteriorate into complete hysterics. I can't even bring myself to look at the good Doc in my shame, and bury my face in the collar of Edward's shirt as I cry.
It stopped smelling like him a long time ago.
"Sorry," I say when I finally get a hold of myself. "What do you think, Char? What do I do?"
"Here is what I think." Charlotte doesn't even seem to acknowledge my break down and for this I'm grateful. "You have mommy issues, daddy issues, baby issues, and boyfriend issues. You have abandonment issues and are unwilling to let anyone get close. You avoid rather than deal, and your fear of being hurt again led you to hurt those most important to you."
"Um—" I try to comment on all that but Dr. Dean just keeps on going.
"I think that you need to understand that Renee's leaving had nothing to do with you, and I think you need to forgive her to let it go. I think you need to be thankful for the time you had with your father and let yourself really grieve in a healthy way. I think you need to forgive yourself about the baby and start dealing with why you wanted it so badly. And mostly I think you need to acknowledge your feelings for Edward and figure out what you want in the future."
"Holy fuck."
"And you need to learn to talk like a lady," she adds. "So. What do you think?"
"I know what I want with Edward in the future," I mumble somewhat defensively. I latch on to the Edward stuff because it's the last thing she said.
"Oh really?" asks Charlotte, raising a perfect eyebrow at me.
"I want to get over him. I want to be able to go back to Boulder and leave him alone."
For the first time, Charlotte sighs and leans back in her plush lavender chair. "We have a lot of work to do. So where do you want to start? I think its safe to say we can pinpoint most of your issues to your abandonment, but we need to talk about these people in your life. So who? Renee, Charlie, Edward, or the baby?"
What a terrible choice. I really, really loathe therapy and Dr. Dean.
May 19, 2009 exclusivity
"Hey, big guy!" I say, swooping four and a half month year old Robbie from the blanket in the center of the Newton's living room where he lays under an arch of colorful toys. I gently poke his adorably round tummy, causing him to giggle joyfully. "Where's your mama, huh, kid?"
I've been requited to babysit for Jess and Mike. They call me a couple times a month to watch Roberto, and I love it. Hanging with the baby is one of my favorite things to do. It still hurts, seeing him grow up and thinking that I almost had one of my own, but it's more of a dull ache. Not sharp and acute like it was when I felt the need to leave Boulder.
"In the laundry room," calls Jessica. "I'll be out in a sec."
"Doin' laundry," I say to Robbie as I sit on the couch. "Mama's doin' laundry. I'll tell you a secret, Rob. I abhor laundry. In fact, I have worn this shirt like eight times without washing it but I think I still smell nice."
"Hello, Bell," Jessica says, entering a room with huge basket full of clean clothes. She dumps the whole thing on a loveseat, sitting down next to it and beginning to fold.
"What's with the laundry? I thought it was date night?"
"Well, it is," replies Jessica, digging through the pile single-mindedly.
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, pipsqueak," I say, tickling Robbie again. "I love how much he laughs now. It's new! He's so happy."
"The laugh isn't the only new thing," she replies. "He rolled over Wednesday."
"Dang, dude," I say, making goofy faces at the baby in my arms. "Look at you. Rollin' over and stuff. Such a big guy."
"We're so proud," says Jess. "You should have seen the look of determination on his cute little face. At first I thought he was pooing."
I giggle and plant a kiss on the top of Robbie's fuzzy blond head.
"Ah, ha!" Jessica says finally, emerging from her ridiculous stack of clothes with a slinky black dress. "Look at this number."
"Sexy," I reply as she holds it up to her body. "You'll look great in it."
"But you'll look better," she sings.
"What?" I ask.
"It is date night," Jessica says, handing me the dress and taking the baby. This trade does not favor me, and I pout. "But not just for me."
"What?" I ask again.
"You're wearing this dress and you're going with us," she says, grinning at me. Sometimes it shocks me how often Jessica reminds me of Alice. I know they were good friends growing up, even if they have lost touch. I made Jess swear long ago that she wouldn't reveal my whereabouts. I'm just not ready to deal.
"What?" I repeat for the zillionth time.
"Okay, don't be mad. But we're set you up with a friend of Mike's. It's a double date, so no pressure," Jess says in a soothing tone that she usually reserves for her crying son.
"No. Fack no." Jess gets real cranky when I curse in front of thee wee one.
"Bella, you broke up with Edward a year and a half ago," she says. "It's time to start actively moving on. Isn't that the whole point of therapy?"
"One of the points," I mutter with a scowl. 'There is still no way I'm going on a fackin' date."
"Well, don't think of it as a date then," she suggests. "It's just dinner with your dear friend Jessica, her gorgeous husband Mike, and their good, old friend Tyler."
Thirty minutes later, I find myself dressed in a slinky back A-line dress with a sweetheart neckline and wide straps. How do I succumb so easily to peer pressure? I smirk to myself as I slip my feet into a relatively new pair of grey chucks. Sneakers and dresses: my own private form of rebellion.
"I envy you, kid," I say to the pimply teen Jessica called in to replace me as babysitter.
"Who are you talking to?" she ask, blinking up at me with Robbie in her arms. "Me or the baby?"
"Both," I mumble, moving to join the voices I hear near the front door.
Here we go.
It's shocking, but I don't totally hate this Tyler character. He makes me laugh, has good taste in music, and is snarky as shit. The best part is, he reminds me nothing of the boy I left behind. His hair is a dirty brown, his face is round, his eyes are brown, and he's built. Like arms the size of my face, built. Tyler has this self-deprecating thing going on that's oddly charming.
Dinner is startlingly fun, and I'm a little bemused to find myself having a good time. Even if The Lodge, the sole wannabe upscale restaurant with in forty-five miles, is decorated with a multitude of animal heads, the steak is good and the company is better. For the first time in a long time, I live rather than simply existing.
"So, Bella," says Mike. Our empty plates have been cleared away, and we are on our fourth round of drinks. Everyone else at the table is quite tipsy, the lightweights. "How's Dr. Dean?"
Jessica, glaring daggers at her husband, aims a kick at Mike under the table, but misses and gets me in the shin instead. Now I'm the one glaring as I lean down to attempt to rub the pain out of my leg.
"Oh, her same old, bitchy self," I reply, blushing slightly because I am talking about my fucking therapist. "The masochistic slag made me share all sorts of childhood memories this week."
"Who is Dr. Dean?" asks Tyler.
"I cannot believe you brought this up on their first date, Michael Ernie Newton," hisses Jessica. "They are on a first date."
"Your middle is Ernie?" I clarify with a giggle. "And this is not a date."
I turn to Tyler who is openly laughing now. "This is not a date," I tell him.
"Okay," he replies.
"Not a date. Just dinner. Between new friends," I continue as Mike and Jessica bicker.
"Here, here," he says, clinking his glass against mine.
"No dating," I say. "And Dr. Dean is my shrink."
"Ah," says Tyler, nodding in understanding. "You've got one of those too?"
"Yeah," I say, chuckling a little because this is a semi awkward. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh nothing much. My fiancé left me for my best friend while I was serving my country in Iraq. The usual," he replies. "You?"
"I've got childhood abandonment issues and dead dad issues. And ex-boyfriend issues," I tease back.
"Nice," he says, nodding his head.
"Ditto," I reply.
"See, babe!" says Mike, gesturing towards us. "They are bonding over their need for therapy. I planned it like that."
Nobody believes him.
"Do you think we should go on a real date?" Tyler asks as we walk home. Not one of us is fit to drive, so we are hoofing it home. Mike and Jessica walk about twenty feet in front of us, groping each other and laughing.
"No," I reply, shaking my head. His poor, boyish, hopeful face falls, and I feel the need to explain. "It's not you, Tyler."
"Sure," he mutters, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Seriously!" I exclaim, louder than necessary. "I don't want to date anyone. It's too complicated and I need to just focus on getting better right now."
"Well, I guess I can relate to that," he replies. "I guess I'm not as far along in the recovery process as you. I'm still in the 'I want to prove to my ex I'm over her with another lady' phase. I guess dating should be about me, not her, huh?"
"Yup," I agree, wondering if Edward went through that phase.
"So give me the deets on your ex-boyfriend issues. Now that you know all about my pathetic love life," he continues, kicking a can as we make slow progress home.
I wince, thinking that what I have to tell him will probably ruin our emerging friendship. "Unfortunately, I'm a lot more like your ex than you."
He frowns at me, his innocent features turning sharp and mean. "Did you cheat on him?"
"No, never," I say quickly, defending myself. "It's a lot more complicated than that. But basically I left him, left town, without explaining or talking to him at all."
"You just… disappeared?"
I think of my baby and my mother before nodding slowly. "It was a terrible thing to do."
"Than why did you do it?"
"I don't even fucking know. Because I am crazy fucked up and real life got too hard."
Tyler nods in understanding and we walk for a few minutes in silence, but I find myself wanting to talk about Edward. I can't really explain why, especially because I am so hesitant to do some with Dr. Dean, but I feel closer to him in this moment.
"Did you go to Forks High?" I ask.
"Yup, class of 04', baby," he says, giving a tired little fist pump.
"So you know the Cullens?" Obviously he knows the fucking Cullens. Everyone knows everyone in Forks.
He looks at my like I'm a little crazy. "Yeah, I know them. But you know them?" he asks in apparent confusion.
"Yup," I reply, feeling awkward now. "Real well."
"How?"
"College," I explain. "We all went to CU, in Boulder."
"Wow, small world," he replies, probably wondering why the fuck I brought this up. "Emmett and I were pretty tight, both played on like eight sports teams. Plus, I dated Ali a couple times."
"You and Alice!" I exclaim, stopping in my tracks because I'm so fucking surprised. "Holy shit balls! You were probably the weirdest looking couple. She is like a forth your size."
He laughs heartily, and we start walking again.
"Yeah we looked a little ridiculous. I think that's why Ali liked me. We always did have a thing for the ridiculous," he murmurs, smiling fondly.
"Indeed. She still does," I reply.
"Plus it made for some really interesting sex," he muses.
"Yeah, I don't want to know about that."
"I heard she's married now. Do you like the guy or do I need to kick his ass?" he jokes, punching his fist.
"He's a great guy. Last time I saw them, they were so happy," I say with a giggle. "Jasper Whitlock is a southern gentleman."
"Good for her," he replies.
"Do you know, um… Edward?" I ask, tentatively.
"Yeah. Quiet, smart, anti-social," he replies, waving his hand around his head absent-mindedly. "Wears a lot of sweaters."
I giggle like a loon, which leads to pathetic little sniffles. He does wear a lot of sweaters. I miss his sweaters.
"Bella?" Tyler asks, incredulous now. "Are you crying?"
Drunk and ridiculous, all I can do is nod slightly. At least now Tyler has no desire to date me.
"Why?"
"Because I miss his sweaters," I reply, as if that explains anything.
"Okay…" He must totally be questioning my sanity.
"I, uh… we were like, um… he sorta, ah." Lordy, do I sound like an idiot. Tyler continues to stare at me as I take a big, calming breath. "Edward was the boy I left."
"You and Edward?" he asks, not believing me. "You and nerdy, little Edward?"
"He isn't so little anymore," I mutter.
"Wow, I would not have predicted that," Tyler replies.
"Yeah, yeah," I dismiss. "Opposites attract."
We walk in silence for a little longer.
"Tyler?" I ask with caution as we approach the Newton's house "Do you think we could be friends? Even though I am a crazy person?"
"Yeah," he says right away with an affirmative nod. "Its nice talking to someone as fucked up as me. Plus, you can never have too many friends. Right?"
"Right."
September 31, 2010
"Hey, Swan. You're back quicker than I expected." Tyler sits on my front porch, bare feet propped up on my banister, glancing at his watch, and sipping a beer.
With my hands behind my head, my chest rising and falling rapidly with my accelerated breathing, I tromp up the front steps and sit next to him. He has a beer waiting for me on the little glass table between our chairs.
"Seriously, you kept up with me for the first mile, and I've only been back for like ten minutes," he continues when my heart rate slows enough to let me speak.
"I'm getting back into it," I reply, taking a long, cool drink. "Still had to walk that last hilly section though."
"You'll be right there with me soon enough," he says.
We sit it silence, sipping and relaxing. Recently, Tyler has become a good friend. We are two broken souls, navigating our way into getting better.
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" he asks eventually.
"Oh, right!" I say, remembering exactly what I need to do. "I wanted to talk to you about that actually. I have a lot of crap I thought you might be interested in."
Finally, after living in Forks for months, I somehow managed the strength to go through everything in Charlie's house, preparing it for when I need to rent it out. Sorting what to keep, deciding what to ditch, and getting to know my dearly departed dad. It was tough, and many a tear was shed, but ultimately it was for the best. Charlie kept a lot of stuff from my childhood that I don't even remember sending him. Artwork, class projects, even the occasional report card. It's proof. Tangible evidence that he did care about me, and even though I mourn his loss, the thought is comforting.
But for every treasure I unearthed, there are mountains of junk. It took me a whole month to go through the basement, and two weeks to clean out the attic. The garage took ten days, but I have finally done it. All of Charlie's possessions sit in boxes in the now clear garage. I dragged a whole lot of shit to the dump, and then stacked the rest of the boxes in a pile to keep and a pile to donate.
"Crap I will be interested in?" he asks, chuckling at me.
"Yeah, for your store." Tyler runs the one consignment shop in Forks. He says he likes being surrounded by used things because everything has a story.
"I don't sell crap, Bella," he scolds. "Only the gently used, once loved."
"Well, Charlie has massive amounts of fishing junk that will probably be pretty popular round these parts," I reply. "Figured I would do my charitable duty and pass them on. The man did love to fish."
"Excellent," Tyler says, clinking his bottle against mine. "The fishing gear always flies off the shelves. Do you have any other outdoor crap?"
"Sure. There is a whole pile of shit that isn't quite junky enough to throw out. You can have any of it. I'll take the rest to that Goodwill in Port Angles."
"Let's get too it!" he says with gusto, rising and walking across the driveway to the garage. Smiling slightly, I finish my beer and follow him.
While watching Tyler's childlike enthusiasm as he digs through the boxes in my garage, I am struck with just how damn lucky I am. I have been blessed with truly wonderful people in my life. Everyone I left behind in Boulder. Maggie and Liam (even if Maggie was a total bitch at the end there) who I also left. Mike and Jessica. Tyler. Eventually I'll leave them too.
"Tyler, why do you hang out with me?" I ask suddenly as he examines some sort of intense looking pocketknife.
"That's a damn good question," he says, not even glancing up from the knife. "You're a slow ass jogger."
I throw a deflated basketball at him.
"Seriously. Don't be a cocksucker."
He laughs and mimes putting the knife in his pocket. I nod and think about punching him until he answers my question.
"We are both kinda the prodigal's sons of Forks, you know? Gone for a long time, returning here to heal from all the fucked up shit we went through out in the real world. You get it more than anyone else here," Tyler says, moving on to the next box.
"I do get it," I reply because it's the truth. Tyler might be more of a lost soul than even me. What with the war and everything.
"Even Mike and Jess," he continues. "I mean, sure. They are great and I love them, but they don't know shit. I mean, Mike went to school in Port Angeles and Jessica hasn't ventured father out of the Forks bubble then Seattle. They've led good, normal, non-traumatic all be it somewhat boring lives."
"I could do with a little boring at this point," I reply, smiling ruefully.
"Same. And that is why we are back in Forks. It's a safe haven. But all that being said, it's still good to have someone to talk to about the dark shit. Other than my fucking shrink," he says, turning to look at me. His eyes narrow in distrust. "Why do you ask? I mean, why do you hang out with me?"
"Pretty much for all those reasons. Solidarity for the fucked up people and all that," I reply. "But I ask because I'm going to leave you. And Mike and Jessica."
"I know that, Bell," he says. Tyler, very gracefully for a man of his massive size, stands from his crouched position on floor and wipes his hands on his gym shorts. I look up at him from my seat on an over turned trash can, feeling guilty although I don't really get why. "Dude, from the moment I met you, you've been pretty damn clear about why you're here."
"I have?" I ask, a little dumb founded. Typically, I hold shit close to the vest, but apparently I have been succeeding in opening up. Huzzah to me.
"Totally," he replies with a chuckle. "I mean the first time we had a conversation you were all 'I don't want to date you, don't even try because I'm super hung up on my ex. I'm going to a shrink because I have a shit ton of abandonment issues, but eventually I want to feel strong enough to go home.'"
"Holy fuck nuts," I say, blinking up at him in shock. "I said all that?"
"You were slightly more eloquent, but yeah."
"I guess that makes sense. I just… don't want you to feel like I am using you. I've used a lot of people in my time, and I don't want to be that way anymore" I confess, blushing violently because I hate admitting what a terrible person I am. It seems like I used everyone in my life while still keeping them at arms length. I don't want to be that person.
"Well, you are giving me a shit ton a sellable shit. So if anyone is using anyone in this friendship I must say it would be me using you," he says, going back to the boxes.
I laugh and stand. "Hey, user," I call as I walk towards the door to the house. "Want another beer?"
"You know it," he replies.
October 4, 2011
"Alight, Roberto," I say, frowning at the massive cereal selection available for purchase at the tiny Forks supermarket. "Lucky Charms or Coco Puffs?"
The baby slaps my hand that is holding on the cart, and doing the spity, blowing thing with his tongue that babies do.
"Lucky Charms it is then," I say, grabbing the box and tossing it in the cart before moving on. Jess is interviewing for a teaching job in Port Angeles today, and I begged Mike to let me take the day off to babysit the little guy. I love hanging with Little Rob. He is one cool dude with his dirty blond hair and big blue eyes.
I pick up a few more of the essentials before moving to check out. As we wait in line, Robbie gets antsy and keeps trying to stand in his little seat so I pick him up. Immediately, he grabs a hand full of my hair. It was stupid of me to leave it down anyway with the baby so close.
"Dude," I say with a laugh when he gives it a particularly hard tug. "You are way to strong to be doin' that."
"Bella?" A voice behind me demands in shock.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before slowly turning to face Esme fucking Cullen. Although I have mentally prepared for this moment, it's not going to be easy. The Cullen parents travel. A lot. But, lucky for me, they have been away for my entire time here.
Until now.
"Hi, uh… Esme," I reply. "How are you?"
"What are you doing here?" she asks, green eyes wide, jaw slack. Damn, she looks like her son. It hurts my heart a little, for multiple reasons, to look at Esme Cullen, and I can't quite bring myself to meet her eye.
"I kinda… uh… um, live here now," I stutter. Its now my turn in line, and I fumble around in my purse for my wallet. It feels like everybody's eyes are on me, and I continue to blush. Robbie pulls on my hair, and I finally manage to hand over my credit card.
With bags in my cart and child on my hip, I turn to look at Esme who is still staring at me.
"Um, so it was good to see you," I say, with a fake smile.
"You're not going anywhere," Esme replies, her voice low and dangerous. "Wait for me."
Oh, fuck. This is going to fucking suck.
Twenty minutes later, I find myself at the Cullen's kitchen table. I sit across from Esme. She poured us each a hot mug of tea, and is tapping her fingernails repetitively against the ceramic. I bounce Robbie on my knee while he munches on some crackers.
Neither of us have yet to speak.
"So…" Esme finally ventures. "Who's this?"
"This is Robbie," I say, cuddling the baby close and smelling his yummy baby-ness and kissing his temple as he giggles in joy. "Say hi, Roberto." He just blows a spit bubble and smacks his lips together, making me smile.
"You're very sweet with him," she murmurs, looking sad.
"Uh, thanks. It's not hard to do," I reply. "Kid's a doll."
"Does he take after his father?" she asks, grimacing slightly. I don't really get this line of questioning, but I could talk about Robs all damn day. It's much easier than what she probably wants to talk to me about.
"Totally," I agree, nodding as I study baby Robbie's adorably round face. "All American good looks, big blue eyes. He's gonna be a heart breaker, huh?"
Again, Esme gives me a tight, forced smile that I don't understand. Anger I would expect, but this sadness is throwing me for a fucking loop.
Her staring and silence is becoming uncomfortable, so I turn to give Robbie another cuddle. He is like an adorable little safety blanket.
"Is that why you left?" she murmurs finally.
"Huh?" is my uber intelligent reply.
"It makes sense now," she continues as if she's talking to herself. "You were carrying another man's child. Although the timeline doesn't quite add up. He looks too young. So was this someone you met here? Are you together?"
And now I am even more lost. For one brief, horrifying moment, I think she is referring to the kid I once carried. But that doesn't make any sense.
"Huh?" I ask again.
"Who is the father?" At least this question I know the answer to.
"Mike… uh… Mike Newton," I reply causing Esme's eyebrows to go way up.
"Oh… my… Sarah never… that's an awkward situation…" Esme stutters. I just stare blankly back, having no idea what's happening. "So are you happy?"
This question I can also answer. Dr. Dean asks me it all the damn time.
"Workin' on it," I reply honestly.
"Are you together? I thought he was getting married? Are you married?" she asks in rapid fire.
"Esme," I say, gaping at her. "What the fack are you talkin' about? Married to who?"
"Mike!" she shouts as if its obvious.
"Mike?" I reply with a matching, incredulous tone. I wrinkle my nose in distaste at the thought. So fucking wrong on so many fucking levels. "Why the flip would I be married to Mike?"
"Maybe because you have a baby together!" she screams, losing all composure.
And then I get it. I look between the bouncing bundle of joy on my lap and the furious woman across the table from me. My mouth pops open in surprise before I abruptly burst into semi-hysterical giggles.
Esme looks at me like I'm an absolute psychopath.
"Holy Krishna," I say when I finally get myself under control. "You thought Robbie was mine?"
"What else was I supposed to think, Bella?" she snaps, scowling at me. Gah, it's the Edward scowl. Oh how I miss him. What I wouldn't give to have him scowling at me right now.
"Yeah, you're right. Sorry. This is Robbie Newton. Son to Jessica and Michael Newton. I am just babysitting for the day," I explain.
"Oh, thank God," she says, letting out a big sigh and leaning against the back of her chair. "I would have hated to be the one to tell Edward."
Yeah, that's the subject I thought we would be discussing. Suddenly, I am beyond exhausted. I feel like the baby shouldn't be so close to this conversation, so I lay out a blanket on the floor and settle him with a few of his favorite toys before joining Esme once more at the table.
"I never cheated on Edward," I murmur, not knowing where to start. "I mean, I pulled a lot of facked up shat, put your son through hell. But I never would do that to him. Never wanted too."
Esme just nods, looking a little stunned that I am sharing so willingly.
"Okay," she replies.
"How is he?" The words burst out of me because even though I know I have zero right to ask, I can't not.
Esme is grimacing again. "I don't know, Bella," she replies with a sigh. "I'm his mom. He puts on a happy face and tells me what I want to hear. Alice is the only one to ever really talks to me. "
"I know I hurt him," I whisper, staring at my hands and feeling hot tears pool in the corner of my eyes.
"Yes, you did." Esme agrees with me coolly. "Not that anyone has really told me anything about my child in the last two years, but I still know my son. What he struggles the most with is not understanding the why."
"To deduce, reason, logic," I reply, realizing again how big of a fuck up my departure was. If I was thinking clearly at all, I would have seen how much leaving in the way I did would drive him insane. "Of course that must drive him crazy."
"Yes," Esme agrees. "All I know is that you disappeared without telling anyone where you were going. You didn't even give him the courtesy of explaining yourself."
This proper and painful chastising is making me cry both because I did something horrible to the person I care about the most in this word, and because I miss him so fucking much.
I am sitting in his childhood home. Talking to his mother. I have not felt this close to him since I left.
Fuck. This means I have made zero progress in the whole getting over him thing. Therapy may be working when talking about my other issues, but certainly not with Edward.
"I know," I reply. It's not like I can defend myself. What I did is undefendable.
"What are you doing here, Bella?" she demands.
"Trying to get better, Esme," I reply.
"Is it working?"
At this I smile. Because it is. I feel different. Not quite happy, but getting there. I am not as angry anymore. I don't hate myself so much. I have almost forgiven Renee. I realize now that the miscarriage was not my fault.
I can't seem to get the hang of living without Edward though.
"Yes," I say, smiling. "I was really facked up for a really long time. And now I'm… learning to let go."
Esme has about a million questions for me after that. She asks all about where I was and who I was with and what I did. I answer as honestly as I can without being totally inappropriate. I hate it, but view the conversation as good practice. Eventually, I'm going to go home and will probably have to answer similarly to those I left.
If they even want to talk to me after what I did.
Esme is very obviously angry at me, rightfully so, but she maintains that courteous, dignity thing that I always found so intimidating. She listens to me, and doesn't judge me on anything except for hurting her son.
Eventually, I become comfortable enough to ask her about her recent travels. Lady has been everywhere, and I am jealous. If I've learned anything recently its that I do love the travel, as long as the company is good and I have a home to come back too.
"My children are going to be shocked to hear that you are in Forks," muses Esme as dusk approaches. "Last I heard, you were gallivanting around Texas."
"Esme," I say, completely freaking for the first time since she ambushed me in the store. "You can't tell them."
"What do you mean?" she asks, looking puzzled. "I have to tell them."
"They probably don't even care where I am at this point," I murmur.
Esme glares at me for a long time. "That has always been your problem, hasn't it? You don't understand how those around you feel about you or how your actions effect them."
"Yeah," I agree, nodding ruefully. "That is a major thing I've been working on. But I get it now for the most part. What I don't understand is how they could still care after I left with no explanation."
"Yes, that was a pretty major fuck up."
I laugh because Esme Cullen just said fuck. "Please, Esme. Just, give me a few months. Don't tell them yet. You know Alice. She'll call or maybe even show up. I just need a few more months before I face all my huge mistakes."
It takes another hour of cajoling, but eventually Esme agrees to keep my secret.
November 30, 2010
"Settled?" I ask, offended by the words coming out of Dr. Dean's pretty pink lips. "I don't want to be settled."
"This is your life now, Bella," she counters. "And you are never going to be happy unless you figure out what you want."
"I've told you a thousand times what I want!" I huff, beyond frustrated with the good doctor at this point. "When I first got here, you made me lay out all my goals, and I have met them! Or am in the progress of meeting them. I've come to grips with the miscarriage and my dad's death. I am working on forgiving Renee. I know I'm not unlovable."
"And Edward?"
I groan and bury my face in my hands. Now we are getting to the crux of my recent frustrations with Charlotte.
"What about Edward?"
"I am just trying to get you to see that your ridiculous plan on getting over him so you can avoid him in Boulder is stupid." Are shrinks allowed to say shit like stupid? I always knew she was a crackpot.
"Stupid?" I demand, really pissed now. "Stupid? It's fucking noble and selfless. I don't want to be tempted to hurt him anymore."
"See, that right there," Dr. Dean says, frowning at me. "That little comment is how I know you haven't made nearly as progress as either of us would like to believe. You still feel unworthy of him."
My retort dies on my tongue when I realize that she is totally right.
"Are you ready to tell me why you left?" she pushes when I don't speak. I get this question at every fucking secession.
"I have fucking told you a fuck ton of times why I fucking left," I reply through a clenched jaw.
She just smiles at me serenely and shakes her head.
"You are the single most infuriating woman I have ever had the displeasure to encounter," I tell her, refraining from repetitively punching the pillow on the lounge next to me.
"I bet it really annoys you that I've helped you so much, huh?" she replies good-naturedly.
I just huff and scowl.
"What do you want, Isabella?" she asks, getting serious again.
"For you to stop fucking calling me Isabella," I snap back.
"Bella," she tried again. "What do you want?"
"To go home. I want to go home to Boulder and not hurt the people that care about me," I venture, trying to maintain my fragile grip on my patients.
"What do you want? What do you really want? If you weren't so scared, what do you want?" she demands, her voice booming and shocking the ever-loving piss out of me. I have never seen the good doc so passionate or not composed before.
"I'm not scared," I insist.
"You," Charlotte states, shaking her head at me again. "Are fucking terrified."
I stare at her for a really long time without really seeing anything, and it dawns on me that she's right. I'm fucking terrified. Of everything. Of moving forward, of staying stagnant. I'm terrified of facing those I left behind, and I'm terrified of staying here, in this comfortable halfway house I've constructed for myself in Forks. But most of all I am just as scared of holding on to Edward as I am of letting him go.
"You left because you were scared," she murmurs as I continue to blink there in shock. "You left because everyone else in your life seemed to leave you. You mom left twice, your Dad died as you were just really getting to know him, your baby left your womb. People left in your life, and you were scared that Edward would leave too. That's really why you left. Wanting to protect him was a factor, but mostly you left Edward before Edward could leave you because you knew you wouldn't survive. Fear prompted your departure more than anything else."
"Holy fuck." Never before had I thought about it that way, but I immediately recognize the truth in her hypothesis. I left Edward before he could leave me. I am starting to doubt whether leaving him was really want was best for him at all. For the last two years, my only solace has been that he is better off without me. But really, who am I to take that decision away from him? Who am I to know what's best? I've fucked up everything so badly.
"But you made a mistake, Bella," she continues when I don't speak. "Do you know what mistake that is?"
"I forgot that he's Edward," I whisper.
"What do you mean?" asks Dr. Dean.
"He's Edward," I say, my voice wavering. "He would never have done that to me. He would never have hurt me like I hurt him. He… he wouldn't have left."
"What do you want, Isabella Marie Swan? What will make you happy, healthy, whole?" Charlotte asks quietly.
"Edward," I burst out finally. His name explodes from my lips, leaving an all encompassing feeling of relief in its place. And I know its true. "I want Edward. I don't want to get over him."
"And there it is," she replies, leaning back in her chair and smiling at me.
I guess this is what some would dub a break through.
December 6, 2010
"You can still change your mind," I say, frowning as I help Tyler unload the boxes in the back of his truck. I purposefully grab the one labeled "clothes" over the many containing books.
"Why the fuck would I do that?" he replies, heaving two huge book boxes into his arms.
"I don't know. I just feel bad. Like you are doing me this huge favor," I reply, following him up the front steps. We dump the boxes in the living room before going to retrieve more.
"I hate to tell you this, Bella," he says, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "But I am totally ripping you off. You are charging ridiculously low rent. Especially once I find myself a roomie. Plus this place comes furnished."
"I guess," I mutter. We continue to unpack in silence. Eventually, we drag all the boxes up to Charlie's room that is completely cleared out of anything but the bed frame and a dresser.
I take a final look at the room, smiling slightly, just a little bit proud of myself for coming so far. A year ago, dealing with all this shit seemed impossible.
"Stop moping," Tyler says when he turns to look at my face. "You are going home. Shouldn't you be thrilled?"
"I think I'm going to puke," I reply.
Tyler laughs heartily, and pulls me downstairs where he deposits me on the couch before moving into the kitchen to get us beers.
"Are you not ready, Bell?" he asks, furrowing his heavy brow.
"No. So fucking totally not ready," I reply. "But that's why I have to go now I think."
"From Charlotte's lips to my ears, huh?" he says with a chuckle. "Have you thought about staying? I mean, you have a life here, Bella. Or at least the beginnings of one."
"I thought about it," I confess, nodding. "And it would be so easy. To just live in this house and work at Newton's and steal Robbie when I'm feeling lonely. But it would be too easy. A fucking cop out. Plus, its not what I want. I could live my whole life knowing I was too much of a coward to go after what I want."
"I get that. You have to face all those demons. Have to plead your case to Edward," Tyler says, smiling sadly. "I'm going to miss you, Bell."
"Aw, Ty-Ty!" I squeal, leaning across the couch to give him a big hug. "I'm going to miss you too, buddy. But you're my tenant now so we'll have to keep in touch. "
"Who am I going to talk to when you leave?" he murmurs as I snuggle into his side.
"I have no fucking clue," I reply. "You're going to have to call me all the time. And come visit."
"Careful, I just might take you up on that," he replies with a chuckle. "Bell, are you crying?"
"No," I say, sniffing somewhat pathetically. I am very obviously crying but feel strange admitting how sad I really am. It seems silly because I want to go home. I need to go home. But somehow in the course of the last year, Forks and the people here have come to mean a lot to me.
So I just sit there next to Tyler as the sun goes down on my last day in Forks. He drinks his beer, and I try not to cry too much. We just sit like that until the Newton's burst through the front door.
"That looks cozy," says Mike, grinning at us before making his way into the kitchen, arms laden with grocery bags.
"Hold this," says Jessica, thrusting Robbie into my lap before following her husband.
"Hey, buddy," I say, cuddling the baby and tearing up again. I'm really going to miss the little guy.
"Be-yah!" he shouts, clapping his little hands against my cheeks and giggling. "Be-yah! Be-yah!"
"Oh, Roberto," I say though my sniffles. "Perhaps I should smuggle you to Boulder in my backpack. Do you think your parents would notice?"
"That's both kidnapping and child abuse!" shouts Jess from the kitchen. "If you don't watch it, I'm going to poison your going away dinner."
An hour later, the five of us are seated around the table, enjoying some sort of delicious chicken thing. We laugh and talk and lament my coming departure. I have very mixed feelings about leaving. I've grown to love these people, and its going to be hard.
"To Bella," Jessica says, raising her glass, "who has made the last year so wonderful. Seriously, I don't think I could have handled being a new mommy without your support. Thank you for being my friend."
Yup, the tears are back.
"And thank you for being the best sales person in the history of Newton's," puts in Mike.
"Thanks for talking to me about the dark days," says Tyler, looking as if he is on the verge of tears himself.
Glasses are clinked, and I hug each of them, telling them how much their friendship has helped me and promising to stay in touch. These people gave me a chance, and I won't soon forget it.
My last night in Forks is the epitome of bittersweet.
The thought of my return to Boulder has nerves bubbling in my stomach, both because I'm terrified and excited.
Soon, I'll see Edward.
When I get scared about the next step in getting better or sad at the prospect of leaving Forks, I think about Edward's face and my recent therapeutic realization. I want him. Need him. In a forever kind of way.
I'm still petrified of the concept, but he is worth it. We are worth the risk. It took me six years and thousands of miles to figure out, but I know without a doubt he is it for me.
The thought of what I might find in Boulder cripples me. My plan may have work. Maybe he moved on. Maybe he is happy without me. But I can't give him up without telling him everything. This is my last shot. And I pray I don't fuck it up.
Edward, here I come.
So what did we think of the good doctor? Bella's friendship with the Forksians? How cute was she with baby Roberto? Damn, do I love a boy in a sweater.