Playlist: Come on Get Higher by Matt Nathanson, Look What You've Done by Jet
Chapter 13
2008
I gather my things and force him out of the booth. I head for the exit, but Edward's on my heels. Once I'm outside, the air clearing my head slightly, I choke out, "I'm done."
"I'm not. I'm sorry this is upsetting, but I came here with a purpose."
"I don't give a shit about your purpose!" I scream, rounding on him. I slam his chest with my palm, making him stumble. "You don't have any idea what you did. No clue. Because you left. No word. No letter. No phone call. No response. Nothing. And you expect me to sit here and listen to your lame-ass apology. I'm. Not. Going. To." I punctuate each word with a slam to his chest.
"I came back that day," he says, eyes on mine, but I can't see anything except the collar of his shirt just above my hand. "I saw you. On the overpass. And I knew I'd done the right thing."
"You saw me? And you just walked away?"
"I had to. You were too invested already. I couldn't stay anymore. You told me you loved me."
I grip the collar of his shirt, my fist pressing against his chest. "I did love you."
"I loved you, too." His words are clear, controlled. And what I'd wanted to hear for more than a decade. I stumble toward him, a tiny step. Almost nothing. But it is something.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"There are so many reasons. I can't stop thinking about you. I try to distract myself, but nothing works. Not years of school. Not a career. Not relationships. Nothing. And I get so flustered, so livid when I think about what I did, how I left you heartbroken. Alone."
Alone.
I stare at the asphalt by our feet, listening to his words.
"I missed you every day. For years. I thought once you married, I'd get over it. I'd feel okay because you'd moved on. But then Alice called . . ."
I slide my eyes up his body, but I still can't look him in the eye. It'll hurt. I know it will.
"She told me. How you left him there at the altar. And the only thing you said to her when she found you in the bride's suite was, 'why'd he leave me?.' And I knew. You were just like me. You were still in love."
I loosen my fingers and slide them down his chest, letting them fall to my side. I lock eyes with him finally, though I can barely see through my tears. "I can't do this," I say and turn away, this time leaving him.
"Bella, please."
A second time.
Three times.
A fourth.
I pause at my car before getting in, not sure what I want to do.
"I'll be on the overpass. If you want to talk. Or anything," he says.
And then I drive away.
1997
The room is quiet. Where once music blared and laughter reigned, there is stillness. Around me I'm haunted by all that remains of Edward–his discarded personal effects. I haven't moved since sitting on his bed, but my eyes wander. The CDs he left were not important to him. Hacks, posers, he'd call them. His football gear is out, like he meant to pack it but realized he didn't need it anymore. He's done with his football career. And he's done with me. I'm left here to fester in this mess, to be forgotten.
Why does everyone leave me? Forget me? What is so wrong with me that no one wants to stay?
His walls are still covered in band posters, the latest musicians he'd fawned over. Rage Against the Machine is ripped down the middle. I walk to it, my feet catching on the debris beneath me. I run my hand up the poster, righting it. The corner is completely missing. I was tacked to that corner—a photo Alice took and Edward stole.
And I am gone. Did he take me with him? Or throw me away? I don't know which is worse. My stomach clenches, reality smashing through my body.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
I tear through the house, throw the door open, and run full tilt down the street to the overpass. I stumble, my toe hitting a crack in the pavement, taking me down. I scoot backward, dragging my body like a gunshot victim to the side of the bridge. I clutch the chain link fence, bury my head in the crook of my arm and sob. Eventually, I pull myself up, but I'm still raging. I rattle the fence, wailing into the rushing air around me in hopes that it takes my sound and sorrow with it.
A/N: I was so good at review replies when I started posting. But now? I'm moving, so that's gone to the wayside in favor of packing up my life, which blows, by the way. Please know I read and appreciate each and every review. Your words inspire me and lift my day. Thank you.
There's one more. And it's all in 2008. Eep!