Chapter 7
Rich Fratboys don't cry
I jumped into my MG and drove through the night to
Boston. I changed my shirt in the car before I entered the
offices on State Street. It was only eight o'clock in the
morning, but several important-looking people were waiting
to see Carlisle Sebastian Cullen. His secretary recognized me
and spoke my name into the telephone. My father did not
say 'Show him in'. Instead, the door opened and he came out
to meet me.
'Edward,' he said. His hair was a little greyer and his face
had lost some of its colour. 'Come in, son,' he said.
I walked into his office and sat down opposite him.
For a moment we looked at each other. Then he looked
away, and so did I. I looked at the things on his desk:
the scissors, the pen-holder, the letter-opener, the photos
of my mother and me.
'How have you been, Edward?' he asked.
'Very well, sir . . . Father, I need to borrow fifty thousand dollars.'
He looked hard at me. 'May I know the reason?' he said at last.
'I can't tell you, Father. Just lend me the money. Please.' I said.
I felt that he didn't want to refuse, or argue with me.
He wanted to give me the money, but he also wanted to . . . talk.
'Don't they pay you at Jonas and Marsh?' Carlisle asked.
'Yes, sir.' I said. So he knows where I work, I thought.
He probably knows how much they pay me too.
'And doesn't Bella teach too?' Carlisle asked me.
Well, I thought, he doesn't know everything.
'Please leave Bella out of this, Father. This is a personal
matter. A very important personal matter.'
'Have you got some girl in trouble?' he asked quietly.
'Yes,' I lied. 'That's it. Now give me the money. Please.'
I think he knew that I was lying. But I don't think he
wanted to know my real reason for wanting the money.
He was asking because he wanted to . . . talk.
He took out his check book and opened it slowly. Not
to hurt me, I'm sure, but to give himself time. Time to find
things to say. Things that would not hurt the two of us.
He finished writing the check, took it out of the check
book and held it out towards me. When I did not reach out
my hand to take it, he pulled back his hand and placed the
check on his desk. He looked at me again. Here it is, Edward,
the look on his face seemed to say. But still he did not speak.
I did not want to leave, either. But I couldn't think of
anything painless to say. And we couldn't sit there, wanting
to talk but unable to look at each other.
I picked up the check and put it carefully into my shirt
pocket. I got up and went towards the door. I wanted to
thank my father for seeing me, when several important
people were waiting outside his office. If I want, I thought,
he will send his visitors away, just to be with me . . . I wanted
to thank him for that, but the words refused to come. I stood
there with the door half open, and at last I managed to look
at him and say:
'Thank you, Father.'
Then I had to tell Charlie Swan. He did not cry or say
anything. He quietly closed his house in Cranston and came
to live in our flat. We all have ways of living with our
troubles. Some people drink too much. Charlie cleaned the flat,
again and again. Perhaps he thought Bella would come
home again. Poor Charlie.
Next I telephoned old man Jonas. I told him the truth why I could
not come into the office. I kept the conversation short
because I knew he was unhappy. He wanted to say things to
me, but he could not find the words. I knew all about that.
Charlie and I lived for hospital visiting hours. The rest of life
- eating and sleeping (or not sleeping) - meant nothing to us.
One day, in the flat, I heard Charlie saying, very quietly,
'I can't take this much longer.' I did not answer him. I just
thought to myself, I can take it. Dear God, I can take it as
long as You want - because Bella is Bella…and she's still here.
That evening, Bella sent me out of her room. She wanted
to speak to her father, 'man to man'. 'But don't go too far
away,' she added.
I went to sit outside. Then Charlie appeared. 'Bella wants to
see you now,' he said.
'Close the door,' Bella ordered. I went to sit by her bed.'
I always liked to sit beside her and look at her face, because
it had her beautiful chocolate eyes shining in it.
'It doesn't hurt, Edward, really,' Bella said. 'It's like falling off
a high building very slowly - you know?'
Something moved deep inside me. I am not going to cry,
I said to myself. I'm strong, OK? And strong men don't cry!
But if I'm not going to cry, then I can't open my mouth.
'Mm,' I said.
'No, you don't know, Fratboy,' Bella said. 'You've never
fallen off a high building in your life.'
'Yes, I have.' My voice came back. 'I did when I met you.'
She smiled. 'Who cares about Paris?' Bella said suddenly.
'Paris, music, all that. You think you stole it from me, don't
you? I can see it in your face. Well, I don't care, you stupid
Fratboy. Can't you accept that?'
'No,' I answered honestly.
'Then get out of here!' Bella said angrily. 'I don't want you
at my damn death-bed.'
'OK, I accept it,' I lied to her.
'That's better. Now - Will you do something for me?' Bella asked.
From somewhere inside me came this sudden, violent need to cry.
But I was strong. I was not going to cry.
'Mm,' I said again.
'Will you please hold me, Edward?' Bella asked me.
I put my hand on her arm - oh God, she was so thin – and held it.
'No, Edward,' Bella said. 'Really hold me. Put your arms round me.'
Very, very carefully I got onto the bed and put my arms round her.
'Thanks, Edward.'
Those were Bella's last words.
Charlie Swan was waiting outside. 'Charlie?' I said softly.
He looked up and I think he already knew.
I walked over and put my hand on his arm.
'I won't cry,' Charlie said quietly. 'I'm going to be strong for
you. I promised Bella.' He touched my hand very gently.
But I had to be alone. To feel the night air. To take a walk,
perhaps.
Downstairs, the entrance hall of the hospital was very
calm and quiet. The only noise was the sound of my
footsteps on the hard floor.
'Edward!'
It was my father. Except for the woman at the desk, we
were all alone there. I could not speak to him.
I went straight towards the door.
But in a moment Carlisle was out there, standing beside me.
'Edward,' he said. 'Why didn't you tell me?'
It was very cold. That was good, because I wanted to feel
something. My father continued to speak to me, while I
stood still and felt the cold wind on my face.
'I heard this evening when I called your office,' Carlisle said.
I jumped into the car at once.' he finished.
I was not wearing a coat. The cold was starting to make
me ache. Good. Good.
'Edward,' said my father. 'I want to help.'
'Bella's dead,' I told him.
'I'm sorry,' he said in a stunned whisper.
I don't know why I did it. But I repeated Bella's words
from long ago.
'Love is forgiveness.'
Then I did something which I had never done in my father's
presence, much less in his arms.
I cried.