"If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?"

Jodi Picoult, "My Sister's Keeper

15

It scared me how time passed when you were terrified that you would miss something. We were fast coming up to two months when Alice and I finally went together to Jasper's restaurant one evening. He was going to play a set on his guitar and suggested we come and have some food. Alice and I hadn't been there for dinner since before Rose's death. It was our local, the three of us often meeting there once a week. It felt surprisingly okay being there again. It was one of those things Rose would have been angry with us for changing.

Something that had come out of learning more about Edward was the trivia that he and Jasper were old friends. Their parents were close, and the boys had gotten to know each other better when Carlisle transferred to a hospital in Texas for two years. Edward attended the same high school, and despite Jasper being a few years older, they had managed to keep in contact when Jasper moved to Washington for college. They had reconnected when Edward moved to Seattle after finishing medical school.

Jasper knew Edward and I had met for coffee and talked a little. He didn't pry or offer any advice though, to either of us. He was never one to interfere unless the situation required it. Not many would bite their tongue against a warning or suggestion regarding how to handle a grieving sister-in-law, but Jasper did. I think it was also because Edward hadn't mixed his involvement in that night with his rekindled friendship with Jasper. I suppose it tied him to us a little more than his regular patients, but he was honest enough to say that the friendship had played no part in his contacting me.

It turned out that not only was Edward well on the way to being a successful doctor, he was also a genius with an acoustic guitar. Alice and I sat there fairly spellbound by him and Jasper, as we got our fingers messy with Grandma Hale's old-fashioned chicken wings. We shared a few bittersweet glances, wishing the empty space in the booth was filled, but knowing that Rose would scold our distraction. Get over it and enjoy listening to the nice boys making music.

Jasper left his restaurant partner, James, to close up that night so he could take Alice home. Edward asked if he could join me for a nightcap. He took my sister's place in the booth, the conversation flowing comfortably right away. It was refreshing, because so many people still treated me like there was something wrong with me. Like I might snap or break down if they said the wrong thing. I read about your sister in the paper. You must be so fragile. Will you start crying if I hug you like I usually do? I wondered if you could see her death on me. Did it have visibility on my surface in the way that I felt it underneath my skin?

As the night wore on and a bottle of wine disappeared, it hit me. I really liked this man, and I couldn't. I shouldn't. I didn't want to. I wasn't a "lucky" person anymore. I wasn't strong enough for this. I would hurt him or he wouldn't be able to cope with me and my messed up family. The idea of getting attached or losing someone again scared me.

He paid the bill and helped me into my coat, holding the door for me as we moved out into the street.

"Let me drop you home," he said, not a question. He knew it was only a couple of blocks to the suburb where all three of my family's homes were, but no responsible man left a girl to walk home in the dark. He was too good. He had his guitar case in one hand, the other in the pocket of his grey peacoat. I could see a glimpse of chest at the top of his navy button-down shirt. I squeezed my eyes closed then dropped my head to look at the pavement. Fix this, Bella.

I accepted his offer, and he held open the door of his black Audi wagon for me. I wanted to talk to him as we drove. To carry on the conversation from the restaurant about learning to play guitar as a break from his medical books. I wanted to know more. I wanted him to know me more. But it wasn't fair to him. I couldn't be what he needed. What he deserved.

I directed him to Emmett's driveway and found my tongue.

"Edward, thank you for all that you've done, your kindness toward my family, and your support of me," I said softly.

There was a beat of silence, and I knew he could tell something had shifted for me.

"But?" he questioned, perceptive enough to read that I was internally fighting with what I needed to say.

"But, I…I can't do this."

He was so good with finding the right words at the right time, I almost expected him to refute me. He simply sighed, and the sound of it managed to convey that he didn't believe what I had said. He didn't say so, though. Instead he shifted toward me, lifted my chin with a finger, kissed my cheek, and pulled back to let me leave.

I cried myself to sleep that night, and for the first time, it wasn't just for Rose or Alice. I told myself I was doing the right thing, that it would either end like my parents or it'd end like Rose. One or the other of us would get hurt, leave, or die. It was a pessimistic notion; I at least had the sense to know that. But it was hard for me to look at the world with rose-colored glasses. What right did I have to burden that busy, talented, happy man with me?

My angst and anxiety carried through to sleep, and I had the dream that had recently started haunting me if I'd had a particularly emotional day. In it I was following after Alice, trying to call out to her and get her to listen to me, and I'm so close to reaching her but I have no control. That's when she disappears. All that's left is a big, black box that I can't get in to.