Sunday, June 25, 2017

Angry All The Time Chapter 33



I had a dream about a burning house
You were stuck inside
I couldn't get you out
I laid beside you and pulled you close
And the two of us went up in smoke

Love isn't all that it seems I did you wrong
I'll stay here with you until this dream is gone

I've been sleepwalking
Been wandering all night
Trying to take what's lost and broken
Make it right
I've been sleepwalking
Too close to the fire
But it's the only place that I can hold you tight
In this burning house

The flames are getting bigger now
In this burning house

I can hold on to you somehow
In this burning house

Oh and I don't want to wake up
In this burning house

~Cam, Burning House


October
(28 weeks)

I wandered through the rooms of a house, aware that something was wrong, but not able to put my finger on what it was. As I headed up the staircase, I ran my hand up the smooth railing, trailing my fingers behind me. I stopped on the landing, listening. I heard something; crying? It seemed like crying, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I stepped through the door on my right, circling the empty room. No one. I went back to the hall, crossing and entering the room on the left. Again, the room was empty but there was still the echoing sound of a cry.

When I moved back out to the hallway, I became aware that the stairway was on fire. Flames licked the walls, leaping higher to reach the ceiling. The acrid smell of smoke permeated my nostrils, but I felt no heat. As I backed down the hall, the flames moved forward, consuming the rooms I had just searched. The crying became louder, more frantic. I heard the faint sounds of a man's voice, and I hurried further down the hall, glancing in rooms as I passed. There were too many doors, too many missed opportunities. My heart was pounding heavily in my throat, and I swallowed to relieve the feeling, but it wouldn't settle back into my chest.

The sounds were louder in my ears now; the roar of the flames, the crackling of the paint and wood as the walls succumbed to the heat from the flames that I still didn't feel. It was as if the fire was chasing me through the house now, and I found myself at another set of stairs, heading back down. Thinking of finding the exit, I took the stairs as quickly as I dared. When I reached the bottom floor, I saw an open door with sunlight pouring through. It beckoned me, the safety of the outdoors, away from the burning house. Just as I reached the only means to my escape, I heard the man loud and clear.

"Bella! Bella!"

Edward! My mind answered, but the words would not move past my heart as it pounded in my throat. I spun, spotting a room with no fire damage a few feet away. I sprinted towards it, knowing instinctively that I had to save Edward. I was moving so quickly that I stumbled when I reached the door frame, clutching it for support. There he was. My Edward, looking beautiful and perfect. He was sitting on our bed in our undamaged house, holding something.

So grateful he wasn't hurt, I rushed forward and took his face in my hands. "Edward!" I managed to spit out. I swallowed and took a deep breath, working to dislodge the object still stuck in my throat. "Edward, we have to move. The house is on fire! Come on!" I pulled on his arm, but it was no use. He was holding tightly to something, and as I looked more closely, my eyes focused on a baby. I knew immediately that it was our baby, our daughter.

"We can't leave the baby, Bella." Edward said the word 'baby' with such devotion that tears sprang to my eyes. He glanced up to me, then back to the infant sleeping in his arms.

"I know, love. Bring the baby. We have to go!" I spoke urgently, but he never made an effort to get up. "I swear she can come Edward, please get up and bring the baby!" I wrapped my arms around the two of them, desperate to shield them.

"No, we can't be together. I'll stay with her. You go." His words made no sense to me.

The fire that had not yet touched this perfect example of how our life should be suddenly claimed the doorway to the room. Crackling, roaring, the wooden frame buckled and collapsed.

"EDWARD! WE HAVE TO GO!" I screamed desperately, but the scene shifted in front of me. I was seeing Edward and the baby on the other side of a window, and he was standing by a crib, rocking the smiling baby girl in his arms. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear anything for the roaring in my ears. The ceiling collapsed between us as I screamed in horror, and I could no longer see anything for the flames.

I sit up suddenly, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. My hands go to my stomach to reassure myself, and the baby kicks my hand in response. I clench my eyes shut, breathing deeply and holding it in like the therapist recommended, letting it out after five seconds. I repeat the exercise several times until my heart rate returns to normal. I flop back down, stretching my toes, then my feet, careful not to stretch my calves and wind up with a cramp. I flex my fingers, hands, elbows and shoulders. I sit up again carefully, shifting until my feet hang off the bed. Touching my toes to the rug, I take a few more deep breaths, ensuring I won't be dizzy when I get up.

I get out of bed, heading into the bathroom. I strip off my soaked nightshirt, and wash my face with cold water before padding back to the bedroom, digging a fresh gown from the dresser. I rub my eyes wearily, noting the time. 4:36. Not exactly how I wanted to start my day, but I would rather get up than continue that dream.

I head into the kitchen, only turning on the light above the stove. I pull the juice from the fridge, then freeze as I set it on the counter next to yesterday's mail. The certified letter was the only thing I opened and it's still sitting there on top.

The words 'petition', 'separation', and 'respondent' jump out at me again. Gripping the counter for support, I try my best not to let the nausea overtake me. I practice my deep breathing some more, calming down incrementally.

It will be okay. Everything will work out in the end. I'm getting better. I'll show him that I'm healed, and that we can be happy again. The baby kicks, reassuring me that I'm right.

I have an appointment with my doctor later in the day, but nothing else planned. I pour some juice and put the carton back, hoping the routine will soothe my frayed nerves. I will not allow Edward to move any farther towards a divorce. I will not sign the petition for separation. I don't care how stubborn that makes me, either. It is the only communication I've had with him in four months, I'm not about to let it be all that is left of our marriage.

I make some toast and carry it to the table by the window in the breakfast nook. It's too dark to see outside, so I pull my notebook closer instead, and set about writing down my dream. It's meant to be cathartic, but the symbolism petrifies me. Dream Edward said we couldn't be together, but he kept our sweet baby girl. A tear plops down on the page, followed by two more. 

I sit back, dropping the pen. Deep breaths, Bella. We'll work it out. Relax, don't stress the baby. I just want to curl up on the couch and nap instead of work on my inner demons.

~~~oOo~~~

I run into Jacob again at the OB's office. For someone who only interns a few days a week, he seems to always be there when I am. I'm heading back into the waiting room after seeing the doctor, and I see Jake as he waves from the reception desk. I pause by the door as he hurries over, glancing over his shoulder before taking my elbow and leading me out the double glass doors.

"Hey, Bella." He rubs the back of his neck like he's nervous. "I get off in 15. Can I take you for some coffee? Or tea, or whatever you drink." He smiles warmly. That was the best way to describe Jake. He was always warm, like a sun.

"I don't know, Jake. I don't want to give you the wrong idea." We'd spent some time together, but I always left with the impression that he was not listening to my warnings about staying platonic.

He doesn't even blink as I say the words. "I know how you feel. I just want to be your friend, I promise." He gives me his bright smile again. "I thought we could talk, and maybe I can make sure you get something to eat."

"Now it's dinner, too?" I shake my head. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Nope." He's completely unashamed.

I sigh. "Well, I do have some news. It would be nice to have a friend to talk to before my next therapy session."

He nods his head, clearly happy with my answer. "You want to come back inside and wait for me?"

"I'll wait at the cafe down the street. They have outdoor seating, I think that would be nice." It was public, and we'd been there before.

"Ok, cool." He gives another little wave and heads back indoors.

I hitch my purse up on my shoulder, smoothing my dress down over my belly, lingering a bit on my basketball. That's what it looks like to me; that I swallowed a basketball. Baby girl kicks my hand, and I can't help but smile. I soothe the area, feeling more movement. I start off down the sidewalk, turning in the direction of my new favorite place to eat. It's close to the OB and my counselor, so I often stop in for a drink or something sweet. They make their desserts by hand, as well as some sandwiches and soups.

They're busy, and I glance down at my watch to see that it's almost 5:30. I stand near the outdoor tables, hoping something will open up soon. I shift on my feet, feeling the ache in the arches. More than once I've wished I had someone at home to rub them for me, but I quickly squash that thought. I don't need to go down that unhappy road in my head.

An older gentleman is getting up from a table, and he stands by his chair and waves me over. I hurry to him, smiling in gratitude. "Thank you so much, sir."

"You shouldn't have to wait for a table. In my book, a pregnant woman gets a seat before others." He smiles kindly, and I lean in and kiss him on the cheek impulsively.

"You're so sweet, thank you. I do need to sit, my feet are killing me," I admit. He pats my cheek and moves on, and I gratefully sit in one of the chairs, resting my purse on the ground at my feet. Jacob should be along soon.

The waiter comes and takes my drink order, offering me a menu. When he goes to another table, I glance down at the menu, already having an idea of what I want. I have the strange feeling suddenly that someone is watching me. The back of my neck tingles, and I feel warmth all over. I look around, but the other patrons and the planters are blocking my view of the street. I do notice Jake at the opening to the patio, so I push my chair back and stand, waving him over. When he reaches my side, he wraps his long arms around me for a hug, squeezing a little too tightly.

"Geez, Jake, stop with the steroids. I can't breathe," I joke. He releases me, and it does not go unnoticed that he trails his hand over my pregnant stomach before linking his hand with mine.

The feeling of being watched is back, and I turn my head again. Even a better view of the street doesn't reveal anyone being creepy or nosy, and I sit back down, removing my hand from Jake's. He sits across from me, unapologetic.

"I'm not comfortable with you touching my stomach," I say quietly. I don't want to hurt his feelings; he's been a good friend to me, and he lets me unload frequently. But him touching Edward's baby in that possessive way just feels wrong.

"Sorry," he replies. "It fascinates me."

"Well, you have plenty of them to touch all day long," I say pointedly.

"Okay," he answers, unfazed. The waiter returns, and we place our orders. After I take a sip of the iced tea he brings me, I look at Jake across from me.

"I received separation papers from Edward yesterday," I say very quietly. I glance up as he smoothes out a face that looks too close to pleased.

"I'm sorry for you, that must've been upsetting," he says, sounding sincere. Or maybe that's just the sound of gloating.

"It was, and is. I'm working too hard to get back to where I can be a functional human for him to give up on me so soon." I sigh, rubbing my temple. "I had a terrible nightmare, and then couldn't go back to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"What can I do, Bells? Name anything."

It's tempting. It's very tempting to let Jacob do what he wants so desperately to do for me. It's obvious that he wants to be more than friends, and it's hard not to let him take care of me. Friends take care of each other all the time.

Ugh. I know he can't keep it platonic, though.

"Nothing, Jake. Just lend an ear." He looks disappointed. I sigh, thinking this is how it's always going to be between us. "Do you remember promising not to push me? To just be my friend, and not stress me out by pressing for more?"

He has the decency to look contrite. "I remember. I can take care of you as a friend, Bells."

"I don't think that's how it would turn out."

"Let's change the subject. Have you picked a pediatrician?"

"Yes, someone on Mercer Island."

"Are they highly recommended?" He sounds awfully critical to me.

I sit back as our food is delivered to the table. When the waiter steps away, I snap, "No, Jake, I picked the guy who operates out of a cardboard box with a kitchen scale."

He puts his hands up. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I could get you a list from the office if you needed it, that's all."

"I've already done so, that's where I found the one I chose. He's close to the house."

"Are you staying in that big house alone? Don't you want to sell and come back to Seattle, someplace smaller?"

"Do you want me to get up and leave? I'd really like to finish eating, but you're heading down the wrong conversational path." I raise a bitch brow, which I've perfected thanks to Rose.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll shut up." He resumes eating, and so do I.

A few minutes pass before he says, "Do you have any names picked out?"

I throw down my napkin. "Do you not realize that these are really personal questions?"

"Can a friend not ask personal questions?" he counters.

"Maybe I'm being too sensitive, but names are something I'm not thinking about until I can discuss them with Edward."

"The same guy who filed for separation? How do you know he'll want any part in that?"

"Wow, low blow, Jacob. You know that's what I'm hoping for, and working towards. So yes, I want to talk to him at Alice and Jasper's wedding; about baby names, the house, the pediatrician, and every other damn thing I haven't talked to him about since February when I fell down the rabbit hole."

I flag down the waiter, completely fed up. I get a box and load up the last of my food before looking at Jake. He's red in the face, but he looks angry instead of embarrassed.

"So you know what, Jake?" I push back my chair and struggle to stand, my balance thrown off by my belly. He gets up and takes my arm, helping me to stand. As soon as I'm on my feet, I lean close to his face.

"Fuck you."

I walk away, back to the truck in the parking lot of the doctor's office. It's empty now, so I'm a little annoyed that I walked off alone. I realize I'm crying as I wonder if I overreacted, or if Jacob was really being too pushy.

I don't care. I get in the truck and drive home, pushing thoughts of my supposed friend to the back of my mind.






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