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Stripped Desire – Chapter 24: White
"The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud."
Coco Chanel.~
My mom stands in front of us wearing a long, peach colored coat, looking like a sculpture out of a museum. She tries to regain composure of her features, but it's too late.
I already saw.
I'm not exactly sure what she was expecting to find. Maybe she believed my being with Edward was a simple act of rebellion.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, crossing my arms around my chest.
She looks down at my bare legs before meeting my eyes again.
"What do you think?" she says.
I roll my eyes.
"Put some clothes on," she adds as she enters the room without permission. Edward and I back away.
He presses his hands above my hips to soothe me. I sigh and search for a pair of jeans.
"How did you find me?" I ask after I'm somewhat dressed. Edward's standing in a corner, silent and watchful.
My mother glances at him several times before realizing I'm not asking him to leave.
"Don't be ridiculous," she starts. "Of course I was going to find out where you're staying. Or do you think I'm not looking after you every step of the way?" She raises her voice at the end of each sentence and then tones it back again. She shakes her head. "Who do you think sent the press to that damn dance recital? Who do you think sends half of your clients your way? We do. You might have moved out, but you still owe everything to us."
The room spins around me as her words sink in. I stumble back, as if my body rejects her presence anywhere near me.
"Oh my God," I whisper, feeling the knowing sting of my tears. I don't even know how to respond to that.
"Bella," Edward says sounding as broken as I feel. He steps out of the shadows, ready to catch me before I fall apart.
My mother holds her hand up. Edward curses under his breath, but when I shake my head, he stays silent.
"You're still a part of this family no matter how much you hate it," she says, looking at me. "No matter how much you wish you belonged somewhere else, you're a Swan. Everything you know about wine, I taught you; your expensive taste, your favorite books, your favorite songs. Maybe, when you finally have a family, you'll understand just how much it hurts that you want to deny everything we are." I stare at her unable to make sense of her words.
There's no right way to go about this.
Edward steps closer to me, ready to intervene, but I shake my head at him again.
My mother notices the small shift in the way I stand, going from dejected to alert in a second.
"You might have taught me those things," I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "Those very vain things," I continue, shaking my head. "I haven't forgotten. But you seemed to have forgotten how long I had to wait for a hug from you, or how I went months and months without crying, holding every emotion back for fear of making you angry."
I stop to take a moment.
The memories of my younger self; curled in a ball on my bedroom floor, trying to force my tears away, make the current knot in my throat harder to ignore.
"Do you know the number of people I've pushed away?" I ask, my voice rising. "I've denied myself of so many experiences because of our so-called family. I'm craving excitement, and love, and adventure. I have lived a very comfortable life filled with luxury thanks to you. If that's what I owe you, then you're right. I'm just not sure if what you've given me is worth more than what you haven't."
By the time I'm done, I'm whispering.
Not defeated.
Just resigned.
Because I know that no matter how much I try, she won't get it.
She doesn't understand, and maybe that's okay.
Maybe she isn't meant to understand.
Her next words prove my point.
"You're a smart girl, Isabella," she says, looking at me with pity. "Fairytales aren't real."
Edward's sharp intake of breath rings in my ears and I'm not sure how much longer he'll stay silent.
I glance at him and can't help the smile that overcomes my face.
He's here.
And real.
And mine.
I laugh.
"That's the thing, Mom. I'm not asking or looking for a fairytale. My expectations are realistic and rational, and reachable." I look at Edward and the smug expression that is on his face.
It's my turn to look at my mother with pity.
She's never had this.
"It's not my fault that your heart's been frozen for years. That you didn't rebel when you had the chance. That you accepted the cold life you've lead and mistook it for the norm."
I step closer.
She stumbles back.
"Guess what?" I say when I reach her, looking at her with nothing but self-assurance. "I don't."
For a brief moment—too brief of a moment—she lets me in, writing her emotions on her face for me to see.
Anger.
Frustration.
Pain.
"We lost you a long time ago, didn't we?" she says.
I think about the choices I've made thinking it would please them. The clothes I've bought in search of their approval, and the amount of time I've spent figuring out a way to keep things from them.
"I don't know about that," I answer.
"I'll ask Aro to stop his service," she says.
I nod at her.
Silence falls between us, and before I know it, she's gone, walking away from the hotel room I'm sharing with my boyfriend—the struggling artist of whom she doesn't approve.
Her retreating form walks quick confident steps and I watch until she disappears. I don't know when I'll see her again.
I sigh and close the door, collapsing against it in a heap of tired limbs.
Edward walks over to me and holds me.
We stand like that for a minute.
"Who the fuck is Aro?"
The wedding is today and Edward and I have been standing outside the church for twenty minutes.
I'm wearing a dark purple dress and nude colored shoes.
I have on my coat and a scarf around my neck.
Edward hasn't said anything about it yet.
Some people are starting to gather outside the church. I spot the glimmer of expensive dresses and the fine fabric of tuxedos. Familiar eyes look my way, widening with recognition, before turning their backs on me.
I can see them whispering.
I can see the women turning to look back at Edward with curiosity, disgust, and jealousy in their eyes.
It makes me smile.
It makes me want to hide him from them.
When my anxiety begins to show—the way I hold and then let go of Edward's hand, my constant pacing, my doing and undoing the knot of my scarf—I decide it's time for a distraction.
Edward notices my need and leads me a few steps away from the church.
Once we're at a safe distance, he pulls me to the side and starts unbuttoning my coat.
"What are you doing?" I ask, already itching to be touched by him.
"Shh," he says. He places his hands on my waist and moves them upward.
My breath hitches.
And then he starts tickling me.
I laugh and squirm, trying to complain about ruining my makeup, but he doesn't stop.
Edward chuckles and alternates between kissing and tickling me. I feel tension leave my body with each uncontrollable giggle that escapes me.
Locks of my hair start to fall out of my up-do and stick to the side of my face. I must look like a mess and I'm thankful for the minutes we have to spare so I can find a bathroom.
"Stop," I say, breathless and without actually meaning the words.
Edward kisses my forehead and pulls away to say something. Before he has a chance to talk, he looks over my shoulder with a frown.
I turn, confused.
"Bella," someone says.
It takes me a minute before I get some sort of coherence back into my muddled brain.
I step out of Edward's arms.
"Michael."
Thank you so, so much for reading.
I'm so sad to be almost done with the story, but so glad you've all liked it and supported me with it.
See you next time for the final chapter before the epilogue.