"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

- Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

17

Emmett's words stayed with me because he was right. He had given me something; he'd woken me up to what I was missing out on and denying myself out of fear. Sure I was sad and a little fucked up at the moment. But I hadn't always been that way. I still had potential. I hoped…

I needed Alice. I needed to realize that it was okay for us to talk about things that weren't related to death, dying, or missing Rose. If Alice and I stopped talking about everything else that was going on in our lives then I worried that we'd lose ourselves to this. If Emmett could give me that advice from where he was at right now, then I owed it to him to open up. Just because I needed to talk about Edward didn't mean I was forgetting Rose or that I was any less distraught over what had happened to her.

Alice was watching Friends re-runs on her bed when I arrived at their house. Jasper welcomed me in with a kiss on the cheek and directed me upstairs. He was busy with paperwork for the restaurant on the dining table. When I walked into their bedroom, I could tell she wasn't really watching the television, she was just looking at it. She smiled and hugged me as I lay down next to her.

"Can we talk like we used to about trivial, self-absorbed type things that aren't death?" I asked, watching Ross kissing Rachel.

"Please. Yes. Talk." She rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand.

"The past couple of days with Ben reminded me what I had thought fleetingly when we first lost Rose and then let myself forget. Watching him take those couple of steps to his mom reminded me that I should be seizing every opportunity as if it were the last, loving my family as if I couldn't love you guys another day more."

Thanks to Emmett I now saw that my defenses with Edward were contradictory to that idea.

"I thought this wasn't about death."

"That was just the introduction." I sighed with the weirdness of talking about something that used to be so normal. "I told Edward I couldn't do whatever it was that we were doing or going to do. He's been so nice and supportive and basically just perfect. He doesn't need to be burdened with a fuck-up like me."

"You know I'm going to say that you're not a fucking fuck-up."

"I felt like a fucking fuck-up. Maybe not so much anymore, but you have to admit what we've got going on here isn't exactly normal."

"What is normal? Everyone's got a fucked-up family member or two. The fucking unlucky of us also get to go through this cunty shit-storm that is loss and grief. What's not normal about that?"

"Your tongue's loosened up recently."

"I just figured what's the point of holding back from saying cunt if I fucking feel the urge. It'll pass."

I loved her when she was like this. Open and taking no prisoners. She was often the more patient and reasoned one of us, but her passion was a fantastic force.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. He hasn't exactly said outright that he wants more with me. He's been supportive and a friend, sure. I could be jumping to conclusions," I mused.

"I think Emmett's point was that you're not giving him a chance to show you that he wants more. You've jumped before you've let him give you any conclusions to jump to. Does that make sense? My brain/mouth connections aren't super these days."

"No, yeah. I get what you mean."

We were quiet for a bit. Alice was thinking and I was just existing next to her, trying not to think so much anymore.

"Live, Bella. For you. Not for the rest of us. You're always putting what you think everyone else needs before what you need because you feel like you owe us for being there for you or something. You don't owe us shit. We'll still be here with you no matter how selfless or selfish you are. Unless you go Renee selfish, then you're on you're fucking own." She laughed a little and meant it. We had to laugh at our mother to keep the resentment far away.

She brushed my hair from my face and stroked her hand against my head a couple of times like she used to when I was a little girl. It was always the most comforting feeling.

"Are you going to try again?" I asked quietly.

She looked at the duvet cover. She had moved her hand to toy with a fold of fabric between her fingers like Rose used to do unconsciously. She'd do it on your clothes if you were sitting next to her. I had always loved that about her. So simple and odd, but it was one of the tiny quirks that completed who she was.

"When my body's ready, yeah. We'll try again." She looked up at me then back to her hand. "Rose never gave up, so why should I?"