“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from dinner.”
“I’m fine, really,” she said too quickly.
“I’ve never spent much time around anyone who eats food,” I apologized. “I forget.” It was a poor excuse.
Her expression was totally open as she responded, vulnerable. “I want to stay with you.”
Again, the word stay seemed to carry so much more weight than it usually did.
“Can’t I come in?” I asked gently.
She blinked twice, clearly thrown by the idea. “Would you like to?”
“Yes, if it’s all right.”
I wondered if she thought I had to have an explicit invitation in order to come inside. The thought made me smile, and then frown as I felt a spasm of guilt. I would need to come clean with her. Again. But how to broach such a shameful admission?
I stewed on that while I got out and opened the passenger door for her.
“Very human,” she commended.
“It’s definitely resurfacing.”
We walked together at human speed across her shadowed, silent yard as if this were a normal thing. She flickered glances at me as we walked, smiling to herself. I reached up and pulled the house key from its hiding place as we passed, then opened the door for her. She hesitated, looking down the dark hallway.
“The door was unlocked?” she asked.
“No, I used the key from under the eave.”
I replaced the key in question while she moved to turn on the porch lamp. When she turned back, yellow light made harsh shadows across her face as she raised both eyebrows at me. I could see she meant the look to be stern, but the corners of her lips were puckered as though she was fighting a smile.
“I was curious about you,” I confessed.
“You spied on me?”
It didn’t seem to be a joking matter, but she sounded as if she were about to laugh.
I should have confessed all then, but I went along with her teasing tone. “What else is there to do at night?”
It was the wrong choice, a cowardly choice. She heard only a joke, not an admission. Strange again to realize how, even with the huge potential nightmares resolved, there continued to be much to fear. Of course, this issue was nothing but my own fault, my own extremely poor behavior.
She shook her head slightly, then gestured for me to enter. I moved past her down the hall, switching on lights as I went so she wouldn’t have to stumble in the dark. I took a seat at her small kitchen table and looked around, examining the angles that were invisible from outside the window. The room was tidy and warm, bright with gaudy yellow paint that was somehow endearing in its failed attempt to mimic sunshine. Everything smelled like Bella, which should have been quite painful, but I found that I enjoyed it in a strange way. Masochistic, indeed.
She stared at me with a hard to read expression. A little confusion, I guessed, a little bit of wonder. As though she wasn’t sure I was real. I smiled and pointed her toward the refrigerator. She whirled in that direction with an answering grin. I hoped she had some food easily accessible. Perhaps I should have taken her to dinner? But it felt wrong to think of subjecting ourselves to a crowd of strangers. Our new understanding was still too unique, too raw. Any obstacle that would force silence would be unendurable. I wanted her to myself.
It only took her a minute to find an acceptable option. She cut out a square of casserole and heated it in the microwave. I could smell oregano, onions, garlic, and tomato sauce. Something Italian. She stared intently at the plate while it revolved.
Perhaps I would learn to cook food. Not being able to appreciate flavors the same way a human did would definitely be a hurdle, but there seemed to be quite a bit of math to the process, and I was sure I could teach myself to recognize the correct smells.
Because, suddenly, I felt sure that this was just the first of our quiet evenings in, rather than a singular event. We would have years of this. She and I together, just enjoying each other’s company. So many hours… the light inside me seemed to stretch and grow, and I thought again that I might shatter.
“How often?” Bella asked without looking at me.
My thoughts were so caught up in this tremendous image of the future that I didn’t follow her at once. “Hmmm?”
She still didn’t turn. “How often did you come here?”
Oh, right. Time to have courage. Time to be honest, no matter the consequences. Though after the day I’d had, I felt fairly sure that she would eventually forgive me. I hoped.
“I come here almost every night.”
She spun to look at me with startled eyes. “Why?”
Honesty.
“You’re interesting when you sleep. You talk.”
“No!” she gasped. Blood washed into her cheeks and didn’t stop there, coloring even her forehead. The room grew infinitesimally warmer as her blush heated the air around her. She leaned against the counter behind her, gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned white. Shock was the only emotion I could see in her expression, but I was sure others would come soon.
“That depends!” she blurted out breathlessly.
That depends? I wondered what could possibly mitigate my crime. What could make it less or more horrible? I was disgusted by the thought that she was reserving judgment until she knew exactly how offside my lurking had been. Did she imagine that I was as depraved as any peeping tom? That I’d leered at her from the shadows, hoping for her to expose herself? If my stomach could turn, it would have.
Would she believe me if I tried to explain my torment at being separated from her? Could anyone believe the kinds of catastrophes I’d imagined, thinking she might not be safe? They had all been so far-fetched. And yet, if I were separated from her now, I knew the same impossible dangers would begin to plague me again.
Long seconds passed, the microwave shrilled out its announcement that its work was done, but Bella didn’t speak again.
“On?” I prompted.
Bella groaned the words. “What you heard!”
I felt a rush of relief that she did not believe me capable of a viler kind of surveillance. Her only worry was embarrassment at what I might have heard her say? Well, on that matter I could comfort her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. I jumped up and rushed to take her hands. Part of me thrilled to the fact that I could do this so easily.
“Don’t be upset!” I pleaded. Her eyes were downcast. I leaned in so that our faces would be on the same level, and waited until she met my gaze.
“You miss your mother. You worry about her. And when it rains,” I murmured, “the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said, ‘It’s too green.’”
I laughed quietly, trying to coax a smile from her. Surely she could see there was no need for mortification.
“Anything else?” she demanded, raising one eyebrow. The way she half turned her face away, her eyes moving down and then darting back up again, helped me realize what she was worried about.
“You did say my name,” I admitted.
She inhaled and then blew out a long sigh. “A lot?”
“How much do you mean by ‘a lot,’ exactly?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Oh no!”
I reached out and wrapped my arms carefully around her shoulders. She leaned into my chest, still hiding her face.
Did she think I had ever been anything but overjoyed to hear my name on her lips? It was one of my favorite sounds, along with the sound of her breath, the sound of her heart.…
I whispered my response into her ear. “Don’t be self-conscious. If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not ashamed of it.”
How I had once wished to be able to dream of her! How I’d ached for that. And now, reality was better than dreams. I wouldn’t want to miss one second of it for any kind of unconsciousness.
Her body relaxed. A happy sound, almost a hum or a purr, sighed out of her.
Could this really be it? Was I to have no punishment at all for my outrageous behavior? This felt more like a reward. I knew I owed her a deeper penance.
I became aware of another sound beyond her heart thrumming in my arms. A car was drawing closer and the thoughts of the driver were very quiet. Tired after a full day. Looking forward to the promise of food and comfort that the warm lights in the windows offered. But I couldn’t be perfectly sure that was what he was thinking.
I didn’t want to move from where I was. I pressed my cheek against Bella’s hair and waited until she also heard her father’s car. Her body stiffened.
“Should your father know I’m here?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure.…”
I brushed my lips quickly against her hair and then released her with a sigh.
“Another time, then…”
I ducked out of the room and darted up the stairs into the darkness of the tiny hall between bedrooms. I’d been here once before, finding a blanket for Bella.
“Edward!” she called in a stage whisper from the kitchen.
I laughed just loud enough for her to know that I was close.
Her father stomped up to the front door, scraping each of his boots twice against the mat. He shoved his key into the lock, and then grunted when the handle turned with the key, already unlatched.
“Bella?” he called as he swung the door open. His thoughts registered the smell of the food in the microwave, and his stomach grumbled.
I realized that Bella, also, had still not eaten. I supposed it was a good thing her father had interrupted us. I would starve her at this rate.
But some small part of me was just a little… wistful. When I’d asked if she wanted her father to know I was here, that we were together, I’d hoped that the answer would be different. Of course, she had so much to consider before introducing me to him. Or she might never want him to know she had someone like me in love with her, and that was perfectly fair. More than fair.
And truly, it would have been inconvenient to meet her father officially in my current state of dress. Or undress. I supposed I should be grateful for her reticence.
“In here,” Bella called to her father. I heard his soft grunt of acknowledgment as he locked the door, and then his boots stomping toward the kitchen.
“Can you get me some of that?” Charlie asked. “I’m bushed.”
It was easy to understand the sounds of Bella moving around the kitchen while Charlie settled himself, even without a more convenient set of thoughts to watch through. Chewing—Bella was finally eating something. The refrigerator opening and closing. The microwave whirring. Liquid—too thick for water, I would guess milk—poured into glasses. A dish set gently on the wooden table. Chair legs scraping against the floor as Bella sat down.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, and then they both were chewing for a long moment.
Bella broke the companionable silence. “How was your day?” Her inflections sounded off, as if her mind was elsewhere. I smiled.
“Good, the fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
“Not really—it was too nice out to stay indoors.” Her casual answer wasn’t as relaxed as his. She wasn’t a natural at hiding things from her father.
“It was a nice day,” he agreed, sounding oblivious to the edge in her voice.
“In a hurry?” Charlie asked.
Bella swallowed loudly. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’m going to bed early.” Her footsteps moved to the sink and the water began to run.
“You look kinda keyed up,” Charlie continued. Not so oblivious as I’d thought. I wouldn’t miss these things if his thoughts weren’t so hard to get to. I tried to make sense of them. Bella’s eyes flashing to the hall. The suddenly brighter color in her cheeks. This seemed to be all he was aware of. Then a sudden confusion of images, nebulous and without context. A 1971 mustard-yellow Impala. The Forks High School gym, decorated with crepe paper. A porch swing and a girl with bright green barrettes in her pale hair. Two red vinyl seats at a shiny chrome bar in a tacky diner. A girl with long, dark curls, walking along a beach under the moon.
“Do I?” Bella asked with put-on innocence. Water ran in the sink, and I could hear the sound of bristles against melamine.
Charlie was still thinking about the moon. “It’s Saturday,” he announced randomly.
Bella didn’t seem to know how to respond. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, either.
Finally, he continued. “No plans tonight?”
I thought I understood the images now. Saturday nights from his youth? Maybe.
“No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep.” She sounded anything but tired.
Charlie sniffed once. “None of the boys in town your type, eh?”
Was he worried that she wasn’t having a normal teen experience? That she was missing out? For a second I felt a deep twinge of doubt. Should I be worried about the same? What I was keeping her from?
But then the sureness and sense of right from the meadow washed over me. We belonged together.
“No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet.” Bella’s tone was slightly patronizing.
“I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly.”
I hadn’t expected that. A sharp blade of anger twisted in my chest. Not anger, I recognized. Jealousy. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever disliked anyone quite so much as that pointless, insignificant boy.
I couldn’t tell if Charlie was upset by her answer or relieved by it. Perhaps a mixture of both.
“Well, you’re too good for them all, anyway,” he said. “Wait till you get to college to start looking.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bella agreed quickly. She turned the corner and started up the stairs. Her footsteps were slow—probably to emphasize her assertion that she was sleepy—and I had plenty of time to beat her to her room. Just in case Charlie followed. It would hardly be in line with her wishes for him to find me here, half-dressed, eavesdropping.
“’Night, honey,” Charlie called after her.
“See you in the morning, Dad,” she responded in a voice that tried to sound tired but failed badly.
It felt wrong to sit in the rocking chair as usual, invisible in the dark corner. It had been a hiding place when I hadn’t wanted her to know I was here. When I was being deceitful.
I lay across her bed, the most obvious place in the room, where there could be no hint of trying to disguise my presence.
I knew that her scent would engulf me here. The smell of detergent was fresh enough to suggest she’d washed the sheets recently, but it didn’t overpower her own fragrance. Overwhelming as it was, it was also painfully pleasant to be surrounded in such a sharp way by the evidence of her existence.
As soon as she entered the room, Bella stopped dragging her feet. She slammed the door shut behind her, then ran on her tiptoes to the window. Right past me without a glance. She shoved the window open and leaned outside, staring into the night.
“Edward?” she stage-whispered.
I suppose my resting place was not that obvious after all. I laughed quietly at my failed attempt to be aboveboard, then answered her.
“Yes?”
She spun so fast that she nearly lost her balance. With one hand, she gripped the window ledge for stability. Her other hand clutched at her throat.
“Oh,” she choked out. Almost in slow motion, she slid down the wall behind her until she was sitting on the wooden floor.
Once again, it seemed as though everything I did was wrong. At least this time it was funny rather than terrifying.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Just give me a minute to restart my heart.” In reality, her heart was thrumming from the shock I’d just given her.
I sat up, all my movements deliberate and slow. Moving like a human. She watched, her eyes riveted to each motion, a smile starting to form at the corners of her lips.