If I was Stephanie Meyer, I wouldn't be here. I would be somewhere else, FROLICKING. I'm not frolicking, which can tell us only one thing- I am not Stephanie Meyer.
Everyone remembers it differently.
Leah remembers it as being a Wednesday. She remembers that it was cold and rainy, like everyday, but different. It was gloomier. Rainier. Darker. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and her hair was down.
They came at her together, the two of them together, and she was so overwhelmed by everything, by the two of them, by her boyfriend and her cousin and the way they refused to touch each other but the way you could tell that they wanted to. How when Sam talked to her, you could see it took an enormous effort to focus on Leah for two whole minutes.
Emily was wearing a skirt that went down to her knees and a white blouse that made her look like a box. Sam was wearing jeans and a plain black shirt.
He said it quickly, unfeelingly, with no emotion in his voice except love. Love for Emily. For her cousin.
"I'm in love with her."
Leah could do nothing but stare. She stared at him, but that was too hard. She stared at her, but that made her too angry. So instead she focused on the hole in the wall, the one made by Seth when he was four.
"I'm sorry, Leah."
She could remember he had been running around with a toy truck in one hand. Leah had told him to stop running, but he wouldn't.
"I never wanted this to happen."
Seth, mom's going to get mad at you! Stop it right now! She had shouted, but he hadn't listened.
"I didn't plan this or anything, Leah."
Fine, don't. But I'm not going to bail you out when you get in trouble. She had turned her back, and then he crashed.
"I don't know what else to say, Leah."
The truck and his body slammed into the wall with enough force that a dent had emerged. Seth had cried, more from fear of getting into trouble then from anything else. Then the doorknob turned, and he stared up at Leah with eyes filled with tears and Leah reacted.
"We can't be together anymore."
Her mother had walked in and Leah ran from the kitchen to just before Seth's dent, 'accidentally' tripping and tumbling into the wall, where her weight made the dent into a hole.
Leah! I told you not to run in the house!
Sorry mom, I tripped.
"I'm sorry Leah. I am."
She looked at him. He didn't look back. He stared at Emily, looking at her, revelling in her. Leah thought she might throw up.
"I'm sorry."
Seth had snuck into her room that night. She was grounded for two days. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, and Leah couldn't be mad at him anymore.
I'm sorry, Leah.
"I'm sorry, Leah."
Somehow, it was different. Sam didn't sound sorry. He sounded like he wanted to leave.
She tried to say something witty, cutting. She tried to say something that would show him how much he had hurt her, something that would make him bleed like she was bleeding now. She opened her mouth to speak, and all that came out was a squeak.
"I wish we could make this work, Leah. But there's no going back now."
She barely even remembers walking back to her room without another word to the two of them, lying on her bed and reciting the Declaration of Independence seven times before falling asleep and being plagued with some of the worst dreams she had ever had in her life.
Emily is certain it was a Monday. She remembers it as being cloudy, but not raining, with a tiny bit of sun shining in and an upbeat feeling in the air. She remembers she was wearing a skirt that made her legs look nice, and a blouse that curved to her body. Sam was wearing jeans and a black shirt- Leah was wearing black sweatpants and a tank top that was cut just a little low.
They went together. Emily wouldn't touch him, even though his hand brushed hers often. When she opened the door, Leah just stared, confused.
When Sam spoke, he spoke softly, kindly, in soothing tones, trying to make Leah feel better.
"I'm in love with her."
Emily flinched at the bluntness, but she kept her mouth shut. Leah's gaze crossed over to Sam, then to her, and Emily tried not to run away from the pain in her eyes. Then her gaze settled in between them, to what Emily knew was the hole Seth had made when he was little.
"I'm sorry, Leah."
Leah had taken the blame for that. Leah had taken the blame for a lot of things when they were younger.
"I never wanted this to happen."
Emily could remember one time when they were around eleven or twelve, and Emily had broken the vase containing her great uncle's- Leah's grandfather's- ashes. It had fallen and cracked into a million pieces, ash scattered everywhere. Leah and Emily had frozen, and Sue had come running in.
"I didn't plan this or anything, Leah."
Who… who did this? Her voice was tight, controlled, and Emily could remember her at the funeral, the never ending parade of tears as she stared at her father's dead body.
"I don't know what else to say, Leah."
Emily opened her mouth to take the blame, already feeling tears sliding down her face as she thought about the punishment. She had been running- she had wanted to play. Leah had told her to be careful, but she didn't listen.
"We can't be together anymore."
I'm sorry, mom. I was running, and I shouldn't have been running. I'm really sorry.
"I'm sorry Leah. I am."
Leah was grounded for two weeks. Emily had smiled sheepishly at her, apologizing more times then she could count. Leah had shrugged, then told her she could play with her computer if she wanted to.
"I'm sorry."
Leah always took the blame for everything. Emily wondered who she would blame for this. Would she blame herself? Sam? Emily?
"I'm sorry, Leah."
Emily knew that whoever she did blame, that was it for their friendship. It was over. All those years of playing, of laughing, of being so close they could have been sisters, all ruined in one look. Emily wondered if Leah would miss it.
One look at Leah looking at Sam showed her that Leah will miss something else a lot more.
"I wish we could make this work, Leah. But there's no going back now."
Leah stares, then turns around, making her way back to her room. When she doesn't emerge for five minutes Emily turns, grabbing Sam's hand. He looks into her house one last time before leaving with her, starting their happily ever after while Leah was stuck in once upon a time.
Sam doesn't remember what day it was. He doesn't remember what he was wearing, and he can't remember what the weather was like. He doesn't care, either.
What he does remember is that in the early days of imprint, he didn't notice things the way he does now. In those days, Emily was the most beautiful girl he knew- now, he knows that she pales in comparison to Leah. In those days, anything Leah did would go by, unnoticed. Now, a flick of her hips and a swish of her hair and he finds himself staring.
He won't touch Emily, she won't touch him. His hand continuingly accidently brushes hers, and he pulls away like he's been shocked. It's painful, not to touch her.
When Leah opens the door, he doesn't see her. He sees duty- something that needs to be done.
He tries to say it nicely. He tries to censor it, to make it less painful, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is the truth, the whole truth, the whole, painful truth, contained in just five words.
"I'm in love with her."
He tries not to see the pain in her eyes, but he fails.
"I'm sorry, Leah."
Sorry, like that could make everything okay. Like that could erase the pain.
"I never wanted this to happen."
Never wanted it to happen, but it did. And what could he do about it? What could he say? 'Sorry I broke your heart, Leah, but you see, I'm a werewolf, and I've imprinted on your favourite cousin'?
"I didn't plan this or anything, Leah."
He didn't plan any of it. Didn't plan to become a werewolf, to imprint, to leave the one girl he was sure he was meant for. He didn't plan any of this, but it happened.
"I don't know what else to say, Leah."
What else was there to say? He had said everything he could, everything he was allowed to say. He couldn't tell Leah anything more then the bare basics, and there weren't many.
"We can't be together anymore."
Sam tried not to think of Leah. Tried not to think of her lips or her taste or her smell or her breasts or her thighs or the way she used to nibble on his ear. Tried not to think about it not because it still affected him, but because it didn't affect him, not in the least, and the fact that a lifetime of memories could be so easily pushed aside with one look scared him.
"I'm sorry Leah. I am."
I'm sorry Leah, so perhaps you can forgive me for stomping on your heart?
"I'm sorry."
I'm sorry Leah, so perhaps you can forgive me for leaving you for your favourite cousin, for your best friend?
"I'm sorry, Leah."
How many times had he said that word? Too many to count, and yet Leah didn't look any better. Leah didn't look like she forgave him.
"I wish we could make this work, Leah. But there's no going back now."
Leah turned, left, without saying one word. Emily tugged on his hand but he just stared after her, wishing there was something more he could do. Then he turned, walked away, and he didn't look back.