Excerpt 4, Journal of Dr Edward Masen
Sunday, June 14
Why do I feel like I've been here before?
I sit in the dark, replaying everything over and over. Where did I go wrong? How the hell did I let her walk away?
Who am I fooling? I didn't let her walk away, I pushed her all on my own.
Fekking idiot.
What the hell happened to us? Life has been upside down and topsy turvy since the accident. She's consumed my every moment, first with fear, then with the need to protect, then with something all together new.
I was convinced when we stepped back into the real world after Whitby, life would settle down. That we'd find a way to slip into a normal everyday type of existence.
Yet she continued to pull me deeper in. I didn't remember a time before her. And I don't think I wanted to.
Any other person would have come out of that hospital a wreck. Yes, Bella had issues, but there was something different, something stronger about her. She'd finally stopped being afraid of her shadow and had started living up to what she could be.
I watched her emotional outbursts, feeling totally helpless, knowing that there was nothing I could do. But in the next minute, I'd be grinning like an idiot, knowing that my support and encouragement helped as she hit her stride. Her confidence was breathtaking.
Ironically, helping Bella find herself may have ultimately been my undoing. I'd spent the last few weeks trying to hard to orchestrate everything around her, to keep things as low key as possible. It wasn't like I was trying to control her, more like the situation. Anything I could do to shelter her. Anything but have an actual conversation about the issue, that is.
We'd always danced on the edge of a knife, the intensity of our relationship throwing us both into a spin easily. One of us had to try and maintain some level of control.
Or at least that was how I tried to justify it to myself.
But to come home and find her standing there, like something out of a fantasy? There were no words. With one simple action, she flipped my world on its head. And then she threw it out the bloody window.
I should have kept my mouth shut and not pushed it. I should have known by the way that she initiated things that she was getting better, that she had grown, that I was worrying for nothing. But I went from having this woman in my lap, whispering every sort of dirty what not in my ear whilst giving me the best shag of my life, to basically being asked to let her go. I couldn't. Not after that.
So I reacted. I took a stupid idea and threw it at her as a last ditch attempt to buy more time. It was wrong and it was cruel. I deserved her anger.
Tuesday, June 16
She's gone.
I hid. I avoided her calls. I didn't answer the door.
And now she's gone.
I didn't think she'd really go.
She sent me an email, letting me know that she got to Chicago safe. She told me to call, that it wasn't too late. She left the ball in my court.
And yet all I can think, did she mean time zone or in general when she said it's not too late?
Friday, June 19
The pool of people speaking to me gets smaller and smaller every day.
I had lunch with Jasper, in hopes of finding out anything on Bella's progress. He hadn't spoken to her, but he had called her advisor to check in.
He'd told her advisor, Dr. Banner, about her accident and the related volatility of her moods after. Apparently Jasper had also told him that she had started to level out emotionally, but would have periodic gaps in her memory.
.
It wasn't lost on me that Jasper had shared more with her advisor more than he had with me. Apparently Bella had started to turn the corner. She made it through successful runs of her presentation and questioning without blowing up. No tears, no frustration.
Jasper said she was bloody brilliant on her last run.
I still can't understand how he could have gotten me all wound up, then failed to pass on the strides that Bella had taken. It could have changed everything. We wouldn't be in this mess.
Jasper threw it right back in my face; he refused to accept the blame, telling me that I was absolutely capable of reaching out and checking on her too. That I shouldn't have waited for him to call with any update.
In hindsight, neither of us was right, neither of us was wrong. She was getting better, and I'd missed it.
That was no one's fault but my own.
Tuesday, June 23
She called me, but I didn't answer. I knew it was her by the ring tone. And I want so desperately to talk, but what will I say? That I'm sorry? That I didn't mean it? This would only make things worse, because saying that I didn't really mean it when I proposed would jade any real attempt down the road.
But that assumes that I'll even have the chance. Christ, we'd never even spoken about it. She may not even believe in marriage for all I know. What a bloody fekking mess.
And that's what makes it all that much more painful. There are so many things right now that I want to know. I need to know. But nothing is more important to me than knowing that she's okay, that she's ready for what lies ahead of her.
Emmett passes me updates when he can. He knows what happened, and feels bloody awful about putting the idea of marriage out there in the first place. I told him it wasn't his fault, but he still took it hard. He sent Rose to Chicago to look out for Bella. He didn't elaborate on what he told Rose to get her there, and I have a feeling that it might
not be the whole gory mess. It's ironic in a way, Rose and I seemed cursed to constantly be at odds with each other when it comes to the people we both love.
I can only imagine what Rose thought when Bella showed up on her doorstep. But then my thoughts always shift from Rose to how Bella looked when I laid down my ultimatum. I don't think I'll ever forget. I told her I loved her. And then I walked out on her. I stood on the other side of the door and listened to her cry. I wanted so bad to go back, to say that I didn't mean it, that I lied, but my need for self preservation trumped everything.
I feel like a hypocrite to even say that I love Bella, because love shouldn't be selfish, and that's all I've been. In her eyes, I asked her to give up something she'd spent a huge portion of her life working on. I wanted her to stay with me, to be ready, not to give up. But I can understand now why she responded the way she did. In hindsight, she was the one focusing on our relationship, not me. She said she was pushing ahead for us. And what did I do? Panic because I couldn't stand her walking out the damn door. I should have let her stand on her own, and provided support and encouragement. Instead I second guessed her; made her think that she was anything less than amazing.
It was only further buttressed by her voicemail message. The choices I made would have only complicated things more. That's what comes with selfish decisions. If I simply would have let go, would have trusted that she knew what she was doing, we wouldn't be in this spot.
Christ, Mags, you taught me so many things, but how did I not learn the most important one? Why couldn't I have let go and trusted that she would come back to me? Why I am always such a self-centered git? You let go of me, why the hell couldn't I let go of her?
It may be too little, too late, but I'm doing it now. I'm letting her go. She's not by herself. She has Rose and her friend Angela. They will look out for her and protect her a hell of a lot better than I did. They'll be there if she needs them. Better that I stay away and let her do what she needs to do.
When she is done we can talk; I can try to explain what I did and why. Hopefully I can beg for forgiveness, and she'll grant me that. I don't know if I deserve it, but I have to hold out hope that she meant what she said.
In the end, the voicemail she left me gives me hope and terrifies me at the same time. Only Bella would refuse to let me hide, call me an asshole and tell me she loves me all in the same breath. It really wasn't that far off of what I'd done to her a few months ago.
She sounded so strong, so alive. I hated that she could function without me, yet was elated that she was okay.
In the end, it doesn't matter what I want. She was happy and well. She was still focused on coming back to London. She hadn't given up.
So I have two options. I can try to keep working, recognizing that my bedside manner is for shite, in an attempt to keep my mind off things. Or I can get away for a while. I can get the rest of this week away, and if not, I have no problem telling St. Guy's to sod off. I can't handle the quiet. The absence of her in my flat is too marked. Better that I get away, keep busy with something.
Anything to make the time go faster.
I may be a glutton for punishment, but I need to be in the place that has our happiest memories. The place that belongs only to us. The place that always held the best of me.
Maybe being there will be that final little karmic push to bring her back. Just for once, maybe I should put my faith in the lunacy that my sister spouts. If we are meant to be, we will be. And the wisest thing I can do to make that happen is to be in the one place where we were the best.
Emmett will keep me posted as to Bella's progress. He'll know where I am and how to reach me. He'll let me know how she does, and he'll let me know when she's coming home.
It didn't escape me that she said home. But I can't assume, can't infer. I may have gone too far, assumed too much. No more assuming. Unless I hear it directly out of her mouth, or see her do something, I am not forming any opinions. That's what got us in this spot to begin with.
She needs to focus on her presentation. I didn't support her in that before, but I can do it now. I won't be a distraction. I'll let her know that I got her message and wish her luck. I want to say more, but that would only take us back down a road that won't help right now.
A simple text of good luck to show my support. I wish I could say more. But she'll at least know that I care.
I keep turning her message over and over in my head. I can't be one hundred percent sure what she meant, but it gives me hope for what comes next.
I pray that there is a next. I want to see her, standing on the hill looking over the ocean, laughing at something stupid or provocative while we wait for the storm to roll in. I promised her I'd take her back. I can only hope that she'll feel the same.