July 2011
Twenty-One/Twenty-Four
After waking that next day, a Saturday, Isabella was desperate to avoid her Uncle Carlisle for as long as possible. She and Edward had spent the night together, sleeping spooned up. After dawn broke, Isabella had the hazy sense that someone had seen them, but Edward had soothed her back to sleep. A while later, Edward left to go running.
It was past one, and Isabella had not yet mustered the courage to leave the confines of her bedroom. What the hell would she say, if confronted?
Out of urgency, Isabella was ready for a different kind of awkward conversation.
"Hi, Rose," Isabella began shyly, with a hint of concern. "Are you busy? I can call back later."
"First of all, it's a Saturday, Swan. Second of all, I answer phone calls and give people tours of the Capitol. I'm not busy."
"Oh, eh. Right." Isabella giggled into the phone. "How's that going?"
"I answer phone calls and give people tours of the Capitol," Rosalie deadpanned.
"It sounds super fun and fascinating," Bella countered encouragingly, brightly. "You should be super proud. I'm super proud."
"You're so adorable when you use SAT words," Rosalie said. "And, no, it's actually fucking awful. I spent fifteen minutes yesterday trying to calm some old geezer down."
"Why?" Isabella asked, enjoying the turn in the conversation. She cradled the phone closer to her ear.
"Conspiracy theory bullshit," Rose said darkly and solemnly. "It's fucking terrifying. People are losing their shit over baseless shit."
"But, like, what specifically?"
"Some bullshit about FEMA and concentration camps," Rosalie said dryly, and Isabella imagined her rolling her eyes back into her head. "I wish I was kidding."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Both girls paused.
"Anyway…I doubt you're calling to talk about geezers in Conelly's district. How's Doctor Charming?"
"He's being so lovely," Isabella said softly, glowing.
Rosalie gagged. "Christ, Swan, you're going to give me a diabetic coma," Rose barked. "Is he being good to you?"
"He's being perfect," Isabella all but glowed. "Honestly, Rose."
"Mmh," Rose responded with a noncommittal mumble that suggested she was unwilling to fully agree.
"Actually, erh…" Impossibly, Isabella's face heated. This was precisely the conversation she wanted to have, but as the moment approached, she lost her nerve.
Isabella's mother had been extremely prissy about sex and all it entailed. When Isabella was little, Esme used the euphemism "flower," and she stuck to it well into Isabella's teens. Whenever Esme was pushed into a corner, she assumed clinical and half-disgusted tones to refer to anything sexual. Isabella had started her ill-fated relationship with Jake, and gone to college, with a bare-bones, anatomic, and dry understanding of sex.
The person who had gently pushed Isabella past the prudery Esme had instilled was Rosalie.
Isabella whispered the request she had carefully practiced in a hoarse, inarticulate mumble. "I um, - eh - ah - I wanted to know how you… uh, make a man – uh – feel good."
In her mind's eye, she could imagine Rosalie smirking. "I wanted to have this conversation with you before I left, but I got distracted there towards the end."
Bella squeaked her response. "Oh, uh. Thanks."
Rosalie sighed a deep sigh. "Hold on, lemme – " Through the tinny phone speaker, Isabella could hear Rose's door slamming. There was some shuffling, like fabric rustling.
"I'm assuming you're asking because you want to give Dr. Charming a blow job."
Isabella whipped her head to the door of her bedroom, ensuring it was shut tight. "Yes," she admitted in a whisper, feeling oddly giggly.
Rose sounded displeased. "Mmh. Are you feeling forced by that prick? Because so help me Jesus, I'll castrate him. If he's half the guy I think he is, I think he's going to want to eat you out first. I was almost sure he'd give you oral before he asked for it."
"Rose," Bella hissed, flaming with mortification. "No, he's never – no, of course not."
"Has he tried to give you oral?"
"Rosalie!"
"Swan, you're either mature enough for this conversation, or you aren't. Which is it?"
Bella's voice was trembly and breathy. "Well, he tried," she admitted squeakily. "I think. I just didn't want to take off my pants."
Sighing deeply, Rose grew deadly serious and fiercely caring. "Is that because you don't feel safe, sweetie? Is he being an asshole? Or is it the insecurity stuff?"
"No, I feel super safe. Super loved," she admitted softly, smiling to herself. "It's just that… "
Rosalie waited patiently, with an encouraging hum.
"My legs make me look so crippled," Isabella spat out, loading that word with all the disgust and condescension the word implied. "My legs look super crippled naked, and I don't want him to see them."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Is your vagina on your knee, Swan?"
Shocked, Isabella sputtered out an indignant, confused squeak.
"Well, is it?"
"Of course not," Bella admitted bashfully, as realization over Rose's point dawned.
"So. There's your answer. Sex has nothing to do with legs. It's not like a running competition, Swan."
"But it does matter, Rose," Isabella countered weakly, lowering her voice as if she were in a crowded room. "Yesterday we tried, well… I think they call it frottage? And I - "
Miles and miles south of Maine, Rosalie burst out laughing. She laughed so hard and for so long that she started snorting, and then wheezing.
"It's not funny," Bella hissed with indignation.
"It is when you sound like a sex ed teacher from the 1950s. Christ, Swan." Rosalie howled with laughter, and Isabella could picture her drying her tears with the back of her hand. "If you're going to fuck your boyfriend, then at least call it dry humping."
"It wasn't dry," Bella sniffed sardonically.
"I bet it wasn't," Rose snickered lewdly. "But sorry, I interrupted you. What was your point there?"
"Well, when we were dry humping," Bella coughed, wrinkling her nose. "Um, I tried a position, and it was super uncomfortable."
"Oh, baby," Rose said worriedly, in a brief interlude. "Did Cullen tell you to - ? You know, there are a fuckton of positions, and if he's forcing you into an uncomfortable one -"
"No," Bella snarled, feeling a wave of defensiveness on Edward's behalf. "No, he – he switched position, to – support me, I guess? It was way more comfortable 'cause he was holding my back. And he said we didn't have to do it like that ever again.
Rose let an "Aww!" slip, then seemed to instantly regret it.
"He's being perfect," Bella agreed glowingly, filled with love.
"Meh," Rose said dismissively. "Being considerate of your partner is the bare fucking minimum, Swan."
"Well, he's being beyond considerate," Bella said defensively, almost prissily. "He said we could do it differently, but I don't know what that meant."
"There's a million ways to fuck, sweetie. Literally. It's probably just about finding the ones that put less strain on your legs."
"That's exactly what he said," Bella crowed, as she made her point. "He's being super lovely and considerate."
"I don't think he's naturally considerate, I just think he's that insanely in love," Rose mused thoughtfully. "Fuckboys like Cullen aren't known for giving two shits about – "
Like a whip cracking, Isabella interrupted Rosalie.
"Can we focus on my stuff?" Isabella snapped darkly. So much troubled Isabella about Edward's past love life that she deliberately chose to ignore it.
"Sorry. Right. Sorry. Anyway. Swan, he's going to be so focused on the actual P-in-V fucking that he's not going to care."
"Rose," Bella cringed, disgustedly.
"So, for the love of God, next time you two – dry hump or whatever, let him take off your pants."
Bella hummed, not wanting to commit to the idea.
"Swan, you've been gutsy and brave and it's paid the fuck off. Hang your ovaries on."
"I'll think about it," Bella mumbled. "But I want to have that up my sleeve, you know. And I don't think I'm ready for, eh, um – penetration."
Rosalie cackled loudly again, making Bella pull the phone away from her ear.
"Christ, Swan."
"That's what it's called!" Bella insisted grumpily.
Rosalie ignored her. "Mmmh," she said dismissively. "Anyway. You want to give that snobbish dipshit a blow job before you go all the way."
Bella warmed as she nodded. "Or… you know. Just, anything. Anything pleasurable," she elaborated, squeaky with embarrassment.
"Oh, God. Stop it with the Victorian housewife words, you sound ridiculous."
Though she scoffed, Isabella could picture Rosalie relaxing, sitting cross-legged and painting her nails while they spoke on speaker. "You know who you should talk to?" Rose giggled. "Rach. Rach taught me everything I know. Rach gives fantastic head."
"Um. I'd rather maybe just…just you. Just you. I love Rach, but this is private."
Rosalie sighed, then assumed a clinical tone, sounding no less delighted.
"Have you ever seen a penis?"
Isabella turned scarlet. "I know what they look like," she admitted with a squeak, feeling oddly offended.
"I'm not asking if you've seen an anatomy textbook," Rosalie barked, with a hint of amusement. "I'm asking if you've seen a real-life dick."
"No," Isabella admitted blushingly.
"Christ, right. So. They look weird. I'm just being honest. Some women say they're nice to look at, but penises look funny at first. It's like a big-ass worm that wiggles and has like a bald pink head. They're veiny. And balls… balls look weird. They're not round, you know. They're shaped like eggs, and they hang behind the dick."
Flaming with embarrassment, Isabella was unsure if she wanted to laugh or take notes. "Uh-huh."
"I'm telling you this so you don't freak the fuck out when Cullen whips out his dick," Rose explained, uncharacteristically gentle and even kind.
"Thanks," Bella said genuinely, in her softest voice.
"Don't mention it, Swan. Now. I think there's not much point in distinguishing between hand jobs and blow jobs. You should mix it up a little the first time you touch his dick," Rosalie said thoughtfully. "In my experience, guys like it when you touch the head – "
"That's the bald pink part?"
"Yup, the thing under the foreskin. Kind of like a little pink bald head popping out a turtleneck. Guys like it when you lick it with your tongue."
The conversation finally reached a tipping point. Loudly, Bella squealed, snorted with embarrassed laughter, and dropped the cell phone because of a wrist spasm. It fell flatly on the floor, and Bella cursed. It took her minutes to get it back: she had to shuffle off the bed, and carefully plop down so that her butt fell gently against the hardwood floor. She decided to stay there. She felt cocooned, in the triangle between her bed and the night table.
"Swan? Swan?" Rose was asking, mildly amused and not at all concerned.
"I'm back," Bella said throatily, coughing up her embarrassment.
"Good, I thought you'd fainted," Rose said dryly. "Are you OK to keep going?"
"Unfortunately, yes. This is very helpful," Bella admitted through gritted teeth.
"Of course it is," Rose said flippantly. "I'm amazing at fucking."
"I'm sure you are," Bella deadpanned dryly.
"Anyway. On that note. After the guy gets hard, the foreskin kind of peels back. It actually kind of gives me the jeebies. Don't ask me how that works. But, once the head is out, you want to start touching the head with your tongue. When you stick the head in your mouth, you wanna be careful not to – you know, careful with your teeth. Don't try to suck all of it in at once, or you'll gag. And then you kind of bob up and down."
"With your body?"
Isabella could hear Rose inhale and smile. "No, baby. Just your head. You'll know what to do. It's the same with your hand. Up and down, up and down. Up and down the shaft. The thing about the hand jobs is that – the rubbing is uncomfortable without lube. And then they cum. You remember what that is, right, sweetie?"
Studiously, and even gratefully, Bella nodded. "Yup, I remember."
"Yeah. And oh, before I forget. Sweetie, don't feel pressured to kneel if it's hard for you. You can just sit, and he can just stand."
"Right. Thanks."
"I guarantee Cullen isn't going to blow his load in your mouth the first time, but you know, if you want, you can work your way up to swallowing."
"And Bella?" Rose added sweetly, in her gentlest tone. "Sweetie, he loves you so much. He's going to find all of you beautiful because he loves you."
"Thank you," Bella said, immensely reassured.
"Are you kidding? I love talking about this," Rose said genuinely. "Anyway. I have to go get groceries, Swan. Keep me posted. And honestly, if he does anything even remotely rude or inconsiderate, you dump his ass, you understand? He doesn't deserve you as it is."
"Yes, he does," Bella disagreed, without any bite in her voice.
"He's kind of a prick, you know."
Isabella hated that image of Edward lately. He was so adorable, freckled after a little summer sun, wearing a collection of dorky science t-shirts, and drooling while falling asleep over textbooks. "No, he's not," Isabella said, petulant and forceful.
"Yeah, well," Rose grumbled. "Have fun with Prince Charming."
"Have fun getting groceries, Rosie," Bella said sweetly, softening.
"I won't, but thanks. Bye, bunny. Love you."
"Thank you. I think the best way you could have ever reclaimed your life was by enjoying sex again."
"I love you, sweetie. Bye, Swan."
"I love you, too, Hale."
Isabella was on the floor reading when Edward came looking. There was a bay window seat, and Bella had crawled to it – which was an exercise difficult enough that she practiced it in physiotherapy. Getting up from the floor to the window seat had been a struggle. It was a sign that she was fatigued again – she felt herself on the verge of another round of deep, exhausted sleep.
Too chicken to face anybody – Esme or Carlisle – and too tired to move, Isabella had fashioned a little cocoon for herself by pulling down pillows.
Edward found her in that position, reading The Help.
"Bee, baby?" He looked a little alarmed, and adorable. He held a mug with one hand, and a plated scone on the other. His hair was wet from a recent shower, and he was wearing one of his dorkier science T-shirts. I'm in my element. "Did you fall, sweetheart?"
At the sight of him, Isabella smiled like a lunatic. Bella shook her head. "No. This was planned. One hundred percent," she said breezily, smiling.
"Oh. Okey."
Sweetly, Edward grinned at her, with his crooked, goofy grin. Isabella thought he looked unbearably cute. Carefully, he sat next to her. Bella marveled again at how agile he was. He got down to sit cross-legged, while holding a mug and without spilling a drop. They sat next to each other on the floor like they might have when they were teens and Edward taught her to play Slapjack with a deck of cards.
Edward set the plate next to her. Gently, he handed her the steaming mug of coffee. His eyes clouded with concern when her wrist started to tremble. Tenderly, he steadied her wrist by cradling it with his hand. "You're going to be a really good surgeon," Isabella said glowingly. "Your pulse is so steady it's insane."
Edward's grin widened and turned cocky. Lovingly, he kissed her temple. "You should eat," he instructed softly. "Esme's psychotic, but she's right, you know. You are very skinny."
Smiling, Isabella brought the mug to her lips and then nibbled on the scone. "This morning…Was that Esme? Did she catch us? Did she see us?" Bella asked with trepidation. "Earlier this morning? I'm sorry, I was so tired and I didn't know if I was just dreaming."
Edward sighed, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a long, aggravated huff. Sloppily, Bella set down her mug. As it spilled, it stained the white Maxi dress Esme had bought her.
"Yes," Edward said seriously. "She did. She knows. And so does my Dad."
As her stomach dropped, Bella sucked in a breath and hugged her waist.
"I'm so sorry," Bella said, morose like Eeyore.
Edward eyed her curiously. "Why the fuck would you be sorry?"
"I mean, don't they mind?" Sometimes, she wondered if even Esme would approve. It was one thing for Esme to choose Bella. It was another entirely for her blood, her sister's son.
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, tugging at his hair with exasperation. "I went for a long, long walk with my Dad this morning. He caught me right as I was leaving, and said he wasn't jogging 'cause it hurts his knees or whatever. Long, long walk," Edward explained aggravatedly.
Intuitively, Isabella knew that the best way to calm Edward was with physical touch. After his mother died, Edward had felt kind of touch-starved. Setting her scone aside, she gestured, indicating she wanted to crawl into Edward's lap. Quickly, he lifted her by the waist, and she was sitting across his lap. She nestled her head into his neck, nuzzling it. Their breathing took on the same rhythm and tempo.
"We walked all the way to Harraseeket Point and back because he just wouldn't shut up. His knees are hurting anyway."
"Oh. Oh." Bella said softly "Poor baby."
Even though she was half-terrified of Edward's father lately, she also adored him. Lately, Carlisle had grown into an evil caricature of himself in Bella's dread-filled imagination. She saw him as Victoria's son – a ridiculously handsome, tall, absurdly rich doctor with a claim to a British dukedom. That image had taken over who Carlisle had been all of Isabella's life – her uncle who fostered kittens and grew tomatoes, whose dress shirts were always missing a button, and who acted genuinely and ridiculously happy when Bella got him whimsical woolen socks.
"Poor baby my ass. It was like a fucking interrogation. And then he started lecturing me. I'm so fucking stressed my neck is stiff as hell."
Applying light pressure to the back of his neck, Bella kissed the hollow skin under his jaw – a light, child-like and feathery kiss. "How did he find out?"
"I mean, he said we were being obvious as fuck," Edward commented lightly, hugging her closer. "He wasn't totally sure, 'cause you and I have been – you know, close – for a very long time. But then, he said, he overheard us talking last night."
Bella felt weak with relief, glad that he hadn't overheard anything particularly risqué. The sounds she made while aroused were for Edward's ears only.
"And he's OK with it?" she asked quietly. "Doesn't he mind?"
"I mean," Edward grumbled. "He gave me a fucking long lecture about having sex with you in his house, and being respectful, and not hurting you, or getting you pregnant, or giving you herpes – which was fucking insulting because I'm clean as a whistle - and that he wasn't comfortable with the idea of us fucking under his roof because you're like a daughter to him and it's weird for me to fuck with my grandfather and aunt in the house, and blah, blah, blah."
"Oh, God," Bella whimpered, mortified. "He said that? Those exact words?"
"No, no, first he was all prudish like an old geezer and said 'being intimate,' and then he got all doctor and said 'sexual intercourse.' Like he just couldn't pick."
Blushingly, Bella snorted her awkward laughter into his neck. "That's not what I meant," Bella snickered, despite the wave of humiliation. "I mean, he doesn't mind?"
"He doesn't mind that what?"
"That I'm… You know. That you're with someone like me."
Edward was quiet for a very long time, and Bella dreaded his answer – but she was selfish, and she clung even tighter, fisting his t-shirt in her hand.
When he finally spoke, he sounded as sharp as a knife. "Someone like you how? Does he mind that you're what? Does he mind that you're gorgeous, intelligent, kind? Funny? Interesting? Brave? Someone like you how?"
Isabella was sure nobody could ever love Edward more than she did at that moment. Eyes burning, she wrapped her arms tighter around him. She felt his pulse next to her nose. "You know what I mean," she admitted weakly, and in his arms, it didn't hurt as much to admit it. It felt easier to be brave.
Edward grunted, and Isabella elaborated. "He really doesn't mind that I'm crippled?"
Edward flinched.
"Don't fucking use that word, Isabella," he said darkly, his voice harsh. "And – no, it didn't come up that you.. the disability didn't come up. At all."
For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. Edward's breathing grew harsher and harsher before finally softening.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck. "I'm so sorry. It's hard for me. I mean, I like the person I've become. I'm proud of myself, and I'm adjusted. Honestly. But it's difficult, painful, and the world is shit. I – worry – I know that it's going to be hard for us. For you. It's going to be embarrassing, to be with a girl like - like me. This is just how it always has been for me, but I never wanted to drag you down with me."
Her tears did fall, and they dampened his neck. Overcome with emotion, Edward pulled her impossibly against him. His hands were rough and his embrace was tight. When he kissed the crown of her head, it was almost violent.
"You know how I fell in love with you?"
Momentarily confused, Bella sniffed and looked up, doe eyes wide. She wiped her nose with her wrist. "I mean, I've always loved you," Edward continued quietly, without waiting for a response. "But I realized I was in love with you after I lost you."
"I lost you because I was stupid enough to worry about the CP. You were right about that. It wasn't just that I freaked out because James Hunter scared me. You were right. I was embarrassed that someone would think my girlfriend had CP."
"I lost you, and it was the most horrible year of my life. I turned into a gigantic piece of dog shit. It was even worse than when my mom died. At least you were there that year. Life took me to you, and you rescued me that time."
"You rescued me," he repeated, as if awestruck by the thought. He said it with such wonderment, and gratitude, and love, that Isabella's tears fell for a different reason. "You were the only person that was sensitive, and kind, and emotionally intelligent enough to do it. The only person my age who understood what it was like to feel sorrow like that. The only person that wasn't being condescending, or patronizing, or shallow, or fake."
"And I lost you – the best friend I ever had, and will ever have - because I was an idiot, and I let the CP get in the way. All that time we were apart, I would just… I would miss you so fucking much. I would think about how you're the most beautiful person I know, in every way. I felt so jealous all the time. I realized that anybody would be lucky to be with you. That nobody could ever deserve you. And you got with that dipshit, Jake, or whatever his name was – and I realized that I was an idiot and that I didn't deserve you, especially because I was stupid enough to let the CP get in the way. And I'm not stupid enough to do it again."
"Edward."
The kiss Isabella gave Edward was the wettest, snottiest kiss she would ever give. Her tears were falling. They were tears of joy, swirling with tears at how bittersweet it was to feel such intense poignancy. She laughed a little through the kiss, but Edward was a good sport and let her slobber all over him. "I love you, Edward Cullen," she said, her entire body trembling in his arms. "I've only ever been in love with you. And I never want to be apart from you ever again."
"I'm never going to leave you again," Edward swore hotly. "Ever again. Not willingly."
"For he loved her, as you can only love someone who is an echo of yourself at your time of deepest sorrow."
- Orson Scott Card