I open my eyes and it's still night, surprised that the remnants of my screaming through a nightmare isn't still thick in the air as I blink into the barely there moonlight creeping across my mostly black room. I sit up and see through my window that moonlight is lighting up the fresh snow that's falling outside, and I settle in knowing that I've made it to a new season without Edward; it doesn't feel like a reward though.
As I sit and watch the snow and relish in the eerie and magical quiet that permeates the world around me I do the thing I do so well and find recently it makes me feel more crazy than it ever has before: I think.
Do you know what the best part about winter is? The solitude. It feels like I can get every thought in my brain and there's no one there to tell me how insane I am, and maybe that makes things worse.
I need things to be different; I need to be different. I'm hoping that this season, that December will be able to figure out how to make that work because I'm starting to become desperate to find some sense of normalcy. I need to figure out how to finally let go of Edward. I feel myself still clutching on to any part of him even though I know he has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want me. He said it plainly to my face as he left me in the woods, and for some reason I have been delusional enough to not buy it; but I need to now.
I see Edward everywhere I go, like a shadow version of himself, watching me and I need him to be gone. I need to not want his ghost or any other part of him haunting my life. I need to have this silence without the tainted familiarity of Edward Cullen.
I know it's me not wanting to believe or accept that the story of Edward and Bella is over, but as I sit in the silence and solitude of the first day of December, the snow lit up by the pale moonlight and making each flake look like diamonds falling from the sky, I finally give myself permission to settle into closing the book; let the period be a period and not a semi-colon, the final coda realized and the notes cease to play. It's over. Let it be over now.
I let it settle onto my chest and instead of it feeling like a fresh wound, it feels like an ache when something is finally healing; new skin starting to grow over the damage. No one tells you about how uncomfortable the healing process is; you only really learn about the pain of the wound. The healing though, that is the hardest part of it all, because it takes time, resilience and patience; learning to scratch at the scabs that form or tear it back open accidentally.
So I will learn how to be gentle with myself as I go into December; let the scar tissue form without restraint or reservation.
I'll begin by accepting the fact that Edward is gone and it's officially over; and I need to be okay with starting at a new genesis of my life.
I couldn't go back to sleep so I trudge down to the kitchen, grab the coffee pot from the machine and start to make coffee before Charlie wakes up.
My eyes slide to the clock on the stove as the green numbers light up and flicker 6:08am; only another two hours until I have to be at school. I put water into the reservoir and add the coffee grounds to the filter, press the on button and sit by the window to watch the snow.
I mindlessly fidget with my flip phone that I usually leave down in the kitchen to charge. I'm not used to having a cell phone so I'm constantly forgetting it. Charlie insisted on me having one after all the bullshit with the vampires happened a few months ago and I started acting like a walking corpse. I suppose it's endearing to see how much Charlie worries about me, and wants to protect me. I realize that letting go will also mean that things will be easier for him too, and that bolsters some of my effort a bit.
The phone buzzes, making me jump and drop it on the kitchen table, it lands with a louder than expected thud and I look at it like it had just come alive. I flip it open and see a message from Jacob…
…you up?...
When did you get a phone?
…Charlie had Dad get one for me a few weeks ago, cool right?...
Now I realize Charlie has looped Billy and Jake in on the Bella surveillance. I think I find it more amusing than frustrating though if that makes any sense.
Why are you awake right now Jake?
…I have reasons…since you're up too, I got a question for ya...
K
…would you come with me on a friend-date to a Christmas party on the rez?...
I don't know Jake.
…think about it, but then say yes, ok? It's this Saturday…
K.
I snap the phone shut.
Did I really want to go to a Christmas party? The immediate answer was, "absolutely fucking not," but it was Jake. Also when he asks me to go to a Christmas party with him, I know it's more of a, "hey Bells, you need to get your ass out of the house because you're doing the 90 pound shut in thing again."
And he isn't wrong, because most 18 year olds would be excited to go to a party where there may be mild debauchery and yuletide frivolity. Right? God what the fuck is wrong with me.
"Okay," I say under my breath. Get on with it. I flip the phone up again and start texting before my overtly depressed hyper rational side starts to pipe up.
Okay Jake. What time does it start?
*
"You're going where?" Charlie asks, as I slip on my coat over my gray hoodie and freshly cleaned blue jeans, then toe into my snow boots.
I swallow down my bile as the words come out, "the mall."
"For what?"
Dammit Dad, don't make me say it out loud, "Jake invited me to a Christmas party," I watch his face shift further into incredulity as I continue, "and I don't have anything nice-ish."
"You're going to the mall…to shop…and buy clothes?" he asks, one of his bushy eyebrows arching up nearly into his hairline.
"I know how it sounds Dad but I'm actually going to the mall, I swear," I say as I grab my keys to the truck and his eyes follow my every movement.
"Well, do you need me…to um…come with,-"
"God, no Dad, please, I'm fine by myself," and as soon as I say it he visibly relaxes; the more time that goes by with Charlie, the more I realize how alike we are. I smile at him and say, "would you feel better if I called you when I got there and when I'm on my way home?"
"That'd be great Bells, just so I know you're safe," he says, but between the lines of his statement it says, "also so I know you aren't in another state chasing your ex-boyfriend and nearly getting yourself killed." Needless to say, I still feel bad about hurting Charlie the way I did.
"You got it," and I give him a playful salute as I go through the front door and get into my car.
I hate the mall; but the mall during the newly minted Christmas season is fucking terrible, add to all of that being there on a weekend and it's my own personal hell. I'm trying to unwind the anxiety and frustration of the high volume of people, traffic, noise, and the general overstimulation of it all as I drive through the trees of the La Push reservation to get back home. The snow had stopped falling not too long ago and the snow plow had cleared the road which made my anxiety a little less tight in my chest as I drove on the winding roads lined by snow coated trees.
I round a sharp corner and I slam on my brakes, my back tires locking up and the truck slides on the icy road as it comes to a stop sideways in the lane. My heart is hammering in my throat, my eyes wide as I take in the tall and muscular frame of Paul Lahote standing in the middle of the road. As soon as I realize I'm in one piece and I haven't killed anyone or my truck, I feel the flash pan anger ignite through my body. I wrench open the door and charge up to Paul, thick plumes of steam billowing out of my nostrils as I approach him.
"What the fuck, Paul?! I could have killed you!" I yell, taking in for the first time that he is not wearing a shirt and the surface of his skin is…steaming. What?
"Are you okay?" he asks and I think I might have emotional whiplash.
"No I'm not okay!" I scream and then continue, "why…why are you out here?" Also why are you mostly naked and steaming?
"I…I wanted to talk to you," he says quietly and my breath is still heaving, causing more clouds of steam from my nose and mouth to fill the small space between him and I.
"Maybe call? Or like, come see me at my house instead of nearly causing an accident?" I say, moving to get back into my car. His eyes follow me as he stands idly in front of the truck as I slide back into the driver's seat and shut the door, "you getting in or what?" He hesitates for a few seconds and then opens the passenger side door and sits down; his long muscular legs barely fitting into the cabin as his knees nearly touch his chest. I didn't think my truck was that small, but maybe I didn't realize Paul was that huge.
I gingerly step on the gas and begin to right the truck's position back into the lane, the gentle rattle of the chains sound on the truck's tires as I accelerate slowly. We are about half a mile down the road and I'm beginning to feel myself finally calm down; I also realize it's warmer than usual which is weird since the heater barely works. I look over at Paul, his head propped up on his hand, his elbow on the window, and he looks perplexed.
"What is so important that you nearly killed us both?" I say, removing my gloves and hat as I was curiously starting to get overheated all of a sudden.
His eyes flitted over to me and he straightened up, taking a breath, "you saw, didn't you?"
A flash of him as a giant silver wolf exiting the break room crosses my mind; how could I not have seen you? "Yes," I say, I briefly look over to him and he looks down to his knees.
"No one can know, Bella," he says, his voice low with a hint of something I wasn't really sure of.
"I'm pretty good at keeping things to myself, Paul," I say, I think about the vampires and keeping the importance of keeping their secret from the world first; but then I think of the past few months that I've been struggling, not reaching out to anyone, apart from Jake, but I never really brought up Edward or my feelings. Come to think of it, I didn't talk to anyone about that…ever.
He looked at me again and he rubbed the top of his knees, "I can't really, talk about this openly with many people, aside from others that are…um," he hesitates and as I turn briefly to see his face, he looks like he's grappling with something in his mind, like a word he couldn't think of or he was fighting against himself to say what he needed to say.
"What other werewolves?" I say trying to maybe see if that helped him out, because I assumed there were others. Just like he had made sweeping assumptions that were generally true about the vampires and Edward.
He looked at me and tipped his chin with the slightest of nods. "I am very limited in what I can actually say to you," he says and he winces like he's in pain and that throws me a bit.
"Are you okay?" I ask, surveying him a little more even though I'm trying to keep my eyes on the road. He's making it a challenge.
"I'm fine, it's just…not easy to have this conversation right now," he says and he winces again like he has a headache and he rubs his temple.
"Is that all that you needed to say?" I ask, my eyes sliding back to the road.
"No," he says and his teeth clench together, the muscles in his jaw ripple with tension, "I…didn't mean to act the way I did yesterday. All of this is new and I'm…adjusting so to speak."
Was that an apology? "I imagine changing into a wolf has a longer adjustment period," I say quietly.
"Why aren't you more scared?" he asks, looking over at me and now I feel like I need to shrug out of my jacket as I start to feel the sweat accumulate on the back of my neck.
"I don't know," I say, pushing my jacket behind the seat, "are you going to hurt me?"
"I don't…I don't know," he whispers in a low voice and I'm not sure what that means.
"What do you mean you don't know?" I ask, "do you want to hurt me?"
"Not in the way you're thinking," and he winces again and I am thrust into a whirlwind of confusion.
"What does that mean?" my voice is a bit higher now, so I take a deep breath and quickly gather my thoughts. "I think your answer should be pretty straight forward," my eyes sliding to him now, "do you or do you not want to cause me physical harm? Should I be scared of you, Paul?"
"No," he says finally, "no I don't, Bella."
"Okay, then I don't see a reason to be scared if you don't plan on hurting me," I say, feeling a sense of relief; what did "not in the way you're thinking," mean?
"But what if I do and it's an accident?" he asks, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment and they're soft, gentle, vulnerable…I feel my resolve soften with him slightly.
"You can't really plan for accidents though, that's why they're accidents," I say. Of course, this is all very easy for me to say since I'm human and he's a werewolf.
"I guess," he says and he still looks perplexed and anxious, that pulse in his brain seems to really be giving him trouble, or whatever it was.
"If I was worried about every accident that could possibly happen that would cause me physical harm, I would never leave my room or realistically, my bed," my eyes are doing a dance between the road and him, "but life has to move forward; risks aren't going to go away just because you're scared to face it." A flash of Edwards' face tears through my mind and that familiar ache sears into my chest and even though it hurts and I hate it, at least I got a chance to experience it I guess. Even if it was just me falling for someone who would never love me as much as I loved them, I experienced it and I am learning to live through it.
I feel him watching me now, as I keep my gaze fixed on the road, scattered snowflakes falling as I drive up to the first stop light into Forks.
"Do you need a ride home?" I ask, realizing that I've been on autopilot this entire time heading back to Charlie's.
"No, I'll get home fine, just go home," he says quietly.
"What, you're just gonna run home to La Push all the way from my house?" I laugh and as I look back at him, his full mouth is in a tight line, "you're not actually gonna do that, are you?"
He doesn't answer but his eyebrows go up as he gives me an affirmative look.
"How.." and I shake my head in disbelief, pulling up to the street to Charlie's house.
"I can't…say anything," he says quietly, and then even quieter than that, he says in a low whisper, "yet."
Yet? And I feel like I need to just relinquish whatever curiosity I have for another day. I don't know what his deal is, but it seems like he has a migraine; probably from running around without partially naked in the snow like a lunatic, werewolf or no.
Charlie's car isn't in the driveway as I pull up. I'd have the house to myself for a few hours to decompress my eventful afternoon. I grab my bags from the back of the seat, along with my coat. The heat of the cabin dissipates quickly after I'm out into the biting cold, so I shrug back into my jacket.
I walk up to the front door and Paul follows after me, I turn around to him walking up behind me. I'm on the top step and he stands at the bottom of the steps and we're eye level and I can see the masculine angle of his face, the wide almond shape of his eyes framed by long black lashes and messy dark hair. His full lips part slightly as he looks squarely in my eyes and I feel my stomach do that all too familiar flip.
And then he does something that I wasn't expecting, he gently tucks my hair behind my ear, his index finger sweeping gently along my jaw and I feel every nerve in my body tingle and spark with electricity, my cheeks flushing with heat.
"Someday I'll tell you more Bella," he says as I feel the radiant heat from his body like a space heater and I wonder…
"You're so hot," I say looking at the steam that is billowing from his skin.
"Uh, thanks," he says the side of his mouth arching up in a playful crooked smile.
"No I mean…" and I put my bare hand on his chest…and two things happen: the first is I feel that he is extremely hot, feverish, well over one hundred degrees fahrenheit, the second is the intense electricity that shoots down my arm and into my body at the contact. He looks at me touching him and his eyes flash with something I don't understand entirely, but I think…I think I might be feeling it; heat blooms low in my belly and my heart starts to punch my ribcage and I exhale through gently parted lips, the plume of steam from my exhale brushing across his face.
He steps forward, crowding into me and I drop my items, losing my footing slightly as he puts one of his hands in my hair and steadies me by wrapping the other one around my waist. He pushed me up against the door, pulling my hair back slightly forcing my face up and he puts his forehead to mine, the tip of his nose sweeps along my cheekbone, and my breath hitches as I feel the lightest brush of his lips against the curve of my neck where he inhales deeply and then places his lips against the soft shell of my ear. I feel his hips press into mine, the pressure doing something inexplicable to me. My whole body is trembling, tingling, burning, every part of me is on fire and I want to combust, be consumed in the flames.
"I want…" he whispers and I realize my hands are still at my sides and I need to do something with them, touch something, anything; so I glide my hands along his bare arms, sweeping featherlight over his copper skin leaving a trail of goosebumps, my fingers drifting over the hills and valleys of his tones musculature. My hand slips around the back of his neck, my fingers threading through the short length of his dark hair. I pull his head to me and he's stepping away from me. The cold air is like an unwelcome wash of freezing water to my body and his absence feels like an insult or an ache to my senses.
"I'm sorry," I say, feeling like I stepped over a boundary I didn't know was there.
He is walking backwards away from me and I hate it. Why is he not touching me anymore? What did I do?
"Not your fault," he says softly and he turns and runs towards the line of trees at the far side of the house, the snow falling in earnest now and I'm left feeling like I'm stranded, my nerve endings still on fire but now I'm burning alone and I hate it.
Burning alive and left alone, again.
When will I ever fucking learn?