Bookends By: Bella's Executioner.
Rating: M- this means if you're under 16 you are agreeing to break your own ToS by reading this and I'm not your mother so be responsible for yourself.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the sole owner of the world of Twilight. She is Bella's creator. I am Bella's Executioner.
A/N: Bookends is the very first fanfiction I started writing. It's been on this site, moved and come back. It has errors, fuck ups and lots of proofs that I'm human but it also has all of my heart and soul in it. I welcome you into this world of pain and love and hope that you enjoy. I also welcome your thoughts as you read—pm me or review and I'll be happy to discuss the story with you.
Chapter 10: Talking without Speaking
-**-Bookends-**-
BPOV (Tuesday, March 1st, 2008, Forks High school)
I glared at the assignment in front of me. I threw a beseeching glance at the clock. That couldn't be right. We still had an hour left in this ridiculous class.
Edward caught my eye as I drew it back down toward my desk. He was paired with Angela for the marriage assignment while I was straddled with Mike. Angela Webber was a plain but genuine girl. She seemed to be enjoying the shit out of pretending to be married to Edward.
He winked at me as he went back to dividing the household duties with his temporary wife. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my hopefully soon to be separated fake husband.
"Do you want to have the career, or should I?"
Mike was getting too much satisfaction from this. In the eternal words of my boyfriend, fuck.
I rolled my eyes again. Another glance at the clock. Fifty-five minutes now.
Damn time was just flying by.
"Why can't we both work?" I mumbled.
Sociology for living was my least favorite subject. It irked me to no end that some public official decided the set of norms that governed what made people productive or adequate in society.
"We are both highly skilled and fully capable people."
I actually delivered that without my new signature condescending smartass smirk... picked that up from Edward too.
It just pissed me off to sit in a socially contrived class that had nothing to offer me in understanding real family structures. We covered divorced families in twenty minutes on Monday.
Yep, that was more than enough for me to understand why I hated the very thought of marriage. Just another slap on the back to remind us all who are different that it was wrong that we were.
I scowled around the room while Mike searched through our handbook to see if it was "doable" for both partners to have jobs.
Fucking A-typical bullshit.
Edward was laughing in the corner with Angela. I scowled.
Bitch better back off. I saw him peek over his shoulder at me as he snickered in response to whatever she was saying.
Sly, Mr. Masen, but hardly believable.
I thought about trying to make him jealous by flirting with Mike.
I looked over at the guy who'd been a permanent attachment to my ass since I was four years old. For one, I could never do that to Edward. He already had plenty to be jealous of when it came to Mike and me. Second, I could never pull off flirting with him because he was just too... Mike. He thumbed through the pages like the secrets of life would just jump out and turn us into adults.
"I don't know," He finally admitted. I rolled my eyes again. Forty-five minutes now. "How do we handle the kid with two jobs?" The kid... I glared at the red faced blue eyed dumb blond suddenly realizing that having his spawn growing inside of me would be the only reason I would agree to marry him.
"I guess that's really the assignment, Mike," I said rolling my eyes again. Edward was leaning into Angela's side now-a little too animated over their matrimonial fiction.
"Yeah," Mike said uneasy. "How bout I stay home and you work?"
So contemporary and twenty-first century of him to offer.
"I don't really have any careers in mind. Besides it probably will get us more points if we stay value oriented and nuclear," I deduced.
"I will be the doting housewife slash mother and you can be the nine to fiver."
I frowned as I considered the fact that the scenario was so repulsive to me. I actually wanted to hurl.
Maybe it was because I instantly saw Renee in my mind when I said it. Maybe it was because my mom kicked ass and I knew that this was never the life that suited her. And maybe it was just because I knew that I was too fucked up in the head to ever be able to live such a quiet normal life.
I couldn't even tell Edward I loved him.
The whole thing was weird and fucked up and a little bit scary. He said it to me all the time now. That first time I was nearly asleep and I just thought I dreamed it.
But after that night... My face was growing flushed just from thinking about it. But after he... took care of me, he leveled me with those big brown eyes and said it.
And meant it.
Fuck.
I had dreamt of confessing my undying love to Edward since I was eleven years old. He was the perfect guy. So drop dead gorgeous and so harmlessly badass. And maybe I was so drawn to him because I believed that there was never a remote possibility that a guy like that could fall for a girl like me.
A girl like me. Shit.
Mike was busy filling out our divided duties in our imaginary household. He had some idealized image of who the girl sitting beside him was. He saw little Isabella with her pigtails and high hopes. He remembered the days when my eyes were wide with wonder and not trepidation. He knew a whole other Bella. I wasn't that girl anymore. I didn't really know when it happened, or why for that matter. But it happened all the same. I grew up and lost my innocence... lost my hope.
Edward was focused on his work now too. Angela was forgotten and the game of flirting abandoned without a willing audience. I bet that girl knew who she was. Angela was shy but she held her head up with an air of confidence. I bet she didn't force her boyfriend to help her get shit faced every other night just to keep her from going insane.
I wish I could be that girl.
It was just impossible to comprehend. I used to be the girl who didn't want to be the dumbass that I was now. I used to be the girl who had so much love waiting to burst out of her heart that she would sit down and pour her innermost dreams in to letters to a practical stranger. I used to be the girl that Edward never touched so intimately that I knew every part of my being belonged to him and only him.
I shook my head and started looking at baby names. To complete the farce of a partnership we were required to keep flour sacks around as makeshift children.
I was lightyears from ever wanting to be a parent. Shit, I couldn't even keep a pet for more than a week. I was pretty damn certain that after a few days my "baby" would end up in the kitchen and be tragically slaughtered in the name of homemade biscuits.
I tried to focus on the assignment but my mind kept floating back to Edward. It'd been almost two months since the party and I still couldn't get over it. He never talked about what changed. Never told me why all of the sudden he decided sort of sex was okay. And though we never laid down ground rules, it was plainly obvious that I was not allowed to return the favor.
In fact, he made of point of leaving the tree house at night if I pushed anything too far for him. And being the selfish cow that I was I took everything he gave me without question—submissive and docile under his touch.
There were questions. Too many to keep in my head all at once. But with Edward you just had to be patient, and persistent. Whatever was pushing him to do those things to me in the darkness of the night would be explained when he was ready to talk about it.
"How 'bout Mike Junior?" Mike prodded not very inconspicuously when I admitted that I was at a loss for what to name the fake child.
Mike Junior? Really? Like I wanted a constant reminder sitting in my room for the next month of this travesty of matrimony.
I glared at the idiot for a minute.
"Yeah alright," I conceded.
What the fuck did I care what the bag of flour was called? It's not like it was really my kid.
I had decided exactly three years ago that kids were off the bargaining table for me. Love, husband, home those were all variables that I argued I wanted in life. None of them seemed very probable but I fantasized none the less.
Children… An image of that rat faced little blond with her perfect curls and her bright brown eyes popped into my head.
Bitch.
There was no fucking way I would let that grudge go. Babies were demons. Toddlers were disgusting vermin. And progeny was simply not something I desired.
"I like that name," Angela was cooing loud enough for me to hear.
"It's very sweet. Nice story behind it too."
I turned to see Edward actually blushing—fucking blushing! His shoulders were tight and his jaw was clenched. I could tell he was making a fucking show out of not looking over at me.
What the fuck!
"Okay, so we have our jobs, our chores, and our child…" Mike must have been looking at me but I couldn't give a flying fuck to acknowledge him. I warned him the second he pulled my name that I was not committed to this charade of social propaganda.
"Bella?"
I glared fucking daggers at the back of Edward's head.
What the hell was so fucking sweet and cute that he was willing to share with that bitch that he didn't give to me? He gave me everything. And I gave him everything… Mostly.
The bell rang and I was suddenly bolted to my chair. Edward was still blushing—his neck redder than his hair. And he sat unmoving in his chair as well. Still not looking at me. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to punch that motherfucking school girl in the face.
Luckily this was the last class of the day so we didn't look too odd just sitting in the empty classroom. Mr. Berty left to take something to the office. Mike must have left too—I didn't fucking care.
Edward refused to look at me.
I started counting to one hundred in my head. It was what I had taught myself to do over the years with Edward.
I had a raging fucking temper that led to violence and pain if not controlled. I kept it under control pretty easily but somehow it was always on the surface when it came to him.
Edward had let me into his life so effortlessly four years ago. He just showed up and got into my bed and never left. I spent most of my time trying to fight it—push him away before he hurt me. But he was just always there. And when I had to return the favor I tried to mimic his undying calm while I did it.
He gave me everything and never asked for anything in return but Edward had a dark side of shit that he guarded fiercely too. And in the rare occasions that something brought that shit to the surface I had to be the bigger person for the moment. I had to step back and let him push me away.
If I was patient long enough, he would always come back to me.
I couldn't begin to imagine why a cute and sweet name for a baby would throw the guard up so fast. He never talked about kids. He never fucking talked about anything but the immediate… and me. Maybe if I talked about kids he'd share his views with me too.
Too fucking late for that, Swan. My hindsight was lacking in so many fucking ways.
I kept counting to tone down the spite and bitterness. Edward's ears were pink now and his shoulders were rising and falling faster.
Fuck. This was one of those things—a Tanya thing.
Fuck. Those things didn't require my vigilant quiet support—this was hug and fucking kiss territory.
I jumped up and threw my arms around him from behind. He didn't make a sound. I kissed the back of his neck—still red from his anger. I felt the silent tears on my hands as he bowed his head. I buried my face in the crook of his neck—breathing deep of his scent.
He sighed deep. His hands found mine and he wound our fingers together over the beat of the heart in his strong chest.
I kissed his skin again.
"What was the name?" I whispered.
It was what he called my magic whisper. I wanted to roll my eyes at the thought. It was just my normal whisper. But Edward claimed that when I spoke to him like that, when he was working through his Tanya-shit, it was like a spell on him. He couldn't resist telling me and in the end he didn't resent sharing his shit ass burden with me either.
He sighed again. The magic voice worked.
"Edward."
He didn't have to say anymore for me to just fucking get it. There was nothing fucking darker in my world, because his world was mine now too, than Edward Fucking Masen Sr. He gave Edward a dream that he destroyed. He broke the will of the most wonderful person in my universe. And he made Edward feel less than a man by never being a real father.
But that didn't stop this beautiful creature from wanting to carry on what he thought was an important tradition.
Edward hated his father—but he was proud of his name. He was a part of something with that name. Tanya could go to prison for years and never call him. Carlisle could send him back to Seattle and stay in Forks without him. Jazz was only half his true brother.
But Edward couldn't be denied a connection to something real with the Jr. that followed his name. He would want his son to know that bond.
I clenched my eyes closed tight against the fucking sting of that confession. I planted my lips against his neck with as much force as I had.
I was so fucked up in my own head that I wished like hell I could promise him something of a future. I couldn't imagine a life without Edward in it. I didn't want to fucking breathe without Edward near me. But my mind shut down when it came to saying that to him.
Why couldn't I fucking do it! How could I deny him that promise? I FUCKING LOVED HIM TOO!
I buried my eyes against him as my tears matched his. It was all I could offer—all my fucked up mind could allow. I hoped like hell that it was enough.
We sat like that for a handful of minutes. Edward worked through his shit faster than I did. He was just better at letting things go—I held on to my hate with bloody fingers.
When he was ready to let it go he just sighed one more time and pulled my hands around his body. I sat in his lap and looked into his eyes.
He wasn't sad.
He wasn't angry.
He was just Edward.
He stared down at me—who was still crying a little. And of course the image couldn't have been attractive because I would never look pretty when crying. A gentle smile played around his lips.
Fucking Cheshire cat.
He was wearing that shitty smile a hell of a lot lately... like he had some big secret dancing beyond his wicked eyes that I just hadn't caught on to yet.
My hands played in his hair and I just let him lead me. I'd given up trying to figure it out. He would tell me what it all meant eventually. All I knew was that school was out and we had a good two hours to ourselves that would be spent in our tree.
Edward held my hand fiercely as he led me to the car. And he held my hand while he drove us home. He only let the grip drop to let me climb up to the tree house first. And one of his hands pressed my hands above my head as his other worked his own special magic between my legs. His lips were reverent against mine. And his tongue was merciless.
When I was spent and floating in his arms on our mattress my fucked up mind felt blissfully clear. It was better than the high of getting fucked up. It was like being truly awake and aware of who I was. It was a little fucking scary.
I never admitted it to Edward, because I was afraid that it would make him stop. But when he loved me the way he did it was like some kind of therapy for my soul. And it fucking terrified me. I couldn't hide and wallow in my years of perfected suffering when I lay in his arms like that. The cloudiness of uncertainty that was my teenage life would blow away and I could see exactly the person I wanted to become.
I was his wife and we had our jobs and our kids and our two bathrooms and three beds. I was happy and he didn't cry. And all that black shit inside of us was bled out and gone.
But then I would drift back done to earth and reality would kick my ass again.
We walked hand in hand as we made our way to my house. It was Tuesday night, pizza night at the Swan residence. Edward always came over on Tuesdays.
It was funny, we had such a picturesque routine down. Even if it was a little fucked up and unconventional.
He sat on my bed and watched me as I turned on my laptop and composed my weekly email to him.
That damn little grin was on his face again.
I still found it a little ludicrous, but he liked it and I had to admit it was kind of another level of therapy for me too. Somehow Edward talked me in to writing to him again. It was a deal we made with each other. He would agree to audition for the pops in April if I agreed to start writing to him again.
I focused on the task at hand and tried to ignore the sound of his pencil scratching against the rough page in his sketch pad. That had not been a condition of the agreement but it was a nice bonus. In return for my written thoughts, Edward drew me a picture.
They weren't the abstract symbols of chaos that he used to send me. Something told me that those emotions were no longer a part of Edward's psyche. Too much stability and hope in this new life in Forks. They were all focused on the same subject now—me.
He sketched me sleeping in our tree. Or he drew me thinking in class. Sometimes it was my back as I sat on one bended leg and wrote his email. And other times it was my naked body being teased by his expert hands—my round naked breast, or my flat naked stomach, or even my face contorted in the extreme pleasure of release.
It was narcissistic but I loved the pictures. It was like walking into Edward's mind and truly seeing me. I could see the sadness that was ever present in my eyes. I could see the slight slump of my shoulders in defense against the world. And I could see that he thought I was beautiful and I couldn't deny it when I saw my image in his drawings.
I smiled as I described in agonizing detail the way his hands worked over my body this afternoon. It was like the aggression that should have been in his eyes in that classroom was poured in to his touch as he stroked me. Like he focused the tempest inside of him in to pleasing me and it was a fucking awesome responsibility.
I had heard from Alice and even Jake that sometimes it just didn't happen. Alice told me she and Jazz weren't that intimate yet but that she had done plenty of research.
Jake said it had been a touch and go process for he and Em in the beginning since there were not too many people they could turn to for instruction. Though he did admit that for guys it was pretty much a given every time.
And I wondered if Edward and I were actually trying to please each other in tandem if it would make a difference. But I had felt the blissful explosion of the experience at least once a night, and sometimes two or three times in the afternoon too, for a solid two months.
Was that even humanly possible?
Edward was some fucking key that just unlocked me with incredible accuracy every time. And it was just one more thing that I was scared of.
What would be the trigger to stop that from being the norm? When would I have to lie there and fake it?
Then the thought of lying to Edward in that way tore at my guts. Because the same way that the release was a therapy for me, I could tell that the act of pleasing me was a treatment for him. Today it had been about proving he was a part of something and he belonged here with me in spite of that dick of a father. That night on the dock it had been the realization that he was capable of loving something.
It was just an awesome responsibility to handle.
I didn't really do anything that I was of aware of, to help the process along. I kissed him when his lips were on mine and sometimes I wound my hands in his hair. But it was not a two person activity. I wasn't allowed to participate the way I wanted to because that would push him too far. So, it was impossible for me to really understand how it worked—and how to keep it working without fail.
Edward chuckled behind me. I peeked over my shoulder at him. He was sketching a single naked breast on the page. His finger traced back and forth over the curve of the peak. His pencil scratched hard and deep to darken the erect nipple. I turned back to the computer screen.
Fuck.
I didn't think that I really had to worry that there would come a day that Edward Masen wasn't able to get me off. I was half way there watching him stroke an inanimate object. I rolled my eyes.
I moved on to discussing my views of raising children and even considering the thought of having kids. I masked the discussion in snarky comments about Mike but the real meaning wouldn't be lost on my highly intelligent boyfriend.
I finished with a not so subtle reminder that he and Jazz were set to go to Seattle next week for the hearing. I couldn't even begin to force him to discuss the fact that Tanya was up for parole.
The boys hadn't been directly contacted by their estranged mother for quite a few years now. But he would have to start facing it soon.
They left on Friday.
Carlisle was going with them. But Alice and I would have to sit here holding each other while our boys were alone in that big cold city. I didn't like that.
I hadn't spent a night without Edward's arms around me in four years. We caught colds at the same time because we refused to be apart. We couldn't relax without touching each other because we reprogrammed our brains to believe that was the only way to live.
I tried to be selfish as I wrote to him about how much it would hurt to sit in our tree alone, but he would know what I meant was I wished like hell I could be with him on that trip.
He might sleep without me, but he wouldn't be alone.
I closed my eyes and tried not to picture Jazz and Edward in that god-awful place again.
It would've been nice to talk to someone about it.
I tried to talk to Alice about it but she just got distant these days when it came to talking about Jazz. It was really fucking weird. She was smiling even more than usual and she was making quite a show of hanging all over her boyfriend every chance she got. But I'd known Alice too long to not notice something was different.
It was like everyone had some fucking life altering moment at that damn party two months ago. And though I couldn't say what was up with Al was bad… it was just something that bugged me to not understand. Everything was just fine and too perfect for her now—at least that was her story.
I shook my head and signed off.
I couldn't fix everyone's problems. I had a laundry list that was a fucking mile long myself.
Edward handed me the drawing as I came to straddle his lap on my bed.
I smiled and laid it down with the reverence it deserved. I grabbed his hand and brought it up to my chest- molding his hand around the object of his illustration.
His breath was a little shaky and his eyes were glazed over as he stared at his hand on my breast. That was just so fucking Edward. So in control and knowing with me but lost and clueless when it came to himself.
We were too fucking perfect for each other.
"I love you," he breathed, all ragged and shit. I stared into his eyes for a minute. I was shocked to admit that I saw that little baby Edward the third staring back at me.
Fuck. I fought with my fucked up mind to finally say it.
I couldn't.
I just leaned forward and kissed his lips gently—no tongue. Resting my forehead against his, we just breathed our mixed scents in and out.
"Let's go eat," I finally said and he nodded. There was that fucked up routine keeping us grounded.
I smiled when he clutched my hand in his like I was the only thing keeping him on this earth.
Fucking impossible awesome responsibility.