It's been so long, this hasn't been beta'd or pre read. I was too ashamed to ask anyone. So it's just you and me and my words...

/ / /

There really is no simple way to explain how I finally got over Edward saying the things he said to me and leaving me like he did.

No one offered me any soothing quotes or phrases or gave me some inspirational speech that filled me with so much determination and drive that the hurt disappeared or that I never thought of him again.

And I surely didn't come to some definitive decision to simply forget him or hate him or anything even close to that.

It just came to be.

I mean, time plainly kept moving on. The sun still rose and set like every day was any day. Hours didn't slow nor did minutes speed. Each evening the stars were as magnificent and bright as they always were.

And I lived. The hurt was still there, the confusion, rejection.

But so was reality.

I had good days, and bad days, and many days were a blend of both, but my woes weren't always because of Edward or the lack thereof. Oh no, very quickly life shoved its proverbial hand up my ass and I became its own personal puppet.

I took a part-time job in retail four days a week. I really enjoyed working the bedding department at the local baby superstore, Little One's World. Although it was my mother's heady suggestion to 'expose me to all things baby,' I found myself at ease surrounded in pinks and blues and yellows. Who knew that elephants, clowns, rabbits, and ducks could soothe a tattered soul, and every single item seemed to deepen the love I already had for my little peanut.

I also decided to take a few general classes from the local community college. Luckily, they had an expecting mothers program that allowed me to do the majority of my school work from my computer at home, I could even email in my assignments and homework. They were also great about working around doctors appointments and such on their pre-scheduled testing days.

In truth, the formula to getting by was simple ― I only needed to keep busy. No down time meant no pity time, no self loathing time. No time to wonder or imagine or cry or hurt.

But keeping myself constantly occupied wasn't foolproof. The worry of all about my baby sometimes lead to resentment of Edward for just skipping out and leaving me alone, which lead to me thinking of 'why me', which always lead to depression and tears. Sometimes feeling sorry for myself was easier than anything else because trying to convince myself otherwise, became a fight I easily lost.

For a while my mother let me have my pity parties, she'd just close the door and let me be. Lately though, she'd been a little harsher with me. She'd give me those 'stop-it-right-now' eyes and a couple of times she reminded me it was time for me to grow up.

And I knew she was right, but didn't adults have meltdowns too?

/ / /

Esme was more supportive than I deserved. I never had to want for anything for myself, or the baby. I'd protested many times to her shopping sprees and frivolous buying. Then out of the blue one day she turned to me with tears in her eyes and with a soft, shaky voice she pleaded, "Bella, please let me help you and my grand baby. I know everything isn't perfect and if I could make Edward be here, I would. But I've always wanted to be a grandmother, and this may be my only chance. Please."

How could I disappoint her after that?

She even fixed up a nursery in her own home.

She accompanied me to all my doctors visits, and if it was a day when my mother was available, Esme would sit outside in the waiting room until we were done.

The day of my ultrasound, I'd already asked the nurse if they could both be present in the room. She told me it was whatever I wanted.

The tech slid the wand around my ever-growing belly and we witnessed a heartbeat and the presence of a face. We watched as she traced a miniature spinal cord and counted tiny fingers. I saw what looked like knees and elbows and bunch of blobby stuff I didn't care to even know what it was. So, within that thirty minutes when I got to finally see that my baby looked like a baby, and I watched as my mom and Esme hold hands with tears streaming down their faces. And then when the tech told me that HE looked perfect, I realized that my life wasn't so bad after all.

I could almost feel, that everything was going to be alright. Or maybe that at least, one day - it could be.

/ / /

At seven months, my feet began to swell like over inflated balloons. It didn't matter how much water I drank or if I stopped using table salt completely. My feet and ankles puffed up so much they physically ached. I had to quit my job and rest on my ever-growing dernier way more than I wanted to.

My school work wasn't enough to keep my mind busy. I had cut back my classes knowing that trying to juggle a newborn baby and too much homework would probably have me committed to that loony hospital over on Main Street. But not having something to concentrate on, wasn't working to my advantage.

I wasn't talking to Jessica much anymore. Things were fine between us, she was just busy with her own life. I couldn't fault her for that.

It didn't help that I didn't go out to many places either. Before the only time I left the house was to go to the doctor, the baby store, and school when needed. Now my outings were only to my doctor's office. Of course, that was my choice. I purposely stayed away from anywhere where I thought I might run into someone I didn't want to see. Or somewhere where someone could see me. I wasn't ashamed, but I wasn't strong either. I simply just didn't want to deal. Pathetic, I know.

So that kept me more or less homebound. Either lounging on the bed or the couch with pillows propped up underneath my cankles to help alleviate the swelling.

I was a beached whale.

A homebound mammal.

Today was one of those days, I just wanted to close my eyes and forget. I wanted to numb these feelings and lose track of time, I wanted to somehow go to sleep, and then wake up and everything be better―everything feel better―way down deep inside where only I knew of.

I felt the couch dip as Jacob gently sat down beside me. He had grown so much in the past few months. His legs looked disproportioned to his body, his jeans all too short. His voice was all choppy and changing. His face slimming and maturing.

I raise my head to look at him and tried to void my face of all emotion.

"How you feelin' sis?" His eyes drop down to my belly. He always seems so hesitant and unsure around me. My pregnancy has put up a barrier between us. I hate it.

"Fat," I answer with a snarl.

"Whatever." He rolls his eyes and looks away.

"What's up?" I scoot up to a more sitting position on the couch and Jacob turns to straighten my pillows under my ankles.

He takes a deep breath and exhales it loudly. "Tell me Bella, do you cry all the time because of Edward? Is that really it? Or is it something else?"

I almost chuckle as tears sting the back of my throat. "Honestly Jacob, I think I cry about everything."

He looks over at me, seriousness covering his boyish, almost manly, face. I want to hug him and tell him not to worry over me. I want to reassure him I'll be okay, but for some reason, the words never come.

"What about today, why are you crying today?"

Crap, I didn't know he was around earlier to hear my little weeping spell. I try to keep them to myself these days. "Yeah, Jacob. I think so. Sometimes I miss the memories, the thought of him, more than I actually miss him in the flesh, does that make sense?"

He nods, but I don't think he understands, but more so, I'm not so sure I can explain it.

"Jacob, one day you'll find this amazing girl and with just one kiss, you'll know, more than you know anything, that those lips are the lips you will want to kiss for the rest of your life. You'll understand then, but if it doesn't work out, you'll have an idea of how I feel. You'll realize that sometimes life sucks a big one and fate can shove its destiny up its butt!"

We both laugh and I wipe the tears from my cheeks.

"But to answer your question, it's just not Edward or the lack thereof that upsets me. Most of the time―it's everything."

"Is that normal?" he snarls.

I shrug. "I guess. Look Jacob, I'm sorry. It's just that some days I don't get why things are they way they are, and crying and feeling sorry for myself seems to be the easiest way for me to deal. It's like pity is an ugly blackness inside of me and when I cry, little by little my tears soak up that black. Then as I cry, it falls away. Hopefully one day, all that ugly will be gone and I'll be wonderful and happy."

He's still silent so I nudge him in the back with my knee. "Okay?" I ask.

He huffs again. "Would you change it if you could? I mean―would you still ya' know―with Edward?"

His question burrows into me sharply. It catches me off guard. "Why do you ask?" I say more hateful than I mean to.

His knee starts to bounce. "Well, there's this girl and... and…" He shakes his head.

I can't help but smile. "So you like a girl, like-like her?"

"Yeah, I think I do. But I don't want it to be like this." His hand swooshes over at me and I flinch even though I try not to take it personal. "I mean, I want to talk to her more, and I might even want to hold her hand one day or something, but I don't want to ever be sad like you are."

My shoulders drop as I realize I'm not being the best example.

"You never know Jacob, you and her might work out, but maybe if you two don't―it'll end on a happy note. Not all break ups are bad, look at Peter and I. I don't ever cry over losing him."

"You don't do you?"

"Nope. I kinda still think of him as a friend, and maybe one day I'll be able to stand to look at his face and speak to him again."

"I guess." he chuckles.

I turn as much as I can toward him and lean into him a little more. "To answer your question Jacob, it's worth it. One week, one month, one year―to be with someone who makes you feel alive. Makes you happy. In the long run, it's worth it to feel those things for a short while, than to never feel them at all. So no, I wouldn't change falling in love with Edward if I could. He showed me that real love exists and it's out there somewhere and it's good."

"Really?" he scrunches his nose.

"Really. Now go call her."

"How about I text her first? I'm afraid I'll die if I have to talk to her on the phone."

I push at his shoulder. "You won't die, you turd. Go call her, or text her, or write her a looooove note." I punctuate and nod.

I make kissing noises as he gets up.

"Shut up!" he groans as he walks away. Then he stops and turns back to me. "You're gonna be okay though right? You don't think you'll be sad forever, do ya'?"

I shake my head. "No, I know I won't. Soon I'm gonna have a whole new reason to love life and be happy." I rub my belly over and over.

"Good," he says as he leaves the living room.

I briefly thought about telling him that I once read that crying doesn't mean a person is weak. Since a person is born, crying is a sign that one is alive. And even though I know deep in my heart that's it true, and I know for certain that I am alive because I feel so damn much―I can't dismiss that I am weak too. Maybe admitting is one step toward getting better, one step toward being happy.

And there is definitely one thing I would have change in my past... I would have never let him leave.

"Some days, I feel everything at once. Other days, I feel nothing at all.

I don't know what's worse: Drowning beneath the waves Or dying from the thirst." ~ O.M