Good morning (or afternoon/evening for those of you outside of the states!) A little BAT love to hold you over for the weekend.
Like the last chapter, this will feel familiar, but pay close attention, for a few answers and even more questions lurk within….
Before we launch in, just a wee bit of perspective from Vickitori303 (one of the founding BATgirls)
§ A cup of coffee: $1.50
§ A box of strawberry pop tarts: $2.50
§ A red silk tie: $95.00
§ Kissing Edward Cullen and running: PRICELESS
Sadly, but as usual, not ours. We can dream though…
Chapter 3: A Charmed Life
Balancing - E
4.6 minutes. That's how long she stared at the window the next morning. She had to have seen the strawberry keychain. It wasn't placed conspicuously in the window, but its mere presence was noticeable. She had to know it was meant for her.
I waited and watched from my discrete location when realization hit her. She whipped her head around as if searching for me. I smiled from my perch. Everything was in motion now.
I followed her that day, and I didn't stop myself in the next block as I had in the past. That one kiss made this action sweet and romantic, not desperate and clandestine. I needed to know something more about her in order to complete the plan. She ordered a silly coffee drink at Starbucks. I chuckled at the irony of her anti-commercialism stance against romance. Apparently, that didn't apply to coffee.
Valentine's Day was now only 7 business days away. As I walked behind her, I formulated the rest of my plan.
I stayed far enough back that she wouldn't see me. I never worried about losing her in a crowd. She stood out. A rose among dandelions.
Once I had enough to move forward, I returned to my office to keep the plan in motion.
Jess protested feebly again when I called to verify the next phase. She met major resistance to the keychain alone. I had no intention of letting her off the hook. However, knowing her as well as I did, I assumed the blackmail would only go so far; ego stroking would be a necessary evil.
"I didn't call you merely because you owed me a favor, though you do owe not just me, but my whole family. I am also well aware that you are the person most capable of meeting such a challenge. I trust in your persuasive ability."
She sighed, and told me she would see what she could do. I knew that meant she was in. It wasn't as if she had much choice. I was prepared to make her life hell if she refused. It would have been justified.
My family would tell me I was reading too much meaning into all of this. That I would eventually discover Bella was just as imperfect as all of the women I had ever dated. In particular, my dad was highly critical of my romantic track record. He'd tried on numerous occasions to find me the "right" kind of woman to settle down with and make good on the family name. My time in L.A. and the way it had been portrayed by the press hadn't helped, especially considering the circumstances that led to my departure. As a result, he still wasn't talking to me.
They didn't understand though. I knew perfection as a concept was unattainable, but seeing my parents' deeply committed love convinced me that I could find someone perfect for me. My dad and I have many differences, but the one thing I cannot begrudge him is the model he set for Emmett and me. There were no doubts as to what a good husband should be. He is a perfectionist to the core; that included his marriage. He is faithful, loving, and animated with my mom. His eyes light up whenever she walked into a room. I'd never before been able to imagine having that kind of relationship, but with this woman, I could envision stolen glances over the Sunday newspaper. I could see hidden smiles across the room at a dinner party.
After following her all the way to work, I now had her full name, Isabella Swan. Even her name held the meaning of everything I was missing: beauty, freedom, healing and luck.
When she breezed up to our window Friday morning, I gave her a minute to take in the new addition to the window. It was more subtle. I couldn't be certain she'd understand the meaning. That tiny red bean was the start of something we could nurture together. Though it was a long shot, I had to start at the beginning.
I had an image of a scale in my head. I was balancing gestures. Grand gestures wow. They are the stuff of romance novels and movies. Grand gestures are what the women I usually dated expected all the time, but they didn't seem to care if there was any meaning behind the gesture, so long as they had a story to tell their friends. I value the little ones, the daily ones, the ongoing ones. I wanted this woman to have both, in equal parts.
With the first charm, I opted to turn my game up a notch. I talked to her on Friday. It wasn't merely a gesture for her benefit. I missed her.
I approached swiftly, circled my arm around her, handing her cup. "Skim mocha with extra whipped cream. You're giving me quite a sweet tooth, Bella" I whispered in her ear.
Only her hand moved when she took the cup. I could feel the rest of her stiffen in front of me.
"Thank you?" she responded. She was puzzled.
"Have a lovely weekend, Bella." And I turned to get lost in the crowd. I wanted to stay longer, but this plan would only work if I moved slowly. It took more willpower than I expected though to let my hand leave her side. It felt right there, warm and safe. And I managed to fill my senses for another day—sight, sound, touch, and hearing. Only taste was absent. I would have liked to kiss her again, but it was too soon. I did stop in the next block though to buy another mocha with whipped cream. I imagined what her tongue would taste like with these two delicious flavors assimilating with her minty toothpaste.
My weekend was long. Time passed far too slowly. I thought only of her. I remembered the taste of her lips, and I longed to feel them again.
On Sunday, I ran out for another mocha, and I had them add a little mint just to get me through until the next day.
On Monday, it was quartz; she could interpret the teardrop charm however she liked, but the stone itself carried healing powers which were transformative in nature. I was shedding the pain of the past. I didn't speak to her that day. I didn't think I could watch her attempt to decipher my intention. Of everything I planned, that little charm was my most personal revelation. I led a charmed life. I could not and would not deny it. I'd known what it meant to never want for any material item. I had family who loved me beyond measure, but that did not mean my past and even my present held no pain. I had baggage so to speak. With her though, I could unpack the bags. Together, we could put away what we wanted to keep and leave out all the rest.
Tuesday, however, I waited for her by the window. I had to know whether she would come to me. Was she with me on this journey? And what would she make of the lapis starfish?
Questioning -B
I grew up a romantic at heart. Idealized notions of what love should be, shaped by literature and popular media. I dreamed of the day that someone would make a grand gesture for me. Stereo under the window, say that if he had a personal conversation with God, he'd ask him to create me, or tell me that I completed him. Cameron Crowe had ruined generations of women thanks to Lloyd Dobbler, Steve Dunne, and Jerry Maguire.
But a strange thing happened. As I grew up, I found out that as much as I wished it, life didn't imitate art. There were no grand gestures. Guys that are 'looking for a dare to be great situation' just don't exist. After years of holding out hope, I had resigned myself to the fact that art and life don't collide.
That was last Valentine's Day. Hence the pop tart soliloquy as Edward had called it. An easy way to contain all of my hopes and dreams in one small, shiny package.
I never expected to tell any one about it. In hindsight, I guess it was a test. My initial reaction to him had been so intense; I needed to throw down the ultimate gauntlet to see how he would respond. He would either laugh at me or see my nonsensical ravings as a logical expression of my hopes and dreams.
I should have just walked away then. But no, I had to give myself something to remember the fleeting moment. My own attempt at the proverbial grand gesture. Who am I kidding, I wanted to kiss him. But I should have stopped while I was ahead. And now I couldn't get him, or how he felt out of my mind. That one single kiss was on infinite loop.
Smart one, Bella. Get caught up in a guy that is way out of your league. That is a guarantee for total heartbreak.
The next morning I held my breath as I walked up Fifth in the rain, constantly scanning the crowd. It was hard to distinguish people due to the umbrellas. I kept reminding myself that seeing him was most likely a one time thing. I shouldn't fixate on it. Time to go on about life.
I paused, as usual, in front of my window. The pink and hearts of the display taunted me. It reminded me of everything that I wanted and how I would never get it. Even worse, it reminded me of the absence of Edward. My window had always been my safe haven. Now it felt incomplete; a half life.
Two ladies that lunch were standing next to me, ogling the cocktail rings in the display. I envied their confidence in their husbands' affections, their certainty of something lovely for Valentine's Day. Who am I fooling? I wish it were me reveling in the security of having someone who loved me.
One of the ladies was giving a running commentary on displays. "It's a lovely display this year. One of their best. I don't understand the keychain though. All these lovely rings and necklaces, why throw in the little strawberry bauble? It doesn't fit."
A strawberry? There had been no strawberry in the window. It had been filled with ridiculously expensive diamonds, sapphires, and platinum.
But there it was, tucked discreetly into the corner. A small enamel strawberry keychain. I stepped closer, my hand pressed against the glass as if the proximity to the window would bring answers to the questions that swirled in my head.
Stop it, Bella. Stop dreaming. It doesn't mean anything. Probably an oversight or something slipped in to appease those that couldn't afford the grander things. It couldn't be for me.
Could it?
I spun around to search the crowds up and down Fifth Avenue in the hope that I would see him standing there, watching me. Waiting for me.
But he wasn't there.
I slogged through the rest of the day. I couldn't tell you a single thing that happened once I walked away from the window. My head was at war with my heart in an effort to reconcile what I had resigned myself to and the mysterious appearance of a strawberry keychain.
The mystery grew Friday morning. In my window, a crystal martini glass had been added. The enamel keychain wrapped around the stem. Resting in the delicate V of the glass was a single, dark red jasper Tiffany bean. As I studied the window, scanning my memory for the meaning of jasper, Edward appeared at my side with a mocha exactly the way I would order it.
It had started snowing, and the fluffy flakes caught in his hair. His cheeks were flushed with the cold, his fair skin a stark contrast against the rich camel's hair top coat he was bundled in. He looked absolutely glorious, like a tourism ad for winter in New York. He delivered my coffee, wished me a nice weekend, and disappeared into the crowd. I wanted to chase him, grab his hand to stop him and to ask what it all meant.
Instead, I stayed rooted to the spot, studying the addition to the window. Jasper. Actors believe it brings luck. Others believe it brings courage to speak out.
Was it courage that made me tell Edward about the pop tart window? Was it luck? His showing up with my all time favorite caffeinated addiction couldn't have been a lucky guess, could it?
My entire weekend was spent full of wondering. 72 hours of questions. 4,320 minutes of anxiety. I stayed in my apartment, dodged calls from Alice. I watched chick flicks, searched fan fiction sites half hoping to find the next great author, half to see how they were perpetuating my authors, and ordered takeout.
Edward filled my waking thoughts. He filled my dreams too. It terrified me as much as it thrilled me.
3 days of not seeing him, of not knowing what all this meant. The weekend couldn't be over soon enough.
On Monday, there had been another charm in the martini glass. This time a clear crystal tear drop. All I could think of was the sadness in his eyes the first time I saw them
But no Edward. Had I misunderstood? Was I projecting my hopes on a gesture for someone else?
I went into the coffee shop and bought a mocha and the newspaper. I don't read the paper, but it reminded me of him. Everything reminded me of him, or what little I knew. I felt empty, like a part of me was missing. I was incapable of filling the void on my own. How was this possible? Two interactions and I couldn't get him out of my mind.
Tuesday morning I awoke with a familiar ache in my chest. Would there be something new in the window today? Would I see him today? Please let him be there today.
I stopped in the coffee shop again. He wasn't there. I bought a mocha and paper like yesterday. I folded the paper just like Edward had, nesting the USA Today inside the Wall Street Journal, and cradled it in my arm. It felt strangely comforting to have one of the only tangible memories I had of him close to my heart.
As I stepped out of the shop, there was a break in crowd. I saw a tall man with red hair standing in front of the window. Please let it be him. I'll donate to charity, I'll start recycling, just please let it be him.
I dodged the crowds and puddles, moving as quickly and quietly as I could. He either didn't hear me approach, or chose not to acknowledge me. I glanced at the window quickly; a blue starfish had joined the bean and the tear drop in the martini glass.
A blue starfish. Wow. I may not know one hundred percent the meaning of the bean or the teardrop, but there was no mistaking this one. Four years of a Jesuit higher education and a required course in religious symbolism had beaten it into my head.
Courage of speech, Bella. Remember the jasper bean. Ball is in your court.
"Did you know that in ancient Christian mythology, the image of a starfish was used to represent infinite love?" I smiled, proud of myself for not chickening out.
I slipped the folded papers under his arm, and had to fight the urge to slip my hand in along with them. "USA Today is hidden on the inside. We don't want anyone to know that you actually read that stuff. Have a good Tuesday, Edward."
This time, I was the one that disappeared. Where I found the strength or the will, I have no clue.
Putting it in Words- E
She did come, and she understood the meaning perfectly. She now knew I loved her, not in so many words, but symbolically. She tucked two folded newspapers under my arm, and as her hands brushed my elbow I nearly turned around to grab her, to pull her close, but she was gone too quickly. I mustered all of my self control to keep from chasing her down and professing my infinite love to her with words right there on the sidewalk. However, she took all my coherent thoughts with her when she left. I remained at the window grinning like a little boy who just got an extra cookie for being good.
I pulled the newspaper up in front of my face, and inhaled as inconspicuously as possible. I caught the last bit of her scent that remained before the wind carried it away.
She had to know where all of this was headed. I was being obvious, but I believed that love could be passionate and predictable at the same time. Something about it must be constant and knowing. Without that, you only have lust which lacks the preservatives for a long shelf life.
But still a little spontaneity never hurt anyone. We were getting too close to the end; there had to be another gesture. A response to her action today.
Since I knew where she worked, it was easy to find her email address. I deeply regretted that I would not see her lips move as she read the note. I wished she would look away from her screen to see me standing there, ready for her eager embrace. But we were not there yet. I put "lapis" in the subject line. It would have to capture her attention.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.
-Shakespeare
You're very perceptive, Bella Swan.
E.
Once I clicked send, all I could do was wait.
Out the Window- B
I had blocked my day to focus on editing a manuscript. But my head was not in the world of clandestine spies and covert ops. Mentally, I was standing in front of a window, looking at three charms in a martini glass, hoping that my interpretations were correct.
I had spent the morning second guessing myself. The confidence and self assurance I felt had quickly been replaced by doubt and apprehension. What if I misinterpreted? What if it wasn't for me?
I tossed down the manuscript on my desk. It was hopeless. There was no way I could justify leaving early, but I couldn't get my head in the game today. I stared at my computer monitor, hoping for divine inspiration.
The envelope was apparent in my icon tray. I might as well deal with the tedium that is email. It would kill time until I had to go home to an empty apartment and more rambling thoughts.
An internal email about benefits renewal. Two emails from authors asking for status. Spam offering to enlarge my penis.
I reached an email from an address I didn't recognize. The subject line said lapis. Lapis? Was that Latin? A typo?
I opened it and read.
And read.
Sigh.
I don't know how he found me, but he did. Not just my name, my physical location, or my email address, but he found ME. Forget grand gestures. Forget semi precious jewels in a display window. He quoted me Shakespeare. And not just any Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.
All the apprehension, all the doubt flew out the window. I had been right this morning. He understood me. He saw me. He wanted me. The whole package.
I sat and thought for a long time. How best to respond. To show that I understood his actions and intentions.
When in doubt, go to the classics.
I tapped out a quick email, and before I could second guess myself, hit send.
All the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
Layin' in the sun,
Talkin' 'bout the things
They woulda coulda shoulda done...
But those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
All ran away and hid
From one little Did.
- Shel Silverstein
I may be perceptive, but that will never trump the one little did.
B
After I hit send, I went back to read his email again. I had been so focused on the content that I hadn't paid attention to the digital signature. Finally, a chance to fill in some more blanks.
Edward Cullen
Vice President, Mergers and Acquisitions
Cullen, Inc.
Oh shit.
I thought back to the first time I saw him the coffee shop, he had looked familiar. I should have stuck with that gut feel.
I had been worried about out him being out of my league. Try out of my social strata. Forget that, try out of my world.
No way could a New York Cullen want little old Bella Swan.
I grabbed my phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons.
"Alice Brandon."
"Ali, it's me. Remember the texts last week about the pop tart? I need help."
Waiting - E
I was in a meeting where everyone talked, but no one said anything. I nodded strategically, and agreed appropriately, but I was not there.
Occasionally, I glanced at my phone hoping for a response. And there it was, "re: lapis." I couldn't top it, nor did I want to. This wasn't a contest to outdo each other. This was an exchange of souls. We could both win.
A Shel Silverstein poem. I must have read it ten times before I paid any attention to the electronic signature at the bottom of her email.
Bella Swan
Associate Editor
Little,Brown & Co
Though I'd known where she worked, I hadn't been aware of her actual job title. I wondered if she'd think I was trying too hard now, having quoted Shakespeare to an editor. I grinned and shook my head at myself.
Someone in the meeting room must have noticed when my demeanor changed. When the heavens aligned, and my heart sang.
My list grew longer . . . Simple. Wonderful. Forever. Beautiful. Brave. Perceptive. Smart.
I sent a quick text to Jane, my assistant asking her have a mocha with extra whipped cream and a shot of mint delivered to me. I was becoming addicted, and it wasn't to the coffee.
Hmmm – the mystery deepens, as do intentions. Do you think you know what's going on? You might be surprised….
And even more surprising…the next chapter is going to be 90% brand new stuff you have never seen before. How do we know that? Cause it's already written BB's, and it's good…All those questions that you have been asking….you might actually find a bit more out. Maybe.
Come over and play with us and the BATgirls on the thread at Twilighted - http://www (dot) /forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f=44&t=2516 – they tend to have some pretty good pick ups and insights into what is going on!
Heck, we might even have mint mochas and strawberry pop tarts!
Some special love to my partner in crime, hmonster4. Maybe you have a takechargeward kind of day!