CHAPTER 4

So I entered Bella's room for the third time. I didn't knock. I expected to see her fishing things out of drawers and shelves, throwing them angrily into her two suitcases.

To my dismay, the room was empty, and there was no furious Bella in sight. I closed the door behind me. Then the other door, the one for the adjacent bathroom, opened, and there stood Bella wrapped in a huge towel which covered most of her below the shoulders.

So, she was about to take a shower. Obviously.

"Edward." She stepped out, fisting the towel above her breasts. "Why are you here?"

"Bella, don't go," I said. Not very eloquent, indeed. Still, that was all I really wanted to tell her.

"I've thought about it," she began, her fist still clutching the towel. "I was going to come back and talk to you and your Dad in a while. Esme is getting worse. She needs me. You all need me. Am I right?"

I nodded.

"All we have to do is pretend my stupid obsession with you doesn't exist, and I'll stay if that's okay with you two."

"Obsession?" This conversation was rendering me incapable of normal speech.

She stepped forward and hugged herself around the waist with her free arm.

"Every time you tried to approach me," she went on, "I fought the urge to tell you about it, about my obsession. That's why I pushed you away, well, most of the time. Sorry for that kick, again, by the way. Now, if you please."

She nudged my ribs with her fist. I didn't step back. She pursed her lips and took a deep breath through flaring nostrils.

"Remember how I behaved when we first met? It was you, the way you looked, Edward. I was … smitten. I hadn't expected to be hired into a house where such a man lived, a man like … you."

"Like me?" She made no sense.

"Have you seen yourself in a mirror, Edward? You're amazing! And more amazing with each day!"

I thought she was the amazing one but chose to let that slip.

"Oh, God. Get out of here. Now!" Once again, I was pushed out of that very room. "I'm staying; I'm Esme's nurse. Tell your father nothing has changed. For you, too. Nothing has changed. Don't you ever dare talk about it."

"Bella, I—"

"Out, Edward."

She had opened the door, and her chin pointed my way out. Then she slammed the door shut.

I think you're amazing, fantastic, and beautiful, Bella. Especially when you're wearing that towel. It favors the smoothness of your porcelain skin. I want to be able to see your skin every day. I want to be allowed to touch you. I want to be allowed to love you.

That's what I wanted to tell her. But I was outside, in the hall, feeling once again like a hurting, useless empty space.

Bella stayed. She kept a strictly professional attitude, all the time. For months.

I got myself a part-time job as a substitute teacher at the Quileute school, which had nothing to do with my degree in computer science.

I was unhappy and so was she.

Esme was admitted to the hospital in late November, six and a half months after the diary fiasco. She'd refused to eat for two days in a row.

She passed away a week before Christmas.

Bella's two suitcases were placed in the middle of the dining room. I frowned when I remembered this was the exact place where my stepmother had made a puddle of urine. The tiles were clean and glossy, of course. I felt a pang of pain; everything now looked like Esme never existed.

The two suitcases would disappear within minutes. It would be like Bella never existed, too.

She was saying goodbye to my father at the moment. He hugged her closely and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"We will miss you, Bella." Dad's eyes were red and puffy from tears and lack of sleep. The funeral had been a great torment for him. He was half the man I knew, slouched and malnourished. He'd shrunk.

"I'll miss you too, Carlisle," she said and heaved a sigh.

I was next to say goodbye. Bella came near me and placed a finger on my lower lip.

"Edward," she whispered and let her arm fall. Her eyes brimmed with tears. I think mine did too.

I felt the sudden urge to clear my throat. Bella stood and stared at me, and said nothing to help me pull my feet out of the sticky swamp of utter embarrassment.

I didn't know what to say.

"Don't see me out," she said in a shaky voice.

The taxi driver outside lost his patience and honked. She picked her two suitcases up and left the house.

It was only after Bella left our lives when I began dreaming of her.

She approaches the bed and turns around, then with a childish skip pounces and lunges over the fluffy duvet. The ahh on her parted lips dies under my scrutiny. She's naked and perfect. I look at her with general astonishment. I'm like that parent who finds out that the baby has five digits attached to each limb. She's flawless.

I lay next to my porcelain doll.

She's got eyelashes that violate the laws of decency. Lips that hide biting teeth and a tongue, which heals the bite marks. Fingers that leave crimson prints and caress away the burns, eyes that strip my body and tuck my soul in the warm duvet of trust. A heart that beats faster than the clock but halts at every touch of skin. Nipples that lure in the cold and shy away under a warm breath. Hips that trap and comfort. A scorching, slick abyss of guilt and bliss.

In. Thrust. Thrust. Faster. Don't close your eyes. Look. Admire. Breathe. Let go.

It was the same dream, night after night, with slight variations. After several repetitions, it was wrecking my nerves.

I told myself it would pass. I had to be patient.

I had no idea how my feet had taken me to the empty room, which wasn't Bella's anymore. I'd never entered it since she was gone. But that day, I found myself standing in front of her desk.

There it was—the goddamned thing. The diary.

I clutched it in my shaking hands and searched for the last entry.

It's over.

I scanned the fine lettering. Touched the ink with my pinkie. Slammed the book shut. Opened it again. Then tore it, page-by-page, letting the shreds fall to the floor.

I kept one page. Folded it carefully and tucked it inside my jacket pocket.

"Dad!" I called, running down the stairs. "Do you still have Bella's file?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Dad answered.

It was a two-story house. I parked the Volvo near the entrance and stepped out into the freezing winter afternoon. I didn't have the time to look for a bell because the door opened even before I'd reached it.

There stood a huge guy, vaguely familiar from Quileute school. The mechanic, if I could recall correctly.

I was about to turn on my heel when he spoke.

"Looking for Bella?" He said her name sweetly, the ls rolling around his tongue like melting cotton candy. I hated the guy immediately. How dare he say her name at all?

"Who are you?" I asked. I knew I wasn't being polite, but how could I be with this intruder standing in my way?

"Ooh, you must be Edward," the asshole said and smiled from ear to ear. "Ha!" Small, woman's hands had appeared around his waist.

"Step aside, Jacob," I heard Bella's voice say. He moved away, and there she was, my porcelain doll, and she was wearing a dress. "Will you leave us alone for a while, please?"

Jacob grunted but disappeared inside the house and closed the door.

"Edward."

"Who's the guy?" I couldn't help but ask.

"A friend. More like a brother. He came to stay with me for a few days, just keep me company now that—"

Like a brother. Good then. Think about it later.

It was now or never. I had to show her that the story wasn't over.

"I … Bella. Do you trust me?"

"In theory," she answered, but her eyelids were heavy with doubt.

"Then close your eyes."

Unbelievable. She did close her eyes.

I reached for the note in my pocket and took it out. I unfolded it over my knee and straightened the paper as good as possible. Then I held the note at her eye level and said, "Open."

She looked then, obviously bewildered, and read.

"I can't wait to kiss you," I whispered.

She closed her eyes again.

"No. Look at me, Bella. I want you to look at me when you kiss me."

The warmth of her irises was hypnotizing.

"Bella, I think I'm obsessed with you too. Will you—"

She never let me finish my thought. She reached for the nape of my neck and urged me to bend, then placed her lips on mine.

She kissed me, and she didn't close her eyes, and she was wearing a dress, and she was flawless, and ... and, I loved her.

The End