You are my thoughts. My reflection when I'm fixing my hair. My words when I'm making notes in the margins of my books. I read you. I could read you all my life. Your breaths and eyes and smiles and silences…all on my papers. You're my shadow as I walk in the sun. The crunch of autumn leaves under my feet. The reminder to eat on time. Someone says 'success' and I see you. A little girl cries in the park for her father and I see you. The wind makes my hair tickle my face and I see you on the terrace, sharing your ice cream with me. You're here even in those silly text messages and stolen phone calls. You're my courage to wake up every morning and do this to be better.
You're more than my thoughts. You are my essence.
You're here, even when you're…not.
I stare at the blank screen for what seems like hours, cursing the cursor blinking at me tauntingly. Some days it feels like going back to school was the worst idea I ever had. Today is one of those days.
Nothing works. Nothing.
I have written and deleted this article twice, spilled coffee on my new shirt, the (also new) space heater is broken, Maria is sick (again), her kid is sicker (damn food poisoning), and as much as I care for both of them, if I have to hear someone puke one more time, I'm going to puke right along, on this keyboard.
Edward wouldn't appreciate that, seeing as he bought me this laptop.
"We need to get you to a hospital!" I call out to Maria as she comes out of the bathroom.
"I'm fine," she croaks out.
"Yes, because people who are fine throw up three times in an hour."
"I don't even have health insurance, Bella, what do you expect me to do?" she says, aggravated.
"I told you I have money saved. Isn't that the entire point of busting your ass over two shitty part time jobs; that you have money when you need it? Well, you need it."
She grabs a clean towel from the closet. "I'm not taking more money from you. I already owe you a thousand bucks."
"Jesus fucking Christ, then it won't matter much if you owe me a couple of hundred more."
"I'll be okay in no time!" she insists. "I'm just glad Andrea is getting better."
"Yes, yes, you selfless mom, that was very martyr of you to take her to a doc, but not yourself."
She just rolls her eyes and goes back into the bathroom.
I sigh into the silence. Usually I would be cherishing it. It's rare in this house. But this silence means the little girl I have become so attached to is sick enough that she doesn't want to make a noise even though she's awake.
I close my laptop and put it aside on the couch. The couch that is also my make–shift bed. This cramped corner that basically has everything I own…which, admittedly, is not much. Just a couple of suitcases. Plus some of my old stuff is in Edward's garage – I don't like looking at it constantly, and since I barely have any storage space here, he volunteered to keep it.
He also volunteered to find me a bigger house to rent and pay the said rent. I refused, naturally. There is only so much I can let him do for me. We argued a lot over it. When he visits, which is rare, we still argue. But, I tell him over and over, Maria needed a roommate anyway. And between my two jobs…I manage just fine. More than fine.
I get up from this silent, sad corner and go to Andrea's room. She's sitting on the bed, talking in hushed tones to her four toys. They are her world.
When she sees me enter, she smiles. Two of her front teeth are missing. It's the cutest thing. "Aunt Bella, come see!" Jesus fuck, her voice is so hoarse.
I didn't even realize when I turned into an aunt, from being a mere babysitter. I kiss her forehead. Thank God it's not burning up anymore. "See what?"
"My elephant! It does super–circle and flies because Mama said so!"
I'm still not fluent in toddler–speak. I mentally file that away under my never ending list of things to learn.
Nonetheless, she shows me some weird trick with a stuffed animal and I nod along in shared excitement. I even clap. Then she teaches me how to do it and I comply. And she hugs me.
It's strange. It's just fucking strange, this bond I have with her. I don't understand at all.
After a few minutes, she gets bored and decides to spin the top instead. Only, she needs a flat surface to do it. I don't let her sit on the dirty floor. I'm looking for something flat to keep on the bed but Andrea beats me to it, placing this huge envelope in front of me and asking me to spin first.
I'm about to, but then I see what it is. It's open, and I don't hesitate in checking out the contents.
"Sweetheart, why don't you see your picture book for a while? I need to talk to your mom."
She looks disappointed but does as I say.
I go back to my couch and wait for Maria to finish showering. When she comes out, I don't even waste a single second.
"What the hell is this?" I ask, waving the envelope in my hand.
I watch as recognition dawns on her face, her eyes widening, and she simply turns around. "None of your business," she says over her shoulder, before putting her dirty clothes into the laundry basket.
I follow her. "Maria, you told me you didn't go to the doctor."
"But I did. So what?"
"So wh– why did you lie to me?"
"Look, Bella, I don't think I'm obligated to tell you every small detail about my life."
She snatches the envelope from my hand and is about to go back into the bedroom when I speak. "I saw the papers. I know."
She turns around, her face hardened with anger. "Well, you had no fucking right to. That's invasion of privacy."
I sigh. "I know. And I'm sorry. I just…I was concerned. And confused. You told me you had no insurance and no money and I wondered."
Her jaw tightens but she doesn't respond.
"Maria –"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"I'm gathering as much but –"
"Look, just drop it. It doesn't matter."
"How can you say it doesn't matter? You're pregnant."
"So?"
I let out an incredulous laugh. "So? So? So…you…what the actual fuck?"
"This is why I didn't want you to know. I knew you'd freak out, especially considering that Marc–" she stops short.
But I've already heard. I've already made the connection.
"Maria, no. Just no. For the love of God, tell me he's not the father."
She shrugs. She looks away.
"This is insane."
"I thought you saw the papers. His name's there. He paid."
"I didn't see all the papers. And of all the people…"
She takes a deep breath. "He's changed, you know…he's not the same man."
"Men like him don't change. He's an asshole. Always was, always will be."
"You don't know him now."
"He manages a strip club, Maria. A strip club where he exploits all the girls who work there. He even made me sleep with him!"
"Thanks for the reminder, bitch."
"I don't understand. Why are you defending him? He's the sleaziest motherfucker around and just…ugh. Did he force you into it? Did you owe him money and he made you 'pay'? Because –"
"No, no, stop. I love him."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"You can't. You can't love Marcus. That's just…no." I refuse to believe this.
"Bella, he takes care of me. He doesn't let me prostitute myself anymore. I only wait the tables. That's why I've been running short on cash lately. Ever since he found out that I…that I'm carrying his child…he's been really nice about it. Like, I expected him to lash out, you know? Maybe fire me and leave me to fend for myself…to ask me to get an abortion or something. But he didn't. He was shocked, yes, but he came around. He's been accompanying me to visits to the doctor –"
"It takes a fuckton more than that to be a father, alright?"
She's angry again. "You think I don't know? You think I planned this?" And now she starts to cry.
I'm angry too. "The point is not whether or not you planned this; the point is that you have a little girl to think of. You can't seriously expect a man like him to play a father figure in Andrea's life. No. I won't let you. Did you forget everything? He has exploited girls who are still just girls. He has exploited a lot of vulnerability and girls who had no one to turn to. Maria, you know this. You know this."
"I know it's hard for you to understand –"
"It's impossible. He's a despicable person and of all people I never expected you to overlook that."
She swats her tears away. "I'm not overlooking anything. I've seen how he's changed."
Un–fucking–believable. "I hate him. I'll never forgive him or forget his ways."
When you've lived a life like I have, you don't forget. You never forget. There are too many horrors to be simply piled up and put away in some dark corner of the mind.
"Maria…" I try again, my tone a lot gentler, "you deserve better. Much, much better."
"Well I'm sorry we all can't land an Edward fucking Cullen. Not everyone lucks out."
With that, she storms off and slams the bedroom door. I feel like I've been slapped. Because in that one sentence is so much bitterness and resentment. I had no idea I'd see that in her eyes. Hear it in her voice.
The one friend I have in the world feels so bitter about my life.
I walk out of the shitty apartment to clear my head. I go downstairs and taking deep breaths, sit on the roadside. I watch the traffic go by. I watch the people in their shiny cars and shiny clothes and shiny shoes and laptop bags and I wonder if they ever feel just as lost.
They probably do. I know Edward does. They just have money to make the going easier. They probably don't need to rely on assholes to pay for their doctor's appointments.
On an impulse, I fish out my cell phone from my jeans' pocket, and call Edward. It's…risky, in a way. For one, I know he must be in his office right now. I know I'll end up disturbing him. I don't care. We agreed that I wouldn't call him unless urgent because he was doing everything in his power to show Tanya that he was keeping me at a safe distance. I don't care. I need to talk to him and I need to hear his voice and I need him to hear me out. He hasn't called in two weeks and I fucking miss him.
He never picks up. The silence of the line disconnecting is deafening. And I care. And I hurt. And in that moment, I feel all alone.
I take a deep breath and pull up my knees to my chest. I tell myself I'm being stupid. I try to drown out the storm in my head by focusing more on the noise of the traffic.
I don't know how long I sit there. I only notice the time when I see the sky turning orange and feel the chill of evening wind, realizing that I didn't bother with putting on a jacket. I decide to go back upstairs but my phone rings just then. I smile. I can't help it. Like a silly teenager in love, I smile at the phone screen that lights up with his name.
"Hi," I say.
"Hey, sweetheart." He sounds so tired.
"How are you?"
"I'm sorry I missed your call. I was in an important meeting and –"
"Look, I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I know we talked about this but I just…I wanted to hear your voice."
"I miss you," he sighs. Maybe it's the way he says it – his voice all gentle and loving and sad – but I tear up.
"I miss you, too. So much. You have no idea."
"Things have been so crazy lately. There's so much I need to tell you."
"I know, I know. So do I. I'm a mess right now."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know. Nothing." I sniffle. "Everything."
"Why are you crying? What happened?"
"I just had an argument with Maria and school sucks and the job sucks more and I miss you and I'm so exhausted and lonely and I don't fucking know why I'm crying, okay."
"Oh, Bella. Talk to me. What happened with –"
'Mr. Cullen, I'm sorry –'
"Hang on, sweetheart," he tells me. And then to whoever interrupted. "Tell them to wait. No. Wait. Five minutes. I'll be there."
"Edward, you're busy. We can talk later."
He sighs but doesn't say anything else.
"Edward?"
"I hate this."
"I know. And I understand." I wipe my face. "It's alright."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I love you."
He doesn't even know how much I needed to hear that. "Love you."
"I'll call you later tonight, I promise."
"Yeah."
He doesn't call.
––x––