Chapter Eight – White Noise
"If you'd feel like I feel And if you'd know what I know I don't think you'd ever play me I know you'd never play me"
The Perishers - My Heart
The rest of the weekend with Edward had been... well had been one of the best times I could remember spending with him. Not only had we visited his mother and stayed only as long as it took to eat and enjoy one cup of coffee, he actually stuck up for me. I was shocked to say the very least. As we were leaving, Edward had pulled out my favorite magenta coat that I'd worn over my canary yellow silk dress.
He was just holding it open for me when his mother, as per the norm, sniffed and commented, "That's an interesting jacket, Isabella. Very," she'd paused, "bright."
Now normally, that would have been my cue to give the bitch a polite smile and think evil thoughts of ripping her cold stone of a heart out with a spoon, listening for Edward to say nothing as usual.
This time however, he spoke. "I think it's quite beautiful, it makes me think of spring, Mother. We could do with something cheerful amongst all this stark white."
For one moment, a few seconds of priceless silence, Edward's words had actually shut his mother up. Edward had never spoken up when she underhandedly criticized me before. Edward had never actually spoken up to his Mother about anything before, so I'm sure it came as a shock. Of course it took her a mere minute to come back with something about me not taking part in whatever cocktail party she was hosting on Tuesday. Yet I had an excuse for that, one that I couldn't get out of.
My evening session with Doctor Jasper.
Edward and I had spent the rest of Saturday enjoying each others' company. We went out for dinner at the little Italian restaurant where we'd had our first official date. He'd taken me to the movies, something that I couldn't even remember the last time we'd done together. After it had finished, we went dancing at a community hall we'd walked passed that was having Salsa lessons. I'd never laughed so much, or seen him so carefree. At midnight, we were invited back to Eleazar and Carmen, the dance teachers' house for drinks. I had started shaking my head, thinking that it wouldn't be something Edward would want to do, but he surprised me asking for a rain check and promising to see them the next weekend. While I was picking my jaw up from the floor, he was lifting me up and spinning me around the room before virtually running us back to the car.
We'd made love again before dawn on Sunday, and he'd left to check in on his patients after lunch with a smile from ear to ear. I hadn't seen him again Sunday night, or till late Monday but even when he came home and I was asleep, he'd woken me with a kiss before snuggling into bed beside me. His body covering mine now made me feel safe instead of smothered. It seemed that with just talking, being just a little more honest with each other earlier that morning had fixed something between us. I wasn't naïve enough to think that it had completely healed what had happened, but it was a start.
And on top of that. My Big O was back.
When Edward was working late on Monday night, and I was feeling horny, I just took out my toolbox and went to work on a little self-satisfaction. It had only been three days since our shower admissions to each other, but I felt like we were maybe on the right path. Then, Edward had to go and spoil it all by bringing up Tuesday's session with Jasper over breakfast.
"You're seeing your Doctor at four this afternoon, aren't you?" he said, scraping a large amount of butter over his hot toast.
I turned from the bench, bringing his black coffee over to where he was leaning against the breakfast bar, a little confused because my appointments had always been at the same time.
"Yes, you know they're always at four." I sipped my own milky brew, while toying with the tie on my black satin robe. He looked at me from over the top of his own cup, concern etched across his brow.
"What's that look for, Edward? I thought you were happy I was doing so well with Jasper?"
I stepped around the bar; straightening the light blue tie he wore over a crisp white long sleeved button up, part of his regular work uniform when he wasn't in scrubs. He looked damn good in this Gucci suit, the ebony two button tailored jacket that was currently folded over one of the bar stools matched the form fitting slacks that cupped his toned ass just so. If he didn't have early rounds and I didn't have to be at the Drop-in Centre in the next few hours I would be sorely tempted to strip that suit back off him.
He put the coffee cup back on the bench before clasping my hands in his own, "I am. It's just, I'm not sure about him." He paused, rubbing his thumbs in circles over my skin, "He doesn't have a lot of experience, no matter how good Carlisle says he is. I think you need someone who's going to be a little more reliable."
I stepped back, feeling a little shocked at Edward's opinion of Jasper. "Reliable? It's been me not him that has turned up late for appointments. What exactly are you hinting at, Edward?"
"Well, I tried calling him last week and he never answered his phone, or returned my calls to the office. Now what if that was you calling, Bella? What if something happened and you needed him? I don't think it's very professional."
I shook my head, pulling my hands from Edward's, taking my empty mug over to the sink. I could feel my happy morning mood disappearing and annoyance taking its place. What was he doing calling my therapist? He had only just started talking about restarting our couples therapy with Carlisle more often than once a month. I thought he was happy with our progress.
"Why were you calling Jasper? If you want to know what we talk about you only have to ask." I scrubbed at the mug in my hands, feeling tenser about where this conversation was heading than I had been in days.
I heard him shift off the bench, moving to stand behind me. Edward reached around in front of me, turning off the water before his hand moved back over mine again. "I would prefer it, Isabella, if you would just talk to me instead."
Great, we're back to Isabella.
"So you want me to stop going to therapy? I thought this was what you wanted? This is working for us, Edward."
"It is what I wanted, what I do want for us, for you. I just hope you're making the most out of the time you have with him." Edward's other arm wrapped around my waist, his lips soft on my neck. "Did you tell him anything about Marcus last week?" I stiffened immediately at my brother's name; shifting forward out from Edwards encompassing body heat.
"No."
He sighed, leaning forward to brush his lips against my cheek, pausing for a moment his hand rubbing gently up and down my side. "Maybe you should. I'll try and get home early tonight. I'll call you if I'm going to be late."
With one last kiss to the top of my shoulder he was gone, leaving me annoyed and hoping for the first time in a few days that he actually would be working late.
~~**~~
The rest of my day had not fared any better. When I got to the drop in centre, Maggie the Director wanted to discuss talking to Edward's mother about organizing some type of benefit to raise money for the centre. I tried in vain to think of anyone else we could possibly talk to about helping out, because really, spending any extra time with that woman was not on my to-do list. I caught up with a few of the usual kids; many of the faces were less recognizable than the last time I'd been able to get down there, which saddened me. Then when I walked into the art room, I was asked if it was my first time there. I think I might have actually sighed out loud.
Once upon a time, I had taught that art class. I had been one of the few paid members of staff; it was my first real job and I'd loved it. That had all changed, though, when Edward started working longer hours. With his mother's constant comments on our home and his health, my hours at the center decreased. Slowly but surely a full week changed to three days, three days then became a few hours and now, I was more like a figurehead with a check book for donations. I missed being here. I missed the way talking with these underprivileged children made me feel like I was doing something with my life.
I missed being part of something that didn't just revolve around social climbing skills and being in the right place in the right dress and saying the right things to the right people. Edward's position meant attending a lot fundraisers, being part of the "in crowd" when it came to maintaining the Masen name. That was the main reason his mother had virtually forced Edward's hand when it came to me working at somewhere so, "common".
"We support these services, Isabella. Masen women do not get their hands dirty when they can put their check book and husband's name to better use."
The woman was indescribably infuriating, always sticking her pointy nose in where it didn't really belong. She never understood the reason why it was so important to me, and because of how her words had always held weight over Edward's decisions he soon convinced me that his mother was right. Yet even though I acquiesced to their gentle "demands", scaling back my time and signing checks instead, I always missed being there. Doing something that made me feel good and didn't have any ulterior motive behind it. It's why I wouldn't give up on it, why I wouldn't let them make me quit and be the completely ideal "perfect little housewife" that Elizabeth envisioned for me. I may have been Doctor Edward Masen's wife, but there was still a little Izzy Swan left in me, no matter how hard she and Edward tried squeezing it out.
So, I signed a check, filled in some forms, checked on my regulars and managed to have time to talk over a graffiti project with Lucy, who was now in charge of what had been my major classes. Then, just as I was packing up to leave for Jasper's appointment, I saw a face that I'd been avoiding for the past eight years.
"Izzy? Izzy is that you?"
I felt my heart race in my chest. I didn't want to turn around and see his eyes, I knew what emotion would lie behind them. It was the reason I had picked the days I did volunteer here and the hours that I visited.
I couldn't be rude though, not to him. Not after all that he had done, as much as I'd like to forget it. I turned, put on my fake smile and walked over to him with open arms.
"Hi, Mark. It's good to see you." I leaned in for a quick hug, his arms awkwardly patting my back, painfully reminding me of the last time I'd seen him in this uniform, feeling the same buttons & badge press into my chest.
I breathed in deeply, trying to maintain some type of control over the wealth of emotions threatening to overwhelm me at any moment. I wasn't Izzy, I needed to be strong and distance myself from the swirling vortex inside, I needed to be Perfect Wife.
I stepped out of his arms, clasping my hands in front of me, trying to hold the shakes I knew were coming in check. "What are you doing here?" I asked, managing to keep my voice even.
I raised my eyes to his face, noting the similarities and the differences since the last time I'd seen him. He looked older, salt and pepper coloring the mousy brown hair at his temples. The deep lines around his forehead said worry, linking with the dark purple hue under his eyes. He must have been coming off a night shift.
"Well I had a few kids I wanted to check on. I don't usually make it here on a Tuesday because of my schedule, but my oldest, Marie, just made Jean and I grandparents. Seeing as I was close I thought I might just see if Maggie had the decided when we'd be taking the kids up to the reservation this year."
My heart started beating faster. The big Spring camping trip. Dad held those. Dad, Marcus and I would help every year. Even when Marcus had gone to college, he made time for it. I swallowed hard, trying to keep everything under control.
"Wow a grandbaby huh? Jean must be over the moon."
Oh, god… just let me leave. I need to leave now.
His eyes squinted at me a little, obviously noting the slight break in my voice, the change in my physical appearance as I wrapped my arms around myself. Noting, as any good police officer would - as my father had taught him, the slight quiver of my lips; all signs that I was crumbling under his very presence, .
"Yeah," he chuckled, his eyes still trained upon my face, "We're both very happy. So, Izzy –"
"Bella, Bella will be fine, Mark," I interrupted, the word, the childhood nickname he continued to use was breaking parts of me that I'd walled up far too long ago to have torn down now.
"Right, you are all grown up now. How is your husband, Edward, wasn't it? You and he got any little ones yet? " He smiled, probably thinking he was on safer grounds for conversation.
I shook my head, gulping down air as I felt my face flush. My traitorous body was at war with my mind, I clutched my arms tighter around my waist. The buckles of my purse pressed hard into the soft flesh of my side, digging almost painfully into my ribcage. My pulse was racing and if I didn't get out of here soon, I knew I'd end up in a full blown panic attack. Something I thought I'd never have to see again.
Why, why did he have to be here this week? Weren't last week's memories enough to shake me up? Was there a reason why my past that I had kept pushed down into dark depths in order to keep myself in the light had decided to not only make itself known, but virtually throw itself in my face with far too much regularity?
"No, we don't have any children. Edward's Head of Plastics at Northwest Hospital and Medical Center, he travels a lot doing teaching so we don't really have the time."
He nodded slowly, and I took the moment that his eyes left mine to take a deep settling breath. I'd let his questions get to me and I couldn't allow it to continue. Not when I was going to see Jasper, knowing that he'd probably want to discuss exactly what I was trying to avoid here with my Dad's old deputy. The past was the past why did it need to be brought up now?
"I...I have to go. I'm really sorry but I've got an appointment in the next thirty minutes across town so I really do need to leave. It was great seeing you again, Mark. Be sure to send my love to your Marie, and congratulations."
"Izzy-" he started, but I'd already given him the smallest smile I could manage and rushed as fast as I could without running out the door.
As luck would have it, the regular cloudy Seattle weather had turned on the drizzle, adding to my more than morose mood as I ran to the car. I was thankful for the extra dark tint Jake had put on the windows as I'm sure I would have looked an absolute mess to anyone who happened by. I layed my head on my hands atop the steering wheel and took deep breaths, trying to slow everything back down.
Mark was a great guy, he'd been there for me as much as he could when it had all happened. I couldn't let meeting him here, just a week after one of the worst anniversary's I'd ever known, be a sign. I knew that Edward thought it would be good to talk about it, but I didn't see what talking about my brother and my Dad had to do with the treatment Jasper was giving me. Nor did I want to discuss these things. I'd come this far, eight whole years without going into detail, reliving the moments that I knew had changed part of me... there was no way I wanted to do it now.
After a few moments where I let my breathing slow back to normal, I started the car. While letting it idle and warm, I turned to look into the rearview mirror at my reflection. I stared into my eyes, willing myself back into some sort of order. I needed to be focused when I walked into that office. I knew enough by now to know that if I walked into Jasper's like this, he'd have the point of entry that he needed to start demanding answers to questions I wouldn't want to hear. Finally, when I was happy with what I saw, and how I felt, I started the drive to Jasper's office.
When I got there I was actually a little early, but the fuzzy haired receptionist was unwilling to let me into the office on my own. I placed my gold bag atop the small circular glass table and sat down in the dark brown leather chair, opposite where Jasper would sit and began the wait.
Ten minutes passed and I was still sitting there, waiting for him to arrive. I stared at the painting that covered most of the back wall behind his desk. It was a blend of color and shape, looking neither like one thing nor another. The colors blended, swirled and twisted around the canvas bringing the viewer a range of emotions as their eye scanned from one side to the other. The sapphire and silvers lonely and sad, the fuchsia and apricots warmth and happiness, the crimson and charcoals anger and repression, the gold and lime carefree and whimsical. Every color an amalgamation of what was heard and felt in this room.
After my morning, I'd definitely say I was in a juxtaposition of cobalt and black, with shades of yellow and rose blurring the edges. After finally having to leave the center for my appointment with Jasper, I was a complete turmoil of memories and emotions. There was too much going on inside my head, too many feelings resurfacing from where I thought I'd hidden them well and I wasn't sure that if questioned today - if he pushed like he always did - that I wouldn't just splinter and snap and spill my rainbow of secrets in a Technicolor jumble.
How I wished he'd hurry up and arrive. I was barely keeping myself together. The cracks and fissures from all that had been building over the past week had only widened after seeing Mark. Emotions threatened to revolt and let everything I had worked so hard to keep in check consume me whole. I just had to make it through this session, get past the questions that I knew Jasper would ask and I could be fine again. I could push it all back down, way down, and not let it disrupt who I was any further.
If he didn't get here soon, maybe I could use that as an excuse to just reschedule. I could get out of being here, being questioned, having to open up more than I knew I could cope with. I just had to keep it together.
I glanced down at the scratched glass face of my watch that was now tarnished in so many places, there was more silver than gold, noting that he was now fifteen minutes late. I'd give him another five and then I was out of here. He'd have to understand. Edward would have to understand. Sitting here, in this quiet space alone with my thoughts was not what I needed right now.
I concentrated on the painting again. Trying to pick out if there was anything apart from the random jumble of shapes and lines that I couldn't see past. Nothing was decipherable. Nothing made sense to me apart from the red. The red was everywhere. Feeling more and more agitated as time went on, I finally decided enough was enough and stood up, grabbing my bag and heading towards the door. I was just about to reach out for the door handle when it opened, and he was there.
"Isabella, I'm so sorry I'm late. I hope you weren't about to leave?" he questioned, brushing past me and into the small room. I hesitated for a second, thinking over my options of just leaving or actually taking the time that Edward had already paid for to talk. I had nothing else to do for the next two hours. Edward wasn't going to be home till late according to his latest text.
"Are you staying or going, Bella?" Jasper's voice was soft, his accent a little more pronounced and was enough to pull me back from my teetering decisions.
I sighed, closed the door and stepped back toward him.
"I'm staying."
~~**~~
It was like a tomb; the office completely devoid of noise. I could actually hear my own heart beat in time with the ticking of my watch.
Tick, beat, tock, beat.
Then there was Jasper, sitting across from me like a statue. If I didn't take a sneak peak at him every few minutes, I would have thought he wasn't even in the room with me. Every time I caught his eye he had that same cool, calm and collected look on his face.
He hadn't said a word since I had turned around and walked back into the room, taking my usual seat across from him. No excuse for why he was late. No, "How's your week been, Bella?"
Nothing. Just total, utter, complete silence.
And it was unnerving.
Which was probably supposed to be the point.
Yet, I was a stubborn mule and I knew the moment I did say something he'd find a question in it. He'd find something to prompt and push further answers out of me and in my current mood and with all the words, scenes and past events still swirling like a thick pea soup in my head, I couldn't afford to give him the slightest in. I was like tempered glass, the slightest pressure in the right spot would have me crack and break and spilling everything inside.
I couldn't be having that now. Not even if Edward thought discussing Marcus was a good idea. Not even if, after all the reminders, subtle and physical, of Marcus that had been flying around me lately. I'd worked so, so hard at keeping those feelings, the ache and the sadness out of my life for so long that it didn't feel right to bring them back to the surface now. The past was just the past, wasn't it? You don't go on reliving hard moments every day just because of how completely devastating they were at the time?
So I sat. And he sat. And I breathed. And he breathed. And I waited. And he watched. And time inched slowly forward.
How many minutes are in a two hour session again?
Seconds?
Nanoseconds, even?
Each one felt longer than the last.
I crossed and re-crossed my legs, the muscles starting to twitch and yearn for movement in my completely still state. Still nothing. I sighed, stunning myself a little at just how loud that sound was after what felt like an hour of no noise at all. He let out a small chuckle. Not a lot, but enough for me to hear it and my eyes to meet his, staring him down with a pointed glare, that said "What?"
He raised one arched brow in my direction, saying, "Are you ready to talk?"
I in turn crossed my arms over my chest and pressed my lips into a thin line, "You tell me."
His lips twisted slightly at the side, pulling at the scarred tissue, looking almost comical, "I've got all day."
I rolled my eyes, picking at a nonexistent piece of fluff on my patterned skirt, "Oh and you think I don't?"
He blinked twice, "It's your money."
I spread my fingers out, inspecting the French polish I'd had redone yesterday at Traci's salon, "Nope, it's Edwards."
He leaned back into the soft brown kid leather, stretching his long legs out in front of him so I could see he indeed was wearing the same black riding boots he had been the day he'd picked me up from the garage. "Well then, let's just sit."
My nostrils flared, "I'm getting bored of this."
The slight inclination of his head to one side had those gorgeous golden locks moving, one stray curl escaping from behind his ear to lay against his clean shaven jaw. "And you think I'm not?"
Our game of communication through bodily ticks was teetering on the side of ridiculousness. My fingers twitched to tuck those few strands of hair behind his ear again. To run my fingertips around the shell of his ear, then press my palm to the smooth skin of cheek. The reactions to something as simple as that were completely new to me. It wasn't like I wanted to dive across the table and devour him. No, this was more like wanting to curl up on his lap and press my head to his chest and feel his arms around me. How I could be having these thoughts when I'd only just had one of the most amazing weekends of my life with Edward was thoroughly confusing.
Great, just what I need. MORE confusion.
I turned my head to the side, focusing on the small window behind his desk opposite us. The drizzle from earlier was now coming down in sheets against the glass. The silence in the room allowed me to hear virtually every single heavy raindrop break against the pane.
We sat and were still and the heavy atmosphere of expectation continued to grow. I heard each of his long, deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. They matched my own, as slowly my frustration at how I was feeling only grew with each timed breath in, each release of air out. How could he sit there, so completely unmoving, so utterly unaffected by what the continued absence of words, of sentences and meaningful dialogue between us left behind? Wasn't he the one who was supposed to ask the questions? Wasn't he the one that was supposed to get me to talk?
"Well?" I shook my head, sighing noisily when finally I couldn't take the virtual white noise of nothing in which I was surrounded. I turned to face him, noting he hadn't moved an inch since the last time I'd looked at him.
Still relaxed into the deep seat of the chair, a button missing from his plain black vest had the tails draped over his thighs. His white long sleeve shirt rolled and pushed up just above his elbows, leaving the impression that he was readying himself for the task at hand. It appeared in complete contradiction to where his hands came to rest atop the high arms, fingers splayed over the ends, thumb rubbing over a worn corner of leather where the stitching was raised. His denim covered legs stretched out under the glass table, black boots crossed at the ankles with his left toes pointed at me.
He exuded patience and relaxation; ease seeped from his pores.
I, however, had started tapping the heel of my champagne colored, silk Jimmy Choo peep toe against my calf. I rolled my shoulders back and forth, stretching the tense muscles that had done nothing but sit completely still for at least thirty minutes now.
He said nothing, just continued this new staring competition that was obviously his next trick to wearing my defenses down.
Damn him, he was good.
"What do you want me to say? Aren't you the one who asks questions here, Doc?" I spat, shifting in my seat, readjusting my skirt over my knees as I reclosed my legs for the millionth time.
His demeanor neither relaxed nor changed at all.
Jesus, he's never let me just sit here before.
"Come on Doc, this is wasting precious time where you could be asking about my latest conquests, who I've taken and whose bodies I've explored in the last seven days since I've seen you." I held one arm close to my chest as the other gestured in the air, pointing at him like somehow the ends of my fingers would magically prod him into some type of reaction.
Nothing. Not even a quirked brow. Just even breathing. Not even a itch to be nervously scratched?
I however rubbed at the tip of my nose; his absolute silence had my already frayed nerves on edge. I let the quiet continue, not sure of how to move from here. What was he waiting for? Was I supposed to be doing something? Saying something? We didn't usually start with small talk. This whole, waiting on me to speak thing was new for our sessions and today of all days it wasn't what I needed.
I rolled my eyes and looked past him again, my eyes catching a particularly blank piece of canvas on the painting that drew my eyes before. White. Blank. Plain. Devoid of color. Devoid of movement, of feeling, of everything and anything. It was completely alone. Alone in a rainbow colored world where colors intermixed and mingled, cohabited with each other, sometimes blending to make new and vibrant tones, sometimes rebounding off one another to leave muted shades of what had been before.
I was so consumed in my discovery of this plain patch of completely neutral ground, that when Jasper spoke, I literally jumped out of the chair, hand on my racing heart.
"Does the work interest you, Bella?"
I took a few seconds before answering, trying to find the words to explain the jumble inside my mind.
He stood up, walked around the table and offered me his hand. I blinked at him twice, a little stunned at this gesture, taking his hand after a few seconds thought. His grasp on my hand was neither too firm nor too soft. As I moved to stand up; he squeezed his long, calloused fingertips around mine and moved toward the painting on the back wall. I followed, intrigued at where this was heading after our cone of silence moment earlier. That and Jasper was holding my hand, and just the feel of his skin against mine sent warmth radiating up my arm and across my chest.
He stopped in front of the exact spot I'd been staring at, a little left of that stray curl I'd been glued to from where he'd been sitting before. How he knew that was the spot was beyond me, yet he always appeared to know things before I knew them myself.
Must be one of those things they teach you in Psychoanalysis 101.
We stood, side by side, our hands still interlaced as the quiet yet again descended between us. This time it was completely different. This time I felt…safer. More at ease, better able to control my thoughts and the push and pull of feelings inside me was suddenly at a standstill.
Was just holding his hand doing this for me? Or was it something more?
Sure we'd built up a level of trust and, maybe even a little bit of friendship in the last few months I'd been coming here and seeing him. Was that it? Was it just that he offered me a place to talk and be myself that made me feel so comfortable?
Or was it something more?
The slight pressure on the back of my hand alerted me to the fact that his thumb was rubbing in slow circles over my skin. It was a physical prompt that if I was ready, I could begin.
I cleared my throat, my eyes still focused on the small white scrap of canvas and started, "It's beautiful. I've never really noticed it before," I said quietly, my voice an octave above a whisper.
"It is." He paused, his thumb still working its slow heated contact over the top of my hand, then around the little bone on the outside of my wrist. It said, go on, I'm listening.
So I did.
"I can't stop staring at this part here," I pointed, my fingertips just an inch away from touching it.
I tilted my face to the side, noting his eyes trained on the place I had mentioned. The scar tissue on his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, a small pearly white tooth indented above it. I waited for him to speak again, but he said nothing.
"It's the only part of the whole piece that has no color. It's all alone in its stark difference from the bright colors that fill the rest of the block." I paused, letting my eyes wander again over the rest of the large rectangle that covered most of the wall. "It's kind of sad."
I felt him breathing beside me, it was even and tempered and was slowing down the beat of my own heart, the rate of my own chest moving in and out with its rhythmic cadence. Breathe in, circle above my index finger knuckle. Breathe out, clockwise up and over my wrist bone. Breathe in, soft, slow pressure swiping back to the beginning, breathe out and repeat again. Just standing here, his hand on mine, his body's presence beside my own, strangely gave me comfort. Just being there, not saying anything was enough to calm the storm that had been waging war in my mind since seeing Mark earlier in the day. If I was truthful with myself, since a week ago when I knew the anniversary was coming up.
"Bella?"
I blinked, drawing myself out of the daze that I'd fallen into with his hand on mine and the evocative painting in front of me. I turned slightly toward him, our bodies closer than before, almost shoulder to shoulder.
"How have you been this week? I know when I saw you at the bar on Friday, you didn't seem to be yourself," he started slowly, in a soft tone.
"Fine. I was fine. Drunk, but fine."
I pulled away a little, but his hand only tightened around mine, grounding me to the spot.
"I talked to Edward."
My heart rate began to speed up. He talked to Edward? Why was this starting to feel like entrapment?
"Bella," he paused, pulling again on my hand, encouraging me to face him. I fought the move, knowing that if I did, if I actually looked him in the eyes right now I would see what I had seen in so many before.
"Bella, what was so important about last week that you tried to call me so often?"
My breaths became ragged, squeaking sounds from my chest. I could feel my palms start to sweat and longed to pull my hand from within his clutches.
"Nothing really." I lied, already guessing at where this was aimed.
"Bella, talk to me. It's what I'm here for."
Fucking Edward. He knew I wasn't ready to talk about this. He knew that I didn't want to ever talk about this. He was there, he had seen what it had done to me, so why the hell did he think I wanted to relive it again? Wasn't once a year when I went slightly off the rails better than having me completely broken, incapable to do anything but breathe, enough for him?
Silence again hung heavy between us. The air that was before warm and accepting had suddenly turned tense and uncomfortable.
"Who's Marcus, Bella." A statement, not a question.
There's no brain wave activity. I'm really sorry Mrs. Masen. I think it's time.
"No. No. He's all I have! Can't we wait a little longer?"
"Bella."
I vaguely recognized Jasper's voice, dropping my hand from his as the reds and blacks in front of my eyes swirled.
"It's been a year and a half now, baby. If he was going to wake up. He would have." Edward.
My eyes clouded over, stinging with the salty water of my tears that threatened to overflow. I was numb, completely numb and the words that were being thrown around were like a foreign language to my ears.
"Bella?" Jasper asked, his words muffled like cotton wool was stuffed inside my ears.
"But he has to wake up. If we just give him more time. We can pay for private nurses, can't we, Edward? Baby, please. Please. Tell them he's going to be okay! Tell them he needs more time!" The sobs were bursting out of my chest, choking each word as it left my lips and in my head rang the words no, no, no, no, no.
This couldn't be happening.
I couldn't lose him, too.
"Bella, I think you need to sit down. You're shaking. Just come with me..." Jasper pulled at my hand, but I was lost, lost in the past when my world came crashing down around me.
"I'm sorry sweetheart. I'm so very sorry." Edward pulling me into his chest. His arms wrapping around my shaking form. Tight. Too tight.
"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Masen. His brain wave activity has dropped to the point where there really is no hope of him regaining consciousness. I'll give you some time to say your goodbyes."
I pounded my hands weakly against Edward's broad chest as Doctor Gabriel placed his hand on my shoulder. I shook it off, pushed Edward away and headed for the room that had housed the shell of my brother for the past eighteen months. Tears streaming down my face as the need to disregard everything I'd just heard took over any other thought.
I threw myself onto his fragile form. He felt so real. They had to be wrong. He was my big brother who would do anything for me. This couldn't be happening. I felt his chest that had once been hard muscle from years of sports, now nothing but skin over bones, it rose and fell in time with the machine that was giving him life. He was still warm, I reached my hand up into his dark curls, winding my fingers through the soft hair at my fingertips, still silky from the conditioning treatment I'd given him a few days before.
They had to be wrong. He was meant to be here with me. He couldn't leave me. Not now. Not all alone. I pressed my lips again and again over the scratchy old high school football jersey I'd meant take off him today to wash. I couldn't except it. He was here, he was breathing, he was warm under my touch. I could feel him.
Hands stroked my back, words were spoken quietly in my ear but I heard nothing.
Then the hands were pulling at my shoulders, tugging me lightly up and away.
No. No, no, no, no, no , no , no.
"No, NO, NO!"
"Bella! It's okay. I've got you. I've got you." Jasper's arms were locked around my back, pulling me hard against him as my body shook violently.
This was too much. This is what I didn't want. This was why I didn't talk about this to anyone. Not Edward, and most definitely not Jasper. This was all his fault.
"No..." I whispered once more as I pulled myself free. He asked me to stop but I couldn't. I couldn't deal with it then and I couldn't deal with it now. I grabbed my bag and ran for the door. His hand caught my shoulder and I shook it off, stopping still but unable to face him, knowing that he'd seen too much.
"Bella..."
"No. I need to go. I'll see you next week." I somehow managed to speak, before lunging for the door handle and walking as fast as possible out of the office. I could hear him calling me back, his footsteps echoing behind me, but not close enough to catch up without him running. I ducked into my car, pressing the locks as Jasper exited the building, his eyes scanning the car park until he found me. I didn't wait. I didn't stop. The rain poured heavily around him, soaking his hair flat atop his head as I reversed and headed to the exit. I watched his lips call out to me once more, his hands coming up to intertwine and rest atop the back of his neck as I indicated and merged into the busy street.
I concentrated on the drive ahead of me, knowing that I was leaving more than just Jasper behind.
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