Word Prompt: Charity
Plot Generator—Idea Completion: Familiarity breeds contempt
Something True
Charity
This Fall
"Where are you off to this morning?" Bella's dad asks over the noise of his electric screwdriver. He's on a stepladder, screwing a kitchen cabinet door back into place.
Her mother refinished the wood yesterday. It made Bella roll her eyes when she saw her mother, gloves on her hands, stripping the cabinets of paint. Still trying to clean up every surface of your life? she wanted to say.
"Rose's cottage." Avoiding eye contact, she slips past her dad to snatch a water bottle from the fridge.
"Her brother's living there now, isn't he?" Shutting the screwdriver off, he steps down to the floor. Bella recognizes his police chief face. He's caught her in a white lie and is afraid it's more. The raised eyebrow shows he's determined to find out.
"You know about that?"
"You should know there isn't much gets past me in this town."
Bella wishes that were truer than it is. She could say right here, right now, There are some things that get past you right under your own roof.
"Okay, fine. I'm going to Edward's. But Rose will be there." It's the truth, and knowing he's looking for it, she holds her dad's gaze. Lately, with Bella's persuasion, Rose has been coming around the cottage again.
Her dad points his screwdriver at her, one eye closing slightly in a show of distrust. "You watch out for yourself. He's a lot older than you."
"Not that much. Only three years."
"May not seem like much, but there's a big difference between eighteen and twenty-one when you take experience into account."
Bella simultaneously wants to hit and hug her dad. She wants to tell him she knows a lot more than he thinks she does. She wants to tell him everything—about her mother, about herself.
"Dad," she says, but her throat swells and she stops.
"Don't tell me not to worry." He drops a hand to her shoulder and squeezes. "I'll worry about you until I take my last breath, probably after."
"Edward's good. Okay?"
"For his sake, he'd better be."
…
Before knocking on the door, Bella bends down scanning Edward's little tree, its near-leafless limbs looking sadder than ever, especially the lower ones where Biter has taken to chewing whenever he finds the opportunity.
She rubs one of the chewed on branches. "You'll be okay, little buddy," she tells it. The wind sweeps by and another leaf falls off, but that's normal, she tells herself. It's Fall.
Inside, the furniture that is usually along the back wall beside the sliding glass door has been centered in the room again. Plastic sheets are laid out behind the couch, small cans of paint in an array of colors, and different sized paint brushes all lined up on the floor.
Edward says they're decorating that wall, painting whatever they want. Rose has already started with a pink heart. She smiles at Edward as if she painted it just to get on his nerves. It doesn't seem to faze him. Biter is closed up in Edward's bedroom for the time being.
"I'm not an artist," Bella says.
"Neither are we." Edward picks up a brush, dipping it in red.
Rose tells him to speak for himself as she adds black wings to her heart.
"Nice," Edward says. One word inflated with sarcasm. Maybe it does faze him.
Bella starts painting her forearm and hand brown. The paint is cold and the paintbrush tickles.
"The idea is," Edward says, "to paint the wall." He taps it. "Not ourselves."
"I am painting the wall." She stamps her arm and splayed handprint on the wall and then uses green-dipped fingertips to make little leaf shapes on the finger branches. "A tree," she says. It was something Mrs. Cameron taught her when Bella had painted a gift for her parents.
"Genius," Rose says. "My heart sucks."
Edward tells her she can always cover it up with the white paint and start over.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
In the kitchen, Bella washes the paint off her skin as best she can. Some residue is left behind that she decides will just have to wear off in time. Her arm is getting red and sensitive from all the rubbing.
They break for lunch, chatting over cold, leftover pizza at the kitchen table. It is then that Bella decides she's done with little kid stuff. Edward hands her a pencil from a drawer so she can try to sketch something first before painting.
Between glances out at the lake beyond the glass doors and the blank patch of wall she's chosen, she sketches out the scene. She spends so much time trying to perfect her drawing that both Edward and Rose have grown bored of painting. Rose is on the couch flipping through a magazine while Edward's in his room with Biter playing the piano.
As she draws the lamp post, the dock, the boat, and the beginning of the lake, she listens to her score. Edward has added to it, making it more complex, but the meaning behind it is still recognizable. In fact, she feels its message more-so as she listens. It isn't really about who has souls and who doesn't, but who has wronged her or wronged someone she loves, and who has given her, if not happiness, at least a sense of calm. Those who have shown her sensitivity and loyalty. It is much more her score than Edward may realize.
The music stops, as does Bella's drawing. She steps back to take a look. It's still not exactly what she had in mind, but she's tired of erasing the same detail and starting again.
"Thought you said you weren't an artist," Edward says from behind her.
"I'm not."
"Looks like it to me."
Bella tilts her head at her drawing, checking it out from a different angle. She turns to Rose who has dropped her magazine aside and is moving to join them.
"Wow, Bella," she says. "That's so good."
Bella smiles. She's proud of it. She finds herself thinking she'd like to show her dad. "I don't want to paint it. I'll ruin it."
"Don't paint it, then," Edward says. "Leave it how it is." He clips Biter's leash on. Bella bends to greet the puppy, trying to strategically pet his head so she doesn't get bitten. It isn't an easy maneuver. He's bigger, growing fast.
"Gotta get him out. You two coming?"
Bittersweet Symphony plays as the three of them are exiting through the back door. Rose takes her phone from her little purse. "I'll catch up."
Edward and Bella cross the small deck and head down the few steps, past planted shrubs and native plants to the pebbly shore. Clouds drift overhead blanketing their corner of the world in shadow.
"Why do you keep saying you aren't an artist?" Edward asks.
"I'm not. I mean, I've never tried to draw anything real before." She zips up her jacket, the cool breeze lifting hair from her face.
"Maybe you could be. You should try."
"It's probably a fluke. I was really concentrating. In a zone." She takes the leash from him. Biter must feel the slack in it or some difference, anyway. He starts pulling like he's in control. Bella tugs him back, doubling up the leash on her hand. "It was just my drawing and your piano. It was like I wasn't even really there."
"That's how I get when I'm composing. In a zone. Everything else disappears except for sounds in my head."
"Music," she says.
"Sort of. Music parts."
"Music bones."
He pauses his step and says through a smile, "Yeah. That's it exactly."
The first few raindrops land on their heads, their noses. Without acknowledging it aloud, they turn to head back. Neither pick up their pace, even when the drops get bigger and start to come down harder.
"You don't care about the rain? Rosalie would be racing back."
Bella stops walking and Edward faces her. "I used to. I used to hate it."
"What changed?"
"Me."
He stares at her, raindrops dripping from his hair, down his face and off his chin. His eyes narrow. His head tilts. His wet mouth falls open and then closes. He wants to ask, she can tell.
His lips part again. "The rain's running all over you." It's quiet.
Raising her head, face to the clouds, she opens her mouth to drink the rain. "Not anymore."
"Yes, it is." He laughs and touches her throat, his finger following a drop down to her collar bone. Goosebumps bud along her arms under her jacket.
"Well, you, too," she says, blinking rain from her eyes, touching his throat in return. She watches him swallow and then hides her eyes from him, looking down.
Edward swings his arm around Bella's neck, pulling her to his chest. He gives her a little shake in a friendly way then almost releases her. She catches his hand before he lets go, holding it there over her shoulder, tucking herself into his side and under his arm. His jacket is damp against her cheek.
She likes it here. It's been a long time since she has liked being anywhere as much as she likes where she is right now, by the lake, under the bruised sky, Edward's arm around her, puppy at their feet, the rain coming down.
For a little while, before they get to the cottage, and even for a bit after, she feels like life is offering her some charity, a pat on the back, an "everything will be all right" promise.
At the back door, Edward asks Bella to get him a towel so he can dry Thelonious off. Like the hair on Edward's head, the puppy's fur has been soaked flat. When she hands him the towel and he starts rubbing the dog down, the puppy turns his neck, his mouth going for Edward's hand.
"Biter," Edward says, shaking his head. Bella laughs.
They walk inside. Rose is on the couch. Bella catches her wiping her cheeks dry. Guilt eats at her her for failing to notice her friend when she ran in for a towel.
"What? she asks, going over and sitting next to Rose.
"Nothing."
"Something." Bella glances at Edward who, holding his puppy wrapped in a towel, is watching.
"You don't want to know."
"Royce?"
"What now?" Edward asks, putting the puppy down. Biter shakes, making his fur stand on end. Then there's the sound of tapping paws as he wanders over the wood floor.
"Nothing, nothing. Stop, Edward. You don't know."
"Tell me what I don't know, Rosalie, before I hunt him down and make him tell me."
Looking at Edward, Bella can tell he can make good on that threat. Edward is both taller and broader muscled than Royce. Maybe she's wrong, though. Maybe if a person is angry enough or pushed past a limit, none of that size stuff matters.
Edward grabs the end of the leash before Biter gets too far, too close to the paint cans.
Just as Bella doubts Rose will tell, she does. Her gaze landing on different parts of the room, but never on Edward, she spills it all.
"I'm sorry," she says to Edward. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised.
"Emmett? What the fuck?" His hand goes to his hair. "He knows you're in high school."
"So."
"And my sister." Then, under his breath, almost in a mumble, he says, "I'm gonna kill him."
"It's not his fault. It was both of us. And Royce wanting to kill him is enough, don't you think?"
"He took you back." Edward says it like it's just occurring to him.
"Thank God," Rosalie says. "It was the biggest mistake I've ever made. I can't forgive me, but if he... I mean, if he could just believe me when I tell him I love him, that would be..."
Bella puts her arm around Rose, who leans into her. "You have to let it go."
"How?"
Bella glances at Edward for help. She doesn't know how to answer that. He's still watching them and it looks like his mind is racing. She wonders how much this is affecting him considering what he's been through.
Bella strokes her friend's hair. "You cheated on him, you apologized, he accepted that, now it's your turn to accept it. You're more than that, you know? You're more than the girl who cheated on Royce. A lot more. You know it, too. You do. So think about everything else you are until it takes over. Push the cheating stuff out. Squash it. It's over. Dead."
Bella imagines that her words are sinking into Rose's mind. She imagines them working their way through her like a hypnotist's words might.
"He says he forgives me, but he doesn't believe that I love him. He says I have to prove it. I don't know how to do that. I've tried. Every day I try." Bella can hear the tears in her voice. Rosalie sniffles, her shoulder shaking against Bella.
Edward leaves the room, Biter shadowing him. Bella remains on the couch with her arm around Rose, neither saying anything.
The sound of piano keys drift from Edward's room, and then pause. More keys and then a pause. He's composing.
Rose pushes away from Bella, sitting up. "You're all wet."
"Should we paint some more?" Bella asks, moving aside hair that has stuck to her cheeks.
They paint to the slow, low tune of Edward's new song. Leaving her drawing like it is, Bella begins a new painting.
As she and Rose are getting ready to leave, Edward comes out of his room with a big black portfolio of drawing supplies. "Paper, a bunch of pencils, gum erasers, I think some charcoal. I took a drawing class. No longer need any of it. You can have it." He hands it to her. "Try."
"Thanks." She tucks it under her arm.
Edward's phone vibrates. Slipping it from his pocket, he looks at it. Bella can see Angela's face. He stares through a few more vibrations before tapping something and bringing the phone to his ear.
"Hey," he says, and it's soft. He wanders off into his room. Bella wonders how long he'll be, if she should wait to say goodbye.
She feels dumb just waiting by the door so she peeks into his room, raising her hand in a wave. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, still on the phone.
"See ya," he mouths.
"Thanks for the supplies," she whispers, lifting the portfolio, aware that she's already thanked him.
He nods, getting up off his bed. He puts his hand on the edge of the door. "See you next time," he whispers. He closes his door before she has even fully turned herself away.
Frayed threads inside of her tear. But she's used to it. She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and mends herself up.
"I'll drive you," Rose says.
Walking out into the rain, Bella waves her off.
Rose runs to catch up, takes Bella's hand, and pulls her to the car. Rose spends the night, sleeping with Bella in her bed, both of them seeming to be lost in her own head. Until, warm and dry under the covers, Bella turns toward Rose and asks in a hushed voice, "Was Emmett Edward's roommate?"
"No. Why? Oh, because..." Even in the dark, Bella can see Rose's eyes grow wider. "No. No. That was Marcus."
"How long were Edward and Angela together?"
"Two years. A little more."
"Do you like her?"
Rose rolls to her back. "No." She turns all the way over, facing the wall instead of Bella. Her voice is flat. "Not anymore."
Bella picks up some of Rose's hair, running her fingers through the ends. "I'm sorry I asked."
Playing with Rose's hair, Bella remembers what she said to Edward about changing. She has heard people say that people can't change unless they want to. But she knows what a lie that is. She never wanted to change, never asked for it, yet she did change. She would bet all of the good memories she holds that Rose feels the exact same way.
A/N: Thank you for continuing to read. I appreciate your eyes, your thoughts, and your comments.
This story is up for Fic of the Week at the Lemonade stand. You can find other great stories there if you feel like checking it out at tehlemonadestand dot net (the url does begin with "teh" not "the." That isn't a typo.)
See you tomorrow!