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Long Distance

When I was four years old, the company my father worked for sent him off to their branch office in Seattle. It was supposed to be a temporary position; they just needed his help to figure out some trouble they encountered, so my mother and I stayed back at home in Phoenix.

I don't remember much. Only that Dad didn't come home one weekend though he'd promised; then his phone calls got fewer and fewer, while the times Mum cried became more and more. Until, one day, both stopped.

One thousand four hundred twenty-one miles were apparently enough to end a marriage of seven years and divide a family.

"Long distance relationships are a waste of time," is what my mother has been preaching for twenty-six years now. "Out of sight, out of mind."

True to her own words, when her next husband's job took him all the way across the country to Florida, she packed her bags without a second thought and followed him. Well, Renée Swan, now Dwyer, was very capable of learning from former mistakes.

Her daughter, well, maybe not so much…

I can't wait to see you tonight.

The message brightens the screen of my phone and thereby my face with a smile. Stealing a quick glance around the office and finding everybody intently focused on their work, I grabbed my phone to type a quick reply.

I'm counting down the minutes.

His response is instant and makes me struggle to not laugh out loud.

T minus 108 minutes

The way Edward and I met was like one of those horribly cheesy rom-coms. It was the first year in college, and we were both the plus-ones for a respective friend on their first date. Angela had met Ben in her English Literature class. Both had been in love before the lecture finished. As Angela tells it, she'd heard wedding bells the second she laid eyes on him. But both of them were extremely shy people as well. That was how I ended up accompanying my best friend to her first date with her soul mate – her words, not mine.

"It's not a date, Bella," were the words Angela used to convince me then. "He and a friend were going to hang out at the bar near campus and asked us to join them."

Edward later told me that Ben had provided a similar story.

In a nutshell, Angela and Ben married after college and have been happily so for almost ten years, living their fairytale life with the white picket fence and two sweet children.

As for Edward and I…

My calendar pulls me out of my musings, flashing across the holo-screen on my desk to remind me that I have one last conference call before the end of the day.

I put on my headset, hit the mute button to acoustically isolate my cubicle from the rest of the large office, and dial Jasper Whitlock's number. He is one of our new authors, a rising star within the history genre. Currently he's working on a story about discrimination based on real events that took place at the beginning of the twenty-first century. It's hard to imagine today that less than forty years ago, people would fight and even kill each other just because of different sexual orientations, religious believes, or even the color of their skin. Being born in the 2020s, at the end of these struggles, I am thankful that I can only imagine how hostile the world must have been then.

"Big plans tonight?" Jasper asks about half an hour into our meeting.

Startled at the sudden change of topic, I look up from my notes, "Excuse me?"

He smiles and reaches an arm across the desk, or rather his hologram does, and points at my watch. "You've been checking the time every two minutes. Am I boring you with my history nerd jabber?"

Hot blood of embarrassment rushes into my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. Of course you don't bore me; you never do!"

"Calm down, Bella," he laughs. "I'm just teasing." Then, sober again, he asks, "Are you seeing Edward tonight?"

It is physically impossible for me to keep the huge, wistful smile off my face. "Yes."

Jasper's returning smile is filled with empathy. "I miss my Alice every time when she's off in New York, or Paris, or Milan, or wherever else there is a fashion show. And those only go for a week or two tops. What you and Edward are going through…"

He trails off when he sees me looking down at my notes, fighting the tears that threaten to appear.

"Go home, Bella," Jasper softly suggests. "We can talk tomorrow."

Blinking away the stinging in my eyes, I look up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Jasper."

Since I'm leaving the office early I decide to use my spare time and make a quick detour to the farmers' market. About ten years ago, people finally realized the unhealthy effects of canned and frozen food. The government has invested great efforts and sums in environmental friendly agriculture and healthy food productions. Today most people prefer going to farmers' markets instead of those stuffy, sterile grocery stores.

I take a self-driving e-cab home. Gas engines are of the past, so are human drivers. Today all cars run on solar energy, and humans only drive for sports or pleasure.

After telling the audio operated vehicle my home address, I take my phone to call my in-laws. The wireless connection in the car allows me to see my mother-in-law in a corner of the windshield when she picks up.

"Bella, sweetheart, how was your day?" Esme greets me. Her emerald eyes twinkling with joy just like her son's do.

"Hi, Esme. Work as usual, but fine in general," I answer. "How are you? How is my baby? I hope she behaved."

Esme's smile grows even wider as it always does when mentioning her darling grand-daughter. "Oh, I don't know." She bends down and reappears on the screen with a grinning child dressed in a Superman costume and glittery fairy wings in her arms. "What do you say, Nessie?"

My sweet baby-girl giggles when her grand-mother tickles her belly. "I'm Gwanny's liwle angel!"

I laugh at the innocent look she gives us. Nessie is an easy child most of time, but like any other four-year-old she can throw an epic tantrum when the mood strikes. The last time that happened she'd forgotten her teddy bear at the kindergarten. It was her favorite teddy bear, a little plush astronaut with a helmet and a space suit; her name is Marsy. There was no way to calm her down that night, no reasoning that we couldn't get Marsy now because the kindergarten would be closed until the next morning. Eventually Nessie had fallen asleep from all the exhaustion in my arms, her tears still wet on my shirt.

I couldn't blame her. Her daddy gave her that teddy last Christmas.

As if she could read my mind, Nessie asks, "Will I see Daddy tomorrow?" Her big puppy eyes would melt anyone's heart. They are brown like mine, but her hair is the color of polished pennies like her father's.

"Yes, sweetie, you'll see him tomorrow morning."

She beams and bounces happily in her grandmother's lap. "Yay! I'll see Daddy tomowow!"

In that moment I hear keys jiggling through the phone. "Granpa's home!" Esme exclaims and Nessie gives another joyous squeal.

"Where's my favorite grand-daughter?" Carlisle shouts in the distance.

Nessie squirms out of Esme's arms and disappears from the screen. "Grandpa!" I hear her screaming, followed by happy laughter; one high and sweet, the other deep and warm.

"Well, I better get going," Esme says, returning her gaze to me. "I promised Nessie to make her favorite dish for dinner."

I have to chuckle at that. "Then we're both making lasagna tonight."

She shares my amusement. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess."

"No, never." The car stops in front of my house. "I just arrived. Say hi to Carlisle for me, Esme. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Yes, see you tomorrow, Bella. You and Edward have a nice evening," she wishes before the call disconnects.

I get out of the car and walk into our small but cozy house. Usually it's filled with Nessie's laughter and songs but tonight it's silent.

"Computer, play music," I command and immediately the stereo starts playing the playlist I listened to the last time. The soft piano tunes of Clair de Lune fill the house, lifting all tension from my shoulders as it always does. As do the well-known motions of cooking, chopping vegetables, grating cheese, stirring the sauce. It's all so familiar that I can almost hear Nessie's excited voice in the living room, telling her father about every tiny detail of her day.

After dinner is set and ready I go upstairs to take a shower and change. I put extra effort into everything: blowing my hair dry and twisting them into the long, loose locks Edward likes so much; I put on minimal makeup since he always says how much he loves my natural complexion; finally I slip into my favorite dress, which also happens to be his favorite. It is elegant yet simple, the deep blue contrasting nicely with my pale skin.

"You look like a goddess who just stepped down from the starry night sky" were his words the first time he saw me wearing it. They were spoken so softly, almost like a whisper, as if he was afraid I might vanish like a dream.

My steps on the way downstairs are almost bouncy, like Nessie's are on Christmas morning. Or whenever I tell her that she's going to see her daddy.

I take my seat at our dining table. There are two plates in front of me, two forks, two knives, two glasses of wine, and one projector.

For some reason my hands are suddenly sweaty and I am as nervous as I had been on our first date.

For our actual first date, not the time we were hired fifth wheels for Angela and Ben, Edward had taken me to the planetarium. In the dim light of the stars and moons, we lay side by side. Between the recorded descriptions he whispered into my ear. His rich, velvet voice rose goosebumps over my entire body. Never before had star formation and the emergence of black holes sounded so alluring. I don't remember how it had happened; did Edward secretly make the first step while I was distracted by his silky voice, or did my hand act without my brain receiving any notice? Anyway, at the end of the show our fingers were entwined.

And they have been ever since…

Until we had to let go early this year.

The ringing sound of the phone, alerting me to an incoming call, pulls me out of my memories. I take one more deep breath, and then I hit the accept button. The small metallic box that is the projector flashes to life and in the next moment the empty chair on the other side of the table is not empty anymore.

"Bella."

Even after all these years together –years filled with both joy and struggle, laughter and tears, highs and lows, though always more highs than lows, always– he still speaks my name like the most sacred prayer. As if these five simple letters erase all the trouble he is confronted with by the world outside every day. As if they were the magic spell for any curse.

I have no idea how the spell works, but it is the same for me.

"Edward."

"You look lovely tonight," he says reverently, his eyes growing darker as they travel from the top of my head down to my chest and stomach where the table starts and covers the rest of me from his view. He lingers a bit at my cleavage, heating my skin with a furious blush. Of course he sees it, and shoots me a teasing wink. He clears his throat, "So, how is Renesmee?"

I roll my eyes mockingly at his not so smooth attempt at changing the topic. "She's doing great," I answer honestly. "She's at her grandparents' now, impatiently waiting for you calling her tomorrow, and probably having her grandpa reading every wish from her pouty lips in the meantime."

He chuckles. "Dad is forever wrapped tightly around her little finger."

"In her defense, she is one incredibly cute Superman-Fairy," I add.

That makes him roar with laughter. "Is she still wearing that outfit?"

Edward's brother Emmett had given the set of sparkly fairy wings to Nessie last Christmas. "For my little pixie," he'd said. Emmett's wife Rosalie, who is a professor for feminism, had deemed them too gender-specific and therefore gotten my daughter a Superman costume for compensation.

"She loves her aunt and uncle's gifts. Though not as much as her daddy's," I reply.

Edward's laughter dies down and morphs into a wistful smile. "The bear never leaves her side?"

I shake my head. "Never, not even for bath time." I didn't intend to go there –this was supposed to be a happy evening– but I cannot seem to help it. The words just break out of me. "She always says that Marsy is going to bring her daddy home."

Edward's breath hitches painfully. Although the hologram doesn't do them justice, I can still see his emerald eyes becoming watery with unshed tears.

"I miss her too," he chokes through the longing I know he feels in every cell of his body, just like me, just like our precious baby. "God, how much I want to touch you now."

I press my eyes shut, desperately fighting the tears back that are about to tumble down my lids any second, when a strange sensation kisses my left cheek. I know what it is; we have done this before, him trying to touch me via the hologram. The feeling is hard to describe: it's slightly tingling from the electric light waves but also cool like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's day. It's nothing like the addictive warm touches that I crave from my husband, but it's a soothing reminder that he is here, that no matter how many millions of miles are between us, he will always be here.

When the sensation disappears I take a deep calming breath and open my eyes and force a happy smile on my face. "So," I mimic his tone from earlier. "how was your day?"

He flashes me a grin, showing me that he knows exactly what I just did there. "Good. Our team has made some remarkable process lately. Despite it being called 'the Red Planet' its soil is extremely fertile and our green stuff grows here very well." His voice becomes more and more excited with every word, like it always does when he talks about his work. That is another thing I love about Edward so much – his passion for everything he does. Nessie is taking after her father here again. "Of course discovering water here a couple years ago definitely helped."

It had been speculated for centuries, even yearned for by the scientific world. Water means life, and water on another planet means life beyond our lovely Mother Earth. When scientists did find usable water on Mars in 2016 the world went mad. It had taken almost forty years, but eventually technology caught up to human imagination and early this January we were able to send an expedition, a group of well-trained men and women, on the very first voyage to Mars.

Among them, the renowned astrophysicist Edward Cullen.

He received the offer two years ago. He would obtain the appropriate training within two years and then participate on the mission for another year. When he told me about this, my first instinct was to scream. How dare he leave me and his infant daughter behind for some frozen block of stone floating in outer space! Then, the thought of barely seeing him for two and then not at all one long year –or worse– hit me, and I just wanted to beg, to throw my arms around him and hold him and never let go.

But then the mist of anger and desperation lifted and I saw Edward, clearly saw him. I saw the excitement in his eyes, saw his entire body vibrating with anticipation, saw the many times he took me out on a deserted beach or a quiet clearing in a forest, saw us lying there for hours while he pointed at constellations and planets far, far away…

"That sounds like a fantastic opportunity, Edward," was what I eventually said when he'd finished, buzzing with ardor and looking at me with equal caution and expectancy. "This is a one-in-a-lifetime chance at fulfilling your dream. I love you and I believe you should take it."

He's been away for nine months now.

Only three more until Christmas.

Until his return.

I haven't been kidding when I texted him this afternoon that I was counting the minutes. I am counting them. Whenever I take our daughter alone to kindergarten; whenever I talk to his parents and see how much they worry for their eldest son; whenever I go out with Emmett and Rose and feel them missing their brother; whenever Nessie talks to Marsy before she falls asleep; whenever I am in bed at night, alone, staring up at the starry night that he loves so much.

I count every second that separates us.

And I know that despite this being a dream come true, he does so too. I see it in his eyes, every time he calls; every time he notices how much our daughter has grown without her father at her side.

Three hundred million miles. Three months. Eight million seconds.

Yes, long distance relationships suck. But my mother was wrong.

They are not a waste of time.

So I put on a brave smile and raise my glass, as does Edward on his side.

"To your Martian cabbage," I toast jokingly.

"To our Superman-Fairy," he adds.

"To love."

"To us."