Chapter seventeen
I felt great after our shouty, tearful, cleansing sharing and discovery night.
I felt like we'd made some kind of progress, but then he hadn't called the next day like I foolishly expected him to do. I was very close to blowing up on him again, but what would I say?
You didn't call me?
Then two days after the retrieval of the regional ball, there was a hearing for the sentencing of Aro Vouch. Whether he would be found guilty or not was never really a question. Of course he was guilty. It was a matter of whether was he was found insane or not.
They ruled not—for which I was glad, obviously. But still. What kind of a sane person could do what he had done?
He ended up with back-to-back life sentences with no possibility of parole.
I thought it was good news, but as I was learning with Edward and the entire thing, nothing is ever black and white, or easy.
So, when I hadn't heard from Edward the Friday morning he was supposed to leave for Chicago, I went to his house, just to say goodbye and wish him a safe trip, and because I had to know exactly what kind of ground we were on now. Friendly? Hopeful? Frank? Same as ever? I'd spent so long not knowing so many things that I knew I had to step up if I didn't want to be the girl in the dark anymore. And I did not.
Esme let me in at the kitchen door with a tired smile and a warm hug.
"I don't know what the deal is with that ball," she said after our greeting, "but thank you for finding it. He was oddly thrilled about it."
"I was too," I said, stepping into the kitchen with her, where suitcases were loaded on the waxed floor and three cups of coffee in travel mugs were on the table.
"We've got about twenty minutes before we go," Esme said, rifling through the fridge, "but today is not a good day." Her eyes swung up to the second floor and I paused, my keys in my hand, wondering if that meant "leave him alone."
"What happened?" I asked cautiously.
"There are good days and bad days," she said, picking a grape from its stem. She rubbed it between her fingers and regarded it carefully before continuing. "But today. Vouch was sentenced yesterday, I'm sure you heard. What you didn't hear was Vouch's niece asking the court for mercy, and you didn't hear Vouch make a statement. An apology. To Edward."
"He did not," I breathed.
Esme's lips went to a straight, white line and she slammed the fridge door shut.
"I just don't know how many times that evil son of a bitch is going to hurt my son."
I had no answer to give because the terrible truth was that I just didn't know. I couldn't count all of the ways that Aro Vouch had hurt Edward, inside and out. I couldn't fathom the progression and the setbacks and the good days and the bad. I only knew both would come.
Edward came into the kitchen at that moment in socked feet, his damp hair neatly combed and a duffle bag over his shoulder, which he promptly dropped next to the other bags.
"Hey," he said, then sniffed once before pulling his ballcap from his back pocket. He pulled it down hard over his red, puffy eyes.
"Hi. I just wanted to say have a…be safe in Chicago," I said.
"Thanks," he replied curtly, wandering over to the cabinets and reaching for a glass.
"I've got last minute things to pack," Esme said. She touched his shoulder as she left, then mine when she swept past.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, his voice quiet with that plugged-up quality to it, the after-cry nasal and breathless thing.
"I'm okay," I said. "Are you?"
"Pffff," he said by way of reply. He gulped down the entire glass of water, then plunked it on the counter.
"Your mom said his, uh. Statement was to you."
"Statement." His chuckle was dry and without humor. "The guy tried to apologize, so I walked out. His niece, though. She asked for mercy. Mercy from the court," he said, and this time his laughter was almost genuine. "You know what?"
"What?"
"I asked him for mercy. I fucking begged," he said, a mean smile on his face. "I didn't get any."
"He won't either."
"It's weird to be the kind of person who like. Is okay with seeing someone else rot."
"He's not just any person," I hedged softly.
"That girl—the niece? I'd never met her when I was there. She had no idea any of this happened, but there she was, going on and on about how he was so great but just really sick and remorseful and wanted help-and I wanted to choke her. But then, at the same time…I almost felt bad for her. It's so—this whole thing? It's just so motherfucking difficult. Can you imagine wanting to choke someone and feel bad for them at the same time? I don't know what the hell to feel about that, so I feel everything. And that makes me…a…I-"
"What?" I whispered. "You're what?"
"I am a mood swinging bitch lately," he said. "I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm really fucking pissed and then sometimes, I'm all of it at the same time. And that—I even drive myself crazy with all that. I am the high maintenance, moody bitch that like, husbands complain about," he said with a small smile.
"You are not," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Yes, I am. And now I have to go smile at my grandma."
"You can text me if you want."
He put both hands on the counter then turned his head to look at me from under the brim of his hat. His height seemed overwhelming just then, I don't know why. Maybe it was the way he was staring, because all of him was going to say something that would cause hurt or hope.
"What are you doing here?" he asked calmly.
Point blank. Stark. Honest. Because he needed an honest answer.
"Being a friend? You've been talking to me and I just thought if you needed someone to talk to…I'd be there."
He picked up the glass and refilled it, taking another sip before walking over and handing it to me.
"The thing," he started, then closed his eyes, looking for the right words before starting over. "The thing is I don't know if I have lingering feelings for the past, or if they're starting all over in the present, or if they never even went away. I think it's all of it," he said, and I nearly dropped the glass of water. "The problem is none of this coincides with the rest of me. I am so…I go from day to day, not knowing how I'm going to feel from one minute to the next. You don't want to do that with me. Trust me."
"Don't tell me what I do and do not want, Edward."
"Fine," he snapped. "Look. It's been a rough couple of days. I'm not supposed to even be entertaining the idea of…you. It'd just add one more thing to be fucked over about. But you keep on being this idea anyway, so I'm fucked either way, right? So, screw it. Let's be honest. You and me could not be friends."
"Yes we could. I just want to sit next to you," I said with a shrug. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"No, we couldn't just be friends," he said with a dry laugh. "Not then, not now, not ever. In my head? I feel for you in ways that I can't even think about acting on. To feel this way inside but disgusted by feeling that way outwardly? That's really confusing and weird. And where does that leave you? Friendzoned? You can't do that, and I wouldn't ask you to. Hell, I wouldn't do that to me, either. Bella, you are the easiest person for me and at the same time, the most difficult. I want to be with you in all the ways I cannot be with you and sooner or later, you're going to need more and what if I'm not ready? Where does that leave me? Dumped? I can't deal with that. So being friends? Doing this? Is just going to make both of us crazy. I don't want to be your friend."
"Are you still in love with me?" I asked, and my heart was like, bouncing and my face was red and I was gaping at him, my eyes wide, slack lips dangling.
"That doesn't even matter," he laughed. "Did you not hear everything I just said?"
No.
I'd heard what he did not say.
"It matters to me."
"I've got to go," he said suddenly, and then tried to actually shuffle me to the door.
"I'll wait," I blurted out, just as he swung the door open. He had one hand resting on the doorjamb with me trapped under the arc he was making.
"What?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"I don't care how long. I'll wait. I don't care if it takes 'til we're sixty. I'm waiting. This is what you do. You wait for things like this because they only come along once. And me? I get to possibly have it twice. I'm not looking this gift horse in the mouth."
"I don't want you to wait," he said, kind of mean and definitely sneering. "He doesn't get to take one more fucking second from you. It's bad enough where I'm at. You're not waiting. You're going to school and then you're going to—I don't know what the hell you're doing. But you're not waiting. Not for this mess. Not for something that is never going to be a hundred percent."
"Yes. I am."
"Do you even hear yourself right now?" he asked, and he looked disgusted with me. His face was pinched, distaste and incredulity written all over it.
But if he loved me and I loved him…I could wait.
"Loud and clear."
"Get out."
"What?"
"You're not doing this. Not to yourself. and you're definitely not putting that kind of pressure on me. Get out."
"You lived through a lot, but keep in mind- so did I," I told him in my most reassuring tone. "You are underestimating me. It's a mistake."
"Go," he said, and I think he might have tried to shove me a little bit, with a nudge on the shoulder.
"You're going to push me out?" I asked. "I'm going. But remember something in Chicago."
"What?" he asked, not-too-curious but pretty annoyed-sounding.
"Gotta have faith, E."
I swear, I saw him smile before he slammed the door.
And I smiled once in my car.
Because this was just the way it was going to be. One step forward and five steps back. But. It was a possibility, after all. And for that, I smiled.
xxxxx
I watched a seamstress stick pins all over Rose's pink dress while she stared in the mirror.
"Is it too pink?" she asked for the seventh time.
"No. It's a pink dress," I shrugged.
"I know that. But is it too pink?"
"It's solid pink," I decided. "Why, is an all pink dress too much?" I asked, looking up from my phone, kind of still waiting on a text that never came.
"You don't get it," she huffed. "We need Jess."
"She's stalking that girl at the Pretzel Palace," I said.
"Oh my God."
"I'll find her," I sighed, tossing my phone back in my bag. Edward had left for Chicago and must've been back for at least a week, and I'd texted once, but he never responded. Which was fine. I said I could wait and I was going to prove it.
"And see if your dress is ready for pick up!" Rose called while I waved at her over my head.
I dug in my bag for the receipt for my freshly altered dress, figuring I'd scoop it up before trying to declaw Jess.
"Do you want to try it on?" the girl asked, holding my dress in a garment bag like it was filled with gold.
"No, I'm sure it's great," I said. I thanked her again and swung the bag over my shoulder.
It's not that I didn't want to go to prom, it's that I wasn't giddy about it.
It just wasn't how I'd thought it'd be.
And that was okay...because every day was different now, and I was happy, mostly. Having fun, even. But I don't know. Prom was one of those days...like birthdays and first kiss anniversaries: it just sticks out. Now, it would be a reminder that something terrible had happened, not that I was ever able to forget it.
With a deep sigh, I veered left and went out to the parking lot to deposit my dress in the car so I didn't have to drag it all over the stupid mall.
"Hey!" I heard a shout when I was halfway to the car. I looked up to see Emmett hanging half way out of his jeep like a fool, the bass from his radio way too loud. Edward was in the passenger seat leaning forward, both laughing at me.
"Swan is getting ready for prom," Emmett said in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.
"Shut up. You're wearing a turquoise cummerbund," I said, shifting the dress to my other shoulder.
"The hell I am," Emmett said, turning the radio down.
"There's a blonde inside who's pretty sure you are," I grinned, nodding toward the mall.
"Are you serious right now?"
"That or purple."
"Keep an eye on this," Emmett said to Edward, then he sprung from the running car and bounded toward the mall, shouting over his shoulder, "Pull it around back, I'll meet you!" Edward watched Emmett take off and I rolled my eyes and got into the driver's seat.
"You're back," I said, putting the jeep in gear. "How was it?"
"Good," he said.
"Good?"
"Yeah. Good. It was good to be just…a face in the crowd or whatever. Out was good, anyway. But the actual grandparents and parents thing. You know. They looked at me like I was a cuddly time-bomb the whole time."
"Gross."
"It is what it is," he said, then looked out the window, thus sealing a weird tension—my loud and dumb declaration from days ago lingering in space between.
"Listen, about right before you left-"
"We need to talk-"
We both started and stopped at the same time, then we were silent until I pulled into the alley where we both got out of the car.
Maybe just to breathe with space.
I was awkward and Edward cracked his gum, pacing back and forth while I leaned against the jeep.
"I want you to go to therapy," he finally said, hands in his hair, looking straight at me.
"What?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. Of all the things I expected, that wasn't it. "I'm fine. I'm-"
"You're not fine. Even if you think you are, or you are now, it's coming. Trust me."
"I'm seriously fine," I insisted.
"You're not, but I also know you're not going to admit that. So. I need you to go. If for no other reason, go so you can learn how to deal with me. I am not an easy person anymore, Bella. Go because sometimes, I'm going to tell you to get the hell away from me and I'm going to really fucking mean it and I can't be worried that I hurt your feelings. When I don't want to touch you or look at you, you'll need to know what to do and how to feel about that and understand it's got nothing to do with you. And when you are so ready for things that I am not, how are we both supposed to be okay with that? I know you can say you know all that, but you don't. I can be really fucking mean sometimes, or really fucking sad sometimes, or restless, or-"
"Edward. I can handle that. I know that. And as far as being ready…I won't be until you are. Do you see that? If you're not ready, it means I'm not ready for you, either. All that aside…are you saying you want to like…try this?" He shuffled his feet but never took his eyes off me. I could feel the force of his gaze go into me and around me and through me. He opened his mouth and blew out a stream of breath before responding.
"Bell, I need you to go to therapy because I can't afford for this to start with us and then not work out. I won't be able to deal if you can't. That is a shit-ton of pressure to put on you, and I know I'm an asshole for doing it and I know you'll resent me for tying you to this, but," he laughed, this near-hysterical but steady thing, "I'm just being honest. I have absolutely no business even having this conversation, but I can't help it. I know it, I know this is so unfair to you to even think of going there, but you're stubborn and don't stop anyway, so screw it," he said. With a laugh, he continued his rushed speech, and I knew him enough, I knew him. I knew that this talk, his confronting me had been mulled over and practiced many, many times. "You've got to go to therapy. We don't have the luxury of being carefree or whatever we were before. I can't do anything without major thinking and waiting and patience. If you want to be young and seventeen and can't live like that, that's totally fair. You can and should walk now. Because if that's how you want to do this, all freewheeling and carefree, we can't do this at all."
"I'll go see a therapist if you want me to go see a therapist," I said, palms in the air. Didn't he know I'd do anything for him?
"This is going to be a disaster," he said, resuming his pacing. "You're going to hate me for this. If it goes bad, Bella…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Do you know I'm not supposed to have like, any type of emotional dependency on anyone right now? This is so off limits to me right now. Any textbook, any doctor would say this has fucking catastrophe written all over it. For both of us. If we start this before we're ready—we could ruin any future possibility. You know that, right?"
"Okay. Fine. Maybe it's naïve and stupid and we're both way in over our heads," I said. "Do you want me to walk away from you right now?"
"In some ways, yes," he said.
"What about the selfish ways?"
"No."
"Well, then. Why can't we just do this? Just be near and know that possibly some day we might-"
"It's not that simple! I can't just drag you along and make flighty decisions!" he said, exasperated, his hands flopping in the air. "This isn't 'you like me and I like you so yay, let's go make out under the bleachers.' I have got to think long-term and carefully. If this goes bad, I cannot…handle the fallout. Not on top of everything else. And I'm going to hurt you. It's inevitable."
"I'll be prepared."
"You're acting like a masochist and you're blowing me off. Please. Think about this. For both of our sakes."
"I can't beg you to do this, Edward. All I can do is wait for you, and I will. I know it will be rough beyond what I can imagine. All I can do is deal with things when they happen."
"And what if you can't? What if you start to resent me for it, or if you just get tired of my bullshit?"
"Oh. You mean like right now?" I asked with a tight smile. "Look. I loved you when I was fourteen before you even knew I existed. I loved you when you were a boy in tights. I loved you when I thought there was a very real chance that I'd never see you again. If I could ever, ever let go of you, it would've been when I thought I'd lost you forever. I don't have a crystal ball. I can't show you the future and, Edward, I can't prove things that haven't even happened yet. So, if you're not ready, then you're not. That's okay. I'll wait. I can have the patience and the confidence for both of us."
"And I'm what? The fucked-up kid who asked you to do that? Don't you see how that will just breed resentment in you? In me?"
"You want me to argue you out of this," I said. "I'm not going to do that. This terrible, undeniable nightmare happened. We cannot change that. But where is it written that we automatically don't have a chance just because it happened?" I asked.
"It's not! I just-I don't-" He flinched and stuttered over his words, shoulders rising to his ears, his frustration growing, heating before completely deflating. He turned to me, the opposition and fight gone from his eyes, his hands resting on the top of his head. "I'm a nervous wreck and I just want to know it's okay to want this."
"Edward. Either way, it's okay," I said. "I should never have put pressure on you before you left."
"It was there before," he said. "I did it to myself. I'm in the middle of all this bullshit and somehow, even though it should be the furthest thing from my mind, I cannot stay away from you. Not my mind, anyway," he said, then gave me a half smile. "I didn't mean to yell at you."
"Yeah, well, I meant my yelling, and I stand by it," I shrugged with a smile.
"I'm just worried. For both of us."
"Seriously. If it's too much for you to take on right now, that's okay."
"It's not even about taking it on," he sighed. "It's there no matter what. Like everything else, I have to deal with it."
"Aw, thanks," I said.
"There are worse things to deal with," he smiled, rolling his eyes.
I opened the jeep door and sat, legs dangling. I leaned my head against the steering wheel, watching him when he turned to watch me.
We kind of just stared at each other, at some kind of weird stalemate but at the same time, on the same team. Thing were calm. Words had run out, and when I went over them, there hadn't been an argument at all. Just an unsure guy and an over-eager girl, both trying to arrive at the same place.
I would learn quickly that this is how things went with him. Explosive, insecure spats and outbursts before he was ready to breathe, to talk like it never happened at all only to repeat it again next time it got to him.
I let my body relax and the adrenaline drain; I was learning and willing to follow him to his dark places and be quiet with him in the calm recesses and wait for the light. I knew it would always return. That is what we were going to do, to learn and lead and follow together. Because when you love someone…it's just what you do.
He looked from my eyes to my lips, then back again. I watched the heavy ebb and flow of him, his moods adrift for I don't know how long.
"You look pretty," he finally said. He jerked his chin in my direction. Immediately, my cheeks burned red.
"No, I don't, I'm a gross mess," I said, turning my eyes away. "And I think my prom dress is a size too small. You know how I'm a depression eater. See this new chin?" I asked, pointing.
"Nah. You'll look beautiful. I know it."
"Right. Thank you."
"So, prom, huh?" he asked. "That time already?"
"It'll be weird. Jess thought for sure you'd be prom king, come to think of it...since freshman year, I think everyone figured that."
"Prom king," he said, shaking his head. "Most days, I feel like an old man."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Just...old. Or, I don't know. I'm the only eighteen-year old in AA. By the time I'm legal, I'll have three years sobriety under my belt," he said. "It's so fucked that it's funny."
"Well, I pulled short straw for DD on prom anyway, so, I feel ya," I said.
"Sucks for you."
"Right? Of all the people that shouldn't be sober at prom, I think I win."
"Nah, you'll be good. You'll be great."
"Edward. I will not and you know that. I haven't turned into a miraculous dancer over time."
"You always did fine."
"I always had you to lead." He gave me a half smile and sighed.
"Who's taking you? I know you're friends with that kid still. Is he-?"
"Who, Jake? No, his girlfriend probably wouldn't like that. I'm just... we're all going in a big group. I'm not really looking forward to it. It's just not what I thought it would be. But I'm getting used to things not going as planned."
"No shit. What did you think it would be?" he asked, raising his brows.
"Come on," I said, flatly.
"What?"
"You and me, dummy."
"You thought about that?" he asked, amusement and something else lighting his face.
"Well. Yeah. I'm a girl, okay?" I said defensively.
"I remember that part," he said, clearing his throat. "I mean...you thought about us going to prom? Two years before prom?" he asked.
"Are you making fun of me?" I asked, my arms crossing over my chest.
"Yes."
"Well, nice of you to bruise my ego. I'll be over here, licking my wounds," I said, but I couldn't keep the smile from my face, so I turned, letting my forehead rest on the steering wheel, peeking at him from the corner of my eye.
"Oh, stop," he said, rolling his eyes.
"You stop."
"Come here."
"Why?" I asked, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that we were flirting. "Because. Come here," he said again, pointing at the ground in front of him.
"You come here," I said, re-crossing my arms, sitting back in the seat.
"Do I have to chase you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You run like a newborn giraffe with broken legs. Do you really want to do that?"
"I'm no longer speaking with you," I said, tilting my chin away from him, but I was smiling so true and wide anyone could see it was a lie.
He laughed and worked his gum, staring at me before rolling his eyes and walking over to me.
"What?" I whispered looking up, then down, at the hand he was holding out to me.
"What?" I asked again, my breathing too shallow, my mouth gone dry. I took his hand, one of us was shaking. I stepped out of the car and he took his upper lip in his mouth, then his other hand was on my back, a feather light touch that ignited something from long ago inside of me.
"Prom," he whispered, then put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's not give him prom, too."
"We're dancing?" I asked.
"I'm dancing. You're hanging on and stumbling. It's just like old times."
I wanted to reply, to laugh or insult him back, but nothing would come out of my suddenly swollen throat and then, to ruin it all, I started to cry.
"Shhh," he said, but there was a small smile on his lips and while I tried to maintain distance between us, I hadn't been so close to love in so long, it made me a thousand things all over. Sad and elated and scared and eager and sure but crazy.
"Okay," I sniffed, my face crumpling, my body hurriedly twisting from his too light grasp. "Let go. Let go."
His hands were off of me in an instant and I covered my face in my own hands, crying into them.
"Bella?"
"I miss you too much," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "I miss you so much."
I blinked and his hand shot out, grabbing my forearm and jerking me to him and then I was enveloped in the safe and warm and only that I had missed for so, so long.
I cried hot with relief, with the warmth rushing back to that spot in my chest that had been cold and empty for so long. He held tighter and thank God, because he was the only one, the only way to fix it.
My arms were crossed over my heart, crushed so sweet and tight between us. He held on tighter, his breath steady on my neck and then he held closer, his forehead pressing to my shoulder so he arced and bowed over me, all of me, putting me where I needed to be. I breathed it all in, finally in the only spot I'd wanted to be in for so, so long.
"It's going to be okay now, Bell. I'm home."
I wriggled my fingers, warm and shaking between us and grasped onto his shirt, my eyes closed, all of me tucked into him and I knew it would work. I wouldn't have to convince him of that because he'd see it for himself.
"This is how I know it will be okay," I whispered.
I felt his hand wrap around the back of my neck and then lower, pressed between my shoulders, his palm splayed and spanning, holding me closer to him, his other arm firmly around my waist, holding me close and home for I don't know how long.
He said nothing, but stepped back half a step and started to move to a rhythm, something slow that only he knew but it didn't matter, because he led me along. And I think that that is how we would muddle through. One of us will lead when the other just doesn't know how.
It was not the prom I'd imagined since middle school.
In a lot of ways, it was tragic, but in terrible, morbid ways…it was better. The truth is, I couldn't have it the other way, and that was okay.
Constantly dwelling on the past or what you don't have or trying to go back?
That's pointless. Fruitless, even.
But forward?
You can always, always go forward.
Hello! Busy weekend. Good to seeya. I hope to hit up all of the reviews that gathered over the weekend. I promise, I read every single one. Thank you! We're uhh rounding third here, and not in the copping a feel sense. See you guys tomorrow!