Playlist: Far Behind by Candlebox, Black by Pearl Jam
Chapter 12
2008
"I never meant to—I wish I would have explained so many things to you then. About my family. About me. And my past. I was just a stupid kid. I didn't know that—"
"Everyone's stupid when they're a teenager, Edward. But what you did was the most horrendous—it was . . . it incapacitated me for months. If it wasn't for Alice, I don't know if—"
"I wish I'd known," he says, head down.
Is he kidding me?
"Maybe if you had picked up the phone one damn time you would have known."
He props his elbows on the table, hands clenching his hair. He looks up suddenly, eyes hard. "I'm so angry. I want to slap that kid so hard. I want to kick his ass and beat him to a bloody pulp for what he did, but I can't. So, instead, I'm here, pleading for him. Trying to make amends."
"This third person garbage is ridiculous. Beat your own damn self up, because you did this. Not some punk kid we both knew once. It was you."
"I know. I—dammit, I'm not saying any of this right."
"You didn't even—you didn't use a condom or anything. What if I had been pregnant?"
His eyes go wide. "Oh, no. Bella, no. I knew you were on birth control. I would never have . . . I have some scruple—"
A maniacal laugh escapes me. It's vicious and continues until I'm hyperventilating, trying desperately to catch my breath, but I can't because tears are swamping my system, choking me.
He reaches out his hand, placing it on my arm, but I yank it back, feeling burned.
"Don't you dare touch me."
1997
Unable to sleep a wink, I run some errands.
I'm at the grocery store, picking up a few things for the upcoming week. I know we need some fruit, and Dad's out of the cereal he likes. My pager goes off. It's Alice with a nine-one-one, which means there's a Jasper emergency. Or a hair emergency. Or an oh-my-gosh-my-dad's-so-embarrassing emergency. I don't think there are payphones around the market, so I ignore her page. I'll be over there later anyway. We can talk then.
I don't bother calling when I get home, though she's paged me again. Instead, I pack a bag for the rest of the day and head straight to her house. I know I'll have to spend some time talking to Alice–we made a deal to balance out our love lives with our friendship—but I truly just want to see Edward again and spend as much time with him as possible.
I open the door, and Alice's eyes are on mine immediately. The phone's in her hand, and she holds it out, frozen. "I've been trying to get a hold of you."
"I know. I came as soon as I could. What's going on?"
"Bella." My name is so small, like a spec of dust floating in the light. You shouldn't even know it's there, but you do.
"Alice, is he . . ." Panic floods my brain while tears start to fall. Is he okay? Where is he? Did he get run off the road, too? Not Edward.
She jumps from her seat and holds me tight, crying against my shoulder while I do the same to her. Though I have no idea what I'm crying about. I only know this is serious.
Esme's voice rises above our sobs. "I'm so sorry, honey. I did everything I could."
I pull away from Alice and wipe the snot from my nose.
"What happened?" I ask.
"He just left."
My stomach drops, my shoulders are pressed down with the weight of her words, and I'm dizzy. So dizzy, but I'm moving, stumbling down the hall, using the wall for support. I bang open his door: the crack of the drywall from the doorknob smashing into it is satisfying somehow. It's a reflection of how I feel: splintered, opened, forced into a state of irreparable damage.
His room is a mess as though he's been burgled, but I know that hasn't happened. The sheets are a tangled mass on the bed, though that may just be from our escapades last night.
The floor is strewn with CDs and cases, some cracked, some broken completely. His football cleats lie in the middle of the room, abandoned and left for good, like me. Like my heart, which beats only because it can't comprehend the gravity of what's happened to it.
"When did he go?" I croak, unsure if Alice and Esme can hear me.
"Right after he dropped you off. There was just no keeping him here." Esme's words hit hard, and I wonder if my heart stops beating altogether now that it knows the truth. My hand rubs over it, like I can massage it back to life. But I don't think I can.
I walk into his room, stepping around the landmines he left behind, memories of our life together. I sit on the bed, my hands in my lap, staring at my motionless fingers.
"Alice, let's give her a minute." The door is pulled closed, and I'm alone.
Really alone.
No Esme.
No Alice.
No Edward.
No love.
None.