Nothing of note to say today, except to remind you there is some minor drama ahead. As always, Twilight & its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Fissure...
~(~)~
Once Edward's managed to paint a dress on the curvy blond Daniel began, and Bella's made several attempts at painting flowers, and trees, and a completely unimaginative sun and sky, they sit back and watch Randy finish up what is now obviously a sea-scape complete with waves, white caps, and stormy grey clouds.
Apparently, Bella's guess about it being an abstract was a bit premature.
She almost feels bad that he tries to give it to her when it's finished. It's so good and all he wants in return is the pathetic looking picture that she made. Edward quickly encourages her to thank him for it and then shakes his friend's hand before it's time for him to be wheeled off for more therapy.
"I told he likes you," Edward murmurs, sliding an arm around her shoulder when Randy's gone and the rest of the patients are filtering out as well.
She blushes and looks down at the still drying painting. "I feel kind of bad taking it."
"Don't. He wanted you to have it to remember him, and vice versa. It's not every day he gets to spend an afternoon painting with a beautiful woman."
Bella's face heats further and she pulls out from under his arm to face him. Her eyes stay focused on the ground though.
"Thank you for bringing me to meet him, along with the others. It's amazing what you do here."
"Eh, it's not that big a deal. I enjoy it anyway, so..."
He shrugs and waits for her to look at him. When their eyes meet, she feels tears threatening for reasons she can't quite define. He simply takes her hand and squeezes.
"Come on, let's go say goodbye to the others and then we can go get something to eat."
She nods and follows him, silently tamping down her emotions. She's proud of him in a way she's never experienced before, but also in awe of the easy attitude he has about volunteering in a place that must constantly remind him of the past. She doesn't know how he does it. He's stronger than she is, she thinks.
In fact, by the time Edward finishes showing her around and saying goodbye, she's even more convinced he's stronger than she ever imagined.
Her...? Not so much. She can feel the cracks in the facade as they make their way out the doors.
Once outside, the spitting rain from earlier this morning turned into a torrential down poor. He insists that she wait for him under the awning while he runs to get the car. She acquiesces only because she needs a minute to compose herself, and because of the painting she was gifted.
Randy...
Unable to speak. Confined to a wheelchair. Stuck in a medical care facility for the foreseeable future. He was just a kid when a couple of beers and joint ended his life as he knew it.
And Edward had done so much worse.
Watching him dart through the rain on sure feet and healthy legs makes her stomach clench uncomfortably. How easily he could have been the one sending the painting home with her, rather than the one driving her home.
Is this why he does this? Why, nearly five years after his own stint in a rehab hospital not unlike the one behind her, he volunteers to spend time with its long-term residents?
How can Edward stand it?
He pulls the car up and jumps out smiling as he brandishes the umbrella for her. She realizes he's completely oblivious to the dark place her thoughts just took her and forces a smile for him. It's almost genuine; the lengths he goes to to treat her with respect and affection are amazing and she really does appreciate it. In the car, he makes her laugh when he says something clever about the weather as they both buckle up. She turns on the radio, and she almost forgets her melancholy as the upbeat melody of a song she likes fills the air.
Almost.
"You're awfully quiet over there," he comments after several minutes of nothing but Zooey Deschanel's voice floating between them.
"Oh, yeah," she answers. "I'm just... thinking."
He chuckles softly. "I gathered that. What are you thinking about?"
She glances down at her fingers, at the paint still trapped around her cuticles. "It's nothing."
"Bella..."
Her lips quirk at his tone, but she doesn't elaborate. "I'm fine, E."
He sighs, but says nothing more until they're parked in the parking lot of the restaurant they were supposed to eat at. He puts the car in park, and she feels him turn to look at her.
"What's going on, Bella?"
She shakes her head. She really doesn't want to talk about it.
"Please? You've been off since we said goodbye to Randy. Are you okay? Was it... too much?"
She sighs and looks out the window. "I may be a little overwhelmed."
He reaches out and tugs playfully on her fingertips, but she doesn't link her hand with his or tug back like she normally would. The affection is too much. She doesn't want to lose control of her emotions right now.
"I'm sorry," he says, not knowing what else to say.
The engine idles, the music continues softly in the background, the rain beats down.
All the while she struggles to hold the fissures in her heart together.
~(~)~
I know... :(
More soon, and thank you for reading.