Word Prompt: Deprive
Audio-Visual Challenge—Imagined Image: fictionistaworkshop dot com / wp-content / uploads / 2013 / 04 / 1kglr3xU dot jpg
Something True
Deprive
This Fall
Through routine, Bella and her dad begin to repair their foundation—sewing up holes, reinforcing the beams of their lives. Her dad has kept his work to a more consistent schedule: home in the morning for breakfast with Bella, home again in the evening for dinner. He does the cooking while Bella does the clean up.
Over dinner, two nights after her mother left, and as if it had been a part of their current conversation, her dad said, "I don't care if he's Rose's brother. You can't be spending nights with twenty-one year old guys."
If her mother had said this, Bella would've laughed at her, but to her dad she says, "I know."
Even with their routine, their lives feel fragile, like one wrong move and all the effort they've put into it will come tumbling down around them. The furniture seams will open, the insides of cushions tumbling out. They'll be left nothing but tatters of a family. For instance when Bella's mother called her it seemed as though some of the screws had come loose from the floorboards, like the floor under Bella's feet might break away if she stepped too heavily.
Bella has been conflicted about her mother. She isn't ready to talk to her, but she feels as though she should, as Bella—even knowing of the destruction it would cause—was the one who put all of this into motion.
I want to take you out to dinner, her mother has said. I want you to help me choose an apartment. Bella left both calls unanswered, and this continues to eat at her.
So home from school, the house empty, when she gets another phone call, she nearly guards her head as if the roof might start caving in. That is, until she sees Edward's name.
He tells her he's about to walk Biter and asks if she wants to come along.
It's been four days since she saw Edward. Bella grows impatient with waiting in the house, so she's on the doorstep when Edward and Biter—who's jumping around, trying to get away from the leash—approach.
"He's been deprived of Bella," Edward says. "He's been like this since we got to your street."
She goes straight to Biter to calm him down, petting him, hugging him, talking to him as if he can understand her. After a few minutes he's calm and she straightens up.
Edward catches her gaze. "If I were a dog, I'd probably be making a fool of myself just like him." He smiles and puts an arm around Bella, walking back the way he and Biter had come, toward the trees at the end of her street.
The wind is cold enough to turn their noses pink, reminding them how close winter is, how, most years, winter comes to Forks early. Bella digs her hands into her coat pockets thinking she should've worn gloves. Above, the sky is like one massive white cloud.
"I drew this," Bella says, pointing to the rock where she had sat with Edward and told him about her mother's affair. They both stop, Edward facing Bella. "I would've put you in the picture if I could draw people."
"Biter, sit," Edward says, pointing at the ground, but not looking away from Bella. "Stay."
With the leash wrapped around his wrist, he lifts his hand to Bella's jaw, a thumb running along her cheekbone the way he does. And her eyes close the way they do. His palm is warm on her skin.
She's aware of every breath she takes just as she's aware of his. And when it seems he'll take another breath, he takes her lips instead. His are soft at first. Heated, too. He tilts his head and then he's really kissing her. She feels the pull at her top lip, the release, and the return. She leans up toward him, returning the kiss. Giving to him what he's giving her, until, with a hand on his face, her lips still before his do and she turns her head, their joined mouths slipping apart.
Both of them open their eyes.
"You don't want this," he says, and it saddens her that it's a statement and not a question, because the truth is she does want it, but she can't accept it. Not when he doesn't know who he's kissing, not really.
Fingers to her lips, still feeling the tingling of his mouth on hers, she thinks about this.
"It's not because you're my muse. Don't think that."
She shakes her head. "I don't think that."
"Look." He pushes her hair back, and holds onto a chunk of it, not letting go. "After what happened at the dock-"
"Don't."
"No. No. I'm not trying to remind you, or, well, maybe I am. I just want to say that it really made me think about how short life is, and I just- I don't want to waste any of it. I want to go for what I want." He lets go of her hair and his voice quiets. "You."
Her breath catches. She takes hold of his upper arm, maybe to keep from losing her balance.
"Can we go to your cottage? I need to tell you some things."
As they walk, he doesn't put his arm around her. Down by his side, his hand slips to Bella's, his fingers brushing against hers. And then, threading their fingers, he clasps her hand. He looks at her with a question in his eyes, like he expects her to say something or maybe to pull away. She doesn't. Not this time. But her insides are heavy, like she can feel the weight of her intestines and her lungs, her kidneys and her heart.
The sky has turned from white to coral by the time they reach the cottage. Inside, there's a long silence. Bella doesn't know where to begin, or if she even can. Biter has gone to his water bowl and Bella listens to his slurp, slurp.
"This is serious?" Edward says. "Is it about your parents?"
"No. It's about me."
Understanding meets Edward's eyes. "Hang on." He takes Biter to his room, tells him to lie down, and then closes the door, coming back to Bella. He stands across from her, the coffee table between them.
"Go ahead," he says, like it's that easy. "Tell me."
Staring ahead at the window, she sinks to the couch as if entranced. She can't seem to open her mouth, and if she could, would words come out?
She pushes her jacket down her shoulders and off her arms.
"Bella?"
"It's not easy. To say." The room might be spinning. She's dizzy.
"Should I-" He moves to the chair and takes a seat.
Her gaze is locked on the cedar wood table. "The thing that Royce said was true."
"What did he say?"
"Edward." She turns to him. "The thing he said at your party that made you push him?"
It takes a second for reality to hit Edward, but then he shoots to his feet, a hand going straight for his hair.
Bella stands, too. "I didn't-I didn't sleep with him. But I, I might have. I thought I was in love with him. I thought he loved..."
"Who?"
She shakes her head, refusing to say his name. Now that it's out, Bella understands how stupid and crazy it sounds. When you're not living it, feeling it—when it's not inside of you—it seems like the most ridiculous thing.
"I don't know why I let it get that far. He made me think that - he made me think he cared, but he didn't. Not even a little."
Edward is standing with his back to her. She feels her lip tremble.
"How old is he?"
She doesn't answer.
"In his twenties?"
"Older."
"How old?"
"Thirty-seven."
She sees his shoulders rise with a deep breath, his hands clench slowly into fists. He throws the front door open, shoves at the screen, and walks out.
She catches a glimpse of the deepening sky before the door slams shut.
Bella doesn't know what to do. Should she wait here? Follow him? What is he thinking? Is he disgusted with her?
She stands where she is, eyes on the door until it opens again.
Edward takes the few steps toward her. "Bella." He sounds out of breath and he's basically talking through his teeth. His eyes are mere squints. "He fucking took advantage of you, you know that?"
When she blinks, some tears fall with it. "I was so stupid."
His jaw pulses. "Where does he live?"
"He used to live in Forks, but I don't know if he still does."
"Where in Forks?"
She steps around the coffee table toward him. "Why? What are you going to do?"
"If you don't tell me, I can still find out."
"Don't do anything."
"Why not?" He almost yells it.
Her chest tightens and she swallows more tears. As she speaks, the words shake. "Because I want it to go away. I don't want it to rule me anymore."
He stares down at her.
"And Royce knows? What about Rosalie?"
"Rose thinks they're just rumors. The rest of the school, everyone thinks they know. It got worse after he left the school. He was fired or he quit. I don't know which one. But he didn't come back this year, and we all knew he wouldn't be back by the end of last year. Rumors were crazy before, but after he left, it was like proof to people that the rumors were true." Her chest wants to gasp for air, but she won't let it. She walks over to the window, letting a few more tears go. "He warned me something like that would happen. But I couldn't care about it back then."
From behind her, his hands grasp the sides of her arms, his face dropping to her shoulder. He inhales, seeming to breathe her in. The feel of his lips pressing against her T-shirt relaxes her in a way she didn't think possible.
"Okay," he says. "I won't do anything."
"Af-after graduation I'm getting out. I'm going somewhere where nobody knows me and I don't know anybody."
"Where?"
"It depends on where I get accepted."
"Where did you apply?"
She finds his face in the reflection of the window. "UCSB, Irvine, Florida State-"
"Nowhere in Washington?"
"U-Dub just because it's cheaper, but it's not far enough."
"It's a good school, and when you're there, it feels far away. It's nothing like Forks."
She turns around, and Edward doesn't back up. They're close, face to face. She leans against her hands behind her back.
"Bella," he whispers, but nothing else. He's looking at his fingers tracing her collarbone.
"I have to go."
She has to be home before seven, in time for dinner with her dad. Their shared dinners are an unspoken key part in keeping their home together.
With a nod, Edward goes to get Biter and they walk her home. Edward doesn't put his arm around her or hold her hand. Outside her front door, he wraps her tight in his arms, but doesn't kiss her.
Bella tries not to think about what that means, or the fact that it has everything to do with what she told him today.
She peers through the window watching where Edward still stands on the porch, facing the door. He seems to be examining the wood. He says something to Biter and then they both turn and walk away.