Thanks to my awesome betas! I couldn't do it without you... Blynn practically flags me until I write and Adrena finds ALL my many mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters. I do however own White Carpet and Wall Sconces.
Edward's Point of View
Alice grasped my clammy hand in her little, warm one and squeezed tightly, a silent reminder of the support system I had taken for granted for all of those years. I squeezed back, almost crushing her tiny fingers in my anxious state. The flowers were clutched tightly to my chest, the plastic crinkling against my jacket. Emmett walked slowly behind us, I could feel his presence and every once in a while I could hear a twig snap under his foot, but otherwise we were all silent.
I hadn't been back since the funeral. I shuddered as I remembered the rich colour of the oak casket slowly being lowered. I'd stayed behind, not wanting to deal with mourners chewing on crust-less sandwiches and shaking hands, and rubbing their tear filled eyes. I'd stayed until they were going to start filling the hole. I couldn't watch it. It made me sick.
I clutched Alice's hand tighter still and I was sure it had to be painful, but she only squeezed back, giving me the support I needed. We walked to the back of the cemetery. My breathing hitched and I felt Emmett's presence just a bit closer as we neared the destination. "It's okay, Edward," his low voice murmured. He laid his hand on my shoulder and I swallowed audibly before nodding.
"Right here," Alice said quietly, pointing to a black headstone, small among the others, a perched butterfly carved into the upper right hand corner. Appropriate, was my only thought. I'd never seen the headstone. I dropped to my knees in front of the stone, still clutching the flowers to my chest and taking in the etchings, my eyes picking up every tiny detail. I reached my fingers out to trace the letters, my mind absorbing the information in fragments, not as a whole. First a C, then an H. I let my fingers ghost across the surface, my thumb stroking the smooth black under the letters I was tracing.
The grave was well cared for, the stone was edged neatly; new grass was starting to poke up with the renewal of spring. I laid the flowers in front of the headstone, not knowing where else to put them, and immediately regretted my choice. Cut flowers would die quickly, especially in the cold. They would be dead and cold; lifeless. Like her. I shuddered at the thought and gripped the top of the stone for support, my head falling to the cold granite. It was then that I felt the tears fall. Silent, unyielding tears. Four years worth of tears. Four years worth of guilt, pain, longing, loneliness and regret fell from my eyes, ran down my cheeks, and dripped off of my chin; disappearing into the earth. My shoulders shook ever so slightly as the silent sobs ripped from my chest. And I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to stop.
I wasn't aware of anyone else's presence until Alice crouched beside me, her tiny hand rested on my upper back, and her forehead on my shoulder. She didn't say a word, just turned her face to the headstone and closed her eyes. I glanced over to witness one, glistening tear escape and glide slowly down her cheek.
And immediately the guilt I was feeling increased tenfold because as my little sister, Alice had lost one of her best friends that night too. I had been so wrapped up in my own grief, guilt and pain that I had completely neglected to see that everyone else around me was hurting too; that they just dealt with it in a different way than I did, but that the pain was still there. I had monopolized so much of everyone's time, energy and worry, that I hadn't even entertained the thought of other people's loss.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, more to the ground, than to anyone in particular. I felt Emmett crouch down beside me, hands clasped in front of him, eyes wide and sad.
"You're not the only one that grieved, Edward." He settled himself into a sitting position and crossed his legs underneath him. "You lost Charlotte. We all lost Charlotte. We loved her too you know." His big hands absentmindedly plucked at the flat, damp grass around us. "But worse for us," he continued, his eyes trained to the ground. "We lost you too. Only we had to watch the person we'd lost, walk around in front of us, an unyielding, impenetrable shield around the shell of the person we loved. You were nothing but a ghost, and you floated in and out of everyday life, and when we blinked, we weren't sure if you'd actually been there or not, because there were no signs. You existed, but only in a physical form. You breathed, you ate, you slept, and you walked, sometimes, if you really needed to, you talked. But you were nothing more than a mirror image of the brother Alice and I knew, the son that Mom and Dad raised. It was torture."
I sighed and pushed myself off of the headstone and rose to my feet. Alice followed as I took a few steps to lean against the large maple tree nearby.
"When you agreed to go to school, we all thought it would be better," Alice admitted quietly. "And in some ways it was. You were…somewhat social." She began pacing back and forth between Emmett and me, wringing her hands in a nervous habit she had developed as a child. "But social as you were acting, it was only that; acting. Everything was a giant façade, and I'm still not sure to this day, if it was for your benefit, or ours, but either way it didn't help. The women, the drugs, the dangerous stunts, the run-in's with the law. They were all ways to strike out against the wrong in your world. And I still don't understand." She turned to face me. "One would think that because of what happened, you would crave control above all else, but instead you chose activities out of your control; activities and people who controlled your life. So I thought some more about it and I spoke to Jasper about it." I growled at that comment. I knew by the way she was speaking that she was trying to analyze my behaviors.
However, by bringing Jasper into it, I was aware that she was receiving outside help with her "diagnosis." Jasper was majoring in psychology, and loved to analyze everyone's actions. "We discussed it in depth, never giving him any real information, never telling him what happened or anything real about Charlotte. He told me that perhaps because control was what you lost, it scared you that it was so easily relinquished, and after that you gave up. He thinks that maybe because when you gave up control you didn't have to think anymore and you found that easier than trying to regain control of the situation and turn your life right side up."
So that was why Jasper seemed to know more about the situation than anyone outside of my family. I felt a surge of white, hot fury towards Alice and her big mouth, but then I tamed it, thinking about what Emmett had said. I'd asked them to keep a secret, to never speak of what happened, and in doing that I added fuel to the already roaring fire within them.
Alice crossed again towards Emmett and sat down daintily beside him, looking over her shoulder at me expectantly and smiled. I shook my head. I couldn't join them over there. I couldn't do it. I needed to collect myself. I had a thousand emotions creating a vortex in my gut and I nearly clung to the tree trunk for support as I tried to comprehend what I was feeling.
On one hand, I understood how and why Jasper seemed to know slightly more than the average person, and that was a bit of a relief. Part of me was still angry at Alice for spilling my secret, but another part of me was glad that it was off all of our collective chests. Everyone knew now, so it didn't matter that Jasper had any inside information in the beginning. My chest constricted as I thought of Charlotte in her last days, still and silent, the monitors a constant hum and beep around me as I played for her. And then my chest relaxed as I thought of Bella. Bella who put up with, and even embraced all of my crazy attempts at a relationship, Bella who forgave my indiscretions, Bella who came back. Bella who braved my mother (I really needed to speak to my mother) and Bella who befriended my sister, and Bella who calmed me when a storm began to rage. I was the broken jigsaw puzzle, and Bella slowly, carefully put me back together again. Why she chose me, I'll never know, but she did, and I was grateful for it, because for the first time in years I was beginning to feel happy again. When I was with Bella, and we were in our own little world, I was really, truly happy. When the rest of the world intruded on our space I began to close up again.
"Do you remember when Charlotte got her drivers' license?" Alice's voice broke through my thoughts, her question directed at Emmett who chuckled into his fist.
"Do I ever," he replied, leaning back on his hands and sneaking a glance in my direction before turning his attention back to Alice. "That was the night she ran her father's brand new Altima into the mailbox at the end of the street." Alice nodded and giggled. Even I felt my mouth twitch just a tiny bit towards a grin. I remembered that night. She'd been so excited. She'd driven the three streets over to my house; her father's brand new, shiny, black Nissan Altima purring in the driveway as she hurried up the steps to knock on the door. She had been practically hopping on the spot, excited to have gotten her license before me. I was scheduled to go the following week. She bounced down the stairs in front of me and waited for me to climb in and fasten my seatbelt. She'd chattered happily away about school, the driving test, our friends, and she was doing really well. We made it all the way out of the subdivision and into town. She'd shown off everything she'd had to do in the test, and even I admitted she'd been doing really well. We were back in the subdivision and turning onto my street when I heard the crunch of metal against metal. The car jerked to a halt, and her eyes were huge, knuckles white on the steering wheel. She didn't say anything, just looked at me, horror evident on her dark features. I told her that I think she sideswiped a stationary object. She told me to shut up. I stifled my laughter. She slapped my arm and told me that her dad was going to kill her. Secretly I agreed.
"Do you remember the day that Mom found Charlotte's socks in Edward's hamper?" Emmett had his head thrown back in silent laughter at the memory. "It was World War Three in our laundry room that day," he continued.
I remembered that too. Charlotte and I had been dating for almost six months at the time, and she'd been over the night before. I couldn't honestly remember why she left her socks in my room, but the important point was that she had, and I had gathered them up with my things and stuffed them in my hamper, not thinking twice. They were only socks after all. But apparently, according to my mother, they were a symbol of what 'went on behind closed doors' and she went berserk. Emmett pondered regularly what the results would have been for a pair of pants, or worse, a bra. I honestly didn't want to know.
"I recall flying jeans coming towards my head," Alice giggled.
"I recall a really embarrassing sex talk," I muttered from my place by the tree. Emmett guffawed loudly, slapping his knee.
"Over fuckin' socks," he chortled.
"Worse was when Mom asked Charlotte if her parents had had the talk with her," Alice reminded us. I grimaced at the memory. "She was in full swing to talk to her about the birds and the bees." Alice hid her face in her hands.
"Over socks!" Emmett said again. Even I couldn't help but laugh a little bit.
"Little did Mom know that she was a bit too late," I said, slowly stepping away from the tree and sitting down next to Alice. She grinned and reached over to squeeze my hand. "Do you remember the first time she came to dinner?" My voice was quiet, I was twisting my shoelace around my finger; I wasn't sure how I felt about sharing Charlotte stories but I was doing my best. And I had to admit that laughing about my life before the accident, was a lot better than mourning it.
"She was so nervous that she spilled the gravy all over the table cloth," Alice reminisced.
"That was only because Emmett told her we were eating alligator."
"I didn't think she'd believe me," I glared at my older brother but couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the memory. "She was a great kid," Emmett said quietly, raking his thick fingers through his curly hair.
"She really was," Alice agreed, smoothing the grass in front of her absentmindedly.
I leaned my head forward in my hands and closed my eyes. Remembering.
Charlotte sitting in front of me in math class, the first day I met her. She turned, flipped her hair out of her face and smiled. "Got a pen?" she'd asked.
"You use pencil for math," I told her, I remembered my voice shook. She'd shrugged, seemingly un-phased.
"I don't." I'd handed her the pen with a crooked smile and a blush. She'd introduced herself when she returned the pen after class. It had taken me a full thirty seconds to remember my own name.
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Charlotte introducing me to her mother in the parking lot. "This is Edward," she'd said in a nervous voice, apparently worried that her mother wouldn't approve.
"That's nice dear, but I'm sure Edward doesn't want to accompany you to your dentist appointment," had been Mrs. Vasquez's reply.
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Charlotte and I at the movies, her laugh causing people to stare and mutter, only making her laugh harder.
Our first kiss. Her back porch, she leaned over the table and stuck her elbow in the butter. We'd both laughed. She tried to lick it off. I told her it was impossible to lick your elbow. She told me to lick it for her, and I did. And only then did I kiss her. And where there had been awkwardness before the butter incident, there was complete relaxation afterwards.
I tried to remember what she smelled like, tasted like, but I was drawing a blank. I tried again, going over ever detail in my mind, but only the big ones stood out. Her perfume, it was blue, in a clear bottle. Something French. I shook my head. I couldn't remember, and at any rate, she probably didn't smell like the perfume.
Our Junior prom. Her dress had been pale yellow. How had she worn her hair? Was her hair was up, or had it been down and curly? I shook my head again and concentrated harder. I couldn't remember. I'd have to look at a picture.
Our first college acceptance letters. New York, Chicago, Boston, Baltimore, Washington. The look on her face, the light in her eyes, the path to our future. Together.
The Christmas before….It. Alice and Charlotte arguing over decorating the tree. Emmett stuffing the Angel on crookedly and the girls making faces, telling him he'd better fix it or he'd get no more cookies. Emmett grudgingly agreeing, through a half chewed cookie. My mother vacuuming cookie crumbs out of the rug.
New Years Eve at Charlotte's parents. The gigantic party. Watching the ball drop (on television, of course) counting down to our New Years kiss.
I forced myself out of my reverie. I didn't want more memories. It was too close. I shook my head, and I looked at the grave stone, then up at my brother, my sister, their somber faces, and I rose to my feet.
"Come on," I told them, reaching my hand out to pull Alice up. "I think I've been away from Bella for long enough."
Alice smiled a genuine smile, a smile she hadn't smiled for me in years. The one where the corners of her mouth lifted straight up, much like the Cheshire cat, her eyes crinkled on the edges, and the little dimple on her left cheek puckered in her pale face. She leaned in and gave me a tight hug around my middle, and then bounced along beside me, as the three of us made our way to the car. Emmett grinned merrily at me as he settled himself in the seat and turned the key. I turned the radio up.
"Volume down, have some respect, this is a mini-van after all," he joked, batting my hand away from the control and backing onto the quiet road.
"You look alright driving the mini-van, Em," Alice pointed out with an impish grin. My brother's smile vanished, and was replaced by a look of intense contemplation before he reached over, twisted the volume dial as high as he could and pressed his foot to the pedal, speeding off towards home.
