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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll

Word Prompt: Cafeteria

Word Flex: "Don't Say Another Word"

-PoM-

Twisting away from Jasper, I grabbed my bags and burst through the lobby door onto the sidewalk.

I took a deep breath and wiped my hand across my eyes, roughly pushing the tears away. There was no sense in crying over someone who didn't even have the balls to talk to me. And talking to Tanya, of all people, about me? That was just a low-blow.

The air had a bite to it tonight and it broke through my scattered thoughts, providing a sense of reality. One glance down the street clued me in to the fact that there taxis wouldn't be plentiful at this time of night. I wasn't even about to walk to the airport this late at night—though, really, I hadn't given much thought to a means of getting home to begin with. I'd just wanted out of that hotel.

So, it looked like I was going to try to find a bus to take me back to Seattle; well, either that or hitch a ride if I was really feeling desperate.

I was still standing in front of the hotel when Rose and Em appeared from around the corner of the connecting street, all happy smiles and arm-in-arm.

"Hey, chick," she yelled. The smile she wore melted as she got closer to where I stood. She rushed over and grabbed my arm. "What the hell? What's wrong?"

"Please don't ask me that right now. I just want to go home. Do you have your car here?"

Frowning and obviously trying to assess the situation, she turned to look in the lobby. My gaze followed hers.

Jasper, who looked like he was speaking harshly, was restraining Edward not ten feet from where I stood. I turned away because I didn't want to see him right now, my breath catching on a sob I'd just sworn to myself wouldn't happen.

Rose looked at me again, taking in my slumped shoulders and pitiful face. Her hand wrapped around mine and she tugged me away from the door. "Did he do something to you?"

"No, just . . . please, can you take me home. Or let me borrow your car, whichever. I mean, if you don't want to leave I can just—"

She cut off my babbling by speaking over it. "Emmett, we're leaving. Can you catch a ride home with the guys? "

"Now?"

Her sharp look gave him the answer.

"Yeah, sure." He handed her the keys and looked at me. "Are you okay, Bella?"

I didn't really know so I just shrugged.

"Don't be sad," he said. "There's enough of that going around already. He's been in a shitty mood, but don't let him get to you." He put his hands on my shoulders, waited until I looked at him. "You don't deserve his attitude, okay?"

I nodded, fresh tears filling my eyes because Emmett was truly one of a kind; like Teflon or something. I wished I could be like that. "Thanks, Em. Sorry for ruining your night."

"Somehow, I doubt it was your fault. Rose, I'll call you when I get home."

"Here, give me your backpack and purse," Rose said, gesturing.

I passed her the bags and followed when she began to move in the opposite direction, which just so happened to take us past the hotel entrance again. Even though she told me not to look, I still did.

Jasper and Emmett were crowded around Edward, who was raising what looked like a ruckus. When our eyes met he pushed out of Jasper's hold and started toward the door, but Emmett stepped in, blocking his face from view and pushing him back toward the elevator.

Now he wanted to talk to me—now, when I had already said what I'd needed to say and he'd sat there like a mute, polished off his drink, and ended by making a crack about me running away. Fury tasted hot and metallic on my tongue, and I straightened my shoulders and moved to catch up to Rose.

Just . . . fuck him.

"That's my girl," Rose said, nodding to where her car sat in the parking lot. "Let's blow this joint, eh?"

Not ready to talk, I cranked up the radio when we got in and let some loud, angry music fuel my ire.

When we crossed the sign that told us we were leaving Portland, I wished the city good riddance and settled back into my seat to stare out the window.

Rose, who knew my moods, let me stew until we reached the freeway. "You want to talk about it?"

I sighed, turned to look at her. "Honestly, after having one of the shittiest days ever on record? Not really."

"We have a two hour drive, you know. I'm going to get it out of you sooner or later, so you might as well fill the time."

Knowing she wouldn't give up, I tried to run back over the night, figure out where everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"First my flight was delayed over and over again, so I got here too late to head to the club. I figured, what the fuck, I'll wait for them in the bar, right? Only, when I got in there, Edward was already occupying a seat with Tanya at his side. And then we had a blowout right there."

"Damn it. I saw her lurking around the show but I thought she was with another group of people."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She wasn't really the problem."

"So you're telling me you didn't get mad that she was with him?"

"No. She's the least of my worries. Really."

Her lips formed a thin line. She'd been witness to me hanging around the apartment more and more lately by myself, and though I blew it off as time needed to work or study, I knew she knew things between Edward and I had grown rockier the past few weeks. "You know I'm a good listener."

"I do. And when I need to talk about it, I'll come to you. But, I dunno, it's just something that he needs to figure out before we even talk . . . if we do at all."

"That bad, huh?"

"It's pretty bad," I agreed, leaning my head against the window and wrapping my arms around myself to fight off the chill that had settled into my bones. "I don't know what to even do about it. I mean, I know what I want, but maybe that's just wishful thinking."

Rose took her hand off the wheel, steered with her knees while she reached behind her and unearthed a blanket from the backseat. "Here, put this over you. Something's wrong with my heater."

I spread the blanket over my legs. "Thanks. What's wrong with your car? It's practically brand new."

"Eh, they don't say a Ford is found on the roadside dead for nothing. Damn thing is falling apart already. And if I was actually getting paid to do all the shit I do, maybe I could afford to get it looked at. I ate my warranty up traveling around to shows and shit already, so . . ."

Surprised, I looked at her. "Damn, Rose. You could have told me. What about your inheritance?"

She laughed. "Pssh, I'm on the last five hundred dollars of it. Either the band is gonna make me their official manager or I'm looking for a job in Seattle. I love Emmett, but I can't just follow him around for free."

I felt like an asshole for being so worried about my own problems that I hadn't asked her how she was doing.

"What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to do the manager thing. I don't know, it seems like something I'm good at. I don't understand half of the legal shit, but I can book a show and do the minutia of odd jobs that need done on an hourly basis. And I'm the best when it comes to haggling a club for a bigger cut of the door when it's deserved. But I can't do it for free, either. We'll see."

I nodded like I understood and lapsed back in to silence, once again replaying the events of tonight in my head.

Rose reached over and patted my leg. "I love you and you know it, chick. It'll all work out."

-PoM-

When we reached the apartment, I was so exhausted that I climbed into my bed with my clothes on. Weird, semi-realistic dreams followed me to sleep, and I woke a few times convinced I was at a bar with Edward and he was dumping me to go play in a pit of marshmallows.

The sun was shining through my windows when I woke a few hours later. It wasn't enough sleep and my limbs felt like lead, so I crossed the room to close the curtains and crawled back in bed . . . but I just ended up staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Eventually Rose woke up, too, and I heard her puttering around the front room. I turned on to my side and pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep.

". . . yeah, she's okay. Just exhausted. . ."

I sat up, rubbed my yes, and looked at the clock. My door was open, somehow, and I wondered if Rose had peeked in or me or something.

"Put his ass on . . ."

Obviously she was on the phone in her room and I stood up from my bed, her aggravated voice drawing me closer to the hallway.

"I don't know what the hell you did, but you have a lot of fucking nerve. I suggest you dry yourself out and get your shit together . . . No, she's sleeping. Just give her some space. Got it? . . . Put Emmett back on . . ."

I honestly wasn't sure how I felt yet about Edward—and she was talking to him, of that I was sure—wanting to see me so soon after our fight. Six months ago I probably wouldn't even have gone off on him, but six months ago he was a different person, too. So was I.

I thought that I did want some time to myself. There were things I needed to sort out in my own head, decisions I needed to make sure I was ready for. And lots of questions I needed to answer about what I would and would no longer put up with.

". . . Hi, babe. Good thing he's not here, I'd. . .whatever, you know I could. . . Yeah, I'm going to stay here with her for a bit. Love you, too."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed I'd dragged everyone into it. This wasn't their problem to deal with.

Rose walked out of her room and to my door, drawing back when she came face to face with me.

"Guess you heard that?"

"Yeah. I'm . . . gonna go take a shower. I need to get some stuff done today."

She nodded, told me she'd be around after she went grocery shopping, and left me to it.

As I washed the travel grime from my skin, I contemplated burning the clothes I'd slept in. Obviously they were bad luck.

-PoM-

The rest of the weekend passed slowly. I finished up my article on the band in Salt Lake so I could hand it in on Tuesday, my first day back to work. Writing furiously, I got a lot of my paper done for my journalism class and in the evening, I watched a movie with Rose, who was silently supportive the entire day—not asking for answers and just being the friend I needed most.

And I thought a lot. I made lists and listened to music and tried to figure out if Edward and I were done or just in a fight. I sat in my room and wondered what it was I was doing wrong. I fixed dinner and got mad all over again, decided Emmett was right and that it wasn't my fault Edward had become such an asshole.

Basically I was a whirlwind of emotions, and each one felt like they would knock me on to my knees. I hadn't spoken to Edward since Saturday and was wondering when I would even be ready.

By the time I went to school on Monday morning my stomach felt like it was carrying the weight of the weekend. When classes were over I stopped at the cafeteria underneath the undergrad library, picked up a mocha to warm my insides on my ride home. The day was overcast and chilly, and urged me home to curl up with my studies for the afternoon.

When I turned on to my street I could tell parking was tight, and, not wanting to deal with it, I took the alleyway and parked around the back of our building. Cursing because I had too much to carry today, I got out of my car and juggled my bags, purse, keys, and coffee so I only had to make one trip.

At least it wasn't raining . . . yet.

I turned the corner and pulled up short. There, on the steps of my building, sat Edward with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey.

"Hi," I said, watching him. His face looked tired, resigned almost, and he was sporting more scruff than usual and a green knit cap that covered most of his hair.

I wasn't quite prepared to see him yet, much less having him here at the entrance to my building. My stupid, traitorous body decided it wasn't really that mad at him and buzzed because he was near. My brain, however, knew I was still confused by the events of the weekend. My lips turned down and I moved to the steps, leaning against the railing and keeping a distance.

"Have a seat for a sec?"

"I don't really want to," I said. "Why'd you stop by?"

He looked down at his hands, curling and uncurling the notebook he always carried with him. I noticed some cuts along his knuckles, and wondered what he'd hurt himself on.

"I saw your piece on Tyler today," he said. "I didn't know you were doing that."

In the craziness, it had slipped my mind that it was running in the newest edition of The Rocket. "You did?"

"Yeah, it was amazing. You did a really good job." His eyes, sage green today and not bloodshot, met mine. "He would have loved it."

Even though I was still upset at him, my heart swelled from the praise and I had to look away. It was important to me that the people who knew him, the people who loved him, felt like it was worthy.

Tentatively, I set my things down and took a seat on the stoop a careful distance away from him. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

It felt so weird to have this distance between us, both the physical and the mental. Normally, I would have thrown my arms around his neck but the tension was still there, still palpable, and enough to keep us apart.

It seemed like he didn't know what to say either. The silence between us stretched, became uncomfortable, and I began to fidget with my mocha. I wondered if the only reason he had come over was to talk to me about the article, or if he had something else to say.

I hoped he did, at least. I was ready to hear him out; his words would add to the questions floating around in my mind, might make decisions a little easier.

The wind picked up, ripped through my lightweight jacket, and I shivered and opened my mouth to invite him inside and away from the cold.

"Bella, I fucked up."

My mouth fell slack as I looked at him, took in the nervous energy radiating off of his frame. "Before you say anything, I know you're still angry and you have every right to be. If I try to explain everything I have a feeling it'll make it worse, not better. So, I want you to have this," he said, holding the notebook out to me.

I took it, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It felt heavier than I imagined. Perhaps it was the gesture that did.

My fingers ran over the battered cover, tracing the cracks and etched scribbles.

"I want you to read it. There are things that I couldn't say or didn't tell you in there. Everything. Everything I am and I want to be is in there. So, please, just read it."

My eyes began to water and I didn't look up. "Okay," I whispered.

"And when you want to talk, I'll be ready."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him rise, watched his feet covered in battered sneakers move past me and then pause. A tear slipped from my eye when he bent down, lips finding my hair, and then he was gone.

-PoM-

Am so glad you guys love this and thank you so much for being here.

Song- Down In A Hole – Alice In Chains (The one song that inspired me to write this. LOVE the 'Unplugged' version on You Tube).