Playlist: Weightless by All Time Low
Plot Generator—Binding Blurb: conceding defeat.
Chapter 19
Flick. Flick. Flick.
My ear pricks with pain, an annoying tap, tapping on my lobe. I slam my hand to it to make it stop, and it does. But then my nose itches.
"Stop," I moan, swatting the air in front of my face only to hit something.
"Morning, pervert," Garrett coos right in my ear, blowing his hot, stinky breath inside.
I hate his wake-up calls. I'd take Katie barging in, asking me a million questions any day.
"Go away!" I roll over, tugging my sheet with me, but he throws it up and off like a jackass. "Dammit, I'm tired. Stop it!"
"I know you're tired. You were up late last night, lover boy."
"Shut up," I say, placing my pillow over my legs to act as a makeshift sheet.
"So you got some game, Oops. Who knew? Not me, since I never taught you."
"You never taught me anything worthwhile. Now, go away."
Garrett jumps onto my bed, snatches my pillow, and tucks it under his head when he lies beside me. His legs take up so much space. I shove him, but he doesn't budge.
"So Bella's pretty loud. That's hot. I like screamers," he says, nonchalant.
"What!" I bolt upright and stare at him.
"Oh, you didn't know? I got in early last night, had dinner with Katie and Greg. They got me drunk; Greg dropped me off. Right. Before. You. Got. Home."
"I'm gonna kill you," I growl.
"Good luck with that." He pops up and sucker punches me in the gut.
I spring into action and chase him through the door and hall into the kitchen where I begin chucking my bowl and utensil from last night's dessert at him. "You're such an ass," I shout.
"And I can see yours," he says, and like a fool I check only to find my boxers on where I left them. When I lift my head I'm clobbered with a rolled up magazine.
"Oh, yeah, like that," he says in a high voice.
"Shut up!" I bellow, fuming.
"If only you were as sexy as Garrett," he says, voice still in a falsetto.
"You're an idiot. No wonder you can never keep a girl!"
He drops his magazine-wielding hand, which was ready to strike again, and narrows his eyes. I've gone too far.
"I'm gonna go tell Bella right now what you said about her boobs when she was twelve."
"I didn't say anything," I protest.
"Oh, so, flat as a board and will never grow bigger than an ant bite, doesn't ring any bells?"
That's it. The bastard's going down. "I hope you never find another Lauren!"
Garrett lopes toward me, and I swerve around furniture, trying to get away from him. This is going to hurt. I can tell by the menacing look in his eyes. I toss an end table in his way when Dad barks, "What the hell are you morons doing? It's eight in the morning!"
He's in his boxers and an undershirt. His eyes are clouded in dark circles, and he's scruffy. Neither one of us can think of anything to say to our pathetic looking father, so we stay quiet.
"Why are you here, Garrett?"
"Sunday dinner," he says.
"It's cancelled. Mom's not coming," Dad says.
"Aw, Dad," I say on instinct.
He doesn't scold me or even flinch. He nods minutely, scratches his beard and turns slowly, backing into his room.
Garrett reaches over and smacks my head. I throw my arms out wide in protest.
"Go talk to him," he demands.
"You."
"I didn't do this; you did."
"Mom did," I say.
"Well, she's not here."
"That's not my fault." I have no desire to talk to my dad. What would I even say?
"Not mine either."
Garrett puts his fist out, and we roshambo. I lose with paper.
I knock on Dad's door. No answer. "I'm coming in," I say, opening the door slowly. Dad's lying down; Mom's side of the bed is made up perfectly, just the way she'd like it if she were here.
I want to dig into my dad. I know this is his fault. Whatever it is. But I know I need to be compassionate here. But how? What should I do? I think on it for a minute, wondering what Bella would do and come up with. "Are you okay?"
He doesn't answer, so I look to Garrett, who's standing in the doorway, for some help. He's irritated by what I said. I'd like to see him try.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I hedge further.
He waits a minute. Then: "Yeah, actually. Can you tell your mother I love her, and I'm sorry?" He rubs his eyebrow and drags his hand over his face, absolutely desolate.
"What's going on? You should tell her, Dad. Mom needs to hear it from you."
"Yeah, well, she won't. Not anymore. She's filing."
"For divorce?" Garrett asks, and Dad nods.
"You can't let her do this. You'll both regret it," I blurt.
"I don't want it anymore than you do," Dad says. He sounds like he's bored, like he's talking investments or politics. I want to scream in his face to wake him up, so I do.
"Then why are you here? Go to her. Beg her. Get on your knees and cry on her toes while kissing her feet."
Dad sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Someday you'll understand, Edward. There's a time when you just have to concede defeat."
I'm livid. My eyes burn with unshed tears. My Dad's a fool, an unfeeling automaton. He doesn't deserve Mom then. "I can't believe this," I say, and without glancing back I leave the room.
Garrett doesn't let me get far, trapping me in the hallway. "It's not all his fault."
"Like hell it isn't!" I yell, not caring if Dad can hear. "Mom spent all that time raising us, going to every awards' assembly, band concert, game, and what did Dad do?"
"He kept food on the table by making good money. He did it for us."
"Bullshit. He hid in his office behind medicine and patients and published studies and for what? He's lost his wife, his family. I barely even know him. He didn't do it for us. He did it for himself. For prestige. For honor. Well, I'm not going to honor that." I'm breathing heavy, my shoulders shaking with tension.
Suddenly, Garrett's in my face, seething. "He's hurting, and you're turning your back on him. You've never been in love the way he has. You've never put so much time and effort into someone only to have it thrown back in your face and told you're not enough."
"Yes, I have." I know I have.
"Like hell. You've liked Bella for two minutes. Dad's been at this for decades," Garrett retorts.
"Then he should know better; he should do better."
"Who the hell are you to judge?" he rages.
"Who the hell are you? Like you've ever been in love. Like you've ever experienced anything like this." He hasn't. He only cares about himself. Always has.
"The love of my life dumped my ass years ago, and I can't get over her, so don't tell me I don't know! And Dad's right. Sometimes you have to know when to give up."
"You're crazy! You're both crazy. Don't you get it? There is no giving up. Not when it's love. No wonder Lauren's moved on and Mom, for that matter. Why would they wait around for men who don't think they're worth fighting for, who can't see that if they'd change just a smidge it could work, that it could last? I feel sorry for you both!" I storm out, grabbing my car keys only to realize I'm mostly naked, and I have no car. I slip through the side gate and sneak on some of my dad's filthy yard work clothes that were left outside before heading to Bella's. I sit with Sandy, hoping someone will wake up and let me in.
After a while, I hear some movement in the house, and then the back door squeaks open. It's Charlie.
"You look like hell." He eyes his coffee then me and offers me his cup.
"No thanks," I mutter.
"I'm gonna make some eggs," he says and lures me into his house.
He doesn't force me to talk, and the eggs are good.
"Not bad for a bachelor, eh?" he asks.
"They're decent. Bella's here, right?" I ask.
"Yeah, sleeping in, though. Nothing I should be suspicious about?"
"No, sir."
"That's what I like to hear," he says, spreading out a week-old newspaper.
"What would you tell me to do if I said I was giving up on Bella and me?" I ask hypothetically.
He schools his face, making it neutral, before saying, "You're an idiot."
"Right."
"Because you're in love with her," he continues.
"I am. I so am." I look up suddenly, realizing I just confessed my love for his daughter. I smile sheepishly. "I'm not giving up on her. Not even close. I just . . . my dad is gonna lie down and let my mom divorce him. I don't know what to do. It's not right. He loves her. Why would he give up?"
"Pride," Charlie says quickly. "Some men learn sooner than others, I suppose. But mostly—I think anyway, I don't have a lot of experience—it seems to me that if you leave your pride at the door, you'll be okay."
I take in his words and listen as he speaks freely. This is probably the most I've heard Charlie Swan say since the time he caught me trying to get into his gun cabinet. That lecture went on for days.
"My dad was a good father, but an even better husband. You know what his secret was?"
I look up from my eggs, wondering what it could be.
"Yes, dear. That's all. It was yes, dear. Just like that. He used to tell me, 'Son, you do what she wants, and you'll be all right. If she tells you to take out the trash, you do it. If she tells you she wants money for a dress, you get it. If she tells you, you're wrong, you are. The response is all the same, yes, dear.'"
"And did you follow that advice?" I ask, wondering since he's divorced.
"Yep, sure did. Renee and I were happy for a while, but she wanted more. And when she wanted more away from me, I said 'yes, dear' and gave her her freedom."
"Do you regret it?"
"Regret it? No. I miss her. I love her. But the important thing is she's happy. She didn't want to be shackled down with kids and a husband. It wasn't for her. And she's done so well for herself." He's genuine, even smiling when he speaks of his ex-wife.
"Do you wish you'd have tried harder to keep her with you?"
"No. I tried. I fought, I cried, I begged, but in the end, she knew what she wanted. Who was I to stand in the way? It wasn't about me; it was about her."
"How do you know that's really what she wanted?"
"When you're in love, Edward, you know. You know when it's time to walk away and when it's time to fight." He takes a sip of his coffee and sets his cup on top of his paper. It's so opposite of my dad with his crisp New York Times and special brewed coffee.
"That makes sense," I say, then add, "So what do I do?"
"I don't know. And you can't possibly know. It's not your love, your marriage."
"Nope, it's not." I drop my head to the table, taking a deep breath.
Charlie stands, takes my empty plate, and pats my back. "The best you can do is set a good example and learn from this."
"Yeah," is all I can say. "Do you know where Bella's laptop is?" I ask. Charlie points to the couch.
"I'm jumping in the shower," he says. "I don't know when Bella'll be up, but you're welcome to stay, kid."
"Thanks, Charlie."
"You're welcome. It's fun having someone around who listens. Bella likes to nod and pretend like she's listening, but she isn't," he says, disappointed.
"I don't know about that." I move to the couch and pop open the laptop.
"Why's that?"
"You know she got accepted to Northern, right? Closer to home. Cheaper. Good program. I'm guessing your idea," I say.
"Maybe." He shrugs, smiling. "Where're you going?"
"Got accepted to the U."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I don't have an answer yet," I say and turn my attention to the laptop. I don't want to tell him what I'm thinking of doing, although I suspect he knows.
"Fair enough," he says, blessedly leaving it at that. He meanders down the hall, and his door closes with a soft click.
The computer buzzes to life, and I zoom in on Northern College's page for program degrees. I click on their school of engineering, find an academic advisor, and shoot off an email. Once I get the okay, I'll send in an application. With any luck, if Bella asks me the question, will you follow me to school? I can answer with certainty, yes, dear.
-NSID-
After cleaning myself up a bit in the bathroom and finding an extra toothbrush, I'm stuck on the couch. I survey the room, bored out of my mind but not willing to go home. Just as I'm about to click on the TV, socked feet shuffle down the hallway, and I can't keep my smile at bay. How does she do that? Make me happy just by being there?
"Hey, I thought I heard you," Bella says, putting her hair into a ponytail and heading to the kitchen.
She gets a glass of water and sits beside me, settling in, drawing her socked feet beneath her. They're teal skulls on solid black today.
"So what's with the gardening clothes?" She taps my leg and takes a sip of her drink. She sets it down on the coffee table and turns to finally look me in the eyes.
She worries her lip. "What happened?" she asks, hand on my cheek.
I lean into her touch and allow my shoulders to relax. "Mom's done."
Bella shakes her head, her lips forming a small pout. I keep my eyes on her until I can't bear it any longer and fold inward. She keeps me from crumbling and brings me into her chest, encasing me in her arms.
"I'm so sorry," she keeps saying, her words tickling my ears and pricking my heart.
She maneuvers us on the couch so we're lying down. She's wrapped around me, our hands on my heart, letting it beat through the pain.
Hours later, she's swept my useless body into her room where she finds me something to wear: tight basketball shorts and an old tank I'd left here unbeknownst to me. When she pulls it out, she smiles shyly and scrunches her nose up, admitting, "I'm a bit of a Cullen thief."
"I know. You've stolen my heart."
"That's awful," she says, laughing when I burst, too. "Don't be so cheesy." She punches my arm, and I draw her in for a long hug. She props her chin on my chest, looking into my eyes. "You'll be okay, you know."
"I know." I nod minutely, staring out her window to spy her messy backyard. Sandy's sitting under a dying tree, flopping her tail back and forth.
"Come on." She pulls me to her bed and sprawls out beside me, running her hand through my hair. "You can talk about it if you want."
"What's there to say?"
"I don't know. We could just talk about them."
"Whatever."
She gives me a stern look but doesn't chastise me other than that. "Remember when Gran died and I couldn't leave the house for two weeks?"
"Yes, I missed you so much. And you had already cut your outdoor playing in half once Gran really got sick. That was rough. And you were so sad. I had no idea what to say."
"You said all the right things."
"I did?"
"Yeah. You reminded me about all the fun things we did together: how she would make us playdough and those Jell-O popsicles, and how she'd walk us to the park but let us ride a street ahead. I just needed to be reminded that I didn't miss out on anything. I had all these great memories. And, Edward, you have great memories of your parents. Things will be different now, but they were happy."
"They were. I miss it. The laughter and silliness. My mom's constant eye rolling and her way of getting Dad to shut up when he was boring us at the dinner table. 'Carlisle, pass the—'"
"'Peas.' It took me forever to figure that out. There were not always peas on that table. They're such dorks, if you think about it."
"No, they had their own language."
"Yeah, it's sweet."
"You are so nice," I say, pulling her hands from my hair and tucking them into my chest.
"I just care."
"I know. I'm so glad." I reach out to stroke her cheek, and she leans toward me, kissing me and collapsing into my shoulder. I wrap her in my arms and squeeze her tight. "Let's never give up, okay?"
"Deal," she says, kissing my chest and snuggling against me.
-NSID-
After I spend most of my Saturday hiding at Bella's, I return home. Garrett's still there, unfortunately. With a quick call from Katie I learn that one, Mom's been crying on Katie's couch all day. Two, Garrett was not here last night like he said he was, the asshole. And three, we're having family dinner no matter what, instituting Gran's rule about going unless you're dying. Katie even hoodwinks Bella into it, too. I feel bad for her, but I'm glad she'll be at my side through this freak show we Cullens like to call family dinner.
Come Sunday, Katie makes us a simple roasted chicken with boxed mashed potatoes that taste like nothing. As suspected the garden's dead and nothing's growing except for weeds, so we can't glean any veggies from there. Mom's here, though, so I'm not going to complain about dinner.
I keep quiet unless I'm spoken to and play with Caleb because he's safe. In fact, most people, Dad and Garrett included, seem to be aiming their attention and words toward Caleb. Why can't we all stay little and oblivious and happy? Life is so easy when all you worry about is what toy to play with and whether or not your mom has time to snuggle with you after dinner.
"I like to snuggle Mommy," Caleb tells Dad as they put together a simple puzzle.
"Your mommy was a snuggler when she was your age, too," Dad says, "But she liked to snuggle mostly with your grandma. I like to snuggle with your grandma, too."
Mom gives Caleb a soft look, but her eyes are sad, like she wants to cry but is holding back for the sake of this innocent kid. I point this out to Bella, and she agrees. Our theory's proven when she leaves a few minutes later, eyes brimming with tears.
Bella goes next, leaving me with a kiss and a hug on my back porch. I don't want her to go, but we've got school tomorrow and she has practice—two big games this week before she tackles State.
When I get inside, Katie's at the sink with Caleb sitting beside her on the countertop. She's washing dishes, and Greg's putting away extra chairs and generally cleaning up. Garrett and Dad are doing nothing. What's wrong with the men in my family? Why do they act this way?
"Come on, buddy, let's build something," I say, holding Caleb to my chest.
"Thanks, Edward," Katie says with a smile, looking more relaxed. It feels good to help out.
"You looked busy." I return her smile.
I set Caleb beside me, and we stack blocks into a high tower. Garrett knocks it over with his big foot and a smirk. "You gotta be better than that if you're going to be an engineer. You'll only last a week at the U if you're that pathetic."
"I may not be going to the U," I say causally.
Dad perks up but doesn't say anything.
"Where do you want to go?" Greg asks as he settles beside me, the silverware case in his hands, putting utensils away.
"I'm looking into Northern. Waiting to see if I can even still apply."
Greg looks to Katie, and the two exchange a look and a grin.
"You guys are creepy the way you communicate without communicating. It's, like, alien," Garrett says.
"You're an alien," Katie quips.
"What's at Northern?" Garrett asks, and frankly I'm surprised he cares enough to ask.
"A solid engineering program," I admit. At least, that's what Google and some forums said.
"They have that at the U. As evidenced." He swipes a hand in front of himself.
"Well, they might have a good engineering program, but they don't have a Bella."
"Aww," Katie says from the confines of the kitchen.
Garrett says nothing.
Eventually, we all go our separate ways, and I retreat to my room. I pull up my email and discover I can, in fact, apply to Northern. I stay up especially late filling out online forms and writing an entry essay. I don't want to put it off. If there's a chance I can be with Bella, I'll take it.
Monday morning dawns. I'm running late, so I eat a protein bar on my porch while I wait for Bella.
I get settled into her car, and as we show up to school, I receive a text from Garrett.
I called Lauren. She said she was "happy to hear from me." Maybe . . .
"Maybe," I repeat aloud.
"Maybe what?" Bella asks, curious and smiling softly. I lean over and kiss her because I can and because I'm in a damn better mood than I have been since we made out Friday night.
"Maybe it'll all work out," I say.
And my beautiful girl in basketball shorts and black heart and flame covered knee socks says, "Of course it can work out." And I believe her wholeheartedly.