Chapter Music: Love Doesn't Last Too Long by The Weepies
A/N: Thanks to miztrezboo for her hand holding, and to annanabanana for her red pen.
LINK TO CHAPTER UNDER THE COMMENTS BAR
:: Bella ::
Dawn. If you sit long enough awaiting its arrival, it completely eludes you. The sky brightens with dusky blues, soft grays and blushing hues of pink, all while you sit oblivious to the change overhead. The atmosphere shifts, particles in the air charge and change, and the temperature rises with the sun.
The little things often go missed; it's probably why I was sitting where I was instead of getting breakfast ready for Jacob. As the lake shimmered in the distance, I tried to cast my mind back several months to find the change. The atmospheric shift in my marriage, the particles and the temperature, but there was nothing.
I found myself again, rocking slowly on my balcony, looking out over the yard and down toward the lake. The routine had been the same for days now, maybe three, I'd lost count. Charlie would work in the yard, varying his tasks—chopping wood, tinkering with his truck, mowing the lawn—always stopping to stare up at me while I never truly acknowledged his efforts. He was trying so damn hard, but I didn't know how I had become so broken. I needed to figure things out in my own head first, before I tried to let anyone else in. But he was my dad and I hated shutting him out.
Everything started to shift last night as I lay awake trying, again, to figure out when Jacob had checked himself out of our marriage. Trying to understand how that day, three months ago, had started one way and ended so very differently.
Unable to sleep, I wandered out onto the balcony, wrapped up as usual in my duvet, and sat on my grandmother's rocking chair. It was easy to find solace in the simple movements, the creaking of the old wood keeping time with my breathing and the steady thump of my heartbeats.
I watched as the sun rose over the lake and the birds flew in and out of the apple trees. It wasn't long before mid-morning settled in and Charlie shouted up from the yard.
"Bella, I'm going into town. Do you need anything?"
I didn't. He knew I didn't, and he knew his simple question wasn't enough to pull me out from under Jacob's destruction, but I had to love him for trying. Out of my periphery, I saw him standing, waiting for an answer, one hand shoved in his pocket while the other shielded his eyes from the sun.
"Come on, Bella. Don't let him win, sweetheart." Charlie's voice was a faint whisper on the breeze, but it was loud enough to reach my ears, and it sent silent tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Okay," he called up, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get an answer. "Edward might swing by after lunch to pick up the crate on the front porch." He paused momentarily, waiting for me to answer. I didn't. Edward was of no consequence to me, he was Charlie's friend, not mine. With a sigh, Charlie turned and headed toward his truck. Almost as an afterthought he called over his shoulder, "I've got my cell if you change your mind, or if you need anything. I'll be back in a few hours."
I kept rocking silently until he drove out of sight. Even in the sun, my tears felt cold against my skin as they slid past my jaw and down my neck. I wiped at them briefly before deciding, for the first time in days, that a shower might just make me feel a little better.
~oOo~
After my shower I felt a little refreshed. My hair was clean at least, and my skin felt fresh and soft, no longer waxy and coated in a layer of grimy oil. Leaving my hair damp and loose, I towel dried my body and pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a white top. It was time to leave the house. I didn't want to be here when Edward arrived; I wasn't ready for small talk.Stopping in the kitchen long enough for a glass of water and some fruit, I slipped on my green canvas tennis shoes and ran down toward the lake. Charlie had three boats tethered to the dock. Two row boats—one slightly smaller than the other—and his larger motor boat, used for fishing. Despite the fact that the sun was now hidden by puffs of white cloud, I untied the smallest row boat and climbed inside, lowering the oars toward the water. The tiny boat pushed away from the dock easily, ghosting through the water without restraint.
I worked the oars hard, slicing them under the glassy surface, keeping my knees slightly bent and folding myself in the middle with each new sweep and swish as the oars moved through the air and disappeared back into the gray of the lake. I had no idea if my form was right. I had watched Charlie row us out to the middle of the lake hundreds of times when I was little, but I had never actually done it myself.
The tiny vessel carried me over the depths of the lake as it swayed and rocked, seldom in a straight line. As I worked harder to keep the oars even, my biceps started to burn with the strain and exertion of my task. But the ache was good, it gave me a new focus. I was finally able to think of something other than the sound of Jacob's voice as he spoke despondently in the darkness that night so many months ago.
My shoulders started to twinge, and as the ache morphed into a delicious throb across my shoulder blades, I was again removed from the desperate rasps and grunts of Jacob moving almost savagely behind me the last night we were together. I choked back a cry, somewhere between a gasp and a sob, as my chest constricted and instead clenched my thighs and moved my arms faster, propelling the oars harder.
The boat began to move in a small arc as my left arm struggled to keep up with my right. A frustrated grunt escaped my throat as a fire spread down my tense legs and cramped in my calves. The cool breeze on my face was welcome and disengaged the thoughts and memories of Jacob's warm breath fanning across my skin.
No longer frustrated, anger overtook my body and a scream rattled out of my mouth as I threw my whole body into each stroke of the oars. Sweep and swish. Sweep and swish. How could he? How dare he? I trusted him, gave myself willingly, and he took my dignity, not just my body. He knew what he wanted before he bent me over our bed. He knew being rough wouldn't change a damn thing.
My face felt hot and wet, and I silently cursed the fact that I was crying again over Jacob Black—even if they were tears of anger. My hands felt hot and blistered, and as I tried to adjust the oars, the left one slipped out of my hand, floating out onto the lake before I could retrieve it.
"Oh, come on!" I shouted to no one.
"Is this funny to you? Is my life funny to you?" I pulled the remaining oar over the boat and leaned heavily on the wood, gasping for breath, before turning my face skyward again.
"Is it too much to ask for a break? Just to cut me a little slack? Haven't I been through enough?" I had never really believed in God, I had no idea what I hoped to achieve by yelling at the sky, but as I did, a small sliver of sunshine filtered through the clouds and sparkled off the lake's surface.
"Yeah, thanks," I murmured. "Not sure what to do with that."
I turned and took in my surroundings. I was almost at the middle of the lake. I had always loved it here. A very small island was home to one large willow tree, there was room for nothing else. Charlie had often brought me out to it when I was younger, and we would just sit and watch life go by. He would recall stories of the old rodeos and carnivals that came through town and the annual fair the townsfolk pulled together for each year.
I had loved every minute of it, listening with rapt attention and without a care in the world. Nothing was more important to me than the excited lilt and steady timbre of Charlie's voice, and the way his hands would tell the story just as much as his eager tone. The faintest hint of a hearty laugh and a childish giggle drifted through my mind, and I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself to the memory. Taking a deep breath, my lungs filled with the scent of the trees in the distance and the moist air settling above the lake teased my senses. I was safe here; here in Charlie's and my place.
Lowering my remaining oar back into the water, I paddled over to the tree. The boat rocked as it knocked against the island, and I carefully climbed out and pulled it onto the small mound as best I could, before tying it off to the trunk of the tree.
I ran my fingertips across the bark of the old willow. Its texture was rough and it was tangible before me. It was real and honest and had been here for as long as I could remember. I could trust it. Unlike Jacob, this tree would support and protect me to the best of its ability. It was beautiful.
I settled myself among the exposed roots at its base, sitting close to the trunk and keeping the warm sun on my face. The breeze was crisp as it blew in off the surface of the lake and I held my raw palms out, against my exposed thighs, relishing the relief it provided.
Since that night three months ago, time had kept an odd pace. It never appeared to be regular anymore, often slowing completely or increasing rapidly, causing me to lose track of entire days. It wasn't long before the light overhead began to shift as the sun moved from south to west. I tried to pay attention as the world shifted and changed around me, but even as I forced my concentration, the pressure to try and observe even the smallest thing was too much.
It will be here again tomorrow. Don't let him ruin you. You are stronger than this.
But I wasn't convinced that I was strong enough. When things had become hard, I'd run home to my father instead of dealing with things myself.
I'd never gone out and done anything by myself. I'd gone from my father's house to Jacob's house, and back again. I'd never been alone.
And that was really part of the problem.
For only the second time in months, I set my head in my hands and openly cried, finally releasing the pressure in my chest as it cracked and ached. I cried for a marriage I was never sure I wanted. I cried for a move I was never sure I was ready to make. I cried for moving backward and returning home to Masen instead of trying to stand on my own feet. I cried for the fact I felt lost and unsure, worthless and inadequate, desperate and broken. And I cried for a dozen other reasons I couldn't even process or list off in my head.
Lifting my face back up toward the sky, I felt more tears slide down over my cheeks. My lungs filled erratically as I struggled to regulate my breathing, and I closed my eyes in an effort to concentrate and focus.
It helped a little, and as my breathing evened out, I realized that while I didn't really feel any better about my situation, things did seem clearer.
My eyes felt heavy as I leaned back into the old tree trunk, and I suddenly longed for sleep. A fine mist began to descend over the lake, shrouding it in an air of mystery and obscurity. I watched as it swirled and spread over the surface of the water, forcing it to relinquish the reflections as the mist swallowed them whole, spreading its darkness. There was a certain beauty found in its submission because I knew, come morning, the mist would recede. It would give the reflections back to the lake, no questions asked. A domineering dance, one that was ripe with give and take.
In hindsight, I had spent my marriage just like that. Being swallowed by Jacob's darkness, being consumed by his needs and desires, giving up my dreams and aspirations in favor of his. But there was no dance for us. No give on Jacob's part, only take. Our marriage had been shrouded in his mist, and only now did I have any hope of seeing my reflections again.
As the sun began to set over the lake, I knew. The mauve orange shades of the sky, the rapid drop in the air, the chill that washed over my skin. My marriage wasn't akin to dawn. It wasn't the beginning of something that I had overlooked, it was dusk. The dying of a day. There was no particle charge or atmospheric shift, only the sun disappearing over the horizon and the beginning of a deep seeded wariness that heightened even the weariest of creatures.
Crickets chirping in the night were my only companions, as my thoughts drifted into the murky depths of my silt filled mind. If I was lucky, when I woke, the mist would be gone, the reflections would have returned and the dawn would be beginning.
A/N: Thanks for reading; Edward's up next.
Mojo Music: New Moon (The Meadow) by Alexandre Desplat
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