Playlist: Pictures of You by The Last Goodbye

Word Prompts: Water, daughter, slaughter

Chapter 5

Time flies now that Bella and I make sense again. We do the usual: hang, talk, play games. She especially likes to kick my butt in nerd-it-up ones like Boggle and Scrabble.

We sit on my unmade bed staring at the Boggle board. I have a list of ten words and don't see anything else. She, however, is scribbling furiously. I can't be mad, though, because she's adorable when she concentrates like this—her nose scrunching up and her eyebrows wiggling around. But I especially like when she gets frustrated with herself and her tongue peeks out for a split second before she bites her lip.

"Time!" I say, checking my alarm clock.

"You start," she says dejectedly. Clearly, she was not paying as close attention to me as I was to her or she'd already know she's the queen of this round.

We run through our list of words, and I end up with one that she doesn't have. I laugh at my pathetic-ness, and she joins in too until we sigh into a quiet calmness. I missed this. I smile at her and enjoy the simplicity of our relationship and the fact that we can be silent together and it's not awkward. That, I've discovered, is rare.

"Well, now what?" I ask.

"Did you finish that lab write up?"

"Nah, you?"

"Gotta get my stuff. Change of scenery?" She points out the window to her home. "Meet me in five?"

"Yeah, sure."

Bella steps from my room to head home but is quickly bombarded by my dad. "Oh, hey. You do your dad's laundry, right? You know what to do about pen stains? I got this uh, here, here just look at it."

I can't stop him, and Bella ends up in my parents' room, which is really depressing now that my mom's stuff is gone. I can't go in there, so I hang around in the doorway.

"I wish I could help, Dr. Cullen, but my dad's never had a fountain pen stain in his life. Esme would know. Call her." Bella's full of great ideas.

"Yeah, Dad. Call Mom. She'll know."

Dad drops his hand and crinkles the shirt in his fist. "I'll figure it out. Can't be that hard, right?" He gives us a forced smile before turning toward his closet.

"Google is good for everything," Bella says hurriedly to his retreating form, trying to fix the situation. She's so thoughtful, always knows what other people need.

Once I'm in her kitchen I tell her so. "Is it innate? Because I don't even know how you do it."

"Will you shut up? It's not a big deal." If I know Bella, and I do, she's feeling really uncomfortable now. Not very good with compliments. But it's about time she gets used to them, so I continue.

"It is. He probably would've hid in his closet and cried after we left, but not now. Now he's furiously typing fountain pen plus stain removal in his Google browser. I wish I could do that, could be like you."

"You don't want to be like me, Edward, trust me. My head's a mess." She flips her fingers around near her ear, like she's crazy.

"Well, it's a beautiful mess, then." Yeah, I'm going to go as deep as I can with this new and improved complimentary Edward. It's fun.

Charlie clears his throat before clanging some things around in the kitchen. He's not a subtle man. "You kids studying?"

Bella holds up her text to say duh.

"I was gonna watch a game," he announces.

"What game? There's no game," Bella says.

"There's always one on this baby." He pats his DVR before taking up residence in his recliner and making a loud refreshing noise. "You kids gonna stay here?"

"If you want me to go to my room just tell me," Bella complains.

"What kind of a dad would I be if I told my only daughter to go to her room with the likes of this riff raff?" he asks, giving me a look. A did-you-fix-it-yet? look. I have no idea how to respond to that, so I take off my cap and follow the heavy lettering of our school name with my finger.

"A trusting one?" Bella says, laughing.

"A fool, is what," he says, picking up the remote. I don't know why we're still in here talking. Bella and I always hang out in her room; it's never been a problem. He likes to act tough, but the most he's ever done to keep me away from Bella was plant and furiously water that damn bush outside her window.

Bella knows this, too, so she says, "It's Edward," like I don't matter at all, like she'd never even think about doing anything inappropriate with me in her room. Now I feel a little sad.

"Uh huh. And, Edward, did you fix it?" Charlie asks, his full attention on me.

I snap my cap back in place and say, "Trying to, sir."

"Well, don't go overboard, you got it?"

"Yep." Dammit.

"What?" Bella asks, eyes large and curious. I'm not telling her about what he said.

"Scram," Charlie demands. "Let your old man have some quality time with the boobtube."

"Okay, we're leaving," Bella says, haughtily.

"Door open," he calls after us.

We laugh at Charlie's antics as we head down the hall.

"How's he with Jake?" I blurt and realize a second too late I don't want to know.

"Oh, well, I sort of keep them separated," she admits sheepishly.

"Good idea, I guess. Especially if Jake likes his—"

"Hey!" She smacks upward at my brim, making my hat fly onto the floor in the doorway of her room.

I want to laugh but can't. It's caught in my throat because the sight before me has shocked me into silence. I'm gone. Cleared from her room.

Where Bella's board and posters used to be, there's now a blank green wall. What the hell?

"What the hell, what?" she asks. Clearly, I'm speaking my thoughts aloud.

"Where's all your stuff? You painted?" I check the bedpost for my favorite hat, and it's there. It makes me feel a little less like I want to jump off a bridge.

"Yeah, I wanted to for a while, and Jake offered to help. It was fun."

"Did he pick out the color, too?"

"No! I did," she says, offended.

"Hmm . . ."

"What's your problem?"

"I don't know. I feel, like, gutted."

"You feel like an intestine-free fish?"

"I feel replaced," I admit truthfully.

Bella doesn't say anything. Instead, she sits on her bed and pulls out her notebook. That's . . . I don't even know what that is, but I don't like it. I want to call my mother so she'll tell me how great I am. I hate to admit it, but I need that right now.

I get home earlier than expected and sit in my empty, dark, and lonely living room. I place my ball cap on the end table and nearly scream when—

"You know your mother hates you leaving your dirty caps all over the house."

I swivel my head toward my dad's voice. He's at the kitchen table, a coffee cup in hand. It's my mother's cup. My parents had a standing date Saturday and Sunday after dinner. They'd sit and sip coffee and talk about their week, their plans for the next one. My father's eyes look dim, the wrinkles around them are more prominent than I remember. His lips form a thin, uninterested line, like he's beyond caring. But I know he's not because late at night he plays their song in his bedroom.

At times while growing up I'd get grossed out when I'd hear it because I figured if it was on so were they. But now it's almost as if my mother's ghost is haunting the house at night, ensuring that we can never forget her. And how can we? She's the center of our lives. She does everything for us, including making us feel good about ourselves and helping us even when we might not deserve it.

Looking at my dad and seeing him in this catatonic state and knowing he created this problem, I want to walk away. But improved Edward and Edward that wants to learn from Bella's thoughtfulness convene and decide to be nice.

"Are you okay, Dad?" That's a start, right?

"No, Edward, I'm not."

"Do you miss her?"

"More than you'll ever understand."

"You'd be surprised," I say, resting my head on the back of the couch.

"Until you meet a woman like your mother, just . . ."

I know he didn't mean to insult me or Bella, but I'm fairly certain he did. I cut him some slack, though, since he's not involved in my life. He doesn't know about my situation with Bella. For all he knows, we just practice together and ride with each other to and from school. I'd like to tell him different, but the slump in his shoulders tells me now's not the time.

"No, I know. Mom's unbelievable."

"Yeah. I'm heading to bed."

"Okay," I say, but neither of us gets up to go to our rooms. We sit in silence and bond over the loss of the women in our lives. It's the closest I've felt to my dad since before I went through puberty.

Morning comes quickly and with it, hunger pangs. Normally when Mom's out I steal from Bella, but today I can't manage that. I go out instead.

I call Mom after ordering my breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.

"Edward, hi, honey. I miss you." Her sincerity and tender voice bring about an instantaneous tightness in my throat. Where is my man card lately?

"Hi, Mom. How's life?" I say lamely and make my payment and grab my bag from the cashier. The car behind me honks.

"Are you driving? Get off the phone right now, young man, I'm not going to your funeral. Not in my lifetime."

"Relax. Drive thru."

"Well, make it quick."

"I just miss you. I don't know what else to say. It's weird without you at home."

"It's weird without you, too. Say, why don't you join Katie and the family for dinner sometime this week? I'll cook, and she can have a break. I'm already driving her nuts, I'm afraid, but it's so hard being a live-in grandmother. I told you about the Fruity Pebbles, right? She just feeds them to Caleb all day like it's not going to rot his teeth out of his head and—"

Honk!

"Edward, I refuse to talk to you while you try to get slaughtered in your car. I'll call you later." She hangs up, and I get back on the road, returning to my depressing home.