A/N- Again I'm blown away by the reviews! Thank you all so much for taking the time to show some love. This a/n is going to be long and I apologize ahead of time. First off, this is the last regular chapter of unraveled know. Sad I know, but there will be an epilogue and some outtakes coming. Second, again must thank sah0004 who gave me just enough of a push and added motivation to keep this going. Her encouragement and editing made this all possible. Third, for good measure must once again say that S. Meyers owns these fantastic character, I simply borrowed and molded them to my liking.
Enjoy!
***
I roll the pencil between my fingers, grinning as the wood grazes over my newly forming calluses. It's been so long that I had almost forgotten how hard the strings of a guitar can be on your fingers. My attention refocuses, and I scribble on the spreadsheet I'm looking over. My work here is almost finished. I've gone over the numbers more times than needed, not ready to leave the sanctuary of this backroom.
Here, in this concrete space, I've found music again. Not that I'd ever completely lost it, but I've found it in my hands again, in my voice. Every couple of hours, Simon slips on the now familiar record, and I'm pulled like a moth to a flame. There's no resisting. I give into the urge, completely happy to feel another part of myself filling in.
The only problem with this newfound healing, this rediscovery, is that I haven't told Bella. Not that I've lied. She doesn't casually ask if I'm spending my time at Simon's jamming out in the backroom, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes. The playing has seeped into every aspect of my life. Music is finding my everywhere, following me everywhere.
She caught me humming in the shower, and watched for a while before leaning her ear against my chest. I know she can sense it, feel it, but I'm scared as shit of telling her. And it doesn't make any sense. It's not like she's against this. If anything, I'm worried we might not resurface from the apartment after she finds out.
But, it's more than that. I'm not sure if I'm ready to reveal this part of my healing yet. I've built it up too much in my head, attaching it to words like 'closure' and 'amends'.
I want to tell her. I do. The last thing I want is to ever keep anything like this from her, but I don't know how to say it, how to show her.
I rest my head on the desk and groan. This shouldn't be eating me up like it is. I should just spit it out. Go home tonight, and tell her that in addition to cleaning up Simon's finances, I've been rediscovering my guitar. But when I say it, even in my mind, it sounds lame.
The music changes and I let the cue guide me back to the guitar. I don't have to think about the chords anymore, the notes now as familiar as the Beatles songs I learned to play with. I play and let my thoughts sink into the background. After a while, I sing along softly, liking the way the soft rumble in my chest feels. And that combined with the sting of the strings on the tips of my fingers, is just fantastic.
The record ends, but my fingers continue. Plucking out notes and chords not claimed by an artist. Pulling a melody from the worries in my mind. I keep going til it rounds out naturally.
"You sure as hell better find something to write that down on," Simon chides. His audience no longer surprises me. I almost welcome it, like my playing isn't a secret because he knows. It ebbs off the guilty slightly.
"Its nothing. Just working through something," I argue. He rolls his eyes and shoves paper towards me. I stare at the empty staffs and feel my hesitancy once again. I hold the pencil above the page and just hover.
I've written music since I wrote for our band. Feelings of betrayal and anguish rise up in me. Can I do this? Should I do this?
"It looks like you're almost done in here," Simon comments. I look up to see his eyes fixed on the desk. Apart from the last spreadsheet, everything is filed and tucked away. There's no doubt in my mind that I'll have to make a coupe of trips here a year to combat Simon's natural resistance to all things organization. But for the most part, he's right.
"No thanks to your shitty filing system," I chuckle. Almost as bad as Bella. Only his receipts were housed in an empty milk crate instead of a lunchbox. Just the memory of the lunchbox makes my heart squeeze.
"You managed well enough," he dismisses. One thing I've learned from this is how much he and Bella are alike. It would be easy to confuse them for father and daughter.
I glance at my watch and scramble to my feet. Today is the official opening of my office. If you can call a small studio space way on the upper west side an office. Violet is currently making it suitable for her needs, and I promised to bring lunch like old times to celebrate.
"I've outlined the new system for you and created folders for the next few months," I rattle off. I set the guitar aside and begin to gather my things. I'm almost ready when a hand takes my shoulder. I look at Simon who has the discarded papers in his hand.
"You know I'm not going to try to figure that out. I'll just call you when it gets out of control, or the IRS comes knocking," he states. He presses the papers into my chest.
"I've liked having you around Edward. It's been a long time since Izzy has been this excited about anything," he says. I wait, knowing he has more to say. He waits for me to tuck the papers into my briefcase before taking a deep breath.
"This whole hidden musician thing has been a surprise, and I've kept my mouth shut about it, but I think its time to come clean," he sighs. I nod my head and grit my teeth. Of course he's going to tell her. He should tell her. I should tell her.
"So I'm going to ask you to do me a favor," he says, and I'm confused. He shoves another piece of paper into my hand and I want to argue, but I can't. He doesn't need to say anything else.
***
Something's wrong. I stir the cereal in my bowl and sneak a look at Edward next to me. His eyes are on the far wall, his fingers strumming along the countertop. I'm trying to act unaffected. Act like I don't care that he's here, but not really here, and I'm failing.
Once again, my lack of experience in relationships is coming back to bite me in the butt. Is this normal? Was everything before this some kind of honeymoon period? And now that we're settled, and full of fewer holes, is this the new reality? That would seriously suck.
I'm hoping its something else, which feels wrong. I would rather there be a problem than this dull, lackluster Edward be real. Those words don't fit with the Edward who pulled me from my depths. He could never be dull, but removed, detached. I need a thesaurus.
The change has been gradual. The past few weeks have been insane. A never-ending rush of preparing for my benefit, and Edward trying to get his business up and running. It makes sense that we haven't had as much time for us to just be.
At first, it was a shortage of his smiles. He still smiled, even laughed once in a blue moon, but it was more rare. And then there was the daydreaming. His eyes caught this far away look, and then he would hum, or strum. I'm tempted to snap my fingers in front of his face and bring him back to reality, back to me. But, I won't.
Part of me is worried this is all backlash from me pushing him too hard. Pushing him to go to his parents, to face Jasper's parents. That shouldn't have been rushed. Maybe he wasn't ready.
"Alice and Skye are meeting me at the park," I break our silence. He looks over at me, his eyes still hazy. His lips settle into an easy smile, and it buoys me for a moment. But the fog is still there, keeping the smile from his eyes.
"You wanna come? They would love it, and we could show Skye the Penguins," I try to persuade. Maybe that would bring him out of it, going somewhere from our beginning. Remembering the rush, the butterflies, and the orchids. His eyes drop back to the counter.
"I wish I could. We're starting two new accounts on Monday, and I have to go in to make sure we're ready," he sighs. And all my hope drops to the floor. Luckily, it seems to be resilient, bouncing rather than breaking.
"Well if you finish early, call Romeo," I tell him. He nods and I ease away. I'm trying not to feel hurt. There's still a feeling of deficit between us. I'm still trying to make up for my big run. So I'm going to give him space and time, and hope like hell that he'll snap out of this, that he'll come back to me.
I make my way to the door, choosing one of his hoodies rather than a jacket. Just as I'm turning the knob, a hand snakes around my waist. He pulls me back into him, his lips grazing my ear. I revel in the sensation, of having him so close.
"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" he whispers. His breath tickles my ear. I turn my face to look at him and return the small smile he's giving me. Maybe there will be more smiles. Maybe I was just over thinking.
"I didn't want to bug you," I answer. He rolls his eyes and presses his lips fully to mine. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and just hold it between my lips. He pulls away slowly. I reach behind his head and bring his forehead to mine.
"We're ok, right?" I ask. His whole face creases with confusion.
"Of course we're ok. Why wouldn't we be?" he answers. I nod against him and pull away slowly.
"And you know I would give up Saturday morning cartoons for you, right?" I add. He shakes his head and chuckles lowly. He kisses the side of my head firmly.
"Yeah, I know," he sighs. I wait for more, for him to offer something in return, but he doesn't. I slip out the door and rush towards the park, anxious for a distraction.
The sun dances through holes in the tree cover and I slip on my sunglasses. We're finally coming out of winter and seeing the sun is like an old friend showing up unexpectedly. I let it burn some of my worry away.
"Bella!" The tiny voice resonates, and I don't hesitate to run towards her. She hits my legs and almost sends me to the ground, but I steady myself at the last moment. I wrap an arm around her and smile up at Alice.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I say. Alice waves her hand in the air dismissing my words.
"Bella! Momma said you were coming, but we waited and waited forever. Plus there is a lady over there who lets birds sit on her head," Skye rambles. This is what I needed. It takes all of my concentration to keep up with her words. She has my hand in hers instantly, dragging me towards a woman asleep on a bench.
"We'd better leave that lady alone. Maybe she's trying to catch a bird," I suggest. Skye slows with my words.
"She's a little amped up. I may have let her have ice cream while we waited," Alice explains. I nod and let the small girl drag me down a side path.
"This is like a magic forest. Is this a forest Bella?" Skye calls out to me. I laugh and tug a little on her hand. She turns to face me, obviously not understanding why I would stop her exploration.
"It is a magic forest. You know how I know?" I ask her. Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops open a little as she shakes her head. I lean closer.
"There's a castle," I whisper. She gasps and looks up at Alice who is smirking down at us. She begins to shake with excitement, bouncing from foot to foot.
"Can we go? Can we go?" she pleads. I stand and sigh.
"I don't know. I'm not supposed to show anyone," I admit. Her face drops for a moment, she chews on her lips before starting up with the bouncing again.
"I won't tell any one. I'm good at holding secrets," she replies. I chew my lip and pretend to think. I wish I could have been a child in the city. The amazing backdrop it would have been. And for a moment, I think about the crib. White, old, and just as quickly, I push the thought away.
"Pinky promise?" I ask her, extending my smallest finger. She instantly links her much smaller finger with mine and looks at me solemnly.
"Pinky promise," she states. Then her tiny hand intertwines with mine and I feel a rush of something. A little tug at my heart, and another flash of the crib.
Skye is almost silent as I guide her through the park. I think she might be looking for unicorns and dragons. We wind through the trails and I glance over at Alice. There's small smile on her face and for a moment, I wonder what it must have been like for her.
To lose that person, the person you decide to share your life with. And I feel silly for letting a few weeks of lull pull me down. At least I have him, even if his mind is far away.
"Thanks for playing tour guide today," Alice says. I shake my head and click my tongue.
"Please. I get to show off the park and hang with you guys? Thank you," I answer. She links her arm through mine and I feel surrounded. Surrounded by these people who Edward has brought into my life. How I could have ever thought I didn't know what love was, is beyond me. It's everywhere, in everything.
We hit a clearing and Belvedere Castle appears. Skye squeals and pulls us faster towards the castle. She's rambling on about princesses and horses, and all I do is laugh. The steps appear in front of us, and Skye just gapes up at the building.
"Does a princess live here?" she breathes. I smile and nod.
"But she lets other princesses borrow it once in a while," I tell her. Her eyes grow impossibly wider.
The castle is explored slowly, every room given Skye's full attention. Alice and I follow behind, letting her get lost in her imagination.
"I wanted to thank you," Alice speaks up. I roll my eyes. This woman really needs to give it a rest.
"Alice, you don't need to thank me. I needed to get out of the apartment, and I love spending time with you guys," I cut her off. She chuckles.
"Not for that, but that's good to know. I meant for Edward," she says. Her eyes meet mine and I feel my body thrum at the mention of his name. She shouldn't be thanking me. I know enough to know that he went to her when I left. She of all people knows what I am capable of.
"Don't Alice," I plead softly. Talking about that could pull me apart right now. I'm so full of emotions. The fear of Edward slipping away, the glimpses of the crib, its too much. She shakes her head and takes me by the shoulders.
"I tried for years to tell him it wasn't his fault. His parents begged him to listen, and he wouldn't. You finally got through his thick skull," she presses. I take a few quick breaths, holding off all emotion.
"He's done just as much for me," I reply. She pulls me into her and I sink into her embrace. Tears sting at my eyes, but I keep them back. Skye rushes back into the room and I pull away from Alice. The last thing I need to do is bring my fears into this day. I don't want to stain it.
"Bella?" Skye looks worried. I smile. She walks up to me and tugs me down to her level. I bend to her tugs and she places her hands on either side of my face.
"No being sad Bella. Princesses aren't sad," Skye instructs. I nod seriously.
"You have to be happy. Uncle Edward can be your Prince," she offers. And my breath catches in my throat.
"You sure kiddo? I thought he was your prince," Alice teases. Skye sighs and nods.
"Bella needs him, and she's nicer than Cruella, and they're gonna find a crib," Skye lists off. Again the crib. And yet I laugh. I hug Skye and stand back up.
"Thanks for letting me have Edward Skye. I promise to not feed him to a dragon," I say. Skye laughs and starts in on a boy in her class she wants to feed to a dragon. My fears fall to the background again, and I try to focus on the good. I'm not going to lose him. To a dragon, or otherwise.
***
This was a bad idea. When Simon pressed the flier into my hand, I thought it was an answer, the perfect way to solve my problem. But, it's tearing me apart. To make this work, I've needed to sneak back to my apartment, hours spent in my spare room perfecting something that can't be bettered. Trying to work myself up to this task.
It's more than just keeping something from Bella, it's doing something I thought I'd never do again. A door I had all but sealed shut in my life. And now, I'm prying it open and waving people in. Maybe it was too much, too soon. She wouldn't care, wouldn't even have to know about this failure. I can say screw it all and simply use words instead of song.
"Don't even think about doing that," Violet scolds. I look up at her in shock. She raises an eyebrow and places both hands on her hips. I'm not scared to admit that I'm a little afraid of her. She's one of only three people who know what I'm doing.
"What am I thinking about doing?" I ask. She comes even closer. She taps the now full composition paper in front of me.
"You've worked too hard to not go through with this. Besides, this is the most romantic thing I've witnessed since my husband willingly did the dishes for me ten years ago," she scoffs. I chuckle a little and shove my glasses further up on my nose. That's the only thing keeping me from calling Simon and telling him I'm out. I want to do this for her.
I want to make a statement, show her how much she means to me. Show her that there isn't anything I won't do for her, won't face for her. I flip the pick between my lips and stare at the clock.
"Don't think too much about it. You can do this. And you'll blow her away. Just think of the thanks you'll get," she adds. I feel my face flush. That's what I need to do, focus on the after.
"I better get going," I sigh. Violet whirls into motion, gathering everything she thinks I need, even going as far as trying to straighten my hair. I duck away from her hands.
"Good luck boss," she calls as I leave. My nervous energy carries me to the subway. The music in the deep hallways brining me a strange sense of courage. I settle into a hard plastic seat and let my eyes slide closed.
I know it's been driving her nuts. Her anxiousness has put her verbal vomit into overdrive, and I've learned more about her in these last few weeks from uncontrolled outbursts than I had gotten out of her in months. Things like she hates belts. All belts.
My mouth turns up and this is feeling more possible. If she isn't too mad, if she can forgive me of my sneaking and distance, then this will be a new beginning. A clean slate.
"You going to play?" I look up at a teenager toeing my guitar case. I look down at the case and take a shuddering breath.
"Not on the subway," I answer. The kid nods.
"I used to play, but I sucked ass," he admits. I laugh and more tension is released. Maybe I should slip into mentor mode and tell him to keep at it, but I'm saving all internal encouragement for myself.
The stop comes quickly, the short walk speeding by, and then I'm there. I can hear the hum of hundreds of voices, just beyond the wall of curtains. I can feel the energy and I draw off of it. Someone knocks into me from behind, and I'm almost revealed prematurely.
I clutch at my guitar and think of Jasper. I think of our pre-gig rituals and I roll my neck and hold my hand out to an invisible friend. A few deep breaths later and I take that last step.
***
I'm seriously considering a change of profession. I shake another hand, brandish another smile and feel tired. There's nothing better than this job when we're in the schools, but this part always gets to me. This event is bigger than any we've ever done. It should be a source of excitement that so many people want to be involved that we had to forgo our usual venues. This place even has a real stage.
"There's a Mr. Shaw that I think you should talk to. He wants to donate, but has a specific school in mind," Angela hisses lowly. Her eyes dart over toward the man in question, but mine are still glued on the door.
I asked him no less than ten times to come. And every time, the answer was vague. Never a yes, never a no. Maybe I should just be glad that he didn't beg off on account of a dentist appointment. Things haven't gotten worse, but they aren't any better. Still distant, still distracted.
The second band takes the stage, and I take their first song as a cue to move. I approach Mr. Shaw with the requisite smile and put on my game face. He's stern, but very interested in restoring the music program at his old elementary school. People like Mr. Shaw restore my faith in humanity. Maybe I can do this job for just a little bit longer.
As the third band settles into their set, I hit the bar. Most people interested in doing business have been wined and serenaded. Now it's about having a good time. There's a certain rule about no business happening after ten pm. I sip at my cranberry vodka and lean against the bar.
Like a wounded puppy, I feel the need to lick my wounds. He didn't come. It's like history repeating itself. I shake the thoughts from my mind and begin to make excuses for him, but they come out mushy at best and tasting a little like castor oil. My drink drains quickly, and I reach for another.
"I think it went well," Angela announces, as she takes up space next to me. I nod and keep my drink at my lips. She tugs it from my hand and takes a sip before ordering two more. She leans up against me and follows my futile gaze towards the door.
"I thought you were past all those insecurities Izzy," she sighs. I shrug. Will I ever really be done with my insecurities? Not likely. The bartender drops off the drink and I reach for my third.
"I'm going to head home," I announce, setting the empty drink on the bar. I just want him. Even if he didn't come, even if he's been acting like he's been inhabited by a foreign life form, I still want him. My mouth curves at the thought. That has to mean good things.
"No!" Angela spouts. She takes a hold of my arm and I eye her. I twist out of her grip, determined to spend the rest of the night curled up against Edward. I pull away from the bar and stumble a little. A giggle falls from my lips, and I feel that familiar haziness.
Angela pulls my back to the bar and pushes another drink into my hands. I hold it, but don't drink. The band exits the stage and my mind wanders. I think about the last time I took up vodka and the strange man I called Santa Claus. I glance over at the bartender, disappointed that he doesn't resemble any mythical characters.
"Did we make enough money to make the kids sing?" I ask Angela. She snorts while I tilt my head to one side and grin at her. We haven't had tequila Tuesday in the longest time. Why don't any days begin with V?
"Yes Izzy, we raised enough money and then some," she assures me. Then she slides my drink out of my hand. I frown. Not that I was drinking it, but still.
"He didn't come," I state. I keep my eyes out on the crowd, all the heads looking strangely like the tops of eggs.
"You never know," she replies. I turn to her and scowl.
"Pretty sure I would notice if he were here Ang," I say, motioning over the crowd. There is no tell tale unruly hair. I think about hitting the floor and searching for his shiny shoes, but decide against it. I haven't had enough vodka for that. And then there's commotion around the stage again. I focus in on the lone figure and just watch.
The stage lights are lower than normal, outlining rather than revealing. He slumps over his guitar, perched on a single stool. The microphone squeals as he clumsily adjusts it. He raises his head and I almost hit the floor. The light flickers in his hair, revealing the hidden gold and red there.
"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say right about now. This is a song for a girl. When isn't it for a girl?" he chuckles and the crowd does as well. But I can't see anything but him.
"Here goes nothing," he breathes, and then his fingers start moving. The rhythm is simple, but it resonates through me, echoing through my entire body. And when I think nothing could possibly be as good as seeing my pencil neck playing his guitar, he opens his mouth.
Sometimes I wish I was somebody else
Sometimes I wish that I had more to give
Sometimes I wish that I was better than this
Honey let me sing to you
Oh, let me sing
Oh, let me sing
Honey let me sing to you
I'm moving without thought, every word he sings comes out breathy, and it's calling to me. His head stays down, his fingers picking and plucking at the keys. And I feel like for the first time, I'm really seeing him. Seeing the person he is, finally merging with the person he was.
Wish I could buy you the finest of things
Wish I could give you diamonds and rings, yes
I'm not a rich man, and all I can bring
Is a song I can sing to you
Oh, let me sing
Oh, let me sing
Honey let me sing to you
I stop against the wall just to the left of the stage. I suck in breaths, trying to feel closer to him in any way I can, breathing him in if I can. The vodka is a mere memory, and all I see, feel, even taste, is him. My body hums with satisfaction and I feel like I could explode with everything I'm feeling.
Yes I've been burned too many times
I've been accused of crossin' the line
The best I can do is explain in rhymes
Honey let me sing to you
Oh, let me sing
Oh, let me sing
Honey let me sing to you
Every word that falls from his lips is like a gift to me. I can feel everything he's giving me and I know I'm going to fall short. Anything I thought I overcame, thought I defeated, feels small in this moment. Because this is his biggest fissure. The thing that he pushed away so solidly in an effort to cope. And him being in that stage means things I can't even begin to comprehend, but I can feel them.
Been around the world as much as I can
If you buy me a ticket I would do it again
Yes it may be true that I wear myself thin
But I can still sing to you
Oh, let me sing
Oh, let me sing
Honey let me sing to you
My back meets the wall and I wrap my arms around myself. Surprisingly, there are no tears involved in this. All I can think about is what this means for him, how much this could heal him. And I'm so fucking happy I can barely hold it all in. I don't care that he's been a virtual zombie for weeks, don't care that he didn't show up til he graced the stage. Nothing else matters in this moment.
I can't tell you the end with no lies
Don't even know about the end of tonight
If we make it through 'til the morning light
Honey let me sing to you
Oh, let me sing
Oh, let me sing
Honey let me sing to you
His last words echo across the hall, and then the applause. His fingers slow and he peeks up at the crowd. I watch as his eyes scan, looking. I want to run up on the stage and have an office and a gentlemen moment, but I stay where I am. He smiles softly and slides off his stool, his fingers reaching up to push his glasses back into place on his nose. As he turns to leave the stage, he sees me. Our eyes lock, and I feel like I'm being held in place by his gaze. And then he smiles.
His smile stretches so far across his face, it almost hurts me. He takes the stairs quickly, his guitar twisted and hanging form his back. I open my arms and he presses into me. My face goes into the crook of his neck and I swear I smell the future.
I smell his sweet scent and think of future nights like this, where I'll wait for him at the side of the stage. I smell the faint tang of his cologne and I think of standing side by side in the bathroom, getting ready in the morning.
"I can't believe I did it," he breathes into me. I only smile against his neck and twine my arms around him, resting my hands between his guitar and his back. I should tell him how proud I am of him, gush about the amazing words he just sang, but I just squeeze.
And there's nothing in between us. No more secrets, not more gaping holes, just us. This time, when I close my eyes and see the crib, I don't push it away.
***
Epilogue will be up shortly! Also the fantastic JenNn was my 600th review so I am writing an outtake for her. For ever 100 reviews I'm going to let that reviewer request an outtake of their choice (tempting??). Add me to author alerts to keep updated.
ALSO- I will be posting a new story very soon, if your interested.....you know what to do.
One last thank you to everyone who has sent me kind words, or really any words for that matter. I have loved sharing this with you. I hope you enjoyed the journey. Leave a couple more words for me?
Song credit- Let me sing to you- Joe Purdy