THE ELEVENTH TIME

The antique mall is really a giant, one room building packed with cubicles bursting at the seams of mostly junk. There are a few small areas with mid century modern furniture and one cubicle overflowing with vintage campaign buttons that I find myself spending a lot of time in. Renee chatters constantly, which breaks up the droll sound of the fans and dehumidifiers at the end of each row.

She pulls me into one cubicle full of books and comics. Over a display case, she asks me if I've been seeing anyone. I spin and kneel in evasion, pretending to be enthralled by a collection of old encyclopedias.

"Bella, sweetie? Are you evading me?"

Shit. "No, mom."

"Honey, you've always been a terrible liar."

My eyes meet hers over my shoulder and she's got her head cocked, one blonde eyebrow raised in judgment.

I stand. "Okay, well. Promise you won't be mad."

She crosses her heart.

"Edward transferred." I start picking at my cuticles.

"To OSU?" Her eyes are wide and disbelieving.

I bite my lip. "Yeah. It was a total surprise. He's enrolled in my Shakespeare class."

"And you're seeing him?" She attempts to be casual by randomly picking up a paperback with a shirtless, buff guy on it. "Do you think that's wise?"

I pull on a cuticle too hard and a shard of skin rips. A drop of blood seeps out. Ow. "I didn't say I was seeing him." I pop the finger into my mouth in lieu of a bandaid.

Renee glances at the back of the book and realizes she's holding smut in front of her daughter and places it on the shelf like it bit her. "Do you want to see him? Like see him, see him?" She tries to ask conversationally, but I can tell she's eager to hear my answer by her tone of voice, the too casual phrasing.

We trail out to the aisle and walk into a booth selling vintage lamps. "That's the problem. I do. But I don't know if he understands how much I've changed."

Her fingertips trail over a faux stained glass lampshade. "Does he seem interested too? How do you know he hasn't changed?"

"I know he's interested." I pretend to examine a lava lamp. "Last I saw him, I blew up at him, Mom."

Renee stops browsing abruptly and looks to me. Really looks at me. "Was the fight different this time?"

I think back to fighting in Forks: to James. To me pleading in the forest. The times I can think of include him scolding me and implying he knows best. I finger a beaded pull chain as I nod. "Yeah."

"Did it feel good? To yell at him? Get it all out in the open?" She inquires.

I tilt my head toward the ceiling and sigh hard out of my nose. "I thought it would feel like… like I was letting go of a burden." I make eye contact with her again. "But it just felt really fucking shitty."

An older woman walks by just then and glares at me for my language. Ever the adult, Renee sticks her tongue out at her, further scandalizing this poor elderly woman. She scuttles into the booth next to us. I manage to mutter an apology as she turns the corner.

"Honey, do you ever wonder if you ever fully let yourself heal?"

Alright. This is how she starts one of her weird lectures. She has a habit of asking me something similar to this pretty much every time I see her. She'll be recommending alternative medicine or an Eat, Pray, Love type journey soon. "Mom…" I complain.

"No, no. This is not some new age thing." When she shakes her head, her obnoxiously large beaded earrings knock against her neck. They could be cool, but they look like she got them from a five year old's craft show.

"Mom." I raise one eyebrow as if proving the fact.

"Okay, slightly new age. But my Reiki guy-" I snort loudly; she continues as if I didn't- "says that energy flows where intention goes. You need to remove the negative - get it out in the open - in order to ensure loving energy can circulate." She's making big gestures with her hands as she talks. One of them knocks a hanging lamp. It swings back and forth, throwing light around the booth. '

I watch as the light dances over us and throws us into shadow. "Okay… and?"

"I'm just saying that it seems like maybe you removed some of the negative when you yelled at him. And maybe you're finally ready to welcome in something new."

I break eye contact with her to pretend to check out an old desk lamp. "I thought you wouldn't approve."

She snorts. "Your father won't." A pause. "Can I be real with you?" She asks.

"Sure, go ahead and be real." I parrot to make fun of her vernacular.

She ignores me; she's used to my sarcasm as a defense mechanism. "I've watched you try and pick yourself up for four years, Bella. You've done a valiant thing, trying to live for Charlie and me." Oh, no, are those tears gathering in her eyes? I start biting my nails while she continues, "We are so proud of you for your scholarship and grades. You're smarter than both of us! And I may not always be the best mom, but I know when you are hurting."

"I love you, mom," I whisper.

She reaches out to brush her fingers through my hair and looks at me with fierce, devoted eyes. "I love you too, baby. Maybe it's time you make a valiant effort to live for yourself."

I sniffle and wipe hastily at my eyes. "Great, you've got me crying in an antique mall."

She picks up the lava lamp before me and smiles. "What do you think of this?" We both watch the whirling gobs of red chase each other from top to bottom, coming together and breaking apart only to rejoin again.

I know she's talking about the lava lamp, but I can't stop thinking about the inevitability of those imperfect blobs coming back together again. "I like it."

When I get back to my apartment two connecting flights and two days later, it's the middle of the night. The clock reads 3AM. When I was a kid, if I woke up at 3AM thirsty and needing a glass of water, I would turn on every light on the way to the kitchen because Nana Swan would tell me (read: scar me) with stories of the witching hour.

But I've seen truly devilish things now and lived through too much to be scared of the supernatural anymore.

I lay my suitcase on the floor and unzip it to pull out my only purchase from Florida, which is wrapped carefully in a pile of my shirts. It's a souvenir to mark the shift in my life. I move to set it up on the table I use as a desk and plug it in. It throws colors against the walls; I turn off the overhead light and the room is bathed in an otherworldly red.

I fiddle with my iPhone, trying to decide how I should contact Edward. I oscillated on the flight the whole way back between calling him when I landed and waiting for class on Tuesday. I decide it's fitting to send him a photo of my purchase as it traditionally represents a shift in social mores - the ability to be frivolous and contrary to the mainstream. To live for yourself.

I don't expect him to understand this, of course. Yet.

I jump in the shower afterward to wash away the flight. I start trembling halfway through as my decision starts to sink in. When I get out and wrap the towel around myself, I glance at my phone to see a text from Edward.

E: You traveled all the way to Florida for a lava lamp?

I smile at his response and my nails click rhythmically against the screen as I respond.

B: It's symbolic.

E: Of?

My fingers shake as I respond, Come and see.

A/N: I know I poke fun at alternative forms of medicine here but this is totally Bella. I have an acupuncture appointment later (I'm a big believer in combining science and traditional meds if they work for you).

Also, to what extent are y'all comfy with me switching the rating next chapter?