Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or plot...I do however own a ton of psychology books and college homework. Think Stephenie Meyer will trade with me?

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I heard a song inside of me
It resonated off the sea
And all the chorus voices sang it back to me
If life is an ocean
Then I'm only on the surface

~On the Surface, Civil Twilight

Chapter 7- Invitations

"A wheelchair? I don't need a confounded wheelchair! God gave me two feet and I intend to use them."

Dr. Cullen shot me a pleading look, clearly unsure of how to convince Charlie the wheelchair was necessary. I shifted closer to Charlie, who was sitting up in his bed with his feet swung over the side, looking annoyed and exhausted all at once. Squeezing his shoulder gently, I used the most innocent, 'Daddy's little girl' voice I could muster.

"Please, Dad? It'll just be to the car."

Charlie's gruff face twisted in an attempt to resist, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Oh, all right then."

Two days ago, the doctors put Charlie's stints in. Now he was being cleared to go home, though he would be housebound for quite some time. No driving, no heavy lifting, and no work for him until the Doctor cleared it. This made for a ridiculously grumpy Charlie. He snapped and harrumphed cantankerously throughout our journey to the hospital lobby, although I could have sworn I saw him blush a little when a cute nurse named Sue said goodbye to him.

Must have been a trick of the mind. Charlie doesn't blush.

Reluctantly, he allowed me and Rose to help him into the car.

I hate driving with parents in the car…mine or anyone else's.

No matter how old you are, and no matter how long you've been driving, they act as if you're about to recklessly drive off a cliff any moment. Charlie kept glancing at my speedometer nervously, and I fought the need to remind him that I had never been in an accident and was thus quite obviously a very capable driver. Instead I kept my mouth shut as my father pointed out all the red lights and stop signs, and turns and other vehicles that I apparently was incapable of noticing without his assistance.

I tried to lead Charlie to the couch, but his slow, but desperate hobble took him right to the fridge. Upon opening the door, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at me. "Where's my beer? What is all this stuff?"

"You're on a diet, Charlie. Remember? No more beer, and no more microwave dinners with enough salt in them to choke a horse."

My father made a strangled noise, probably akin to the sound a child would make if you told them they were being cut off from sugary sweets. I swear he even stomped his foot, a feeble movement mind you, but enough that I realized he'd done it.

"Since when can't a grown man have a beer in his own damn house?"

My returning glare was hard and merciless. "When he's had a heart attack and forced his daughter to fly miles to see him while having a panic attack."

When in doubt play the guilt card. It's not always the most morally correct option…but it gets the job done.

With the sourest expression I had ever seen upon his face, Charlie aggressively consumed the salad I prepared for him. He practically spit nails at me when I offered him some sugar free Jello for dessert.

Change is hard, especially when it feels like it's been forced upon you. No grown up wants to accept the help of their child. It makes them feel like they've lost face. So I didn't push when he insisted he wanted to go upstairs by himself. I stood at the bottom, clenched my fists, and held my breath when he stumbled. When he got to the top he shot a triumphant smile over his shoulder.

I would have stayed longer, made sure he had everything he needed, but I think he would have killed me. I settled instead for making him swear about a thousand times that he would call me if he needed anything. Rose had to practically drag me out of the house and into the car.

As we made our way back to the house, this strange feeling began to unfold inside of me. First I felt the tingling of a desire, but it wasn't clear what for. Like the petals of a blooming flower, my mind opened up slowly, taking it's time showing me what it wanted. It wasn't until we pulled into the driveway, that I realized what it was.

"I want to go to the gym."

Wait. What?

The statement flew from my lips, and it sounded so strange coming out of me. Rose looked at me in surprise, and then broke out in a proud grin. She punched me on the shoulder lightly. "That's my girl! Only let's try not to injure ourselves on the machinery this time, okay?"

After changing into more comfortable, workout friendly clothes, we were on our way. Rosalie had an extra pair of headphones which she leant me, along with her iPod. I felt bad taking it, but she said she preferred to watch the television because it gave her a visual to look at. I didn't usually like Rose's taste in music, but I thought that the quick beats and energetic melodies of her songs would get me in a good 'workout zone.' Although all I really cared about was not falling on my ass again.

That sentiment was doubled when we walked into the gym, and the first thing I saw was Treadmill Guy. He was donning the red shirt and black pants that I recognized as the employee outfit. All desires to work out were replaced with a desire to flee the premises immediately, most likely with screaming involved. I froze in terror. Rosalie had to reach out and grab my wrist, lifting it up so that Alice could see the number on the membership card which I held in my fear-ridden fingers.

Alice gave me a look that said she thought I was two cans short of a six pack. At this moment, I was inclined to agree with her.

Hot Treadmill Guy hadn't noticed us. He was looking over papers and making notes while munching on a container of pasta. But then he looked up, gazing right at me, and smiled.

"Hey, you're the girl that took a not so graceful swan dive off the treadmill yesterday. How's your head?"

The tiny bit of logic that existed in my brain told me that the socially acceptable thing to do here was laugh at myself. I should have blushed and made some sort of witty comment like "My head is fine, ego is slightly bruised, but hey maybe I knocked some coordination into my brain."

But no… I was not capable of that sort of response. What came out of me was "Uhhhhhhhhhh?" That's right. I even framed my ineptitude in the form of a question.

Suddenly I was jerked away by Rosalie's merciful hands. If only she could reach directly into my brain and rewire things so that it bypassed the 'Let's make Bella look stupid' pathway.

The locker room was empty as Rose dragged me in behind her. She turned around and gazed at me with incredulity. "What the hell, Bella? You do realize that there is not an actual rule that states girls have to lose their shit around the male race, right?"

I laughed. "Isn't that slightly hypocritical, Rose? Weren't you the one that dragged us here yesterday so you could moon over Emmett? Wouldn't you categorize the breathy giggles and the flirtatious hair twirling as 'losing your shit'?"

I was answered with a dignified sniff. "No, no I would not. I can function around Emmett. You however, turn into a blubbering hormonal mess; big difference."

This was true. Honestly I had no clue how I was going to complete a workout if he was around. I sighed and leaned my head against the cool metal of the lockers. "He can't be here," I muttered, "why does he have to be here? Why does God hate me?"

Rose shrugged. "Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor by giving you some eye candy."

Running out of the gym now would make me look like a bigger ass than I did already. So I sucked it up, prayed to every deity known to man, and followed Rosalie out of the locker room.

The row of treadmills seemed to cackle at me forebodingly.

Let's stay away from the treadmills for a while.

I motioned to Rose and she followed me over to the elliptical machines, which looked much safer. Hefting myself upwards, I placed my feet firmly on the pedals. Gently placing the iPod into one of the side cups on the control panel, I attached the ear buds and clicked on a song. I had no clue what it was, but it was upbeat and full of electric guitars, so I figured it would suit my needs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I assessed the desk area by the front door, looking for Treadmill Guy. When I didn't see him, my heart kind of fell a little bit.

Wait, Bella, do you want him to be here or not?

Good question brain…I have no freaking clue.

I shook the thoughts away, intent upon doing this whole 'workout' thing right; or at least as right as I was capable of doing it.

At five minutes I was feeling great, going 3.0 miles per hour on the elliptical. I was slightly aggravated that the machine beeped at me every other minute to put my hands on the handles so it could check my heart rate. Still, I carried on.

The ten minute mark found my pace slowed to 2.8 mph and my breathing labored. I was gripping the handles of the machine like they were my life savers, and I was beginning to get a stitch in my side.

By fifteen minutes my chest felt like it was going to explode and my legs felt like they were on fire. I had slowed down to a measly 2.3 mph, and I was wheezing so loudly that the guy two ellipticals over from me kept staring at me in concern.

But I was not stopping. No, for once in my life I was going to see a task through. I was not going to give up and give in the minute things got difficult.

That's when I saw him…Treadmill Guy. He had traded his red shirt with the gym logo on it for a plain black t-shirt. Standing next to him, was a busty brunette working her arms with a set of dumbbells. Treadmill Guy appeared to be instructing her, focused on her stance and movements. Busty Brunette, couldn't have given a shit about her workout though, she was focused on his abs and crotch.

Hatred curdled in my toes, shot up through my stomach, and punched my heart on the way out of my throat in the form of a muffled growl. I didn't know that girl. I had no reason to want to grab those dumbbells and beat her perfectly curvaceous form into a bloody pulp with them. Yet that is exactly what I pictured myself doing.

I have no clue if I continued to move on the elliptical machine or not. My eyes were glued to Busty as she set the dumbbells down and began an exaggerated attempt at stretching, thrusting her chest outward in the direction of her prey.

Bella angry. Bella smash nasty Big Boobs.

Rosalie seemed to sense the hostility that was rolling off me in waves. She suggested that maybe we'd worked out enough for one day. I guessed she didn't want to have to explain to Emmett why her friend turned his gym into a homicide crime scene. Which was understandable… I guess.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, still glaring in the direction of Treadmill Guy as I went to get a paper towel dampened with cleaner to wipe down the machine. I petulantly stomped my way into the locker room, where I threw my belongings into my bag aggressively.

Rosalie sat down on the bench and looked at me like I was an alien life form.

"What…" she began.

"I don't know," I cut her off. "I just…I… ugh, I'm losing my freaking mind is what."

We gathered our things and headed out. Emmett was at the front desk with Alice, and I lingered by the front door while he exchanged words with Rosalie. The goo-goo eyes they were making at each other made me want to punch kittens; which was bad… because I loved kittens.

Rosalie was far too quiet on the drive home. She kept glancing over at me and giving me this little 'I know something you don't' smile.

Nice try…but I'm not biting.

I made a point of walking right into the house and to my room. Whatever Rose was up to, I wanted nothing to do with it.

Then again, realistically, when did I ever get what I wanted?

About two minutes passed before she was lingering in my doorway, fingering a little business card like it was a ruby or something.

"Don't you want to know what I've got here?" she fished.

"Not particularly," I grumbled, staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

"Oh…so you don't want to know his name?"

"Whose name?"

"Hot Treadmill Guy's."

Against my will, my eyes shot to Rosalie. Just like that she knew she had me; hook, line, and sinker. "Well… go on," I encouraged.

She smiled. "Edward Masen. He helps people learn how to use the machines at the gym, and on the side he works as a personal trainer." The card was expertly flung onto the edge of the bed, and I scurried over the sheets to get to it. Like the psycho that I apparently was, I traced my fingers over the neatly printed name.

Too bad he'd only ever be a name on a card to me.

"So…?"

Rose was looking at me expectantly. "So…what?" I answered.

"You should hire him."

The blood drained from my face, and I gaped at her like a fish out of water. "You're joking, right?"

"Fuck no. He can give you guidance, and motivation. Plus it's obvious you want to do nasty and possibly illegal things to him. Why waste an opportunity?"

"Maybe because there is no opportunity to waste? Like I'd delude myself for even a second into thinking I'd have a chance with a guy like that. Get real, Rose."

"I think that's a bullshit excuse, Bella. At the very least he can help you reach your goals faster."

I rolled my eyes. "I can use the machines perfectly fine on my own, thanks."

"I'm just saying you should think about it."

"Rosalie, if I can't even say hi to him, how the heck am I going to do a workout with him? I'm already out of my comfort zone as it is; I don't need the added pressure of a god-like male watching my blubber jiggle while I'm trying not to break my neck."

"He's a trainer, Bella; it's his job to help people get healthy. I'm sure he'd be able to be professional and objective and I don't think it's fair for you to assume you know what other people think about you. Maybe he's attracted to plus sized girls!"

"There's plus sized and then there's plus sized," I mumbled.

Rose let out an exasperated shriek. "Fine…you do what you want. All I'm saying is you moan and bitch about how detached you feel from the rest of the world, but you're the one shutting the doors and windows here. If you're waiting for someone to send you an invitation to your own life, you're going to be waiting for quite a while."

I hated it when she went all introspective on me. She left me to my own devices for the rest of the day, and I proceeded to sulk, attempting to convince myself that she was absurd and I was right. Yet discord swirled around in my stomach, gnawing at me with doubt. Eventually I couldn't stand the feeling that there was tension between us any longer.

"Rose?"

She was curled up on the couch with her book. The anger had still not quite ebbed away from her face. When she lifted her gaze to meet my own, I was shocked to see that there were tears swimming in her eyes.

Suddenly being right or wrong didn't matter anymore. Rose was my best friend, and nothing was worth making her upset. "I'm sorry," I murmured in regretful tones.

"I worry about you, Bella."

Horror struck me when I heard the unshed tears thickening her voice. "You're so unhappy all the time, and it hurts me Bella, to see you so miserable. I worry that you're going to get sick or something; that you're going to kill yourself with food. That scares the shit out of me…because you're the only one in my life who I can trust; the only one who gives a shit about me. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I want you to take this 'getting healthy' thing seriously. Do you understand? I love the fucking shit out of you, and I need you to be safe in body and mind, because I need you to be around until we're old and grey and half senile. Okay?"

Images of myself lying on a hospital bed, Rose's tear stained face hovering near my own, filled my head. In a moment of clarity that was rare for me, I realized that my unhealthy habits weren't just hurting me. I gingerly sat down next to Rose on the couch, staring at my lap as I tried to collect my thoughts. Finally, I took a deep breath, and looked her in the eyes.

"I understand. I promise that I'm going to try. I'm here, and I'm taking this seriously, and I'm not going to leave you. We will be senile old ladies together, hobbling around our retirement home and driving the staff crazy by tripping people with our canes and stuff. Got it?"

She gave me a watery smile as she leaned in to hug me. "Okay."

The sound of Rosalie's phone ringing ended our heartfelt embrace. She bounced up from the couch, more chipper than a chipmunk on the first day of spring. When she viewed the front of her phone, she released a squeal of glee that nearly shattered my eardrums, and raced off to her bedroom.

I heard a cacophony of giggling and flirtatious exchanges. It was obvious who she was talking to. To be honest, I was rather nervous that Rose had given Emmett her cell phone number when she barely knew him. Though I was sure he was a nice, non-stalker, it was the principle of the matter that bothered me. I guess Rose's parents had never sent her to stranger danger classes when she was younger.

When the sound of manifesting female hormones ceased, Rosalie reemerged, an ecstatic grin upon her face. "Want to go to a get together at Emmett's tomorrow night?"

"Um…?"

"It's not a huge thing. Just Emmett and his brother and sister…and Edward…ya know."

If I were a dog my ears would have been perked and my tail wagging frantically. "Treadmill G…I mean… Edward will be there?"

She smiled enticingly. "Uh-huh."

Oh, now I was confused. My brain was saying 'no, thank you' to the idea of being in a house with a bunch of strangers. However, my heart and eyeballs were saying that they were really cool with the idea of getting to view the prettiness that was Edward. It was two against one though, so the eyeballs and pumping traitor in my chest began to win me over.

"Okay," I said, uncertainty making my voice strained.

"Are you sure, Bella? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I sighed. "It's like you said…I need to stop waiting for invitations from the world, right?"

"Exactly!" Rose replied happily.

That night as I bridged the space between wakefulness and sleep, I told myself that tomorrow night would be an opportunity for me to work on being a new Bella; more confident, outgoing, and vivacious. I would try to be someone who was living life instead of hiding from it.

That is if current me didn't have a panic attack of death first.

Optimism is not my strong suit.

(AN)-I was going to post tomorrow...but Agrutle and Erica voted for tonight...and how could I say no? Also...you can find links to beautious banners for the story on my profile page, along with links to my twitter and fb. I feel kind of creepy posting that stuff. It's like I'm staring at you guys with a stalker smile and my head slightly cocked, going "Let's be friends". In any case I figured I'd put it out there. See you guys next week!