A/N: Thank you so much for your support and sticking with me. Once again, life won't allow me the time to update tomorrow. Back to regularly scheduled programming on Thursday. ;)
Word Prompt: Tissue
Dialogue Flex: "She'll never agree to that."
Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.
Something True
Tissue
This Winter
On the floor in Mrs. Cameron's living room, a glass of iced tea beside her crossed legs, Bella knits tiny hats in variegated yarn of blues, greens, or pinks. The hats for the preemies look like doll hats. She can't imagine them fitting a baby.
"You'd be surprised," Mrs. Cameron says. "Those hats will be too big for some of the newborns."
Bella places a finished green and white hat in her open hand. Its circumference is barely bigger than her palm. "Really?"
"Really."
...
Nights with Edward are bliss. Bella has come to prefer night to day. Day is a spotlight on everything, including what she doesn't want to face. Night is a dissolving of the unwanted into darkness and shadows. In the night, everything that the sunlight points out melts, even if temporarily.
Much of her time without Edward is spent distracted by daydreams of moments they will spend together or have spent together: playing with Biter, laughing, making out, exploring bodies.
Edward is composing for a short animated film that will end a documentary on environmental conservation to educate kids. A little girl holds a miniature earth in her hands and tries to take care of it, nurture it. In his studio room, Edward plays his music for Bella and it sounds just like tinkling raindrops and beating sun, like nurturing nature.
"I don't think I ever could have created this living in the city," he says, reaching for her, sliding his hands up and down her sides before pulling her to his lap. He brushes hair out of his way and kisses the side of her face.
She sighs, content as usual here, in the night, with his music playing and his lips on her skin.
...
On her desk is a mess of papers, on her deskchair a stack of books. Bella's studying on her bed when her dad taps a knuckle against her bedroom door and nudges it open. "Talked to your mom lately?"
She left a few messages that Bella never bothered returning. "Nope."
"Neither have I."
"Is that weird?" She would think that not talking to her mother would be a regular thing for him.
"She usually calls to check up on you." Curved lines crease his eyes making them appear more rounded than normal. He looks worried.
"Should I call her?"
"Might be a good idea."
Her call goes straight to voicemail.
Two nights later, still no word from her mother, Bella asks Edward to drive her to Port Angeles. It's their time together and they'll spend most of it in a car.
Her mother greets them in sweats and a T-shirt. Her hair is in a pile on top of her head. She has bags under her eyes and no makeup on. Her smile is fake.
There are still unpacked boxes piled against a living room wall.
"Who's this?" She motions to Edward.
"This is my-" Bella pinches his coat sleeve. "Rose's brother. Edward. He gave me a ride."
Edward raises his eyebrows at Bella. She looks away.
"Well, I'm afraid I don't have any food to offer you."
Bella opens the refrigerator. Aside from some condiments, coffee creamer, a block of ugly cheese, it is nearly empty.
"What have you been eating?"
"It's just me. I go down to the deli or get take-out when I need it."
One thing Bella is sure of is how much her mother likes to cook. Bella's dad used to tease her mother about always cooking too much food for the three of them.
"Just you? What about...?"
"Phil? Oh, no, he's..." She brings a shaky hand to her lips. "He's staying." She nods.
"Staying where?"
"With his—you know—where he belongs." She's blinking back tears. One by one, her follow-up words seem to shatter her voice. "I'll be back in a minute. You two, make yourselves at home. Edward, it was..." She disappears down the short hall. A door closes.
Edward and Bella look at each other for a moment before Bella removes her coat and starts emptying boxes. Without a word, Edward starts helping. They place towels in a small linen closet, mixing bowls in the cabinet over the sink, and candlesticks on the small dining table.
Before starting on a new box, Bella lifts a finger to Edward in a gesture to tell him she'll be right back. She opens her mother's bedroom door.
Her mother is lying face down on her bed.
It's as though Bella's looking at her through gossamer film—her mother, skewed.
"When did he tell you he wasn't leaving his wife?"
She sits up on the bed.
Spotting a tissue box on the bedside table, Bella hands it to her.
"He didn't tell me." She sweeps a tissue from the box and dabs at her eyes. "It got pretty obvious when he kept putting it off because of this, that, or the other."
While one part of Bella wants to tell her mother she's getting her just desserts, the other part of Bella doesn't want to leave her mother alone like this. She contemplates bringing her home, but her mother will never agree to that. Her dad wouldn't appreciate it much either.
In the end, Bella lets her mother wallow in her bed while she and Edward empty a few more boxes.
On the car ride home, Bella tells Edward about her mother's situation, about how Phil was planning on leaving his wife, but isn't.
"I hate Phil. But this is even worse. This way it was all for nothing." Her family ripped at every seam, and for nothing.
Edward joins their hands. She wriggles hers away and tries to ignore the weight of Edward's ensuing glances.
She peers out the window into the night. Her feelings have become too solid in form. She watches and waits for her emotions to fade into shadow.
She waits for it still as they pull up into her driveway. She waits as Edward kisses her cheek and hugs her to his chest on her doorstep. She waits, and nothing changes until sleep is powerful enough and generous enough to take her out of this world.