Chapter 6 - Unsolicited Apologies
I want you to be free
But I don't wanna share
No I don't wanna let you go
But it's about time I do
I can't blame you anymore
And I still love you
Bad Girl, Devendra Banhart
BPOV
I don't know if it's all the wine I consumed last night or the jet lag, but all I can do is stare at Edward on my front stoop. He's dressed simply in jeans and a tee, but a Mets hat sits low and sunglasses hang from the neckline of his Kendrick Lamar shirt. The anger starts to kick in because goddamn it, I know Black is behind this somehow. I don't understand the why, as Black vehemently hates Edward outside of their band setting. Their friendship is long gone, or so he told me, so why would he tell Edward my New York address?
"You're supposed to be on your way to the UK," I say dumbly. That was the whole reason I had to even be there yesterday, so why the fuck is he here?
"The band decided to delay our flight," he says, his voice so damn smooth that it hurts my chest. It's low and deep, and has that tone of clarity and honesty that had been missing in the last half of our relationship. It tugged at memories I didn't want to even acknowledge.
"And why would you come here? Better yet, how do you know where I live?"
Sheepishly, he lowers his head and palms the back of his neck. I can see a blush creeping up his neck to brighten the tips of his ears. "I, um… after I got clean, I hired a PI to find you - I wanted to see how you were doing."
I'm dumbstruck by his words and stupidly have to fight the urge to cry. This - Edward here on my doorstep, him even remotely caring about where I was or what I was doing - was everything I had hoped for during the divorce… and admittedly for a year or two after as well. I couldn't count how many nights I sat at home dreaming that one day, Edward would show up to tell me he missed me, that he loved me. Hell, I was desperate - I would have even taken him showing up drunk or high, delirious and emotional. Instead, I got silence, a hefty fee from the divorce attorney, and unresolved trauma.
"Strange of you to care - I specifically remember you telling me you didn't give a fuck where I was or what I did."
Edward looks at me blankly but his brows furrow as if he's trying to remember something. A door slams down the stairwell, and he glances over his shoulder. "Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but can you please hear me out? And then I'll leave you to…. Whatever you were doing before."
He looks down at my attire, and I realize I'm still wearing my robe. Embarrassed, I cross my arms in front of my chest. "Fine," I lament. "I need to change first. But you can come in." Edward steps inside, and I try not to obsess over the vision of Edward in my space. Despite the way he hunches his shoulders, he seems to fill the space with his presence, larger than life in my space which, up until now, had never been tainted by his presence. But now I can picture how he looks standing at my door or walking into my living space. I'm tempted to kick him out so that he can't sully my memories of the space any further. Instead, I make my way to my room, grabbing the bottle of wine that was still on the coffee table and hiding it in the garbage can, out of Edward's view.
Once I've changed into a pair of jeans and a cropped t-shirt and fixed my wild hair back into a messy bun, I make my way back out into the living space. I find Edward lingering by my giant bookshelf, which features a huge collection of books, a sub-par collection of records, and several photos, awards, and trinkets I have collected while traveling.
"Can I get you something to drink?" I ask him, still shaken by his presence. Edward glances my way, his eyes lingering on my midriff before he crouches down, running his fingers along my meager collection of records.
"Do you have any hot tea?" he says this while frowning at something on the shelf.
"Um… let me check." I head into the kitchen and search through the cabinets until I find a box of oolong tea I got while on an assignment in the Himalayas. "I have some oolong tea!" I call to him, continuing my search in the cabinet in case I missed anything else.
"That would be great, Bella, thank you," I hear him call back.
As I put the kettle on, my heart is racing. Edward is in my flat. Edward is in my flat, and he's looking through my personal effects. Edward is in my flat, and he wants to talk. The bitter part of me wants to escort him out and tell him to forget about me like he did all those years ago, but the other part of me, the part that fills my chest with anguish and hope and feelings that just feel unresolved, wants closure. Something to close the chapter of my life with Edward so that maybe I could really truly move on.
The sound of the kettle boiling startles me out of my own thoughts, and I work on brewing the tea, making sure to put it in the green and gold ceramic teapot with matching cups that I got in China. It took two months to ship from China to my flat in America - with none broken thankfully - and they mostly just sit on my shelf unused as I'm an avid coffee drinker, but the story is what makes the set so great.
I carry out the tea set on a tray to the living space to find Edward flipping through a photo book that my friend Seth made for me.
"Where were these photos taken?" he asks, deep voice low as he thumbs a page with an overhead picture of a smoking forest. I remember that day vividly, the way the smoke smelled and how Seth held on to my waist as I leaned out of the helicopter to take the photo.
"That's in Australia. The inidigineous people there practice something called 'cool burning' to burn the undergrowth of the forest. The fire moves slowly and it helps prevent large forest fires from happening. A friend who went on that trip with me made me that book of my photos that I published from it."
"How did you take this shot?" He points to the photo in front of him.
I smile wryly. "Leaning out of a helicopter with someone holding on to me."
Edward looks down to the photo and I work to set the tray of tea down on the coffee table. I hear him mutter under his breath but I ignore him and sit down opposite of him, curling onto the oversized chair and holding my cup of tea between my hands. Edward closes the book and sets it on my coffee table, then pours himself a cup of tea, adding cream and some sugar. It's quiet as he stirs, and I just look at him expectantly, waiting. I can tell he's nervous, the way he sits back, then sits forward, setting his tea cup down and rubbing his hands on his jeans.
Finally, he looks at me. And just looks. And looks. And looks. His eyes track over my face, my hair, my clothes, the way my toes wiggle even as I sit still - something he always loved and laughed at, since I never even noticed that I did that until he mentioned it.
"You're still so beautiful," he finally says, sounding incredibly resigned. I can't help the bitter scoff that escapes me.
"Yes, well, I wear a lot of sunscreen. Keeps me young in my old age." I roll my eyes.
"That's not what I meant," he insists gently. "Bella, I want to tell you how incredibly sorry I am. I was nothing short of terrible to you in the last part of our relationship. I wish that there was a good excuse for my behavior, but it mostly boils down to the fact that I was a right idiot."
"I'd still like to hear what your reasoning was." I tell him firmly, resisting the petty urge to agree with him that he was a complete idiot.
He sighs. "I talked to my therapist about this a lot."
"You have a therapist?" I interrupt, shocked. Edward, talking about his feelings to a stranger? It seemed insane to me. Unbelievable, really.
"Yes, I do. I have since I started rehab. The most recent time." He admits at the end, but also seemingly affronted that I asked with such disbelief.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, and sip my tea. "I didn't mean that how it sounded." I did, but he doesn't need to know that.
He nods to accept my apology, then begins again. "When I started using, the first time it was just curiosity. Peer pressure. I didn't even realize it had become a habit until it was too late to stop. I was too ashamed to share with you that I was using, and so I hid it from you. And then the drinking was just so natural - everyone was always drinking all the time, it's just something that I did. And then I realized how good it felt to be relieved from all the stress of everything - the shows, the tours, the guys. Even you - I was always upset about being so distant from you once we started touring more. I clung to you - viciously.
"And then I got mean about it. I felt like I spent all this time trying to make sure you only saw the good in me, and I would get angry every time I fucked that up. Every time I started using again. Or drinking. Or relapsed. I was angry all the time - mostly at myself - and I took it out on you. And it ruined our relationship, along with everything else.
"I'm so sorry that I put you through all of that - the cheating, the drinking, the drugs, the using. It was all just so shitty, Bella, and I apologize for all of it. You deserved so much better than me. And the way I ended things was just awful, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I should've never done what I did. I know that you were only trying to help me, I just couldn't see it at the time. I was just so selfish. I couldn't see past my own feelings"
Edward is earnest as he speaks, leaning forward, meeting my eyes even when I'd rather look away. I sip my tea and ask, "What were your feelings at the time? When you sent me the divorce papers?"
He takes a deep breath. "Nothing nice was going through my head. I couldn't understand why you couldn't just follow me around - even though I know how important school was to you, and you weren't some fucking groupie. I was still selfish enough to want you to just be there with me all the time. I was also pissed because I couldn't even remember… kissing… that girl, or whatever else happened. I was pissed that they caught it on camera, and you were throwing the magazine in my face, and I couldn't even remember it happening. I thought that it would have never even happened if you had just been there with me instead of in New York, attending school. That just seemed so far beneath where I was at at the time.
"After you left, I was so pissed. And I couldn't stop using. It was so fucking hard, and I just convinced myself that you didn't care about me. I felt like when I was using, I was who everyone expected me to be - at least in the industry. I was fun while performing, I was funny in articles. We were the band coming onto the scene. And I just had this younger wife who was never there and didn't understand any of these things I was experiencing. I was pissed by how easily you walked away. So I did what I thought would hurt you the most - and had my lawyer send you the papers."
"Well, you got your wish in that, Edward," I tell him, laughing angrily. I can't help the wave of emotions coming over me. It's strong, and turning into anger from all the years that I was never able to tell him how I felt. "It fucking hurt. It crushed me. You have no idea what that felt like."
His shoulders droop at my anger. "I am sorry. I know it probably doesn't mean a lot to hear me say that now, but I really am. I've been clean for a few years now, and had a lot of time to think about all that happened with you. It fucking haunts me how that all went down with you."
It's quiet for a few moments. Or at least, my flat is quiet. Inside, I am a storm. I'm fucking raging. And I need him out of here before the tidal wave spills from inside of me. I can't share with him how I'm feeling - he lost that right a long time ago.
"Thank you for coming here, Edward," I finally say, standing from my chair and setting down my cup. "And thank you for sharing all of that with me. I appreciate you coming."
I walk to the door and put my hand on the handle so that he gets what I'm saying. Get out.
Edward takes the hint and stands, setting his cup down and taking one last look around my flat. He crosses the space and stands in front of me, looking down at me with emotion in his eyes that I don't understand.
"Thank you for hearing me out, Bella. It was… powerful… to see you again." And before I can take the time to process what the fuck he just said, Edward leans in and kisses the top of my head. The touch of his lips to my hair is scalding, and I flinch away, but he doesn't react. While he is still close, he whispers, "You're more beautiful than I remember."
And then, he's gone.