. . . . .
I lugged the bag of flour to my first, second and third classes. Edward hadn't picked me up and it seemed that he was skipping out on school, too. He usually told me when he planned to do that, and it irked me that he hadn't shown up after our weird fight-like discussion last night. I wanted to make it right, but I didn't know how. It was just too awkward. What else could I say? I had chosen him, had chosen this life with him, and everything that came along with that decision. If I couldn't have both him and a baby, I knew which one I wanted.
And it wasn't a ten-pound bundle that hurt my shoulders and weighed me down. I stared down at the hefty blob in my arms and sighed. This was going to be a long three weeks.
. . . . .
Jessica plunked down next to me at lunch, her flour sack baby strapped to her chest in a pink and chocolate brown Baby Bjorn. "Isn't this fun?" She giggled and poked at my flour baby, which was balanced on my lap.
"That's a word for it," I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Bella! Don't be a spoil-sport. Isn't this fun?" She squealed again and squirmed in her chair, as if being loud and overly-enthusiastic would change my mind.
"Yeah. Loads of fun." I shook my head and shifted the heavy bag because my legs were falling asleep. I sighed loudly. "Actually, it's kind of heavy and annoying."
She just looked at me, her eyebrows raised.
"I guess I'm just not that into it. I have so much on my plate, this isn't really good timing. Or something." I shrugged and put a bite of bagel into my mouth.
"So, are you a single parent?" Jessica looked around. I knew she was looking for Edward.
"No, Edward's the other half of… this," I waved my hand around, motioning to the bag on my lap. "I'm just not sure where he disappeared to today."
"Probably skipped town. You know how men are," Lauren snickered and plopped into the chair across the table from me. Then she looked up suddenly as the Cullens came through the door.
"Speak of the devil…" She scraped her chair back and picked up her tray. "I think I'll go sit over by Tyler. He might want help with Tyler Junior."
Edward, Jasper and Alice took her place, but the awkward atmosphere remained. Edward was sullen, Jasper wouldn't make eye contact with me and Alice looked concerned. Actually, she looked like she wanted to cry; her eyes nervously darting between Edward, me and Jasper. But she faked a smile and asked me if she could hold our 'baby.'
"Masen, meet your Auntie Alice," I handed it across the table with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. She giggled and reached for the heavy bag, taking it easily from my hands.
"Masen? That's cute! Maybe someday you'll… Oh." She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Edward.
His eyes shot up and glared into hers. Then he was gone, the door to the cafeteria slamming behind him. I hoped no one had seen him leave—his exit had been much too fast. Alice looked wide-eyed at Jasper, who glanced at me and then back to Alice. I just bit my lip and looked down at my tray. I wasn't hungry anymore.
. . . . .
Edward skipped our afternoon classes, too. But he was waiting for me outside by my truck after eighth period. I stopped on the steps of the school and stared at him. I contemplated turning back around and hiding out in the library, but I knew he'd outwait me. So I took a deep breath and shifted Masen on my hip before starting toward him, moving slower than the rest of our classmates, who were climbing into cars and onto bikes, making fast exits from school grounds.
I shoved my left hand into my pocket and fidgeted with the weight in my other arm. "I missed you this afternoon."
He didn't look up at me, just nodded soberly. "I came to take the project off of your hands. It's my turn."
I hefted it over to him and rubbed my upper arms after he'd taken it. It was heavy to start with, and seemed to gain a pound every hour. As sore as they were, I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but he didn't look like he was in any mood for hugging.
"Listen, Edward, I don't want this to be a fight. I just…"
"No. It's not a fight." He stepped forward and spoke into my eyes, intently. "I'd never fight with you. I just want you to weigh all of your options, to really think about this before you make a decision. You know I don't agree with what you want. This is just another thing that makes me doubt my ability to say no to you when it really matters. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to stand up for what's really right for you."
My anger blazed. "You know, Edward, I'm getting really sick of you telling me what's right for me. I know what's right for me. You are right for me. You might be really, really old, but you're not my dad. So stop acting like it!" I stamped my foot, half expecting Edward to laugh at my childish display. He didn't.
He just looked at me, his eyes empty. "I need some time, Bella."
"Time?" The word squeaked out of me and I couldn't breathe.
He was going to leave me again. I couldn't face that reality. I started to hyperventilate. "How much… time? What kind of time?"
"I don't know. But you need some time, too. Time to think. We both do." He was so quiet, I could barely hear him.
"So, we're taking a break. Over a bag of flour." I was incredulous, and my anger was overtaking my fear.
"It's not just a bag of flour, Bella. Don't you understand?" Edward spit the words through his teeth, his jaw clenched. His anger backed me up and I bumped into my truck, breathing heavily. "It's your future. Your destiny. Who you are versus who you want to be. Who you should be. I can't turn you until I'm sure you really understand what you're giving up to be with me."
I grabbed back the duct-taped bag in a fit of anger and flailed wildly, struggling to get into my truck. Edward reached for me and I turned on him.
"Just leave then! It's what you do best, anyway. Go away and give me time to think, if that's what you think I need. I'll think! Think about why I love you and why the hell I put up with you. Go! And… and leave the lecturing to Charlie. I'm sure he'll lay it on thick when he realizes you've left me again and he was right all along." I yelled, borderline hysterically, glad the parking lot was empty. I flung open the truck door, crawled onto the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me, locking it.
I heard Edward's car start up and peel out of the parking lot. In a rage, I grabbed the pen on my dashboard and attacked the flour sack, stabbing it over and over until flour spilled out and poured onto the seat, the floor, puffed into the air and covered me and the entire inside of my truck in fine white powder. I kept slashing at the bag with one hand, punching at it with the other, screaming in anger, my feet kicking at the floor and underside of the dashboard. How dare he treat me like a child? How dare he question my love for him, question whether or not we were meant to be because of a stupid school project? A stupid school project that brought up the one thing he couldn't give me.
I hiccuped and wiped the hot tears away from my face with a flour-smeared arm. My face was sticky—my tears and the flour had created a paste, and now it was everywhere. I felt stupid, and flour clung to my nose and mouth and throat. It choked me, and that made me cry harder. I slumped down into the seat, weeping angrily.
. . . . .
That's where Jacob found me. His light tapping on my window startled me, and at first I thought it was Edward, coming back to apologize. I was half-disappointed to see Jacob's face and half-glad it wasn't Edward's peering at me through the flour-dusted window.
I gulped and unlocked the door without moving from my balled-up position. He opened the door and stepped back.
"What the hell, Swan?" He started to laugh but stopped short when he saw my face, his smile disappearing. "Are you crying?"
I sniffed, but inhaled more flour and it made me choke. Jake reached into the truck and pulled me out. I couldn't meet his eyes. I knew I was a mess. Everything was a mess.
His hands dusted off my shoulders and back, and he blew into my hair. A fine white powder surrounded me and I sneezed. Jake's kind smile sparkled in the parking lot lights, and his hands paused on my arms. "What's going on, Bells?"
I started to cry again and nestled into his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around me and swayed us slowly back and forth.
When I finally backed away from him, I started giggling in spite of myself. His black tee-shirt was so smeared with clumps of wet flour and swirls of powder that it looked tie-dyed. Jake looked down and then looked at me, and a grin spread across his face.
"You're laughing at my shirt? You should see your whole self!" A throaty chuckle rose from his chest. "Let's get you home and cleaned up."
He opened the passenger door and tried to brush out some of the flour to little avail. He gave up and held the door for me, then shut it behind me and crawled into the driver's seat, took my hand and drove me home.
. . . . .