We learn from failure, not from success!

Chapter 13 - Big Girl Decisions

After my heart to heart with Emmett, I forced myself to pull it together and get back into the day to day rhythm I'd established upon my arrival in London.

The first few days back at Kings were spent sorting through my research and rereading what I had written so far. Had it always felt this shallow? There was no hook, no 'aha!' to make it compelling. All my thoughts were absolutely unremarkable.

And then I tripped across the innocent/wife/whore article. When I first read it, I would have considered myself as innocent. No, I wasn't a virgin by any stretch, but the reality of my experiences and how I lived life lent more to it. I wondered if my recent behavior now moved me into the whore camp. Sex with a man I hardly knew. Men fighting over me in front of my home.

It wasn't very keeping with the image of a proper young lady.

It was stupid to let the hypocrisy of gender roles get under my skin, but it did. Women of the Victorian Era were held to ridiculously high standards, while it seemed that men could do what ever they wanted. It reminded me of a saying from high school; it takes a slut to make a stud and a stud to make a slut.

Times and labels may change but at root the concept remains the same.

The men in Dracula were bold, their actions decisive. Everything mapped back to claiming or protecting a woman. Whether it was out of love, sense of duty, or physical hunger, they pursued what they wanted. The women, on the other hand, were judged for every move they made. The wrong decision could ruin them.

I dropped my pen on the table and ran my hands through my hair. It really wasn't that easy was it?

I stood to pace the room, building out the arc in my mind. The creation of the characters, the blatant sexuality in biting, sucking of blood, transfusions. The women were pursued and preyed upon, yet required to fight the very instincts that men were expected to live by. The men in the story chased, fought and killed, even gave blood for these women. And for all of their actions, the men would ultimately face one of two consequences; rejection or death.

On the other hand, the women in Dracula were expected to fight their sexuality; to live up to Victorian morals, yet weren't they ones that had the ultimate control? While they were held to a ridiculously high set of standards, their decisions and actions were what influenced the reactions of the men in the book.

Their choices set the entire thing in motion. They had all the control. Literal vampire, emotional vampire, they both ultimately led to ruin of some kind.

I pumped my fist in the air, and then looked around in embarrassment, hoping no one noticed me acting 'overly American.' Months, no, years of struggling with how to pull together a truly unique analysis, and all I need to do was go out and have some earth shattering sex. Holy shit.

It was easy to get wrapped up in the cynicism of the moment. Anger and justification were easier to deal with than self reflection.

The next few days were a blur. I buried myself in the library, digging up information on Victorian customs and socialization. I lived on coffee and campus food as I blew through my outline. I shut out everything except eat, sleep, work.

I had intended to own up and face the things that needed to be dealt with, specifically ending it with Mike once and for all. But the siren call of my aha moment pulled me in full force. This is what I came to London to figure out.

At the end of three days, I had updated my working outline to incorporate the additional insights. I had roughly seventy pages already written, and it would be easy to adjust the existing content while allowing for the slight change in direction going forward. Getting to a full draft and polishing it should only take about six weeks. Two months, tops.

I felt like I had gone to war and won. I was exhausted but ecstatic. I was going to pull this out after all.

I made an appointment to drop my outline by Jasper's office on Tuesday morning. He responded with enthusiasm to my description, and told me that he wouldn't miss it for the world.

I didn't stop to think about his connections until after I hung up.

Wonder if Edward told Alice what had happened? And if Edward told Alice, I would have to assume that Jasper knew too. This could get awkward.

I walked home from campus tired but jubilant. This week had been a giant leap forward for me. My personal life might be a convoluted mess, but I had cracked the code on a huge part of the puzzle. I might be able to cross the completion of my education off the list after all.

I was so happy that I didn't register someone sitting on the steps to our building until I almost bowled him over.

"Hey Bells." Mike stood and brushed off the back of his trench coat.

I don't know what surprised me more; him actually being here, or the fact that he was sitting on the front steps waiting for me. Mike didn't wait for anyone.

"I was hoping we could talk. I have to head back to Chicago tomorrow, and I didn't want to leave without seeing you."

I was torn. My head was still in my research, and I wanted to get upstairs to rattle out some points I had thought of on the walk home. But Mike was leaving tomorrow, and I owed him the common courtesy of at least hearing him out.

I looked at my watch. It was getting close to dinner time, and I hadn't eaten lunch.

"I agree, we do need to talk. I also need to eat. There is a great pub not to far from here, you want to join me?"

Mike frowned, his look incredulous. "You'll talk that easily? I've been trying to get to you for weeks!"

"Do you want to go or not? I can change my mind just as easily." I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot impatiently. I was willing to talk, but I wasn't going to tolerate him being an ass.

Wow, I was standing up to Mike. Go me.

He was taken aback, unsure of how to proceed given my brusqueness. Then he sighed and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. "Lead the way."

Distance and perspective were amazing things. I never stopped to think about what Mike and I did or did not do when we were a couple. I couldn't remember a time when we actually went to grab food on a whim. Everything had been planned out, choreographed down to where, who, why. There was always a reason for everything. And reasons typically corresponded to status. No cool dive burger joints or hole in the wall pubs. Only the best of the best. Yet more trappings. It made me wonder what of my old life had actually been real.

We walked the few blocks to the pub in silence. In the past, Mike would have jabbered on about something and I would have nodded in acknowledgement and added the periodic ummhmm. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had changed.

We were early enough to find a table without any problem, and fell into an awkward silence after ordering our drinks. As was expected, Mike ordered a Stella Artois.

"It seems like you've settled in here quite well." He started, trying to spark some type of conversation. It fell flat, and I couldn't decide if his comment was a legitimate observation or an attempt at a cheap shot.

"Getting there. I'm really enjoying it. And being here has done wonders for my dissertation. I finally nailed the whole arc, and I think it's really good."

"Seems like you made friends fast."

I wasn't sure if he was referencing Emmett or what had happened the night I found him on the front steps.

"I got lucky and met a few nice people."

The more I thought about his comment, the more confident I felt in my decision to end things with him. I finally found the approach for my dissertation, the one thing that I have been struggling with for ages, and all he could comment on were the friends I'd made? Yet another case of him not getting what was important to me.

Before I could respond, our waitress returned with drinks. We sat quietly while she deposited glasses on the table. We both deferred when she asked us if we wanted to order a starter.

"Since when do you like dark beer?" Mike eyed my pint skeptically. "What is that?"

"Old Speckled Hen. It's good. And this isn't dark by any means."

"You hate stuff like that. The darkest thing I ever saw you drink is Stella."

I smiled, shaking my head in disbelief. "Mike, that's because it's all you ever had. If we were going out, it was typically somewhere that was wine appropriate. You're the one that likes pale beer."

It was such a little thing, but it truly was the perfect reflection or our relationship. Mike viewed me through his filter. My likes and dislikes had been formed based on my place in his world. It wasn't a true reflection of me. It never had been.

I had a mental flash of me vs the Bella that Mike saw. Concert T's vs. sweater sets. Hanging out a coffee bar vs. hanging out at an art exhibition. While I was happy to take his version some of the time, he had never willingly accepted mine.

That is when I realized that Mike didn't do it to be malicious. He had his way of life. I had done what I could to fit into that. I made the choice to compromise, not him.

I just didn't want to anymore.

"So if you've figured out your dissertation, does that mean you're coming home soon?"

His question caught me off guard. I'd been playing with some of the outline holes and only partially listening to him.

"I'm guessing that it will take me two months to wrap up my draft. I'll submit it to the review committee, and they'll set a date for my defense based on that."

"You'll come back to Chicago then?'

"Of course I will. I have to be there in person to defend my dissertation."

"But what about after, Bella? What then?"

I'd never heard Mike sound sad. Four years together, and I was coming to realize that we knew very little about each other.

"I don't know. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure that out. I sent my CV out for a few positions. I'm a bit behind the eight ball for finding something for the fall term, but I had to at least try. Beyond that, I'm not sure." I took a sip of my pint as a way to buy some time.

"You aren't going to stay in Chicago, are you?"

I didn't expect him to be quite so direct in his line of questioning. Everything to date had been about Mike. It had always been assumed as an extension of him.

"I don't know. I honestly don't."

He nodded, staring at the glass in front of him. "I really didn't think you would go to London when you told me. I thought it was all your way of proving a point. And then when you did go, I believed that you would come back after a few weeks. You never worked without me before, Bella. How can you work without me now?"

And there it was. What I would have given to hear that a year ago.

"Mike, I didn't work without you then because there was no 'me.' I was an extension of you. You told me what to drink, what to wear. You chose where we went and who we interacted with. I had no identity beyond you. And after a while, that melded into something unhealthy. I lost my perspective. I bought into the things you said, and it made me doubt who I was, what I could be."

Mike sighed. He was slowly tearing apart his cocktail napkin. Tiny shreds littered the table.

I had never seen him show a sign of doubt, of insecurity. Who was this man sitting across for me?

"All I ever wanted was to help you get through your doctorate so we could move on with the life we had planned."

"But see, that's just it, Mike. It wasn't the life we planned; it was the life you planned. Do you think I spent years in school just to be a trophy wife?"

"I never wanted you to be a trophy wife, Bella. I thought you wanted what I wanted. You could volunteer; get involved with the local library…"

I held my hand up, cutting him off. "That was your plan, Mike. Not mine. I am not that girl. I'm sorry if you feel like I tricked you into believing that. I know I had myself fooled for years. But that is not who I want to be."

Mike looked up at me, and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. We both had changed so much in the past few months. Either that or we had never really known each other to begin with.

I didn't want to believe that. I had loved him once. But it wasn't the kind of love that lasted. We'd both evolved, and in doing so, we had forced each other into molds to fit what we thought would work. It didn't build a foundation, instead it bred resentment.

"I have a flight back to Chicago in the morning. Will you please call me when you come back to defend your dissertation? I'd like to see you. I know that you say it's not there anymore, but I can't give up hope…"

As much as I knew we were over, it hurt to see him this way. We'd spent four years together, and I truly didn't wish him ill.

"Yes, I'll let you know when I am coming back,"

He stood, and dropped some money on the table. "I am not giving up on you, Bella. When you come back to Chicago, we can talk again. I'll prove to you that we are meant to be."

He leaned over to kiss me goodbye. I turned so that he caught my cheek. He gave me a sad smile and turned to leave.

I watched Mike walked out of the pub, his head held high. This was closure for me. On Mike, on the person I had been. Now it was time to focus on what I could become.

I raised my pint. Here's to the new me.

I didn't have it all figured out. But I had a start.

As I sat in a little hole in the wall pub in London, I couldn't help but laugh. Life's great traumas have a way of giving one perspective. On a whim, I pulled out my cell phone and tapped out a quick message. I hit send before I could second guess myself.

I had a reply almost immediately. Twenty minutes later, Emmett walked in the door.

"What are we celebrating? Not that I need a reason to drink or anything."

"Me."

"While you are one of my favorite people, and I am happy to celebrate anything in relation to you, you'll have to explain that one more." Emmett flipped his chair around and sat down, his arms draped over the seat back. He must have been a regular, for the waitress appeared with a pint unsolicited, giving a quick wink before she withdrew.

Leave it to Emmett to have women fawning over him everywhere.

I recapped coming home to find Mike on the front steps, our conversation at the pub, and how I stood my ground. By the time I finished, Emmett was grinning from ear to ear. He held his pint up to me. I couldn't help but smile as I clinked my glass against his.

"You are pulling yourself up and figuring it out girlie. The paper, Mike. I'm proud of you."

We both took a long sip of our beers. I couldn't stop smiling.

"I don't have it all figured out yet, but it's a start in the right direction. What is all that self help bullshit about loving yourself first? I am going to love myself so much it will make you puke."

Emmett raised his beer in my direction. "Well, I for one am glad you are getting it together. Maybe then you can help me sort out what the hell I am going to do."

Emmett's legitimate concern over Rose's wellbeing seemed to crack through her wall of resistance. They had slowly started to coexist, and I had actually caught them laughing together a few times. Rose played it off as détente for my benefit, but I knew her better than that.

It made me happy for Emmett, but worried at the same time. Rose was still seeing Royce. Emmett knew that, yet it was clear that he had his hopes up.

For the first time in memory, I found myself really angry at Rose. She was playing two guys off each other. While I was in no means a fan of Royce, he didn't deserve that any more than Emmett did.

"I wish I could give you some great insight, Em. But I really have no clue where her head is at." Other than up her ass.

He smiled wistfully and stared into his pint. "You know what, Bella; it's getting hard to be around her. I don't want to be the one standing by to pick up the pieces when the current path she's on gets ugly."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's just a feeling. I don't trust that Royce dude. I've mentioned before how he acts when he picks her up. And I don't believe her whole 'it was just a misunderstanding' mumbo jumbo. Something hit your apartment door. It was either Rose or his hand. I'm not sure which I hope for."

While I had registered the thud against the door that night, I'd never stopped to consider what might have caused it. I couldn't fathom Rose putting up with anyone hassling her. It had to be something else.

Rosalie Hale didn't take shit from anyone.

We slipped into conversation about other, lighter subjects. It had been a long time since I'd laughed really hard, but a few pints, a bit of self confidence, and Emmett telling me dirty jokes was just enough to send me into fits of hysterics. At one point he had me laughing so hard that I cried.

We walked home rattling off all the British slang that we'd learned, trying to stump each other with their meanings. That proceeded to all the euphemisms we could come up with for sex.

"Shag."

Not to be one upped, I threw out another. "Bonk!"

"Ohhh, nice. She thinks she's good, but how about bang?"

"Too easy," I shot back.

"I know you are but what am I?"

I made a face at Emmett. "Okay, fine. How's your father?"

"What?"

"You heard me. How's your father?"

"I thought we were on Brit slang for sex, not my family." Emmett looked confused.

"We are. And it is. How's your father?"

Emmett threw up his hands in disgust. "I am not even going to try and top that. You win. Good night, sex on the brain."

He slapped me a high five as I let myself into the building. "I'll give you a shout later in the week. And I demand a rematch!"

"Bring it Redneck. I'll kick your sorry pasty arse!" I shouted after him. I could hear him laughing down the block.

I just got the door to the flat open when my cell phone chirped. I flipped it open:

Lovin a duck

The message was from Edward. What the hell?

I was debating whether or not to respond when my phone chirped again.

Another term. He won't know it. It was good to see you smiling and laughing.

I dropped my bag and ran to look out the window. I was just in time to see a black Aston Martin make the turn.

Edward had been true to his promise; he was giving me time. He'd not contacted me since our text exchange.

I wasn't sure how I felt knowing that he was waiting outside my flat. Was he there to try to talk to me? Was he watching me? In a way it was sweet, touching. In other ways it was very creepy, stalkerish.

But I couldn't find it in my heart to be scared or angry at him.

I flipped open my phone and tapped out a quick reply.

Thanks. If I win big, I'll split the pot with you.

The reply back was almost immediate.

Deal.

I stared at my phone, debating for a moment.

How are you?

I sat down on the couch and waited for his reply.

Okay, You?

I hit buttons on my phone, not thinking, just reacting.

He answered on the first ring. The words came rolling out with no rhyme or reason.

"I figured my dissertation out. It's good, and it's really original. I think I might have a winner." I couldn't help it, the pride and enthusiasm rang through loud and clear.

"That is wonderful; I'm happy for you. What did Jasper say?" He did sound sincerely happy for me.

"I am showing him what I've got tomorrow. Based on his feedback, it will be great guns now."

We were both quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to say next.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. You may not realize it, but you did help me figure it out. My paper, that is."

I heard what sounded like a sigh. "I am truly happy for you, Isabella."

Another pregnant pause filled the space between us, both unsure of what to say.

"I should really…" I started

"I'm sorry." Edward said quietly.

"I need to go, Edward. It's late."

"I understand. Get some sleep." He hesitated for a moment. "I am sorry. For a lot of things."

"I am too, Edward." I took a deep breath. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"That would be wonderful. Good night, Isabella."

I couldn't help but smile a bit. It was nice to hear him say my name. "Good night, Edward."

He disconnected, and I flipped my phone shut, staring at the window onto the street. I was figuring it out, piece by piece.

More importantly, I was doing it on my own.