This chapter turned out way longer than I planned! I just went back to uni, so probably not the best time to be writing something so big that has nothing to do with my degree hahahaI hope you enjoy!
EPOV
It was getting dark by the time my parents arrived home from lunch with Eleazar and Carmen. When Alice and I had first arrived home I had locked myself in the bathroom and took the hottest shower my skin could handle, scrubbing the morning off me. My tear blended in with the rest of the water and the sound of the shower covered my cries, so at least I avoided an inquisition from Alice when I finally emerged.
The house was quiet when I had finished getting dressed, so my sister had either gone back to her apartment or was keeping herself occupied somewhere quietly. The first was probably the most likely, knowing Alice.
It felt odd being alone in the house. My parents had lived in the same house in the Laurelhurst neighbourhood for my whole life, having inherited it from my mothers grandparents when they died. It was a large, five bedroom brick house, with a large expanse of garden and lawn that ended with a beautiful view of Lake Washington, framed by pines that buffered the property to the water edge.
Mom had done a lot of work on it since inheriting it, not that it wasn't kept in high order before that. But with more modern taste than her grandparents had had, they had made a few adjustments over the years. Much of the back wall on the bottom floor had been converted into glass to capitalise on the amazing view of the lake. The whole back wall of the bottom floor had been converted to floor to ceiling windows and glass doors. The central hall that ran the length on the bottom floor ended with the window, framing the view like a living picture. On the right of the stairs to the upper floor was the morning room, which overlooked the lush flower garden my mother loved to work in whenever the weather permits.
On the left off the front door, a large arch led to the open plan living room. The large room was broken by another open arch leading to the kitchen on the left and dining area on the right, which shared the uninterrupted view down beyond the sloping lawn. Another open arch completed the circle on the other side of the dining table, at the end of the hall, the door to the library opposite. My fathers office was on the bottom floor, next to the library. It was one of the few rooms that didn't have a spectacular view, looking out a crop of trees that boarded the left side of the property. He always said the wooded view reminded of his home in England.
Though I had grown up here, it felt empty today. Somehow less alive than it had ever been. Instead of feeling inviting, the view out towards the lake made me feel empty. Isolated. Maybe it was me, and not the house. I wandered from room to room, trying to find something that would hold my attention or draw any life back into the space around me.
I stood in the kitchen wondering if I should make myself something to eat. I still didn't feel hungry, and the thought of eating made me feel more tired than sick. I forced myself to at least drink a glass of water. It felt ridiculous hanging out in the kitchen if I wasn't even going to try and eat, so I moved on.
I found myself in the library, which had once been converted into our playroom but had been turned back into the library it once was when we were teenagers. In the corner of the room, next to the large window, was the piano I had learnt to play on. A comfortable chair sat in the middle of the room, slightly to the other side, facing both the window and piano. The perfect spot to sit and read or listen to someone play softly in the corner.
I carefully sat at the bench and opened the keylid. My fingers stroked the white and black hey, but I refrained from playing. How many hours had we sat in this room, me practicing or writing a new song with Maria sprawled on the carpet doing her homework? Sometimes she would venture off into the kitchen and help Mom cook something, popping her head around the corner every few minutes to request a particular song.
Though it was my parents who took me to lessons and encouraged my passion, it was Maria that hald really pushed me to go for a career in music. I had graduated from Dartmouth as a music major, and after moving to Chicago for Maria to go to law school at Northwestern I carved out a career as a composer. At first I started with just jingles and ads radio, but soon got a few jobs for television advertisements. Once I started to make a name for myself I got a job for a Netflix movie and a few tv series. Lately the majority of my work has been for a video and computer game company. During the work on the first game I composed for, I built a good rapport with a few of the creators and they had been sending jobs my way ever since.
~oOo~
The sound of the front door opening and my parents' quiet chatter drifted down the hall. I could hear my mother head in the direction of the kitchen, and must have been putting things in the fridge, while my father climbed the stairs, probably to change out of his suit.
As a child I had dreamed that one day I would have a love story like theirs. They were perfect. A perfect couple and perfect parents.
Carlisle Cullen and Esme Platt met at a college party their second year at Dartmouth, and had had an instant connection. She had gone to the party with a date, but hadn't ended up having a very good time with him when all it seemed her date could talk about was his family's chicken farm. She had seen her friend, Carmen, across the room talking to a few people and made her escape when her date said he needed to use the bathroom.
As it turned out, Carmen was talking to the handsome Italian guy from her philosophy class from the year before, whom she had spent a good portion of that semester drooling over. As Esme approached she caught her friend's eye.
Carmen smiled widely, and beckoned her over. "Esme! Bored already?" She laughed.
Esme rolled her eyes. "Remind me to never go on a date with another chicken farmer!" she huffed. "Honestly, he probably put me off even eating chicken for the rest of my life."
A smooth, rolling chuckle came from the striking young blonde man standing next to Eleazar. "Then you should also make sure to not date any other sorts of farmers, or you might have to go completely vegetarian," he said in a charming British accent.
Esme turned to smirk at him. "So what kinds of professions should I be choosing to ensure good date banter then?"
Carlisles' blue eyes twinkled as he gave her a dashing, lop-sided smile. "Why future doctors, of course!"
They had spent the rest of the night talking and avoiding the chicken farmer that continued to search for Esme the rest of the night. Each time they spotted him, searching the crowded space, they would crouch and skulk out, trying not to draw attention with their giggles. They had been inseparable ever since. And they did not serve chicken at their wedding.
~oOo~
My parents had been home about ten minutes when my father quietly came into the library, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets until I looked at him.
"Could you join us for a second, son?" Dad asked, giving me a kind smile. He turned and went down the hall towards the living room before I could respond.
"Sure," I huffed to myself, closing the keylid again before following my father.
Mom was sitting awkwardly on the couch, and for a woman as graceful as Esme Cullen it was a big red flag to see her so uncomfortable. My father sat down beside her, taking her hand. I took the armchair opposite them, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.
A pregnant silence filled the air as I waited for them to start their conversation. They were having a silent discussion, and it seemed that in the end my mother won out.
Dad turned to look me right in the eyes. His tone was as soothing as if he were talking to a distressed patient, but the words out of his mouth had me sitting up straight and rigid. "You're not okay, Edward," he started, holding up his hand to hold my rebuttal before it could form. "We know that losing Maria has been incredibly difficult."
"We can only imagine, Sweetheart" Mom interrupted. She was trying to diffuse some of the tension that was suddenly building.
Dad patted Mom's hand, continuing ahead. "But your mother and I worry that you're feeling lost, and we want to be able to give you more support to get back on your feet."
I didn't say anything. I just looked blankly at him, and then my mother. My jaw felt tight, thought my chest felt tighter. Some part of me knew that they were coming from a place of love. But that part was slowly being drowned out by a deafening anger.
"Chicago is just so far away, and sometimes when we're on the phone the tone of your voice makes me worry that you're over there, all alone." My mothers eyes shone with unshed tears. This made my chest tighten for a separate reason, though it was quickly swallowed by the anger too.
Dad waited for a pause, assessing my stone-faced expression. "We wanted to ask you to consider moving back to Seattle."
"Come home and let us take care of you, sweetheart," Mom pleaded, holding her hands out toward me.
The pressure that was building inside me kept my arms rigid. "Chicago was our home." I ground out. "Every memory of our marriage, I have there. I can't believe you'd ask me to leave that."
"That's not what we're saying," Mom said in a placating tone trying to calm me. "And Chicago is not the only place you have memories of Maria. You both spent eighteen years growing up in this home and this city. You can remember someone anywhere. Why not be with the people that love you?"
Tension vibrated throughout my body as I tried to contain whatever was rising up from inside me. I stood abruptly, moving behind and leaning over the armchair, putting a barrier between them and me.
Mom clasped her hand in front of her, as if begging me to listen. "I just think that dwelling in your sorrow is going to eat you alive, darling"
I stood ram-rod straight, as if I had been electrocuted, and stared at her aghast. "Did you really just tell me, in so many words, to get over the death of my wife and move on?"
My mother gasped, looking horrified. Tears sprang back into her eyes.
"That is definitely not what either of us are saying." Dad strongly interjected. "We want you to think about possibly moving back so you can have the support of your family."
"Because I'm completely incapable of looking after myself," I burst out. "Apparently your wife dies and you become an invalid!" I knew I was letting my anger get the better of me, but it felt out of control. There was a disconnect between my head and my mouth, and I didn't know if I was going to be able to reign it in.
"You're not incapable, Edward. But you're dealing with something you never have before. Grief overwhelms even the strongest of people, and as your parents we want to protect you. You may have a life in Chicago, but it is a life you seem to have increasingly cut yourself off from. Your mother and I know what you are going through, and all we want to do is help."
The dam had burst. The pressure got too much and could no longer stand in the one spot. I paced back and forth in front of them, and before I knew it the words were spilling out.
"You have no idea what I'm going through," I thundered. "You may have lost , but neither of you have lost the person you loved! You have no idea what it's like to wake up next to the cold body of your wife, or to have to wait for the most horrible 11 minutes of your entire life only to have the paramedics tell you that there's nothing they can do!" I couldn't stop the tirade now if I tried.
"Edward, we just want to help…" my father began, but I cut him off.
"If you want to help someone, help Eleazar and Carmen!" I yelled back, throwing my hand up in the air. "You've lost a child, not your wife, so give them all your sage wisdom and let me get the fuck on with my life!"
The shock of what I had said resonated throughout the room. The shocked and hurt expressions of my parents took the wind right out of my sails. Before they could respond, or I could say anything else I turned to leave. I grabbed my jacket off the hooks in the entrance hall, slamming the front door as I left.
~oOo~
Luckily I had my phone on me, so as I made my way down my parents street I ordered an Uber. I knew I couldn't go back to the house for a while. My temper was still raw, and I needed time to cool down. My parents also probably needed time to process the incredibly insensitive things their son just yelled at them.
It was wrong to say it, I knew that. But it had obviously been festering inside me for a while. They were right about some things. Since Maria had died I had cut myself off. I rarely went out for more than my daily run and groceries. Working from home meant that I didn't have work colleagues I saw regularly, speaking to most who hired me over the phone. Most of the people we hung out with in Chicago were Maria's friends. She was always the outgoing, happy one that attracted people like a moth to a flame. I'd never really had to try to make friends of my own, as I'd always had her to break the ice.
I was waiting at the corner on the end of our street when the Uber arrived. I hadn't really known where to tell it to take me, but had finally thought of a bar not too far away that we had enjoyed going to when we had come home to visit our parents a few times. I had contemplated going to Alice's first, but didn't know if she would just pick up where Mom and Dad left off.
It was still fairly early, so the bar wasn't too crowded yet. It helped that there wasn't a game on today, or I knew that even at 6:30 it would have been packed.
I found a booth at the back of the bar, away from a loud group who were obviously here for a birthday dinner. Their loud conversation and laughter filled the room, making me wish I'd gone somewhere else.
"Can I get you anything?" a waitress asked, pulling my attention away from the table and giving me a friendly grin. She was blonde and pretty, her smile making her more so, which I'm sure was great for her tips.
I didn't really feel like drinking, but it would be rude for me to sit here and not order something. "Just an IPA, thanks."
"We have a few," she said with a smile. "Our most popular is from Fremont Brewing. It's got a great balance of sweetness and bitterness."
"Sure," I said, giving her a tight smile before she turned to go put in my order at the bar.
The beer was nicer than I expected, and it was easier to sit there and try not to think when I had something to do with my hands. I wanted to block out everything, not think about how worried my parents were, or how long this awful day was turning out to be.
I was nursing my third beer when a voice came from over my shoulder. "I thought I might find you here," my sister said as she slid into the booth opposite me. "Dad called me to ask if you'd shown up at my apartment. "I told him I'd look for you, and thankfully this is only the second place I've looked."
Alice got the attention of the waitress and she passed. "Would I be able to get a plate of fries and a coke?" she quickly asked, before turning her attention back to me.
"What are the fries for?"
"One, fries are delicious," she counted on her fingers, a smirk on her face. "Two, did you eat anything before you sat here like a sad sack, nursing a beer?"
"You don't think I can take care of myself either, huh?" The bitterness returned to my voice.
My sister chuckled. "When have I ever thought you could take care of yourself?"
The dour look I shot her dried up her amusement, leaving us in awkward silence. Alice's drink arrived, shortly followed by the fries. She proceeded to dunk a few fries in tomato sauce before popping them in her mouth. I took a few and copied her action, suddenly hungrier than I thought.
"Is that why you stormed out of Mom and Dads? They said you couldn't look after yourself?" she asked me after a few minutes.
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. "They want me to move back from Chicago," I said into my beer.
"I don't know why the idea of it made you so mad, '' she said. "It's not like you're happy there anymore. Not that you'd be happy anywhere after Maria died," she cut my off with a wave of her hand when I tried to interrupt. "And I understand why you wouldn't want to leave there, Edward. I really do. It was the first place you guys lived after you got married, so it's where you're family, hers and yours, is from."
I slammed his hand against the table a little too loudly, in the way slightly drunk people do."Exactly!"
"But it's like you're forgetting that you guys grew up together here. You may have spent the eight years of your marriage there, but you have a lifetime of memories here in Seattle. She won't be with you any less if you're here, you'll just get to be with us more." This must be a talking point between her and my mother.
"I'm fine," I stressed. "You're all judging me based on a few days visit. A visit that wasn't to hang out and relax or spend time with my family. It was to go see the grave of my wife, who only died a year ago. Yes, I'm sad. Yes, I get lonely. I am alone now. I'll adjust," I finished by taking a large drink from my glass.
"Okay, you're fine," she held out her hands in surrender. "Can you answer a few questions for me then?"
"Alice," I warned with a groan.
"We can do it like Never Have I Ever, if you like? You take a drink every time the answer would be yes," she gave me a devilish grin, popping a few more fries in her mouth.
"Fine," I gave in.
"Never have I ever gone more than a week without talking to another person face to face?"she began.
I took a drink. Alice smiled, happy that I was playing along.
"Never have I ever chosen to stay inside or cancel plans to avoid talking to other people?" I took another drink.
"I've forgotten or chosen not to eat, even when I know I should?" Drink.
"I find it hard to sleep?" Drink. My glass was nearly empty.
"I find it hard to get out of bed sometimes?" I took a small sip as there was less than a mouthful left and I had the feeling Alice had more questions she wanted to ask.
"Never have I ever thought about ending my life?" Alice's voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear her. Almost.
I frowned, staring down at the last of my beer, my hands dropping away leaving the glass on the table. Alice let out what I assumed was a relieved breath, thought her eyes were still sad when I met them.
"You know, there's no shame in struggling with grief. Nor is there any shame in needing your family, especially when you're heartbroken."
I spun my glass slowly, eyes focused on the table in thought. Alice worked her way out of the booth before standing beside me. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
I settled the bill while Alice quickly went to the bathroom. The drive home was quiet, the soft music from the Top 40 radio station on low the only sound. She knew not to overload me anymore when I'd had such a rollercoaster of a day, and was probably letting me stew.
Before long we were pulling up in front of our childhood home. As I reached to unbuckle my seatbelt, Alice took my hand and looked at me with such a sad expression.
"If you want to know what I think, I want my brother back. Both physically and in here," she tapped my chest over my heart. "I miss you, big brother."
She released me and we sat in silence for a second. Turning to open the door, I quietly said "I miss you too, Ali" before getting out and heading up to the dark house.
The lamp on the hall table had been left on, bathing the entrance in a warm pool of light. The house was silent, my parents must have gone to bed. The house felt warmer than it did when I had come back from the cemetery. It's heart was beating again, and I felt calmer.
Switching the lamp off and climbing the stairs, a part of me had to admit that I missed the small things of someone caring about you. After what I had said to my parents, the fact that they did something as small as leaving on a light so I wouldn't come home to darkness made my throat hurt.
The fact that my parents were so worried about me they thought it would be good for me to move back to Seattle shouldn't have surprised me. I still talked to them regularly, and the tones of their voices and the questions they asked me should have given me some inkling this would happen eventually. There had been a lot of "How are you feeling, Edward?" and "Have you been out doing anything fun? Your father and I went to a movie you would love..." lately.
And I did miss them. Being so far away was a lot harder since Maria died. I was holding on so tightly to the life we built, holding on to the feeling of her presence as long as I could. Sometimes it felt like I could see her, from the corner of my eye. She was everywhere in our apartment. Some of her clothes still held her scent, her jewellery box was still in the centre of the dresser. There were some evenings when I sat on the couch it felt like she would walk through the door any moment, drop her bag on the table and flop next to me, exhausted. In Chicago she surrounded me, and I needed to hold on to her for as long as I could, because when she fades she'll be gone forever.
I worried that if I left I would finally lose those parts of her. The idea of packing up her things, packing away the life we had built, overwhelmed me. How could I see the last pieces of her put into a box and shut forever? A final coffin. It was silly because she was already gone and all I had left was memories and possessions. Both of which I can take with me if I decide to move back.
It would be nice to see my family more, though. I did miss Alice. I knew that losing Maria, her closest friend, hurt her in ways she hadn't let me see. She probably thought she was protecting me. It made me feel so guilty, and selfish, because my grief had been so eclipsing she hadn't been able to process hers properly either.
I found it hard to sleep for the rest of the night. Everything my parents and Alice had said rolled around my head, keeping me awake. And when I did sleep I dreamed of my family crying, holding their arms out to me to call me to them.
I felt exhausted when I woke at six, but decided I couldn't lay in bed anymore or it would drive me crazy. I went straight to the bathroom and into the shower. My shoulders ache and my eyes felt gritty, so I stood there letting the warm water wash away the tension of my restless night for nearly ten minutes.
The smell of fresh coffee wafted up from below as I left the bathroom, feeling mildly more human already. I padded downstairs, making my way to the kitchen and the promise of caffeine.
My mother was sitting at the small table by the glass wall in the kitchen. She had her coffee while she flipped through an interior design magazine.
She looked up as I walked into the room, her sad smile an indicator that we both needed to clear the air. It was incredibly hard to see her so upset by something I had said.
"Good morning, darling," she said as she turned back to what she was reading.
I grabbed a mug and joined her at the table, pouring myself a cup from the half empty french press.
"Morning, Mom," I replied timidly. I let the silence draw for a few minutes longer, needing to collect myself and decide how I could best apologize for my hurtful words the night before. I guess the best way would be to just do it.
"Um…" I hesitated. She had already turned to look at me, but the kindness I still saw in her face spurred me on. "I need to apologize for what I said last night. I should never have thrown Anthony's death at either of you. I was upset, but you were just concerned and I blew up at you." I hung my head in shame.
"Oh, honey," her soft words and warm hand on my cheek drew me to look at her. "I know you didn't mean it to be hurtful. We've all said things we regret in anger, unfortunately. All we can do is say sorry."
She took my hand, squeezing it. "No matter what you have, or will ever say to me, I will always love you. That is something that no words change, Edward."
I found it hard to talk around the tightness in my throat. "I love you too, Mom."
"You were partly right," she said resignedly, focusing her gaze on the view of the lake through the pines. "We may know what loss is like, but all grief is different. When we lost your brother we were devastated. It consumed us for a long time. But we always had each other. We knew that we would never forget Anthony, but we also knew that we would have a future together and more children to love."
Not long after my parents first got married, while Dad was doing his residence in New York, they found out that Mom was pregnant. They had originally planned to wait until Dad had finished his residency and he got a job in a hospital, so they could be settled before they started to add to their family. But the surprise was a good one, and just before their second wedding anniversary they welcomed Anthony Masen Cullen into the world.
It was just after they had moved to Seattle when they discovered that Anthony had Leukemia. He was three years old. Dad had felt like a failure as a doctor and as father, and Mom threw her entire self into getting Anthony well again. It worked and he went into remission. But after over a year he relapsed, and when his little body couldn't handle anymore, he faded away. It hadn't been quick, like Maria. My parents had spent days in the hospital by his side, watching as he slowly slipped further from them.
"Losing him changed us, and I think we want to protect you so much that we forgot how losing Maria will have changed you, too." She looked at me with such love, I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
"I don't know if I can ever be the same," I choked out. "I wish I could be the old Edward, but I just don't know if he even exists anymore. A huge part of what made me him is missing now."
"The people we love change us, Edward. They change us when they come into our lives, and they change us when they leave. Some people leave more dramatically, or more finally than others, and this, too, will change you," she squeezed my hand again. " Loss teaches us that life is short. All we can do is try, every day, to be as happy as we can be."
We sat in a more comfortable silence than I had experienced since the start of my visit. So much had been said, and a pressure I hadn't even realised had been building had been relieved slightly.
"What time is your flight later?" Mom asked as she got up to take her mug and the now empty french press to the sink to rinse.
"At three." It was only just coming up to eight, and I knew my mother would be going to work soon. "I'll go see dad at the hospital before I leave. I need to apologize to him too."
"I'm sure he'll say the same thing that I did, but I know it would mean a lot to him to talk before you go back to Chicago."
"Do you know what time he might be finished with work?"
"He said his surgery would end at eleven, and he usually likes to finish his paperwork in his office afterwards. You could probably find him there, if there were no complications." My father was a specialist cardiothoracic surgeon at the Harbourview Medical Centre. He had had an odd schedule for as long as I could remember, but he always let Mom know when he was going to be in an O.R so she could reach him in an emergency. It was nice to know that they still did it.
Before she left the room, I called her back.
"I want you to know I'll think about what you guys said." She looked at me quizzically for a moment. "About moving home. I'm not promising anything, but I want you to know I'll think about it."
Her smile was full of happiness. "I'm glad, darling."
~oOo~
I checked my phone as I walked into the lobby at the hospital. It was just after twelve, so hopefully he would be finished with his surgery and be in his office like Mom said. I'd had to bring my carry on bag with me so I could go straight to the airport, and the idea of carrying it around the hospital in search of my father didn't sound appealing.
Even though the conversation with Mom went well, I couldn't help but be nervous. It was hard asking for forgiveness, even from your own parents. As I rode the elevator up to his floor, I concentrated on taking deep breaths to calm me.
After getting directions from the nurse at the central desk, I followed the hall down to my fathers office. I knocked lightly and peered around the slightly ajar door. Thankfully, he was sitting at his desk. On the wall behind him hung a variety of certificates proclaiming his qualifications, and a large picture window provided an oddly contrasting view of the hospital roof and Portage Bay beyond it.
"Edward!" He looked up surprised "What are you doing here? Aren't you flying out in a few hours?"
"Yeah, but I needed to talk to you before I left. It got a bit heated last night."
My father leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You were understandably upset. Yesterday was very emotional," Dad said neutrally.
"I spoke to Mom before she left for work, but I wanted to come and apologize to you too, for what I said. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on either of you."
"No, but as your parents we love you regardless. We only want what's best for you, but you are an adult and we need to respect your choices. If moving back here isn't what you want, then we will support you however we can."
"I don't know what I want anymore," I confessed. "I can't imagine leaving what we built in Chicago, but I'm tired of being alone."
Dad studied me for a moment. "What is it that continues to hold you there?" he finally asked me.
I couldn't contain the scoff, though I tried not to let my agitation go to my face. "It was our home, Dad."
"Yes, but so is Seattle." He held up his hand when he saw I was going to interrupt. "I know it's not the same, but it doesn't make it less true. This may sound inconsiderate, but isn't living there a reminder of what you've lost? Living in the home you shared without her must be hard in and of itself."
I took a few seconds to collect myself. I knew he didn't mean it to be harsh, and I had to remind myself that this exact point had been circling my brain last night as I tried to sleep.
Taking a deep breath I answered. "It is hard sometimes. I feel her absence every day. But it's also the only place where I feel like she still exists. Thinking about packing that into a box and never opening it again is harder."
We sat in silence while Dad absorbed what I had said. My father always took great care with his words. He made sure to truly think about what someone had said before he responded.
"It took us a long time to touch Athony's things after we moved into the house. The movers had packed everything, so we hadn't had to really face it until we started putting your nursery together. We had to sort through all his things and decide what we would need for our new child, and that was an experience I will never forget. It brought everything that we thought we had been dealing well with back, but added on to it the feeling like we were erasing him with you," the emotion in his voice broke my heart. "When you're ready, Edward, you'll know what your next step will be."
"I want you to know I'll think about moving back. I don't want to make a promise and break it, but I will think about it."
Just like my mother, he smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you, Son. That's all we wanted."
Slapping my thigh, I stood. "I better get going to the airport. You never know what traffic is going to be like."
"Alright," he said as he came around the desk to give me a hug. "Let us know when you're home safe, please."
"I will." I patted him on the back before retrieving my bag and waving goodbye.
The elevator was crowded going back down. As more people got on, I was pushed further back and had to keep my bag as close to my side as I could.
I was the last to get off when we arrived on the ground floor, a few passengers walked so slowly I almost tripped on some guy in a jumpsuits' heels.
As I rounded a column on one side of the reception bay, I saw her. Maria. Everything went quiet. She was all I could see now. I had never actually seen her, just felt like she was around me or could walk through the door at any moment. Never anywhere but at the apartment, either. My whole body was frozen at the sight of her.
She was exactly the same, but she was different, too. Her hair was longer, and she was wearing clothes I had never seen before. A dark blue sweater tucked into high waisted jeans and a pair of sneakers. She was looking down at her phone, biting on her bottom lip. She used to do that in her sleep, curled on her side.
I started to take a step towards her, suddenly so unsure of myself. A shout from just behind my shoulder brought the world around me back into sharp focus.
"Bella!" Her head snapped up at the affectionate nickname only her father used. For a second she seemed to be looking directly at me. I took another step before I had even realised.
A tall, blonde nurse stepped around me and headed towards Maria. She was wearing pink scrubs under her tan jacket, so there was a good chance she worked in labour and delivery. This was obviously who Maria was looking at, as she started to walk towards her.
"Hey, Rose," Maria addressed her.
No, not Maria. Maria would have walked to me. She would have seen me and come straight to me and the world would have been right again. Somehow this woman looked identical to Maria, but she couldn't be her.
The blonde nurse, Rose, had finally reached her and they hugged. "How did it go?" she asked the woman, stepping back but keeping hold of her hand.
"It was fine," the woman shrugged. "There were a few different groups, but I put my name on the list for the one on Monday nights. Hopefully I won't have too much homework to get through on Mondays, so it seemed the better choice."
"Very logical," Rose agreed with a laugh.
Another elevator must have arrived on the ground floor because someone pumped into me as a group of people rushed past. The two women were between me and the doors. I still couldn't take my eyes off her as I made my way towards them.
"Where should we eat?" I heard Rose ask, catching more of their conversation.
"How the hell should I know?" was her quick retort. "You're the one who works here."
As I drew closer she saw me. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a silent gasp. A heat spread all over my body as our eyes met for the first time. It seemed she may feel the same heat, as I could see a blush rise from the collar of her sweater and travel all the way into her hairline. She may not be Maria, but there was something that drew me to her. I wonder if she was feeling that pull too.
"Bella?" Rose asked, catching her friends sudden blush. She followed the woman's, Bella's, gaze and saw me. Her laugh startled Bella, and as she quickly ducked her head to hide behind her hair, the spell was broken.
I forced myself to walk past them without looking back. All I wanted to do was run back and beg her to tell me who she was and how she looked exactly like my deceased wife!
"Oh my god," I heard Rose say quietly before I was out of earshot. "Yes, girl! He was hot."
I couldn't hear if Bella said anything in response. I walked through the doors and made my way to one of the green benches by the side of the road. I sat heavily and tried to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out.
There felt like there was a slight sheen on sweat all over my body. My skin felt prickly, like the after effects of the burning heat I'd experienced when we looked eyes. I wondered if I was having a panic attack. And if I was, should I call my dad to come help me?
How could this be possible? All I could think about was stupid movies Alice used to watch when we were kids. There was one where the Olsen Twins played identical strangers, and another one where Lindsy Lohan played her own long, lost twin. Both of those situations were outlandish movie plots, but one of them had to be closer to the truth. Either this Bella was Marias doppelganger, or…
The other option sounded like an episode on one of those daytime talk shows. But it wasn't impossible. Maria was adopted, so there had always been the possibility she had blood relatives walking around. Maybe Bella was a sister from one of her birth parents? It wasn't uncommon for family members to look incredibly alike.
I tried to think about occam's razor. Unfortunately I couldn't think which would be the most logical answer. It felt like I couldn't rule anything out, besides Maria faking her death or Bella being a clone.
A taxi pulled up to the curb in front of me, reminding me that I hadn't ordered an Uber like I had planned and I needed to get going to the airport to catch my flight. I waved to the driver, who popped his trunk so I could stash my bag.
As I sat in the back of the car, blindly watching the city pass by, I felt something settle within me. The strength of the pull I had felt was intense. It unnerved me. I knew she wasn't Maria, but a part of me wanted to know her anyway. It was wrong on so many levels, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to stay away from Seattle now that I knew she was here.
Phew! That was a big one. Hopefully some questions were answered, though I'm sure there may be some new ones now!