TUS - Chapter Six: A Slight Progression

Four days passed since I'd gone back to see Edward at the hospital. Four days where I sat with him, talking, waiting to hear his voice again, even if it was merely to utter one word. But he remained silent.
I'm sure I probably would have felt a bit dejected had it not been for the fact that his actions made up for his lack of speech. He began gradually moving himself further from that corner, though he never once released the hold on his bear. It wasn't a dramatic shift in position, but it was still something, and I was willing to take whatever he was willing to offer. That was, of course, the first progression. Second was his demeanor. My daily visits seemed to become less jarring for him - like he'd begun to expect them – so the tension in his body seemed to dissipate, but only mildly. And third – which happened today – he had Lancelot waiting for me in my usual seat against the halfway point of the room, wrapped in my old baby blanket. That gesture was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
I suppose consistency had a lot to do with the change in him. I returned everyday at the same time and left with enough time to get home before Charlie and Emmett – who hardly ever questioned what I'd been up to while they were gone, other than the occasional, "How'd your day go?". Charlie worked a lot of hours and Emmett, well, if he wasn't working or at football camp – which ran all summer long – he was out with friends, so I was accustomed to spending my days alone. Only, these days I spent them with Edward.
Of course, the fact that my being available diminished considerably left Alice asking me all kinds of questions; where I was, did I have a new job, was there a boy I liked, did something happen back at the hospital that made me feel like I needed to keep it hidden and shy away from the people that cared about me? All of which I gave 'no' answers to. Only, Thursday night as we sat on the phone during our nightly ritual call, her curiosity took a bit of a turn. I honestly hadn't expected things to shift so dramatically, considering most of the conversation centered around her and Jasper – whom she was now dating.
"So," she began. "I was out having lunch with Jasper today, and out of nowhere I had this bizarre feeling."
"You did?" I questioned as I lay down upon my bed, placing my free hand behind my head.
"I did."
I received her normal vague response, which prompted me to ask for an explanation because I knew where this was going. This was typical for us when her 'feelings' were about me, and I always played along. "Well, what was this bizarre feeling you had?"
"I'm glad you asked," she answered nonchalantly, as if she hadn't orchestrated this outcome to begin with. "As I said, Jasper and I were having lunch, and I suddenly felt strange. Your face popped into my mind. I wasn't sure why at first, but then I had this overwhelming feeling like you were hiding something from me. I can't explain it, Bella, but I feel like there's something you're being secretive about, for whatever reason, but we've never kept secrets from each other. You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I do," I sighed into the phone. I hated lying to her. "And normally I'm all creeped out about your sixth sense because you're usually spot on, but this time, Alice, I think your lunch was spiked with something. Really, there's nothing going on. We've been over this so many times, and has my answer changed once? No, it hasn't. I'm sorry if you think I've been avoiding you, I really haven't been. I just figured with you and Jasper dating now, you'd want to spend more time with him. I've sort of been hanging around the house, and hey, I've even gone to the mall."
"Bella," she stated incredulously. "You don't shop. You hate to shop."
"I know. I must have hit my head pretty hard, heh?" I teased.
She chuckled. "You sure you're okay?"
"I am," I assured her. "But I should probably go. I need to get dinner made. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Alright…and, Bella?" she paused.
"Yeah?"
"Be careful." Then she was gone. I took in a deep breath as the dial tone reverberated through the phone, then placed the phone on the receiver, and climbed off the bed to head downstairs to make dinner. Emmett and Charlie were sitting in the living room, watching a Mariner's game - a typical evening around my house always included sports.
"Hey, Bells, is that you?" Charlie hollered. I glanced toward the living room as I started for the kitchen, seeing him peeking around his recliner back at me.
"Yeah, dad, I'm just getting dinner started."
"Sounds good, what are we having?"
I quickly glanced through the fridge and cupboards to see what we had, and noted that I really had to go to the grocery story. "Spaghetti," I told him. This, of course, was the only viable choice because we really didn't have much of a food selection. I heard a grunt in response. Charlie had selective hearing while watching a game, but at least it was an agreeable grunt.
I prepared dinner while listening to Emmett and Charlie squabble about plays during the game.
"What the hell kind of pitch was that?" Emmett growled. "That should have been an easy out."
"Ian just has some tightness in his elbow. Wait until next pitch. You'll see."
And so it continued, on and on until I interrupted by telling them dinner was ready. Most of the meal was made with minute conversation, at least on my part. I pretty much picked at my food, moving noodles and sauce around my plate. It was mainly an unconscious move, because really, my mind was focused elsewhere. I'd just left Edward a few hours ago, knowing full well I'd see him again in the morning, but it felt like so much longer than that. He seemed to fill my thoughts consistently now, and the ever present concern for him reached its peak when I couldn't see for myself that he was alright. And the feeling I felt the moment I left him, the consumable dread, it stayed with me until I returned, making a formidable front around my family near impossible.
"You okay, kiddo?"
Charlie's question startled me out of my musing. My head snapped up, the hand holding the fork stilled, and I blinked a few times before answering. "Uh, yeah, I'm actually kinda tired. I'm really not that hungry, so I think I'm gonna go take a shower and turn in."
"You do look a bit tired. Emmett and I will take care of cleaning up. You just go on upstairs and get some rest." I nodded, then stood from the chair, emptied my plate before putting it into the sink, and started upstairs. Charlie had been watching me the entire time, and his disquieted expression made the guilt I felt deepen. I knew he was worried, and I imagined he believed my behavior stemmed from my head injury. I was never a very good liar, or one to keep secrets, but now that Edward had unconventionally dropped into my life, I became shrouded in secrecy.
I rationalized that feeling guilty for keeping Charlie, Emmett, and Alice in the dark about Edward was pretty well baseless, mainly because Marcus and I were providing Edward with a sort of witness protection or whatever, something Charlie, if he knew the truth, would understand required a lot of discretion. There was still so much I'd yet to learn about Edward. I only knew what Marcus was able to tell me, which wasn't much, but it was enough to know he'd been abused, and if my silence about him could save him from the person who was responsible for hurting him and his being in that hospital, then it was all worth it, wasn't it?
I mean, Marcus was right. If I were to tell someone about Edward, even Charlie or Alice, his being in that hospital would be made a huge spectacle of, and God only knew what would happen to him. He simply wasn't stabile enough to handle the reactions he'd no doubt get.
I was in the shower long enough to wash up, with maybe a few extra moments included to allow the near scalding water to purge my muscles of tension. And I realized once I got out of the shower, dressed in some worn pajamas, and climbed into bed, saying I was tired wasn't too far off the mark. I was mentally and emotionally drained. I set my alarm for eight, then laid back against my pillow, pulling my comforter up to rest under my chin.
I'd just gotten comfortable, my eyelids heavy over my eyes from the exhaustion, when there was a knock on my bedroom door. My eyes flew open, my heart thud furiously in my chest, and I promptly sat up. "Bells, it's Emmett. Can I come in for a second?"
I exhaled fully as I ran my hands over my face. "Yeah, come in."
The door handle turned and Emmett poked his head in before stepping completely around the door and into my room. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on you before I went to bed."
I scratched at my forehead, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips. "I'm okay, Emmett…really. I'm just tired. You and dad don't have to worry so much about me. He doesn't realize how transparent he is these days, does he?" Emmett laughed. "I know he thinks I've been acting funny lately because of my head, but I promise my head feels much better."
"It's not so much that he's worried about something being wrong with your head, Bella. You've always been distant, but even more so lately, and he has no idea what to do." He was silent for a moment, then he came to sit beside me on the bed. "Did…did something happen back at that hospital?"
"No," I answered, a bit too quickly. "It's nothing like that," I sighed. "It's just, I was there in that hospital twenty-four hours, Emmett, unconscious. That sorta messes with your head a little, especially knowing what that place was once, you know?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I guess that could mess with someone's mind. I can't imagine what you must have been thinking when you woke up there."
"I'd rather not think about it, Emmett."
"Sorry."
"Hey," I told him as I gripped his forearm. "Haven't we been down this road already? None of that, okay? No guilt. It happened, and it's over with. I'm fine."
"You really sure you're okay?" he asked, his face beset with concern, though he was clearly trying to mask it.
I smiled. "I'm sure. But I'd be even better if you'd let me get back to sleep."
"Right," he said, clapping his hands against his thighs. "I guess I'll let you do that then, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."
He stood from the bed, shuffling over toward the door, and just as he was walking out, he turned back around to face me and said, "I know I hassle you sometimes and all. I do it because you're my little sister, and that's what big brothers do. But you know I'm here for you anytime, right? No matter what it is, no matter how bad, okay? I may kick your ass a little if you get yourself in trouble, but I'll still have your back."
"I know," I assured him, smiling.
He grinned at me, then walked out, closing the door behind him. "Night, Bells."
"Night, Emmett."
The moment the alarm began, I flew up in bed, throwing the covers off my body, and practically hurled myself upright on my feet. It wasn't exactly the brightest idea, because I'd very nearly fallen face first against the floor, but I managed to stabilize my balance by bracing my hands against the bed and nightstand.
I took all of a few seconds to allay my worked up heart from the near face to floor collision, before I darted toward my closet to grab clothes. As soon as I changed and pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail, I moved as quickly as I could down the stairs toward the kitchen.
I made Edward and I lunch, consisting of bottled water and reheated spaghetti. I even prepared a separate container for Marcus. A few days prior, I attempted ham and cheese sandwiches, only to have it sit on his plate where the bread became equivalent to croutons. He seemed to love the peanut butter and jelly, though, so I'd stuck with that or leftovers.
I placed everything inside my tote, including a book – Walden by Henry David Thoreau – that I'd intended to read to Edward, grabbed my keys, and went out to my truck. It was nearly half past eight, and already unusually warm outside. I could only imagine what that meant for later in the day.
As soon as I climbed inside, I immediately rolled the driver's side window down, then started my truck. I backed out of the driveway, seeing our neighbor, Bob, just coming out of his front door to collect the morning paper. He waved the moment he saw me, so I gave him a quick wave back as I passed his house.
Traffic through Forks seemed to be steadier than usual, so it took a little longer than it did initially to arrive at the hospital, but when I finally arrived I grabbed the tote bag and ran as fast as I could to the entrance. I climbed through and darted toward the stairs. I had a few close calls on my way to the boiler room, but made it in once piece.
"There she is," Marcus smiled as he took in my mussed state. "You look like you were hurried. Did you have a bit of a problem with traffic this morning too?"
"Yeah…a little," I gasped, trying to catch my breath from running. "It wasn't too bad, but more active than we see around here usually."
"That's true," he agreed.
I started toward the door leading to Edward's room, then paused, pivoted back around and approached him. "Oh, I brought you something." I reached into my tote bag, pulling out the container of spaghetti I brought him and handed it to him.
He took the container from my hands, a mix of awe and gratitude upon his face. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," I told him. "I wanted to."
He briefly stared at me, then cleared his throat as his eyes drifted toward the blanketed door before speaking. "Well, why don't you head on back and see our boy. I bet he's waiting for you. I've got some things to work on around here, so if you need anything, just give me a holler."
I turned back around and walked toward the door leading to Edward. Just as I gripped the blanket, lifting it away from the door, I glanced over my shoulder and said, "Thanks, Marcus."
He nodded, smile still perceptible. "Anytime."
I closed the main door behind me, and proceeded down the winding corridor toward Edward's room. As soon as I reached it, I pushed through the door. Lancelot was waiting in my spot again, and Edward was seated in his corner, oil lamp beside him, but he was facing the door, like he'd been waiting for me.
"Hey," I smiled. "Sorry, I'm running a little late. Traffic was crazy today."
I stepped over to my spot in the room and sat down to the left of Lancelot, placing my tote bag on the other side of me. I lifted Lancelot up and placed him in my lap. "Hello there, Lancelot. Did you sleep well last night?" I lifted him up, aligning his mouth to my ear as if he were whispering to me, then pulled him away and placed him back in my lap. "That's good to hear. I brought a book to read to you and Edward today. Do you think you'd be interested in hearing it?" I bent forward over my lap, placing my ear next to the bear's mouth. "Well, great. I guess I'll start reading it then."
I sat back up, placing my back against the wall and glanced over toward Edward. My mouth fell open, and I let out a low trembling breath. He'd been watching my interaction with Lancelot, and apparently was pleased by it because the right side of his mouth actually turned up into a small smile. I was completely staggered, though it was a pleasant shock.
I had to correct myself almost immediately so that my reaction didn't startle him. I smiled back at him, and reached inside my bag to pull out the book. "I brought Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I hope you like it."
I began to read, getting completely lost in the words. He remained quiet, of course, but listened intently to what I was saying…until the fourth chapter. "There is commonly sufficient space about us. Our horizon is never quite at our elbows. The thick wood is not just at our door, nor the pond, but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and worn by us, appropriated and fenced in some way, and reclaimed from Nature. For what reason have I this vast range and circuit, some square miles of unfrequented forest, for my privacy, abandoned to me by men? My nearest neighbor is a mile distant, and no house is visible from any place but the hill-tops within half a mile of my own. I have my horizon bounded by woods all to myself; a distant view of the railroad where it touches the pond on the one hand, and of the fence which skirts the woodland road on the other. But for-"
"I," he started, then paused. I waited anxiously for him to continue speaking, my heart fluttered triumphantly in my chest, because that one word was the first word I'd heard from him in nearly a week, but right now, that one word was everything. He was staring at me, almost pleadingly, so I smiled to reassure him. "I…like it." He glanced from me to the book.
"Me too," I whispered hoarsely. I bit my lip to catharsis myself of my emotions. "This book was always one of my favorites. I have a weakness for classic literature."
I swear he smiled again. It was fleeting, but it was there. "Please," he whispered.
"Do you want me to continue?"
He nodded. "Yes."
So I continued reading with an even tone and smile on my face – the only evidence of what I was really feeling on the inside. He'd spoken to me, not once, but three times, and I could not have been more elated because of it.
I stopped reading at lunch time, bookmarking the page I was on, and placed it beside me. I pulled out our spaghetti, and surprisingly, because I had the container wrapped in a thermal bag, the food was still warm. "I brought us some spaghetti for lunch today." I opened the container and began dishing it out onto our plates. "It's not real warm, but it's warm enough. I made this last night. I don't generally make enough to have leftovers, but since meeting you, I started. I know you probably get tired of sandwiches. I hope this is alright."
I went to set his plate and water bottle beside me, just as I'd done every day before now, but he made some indecipherable noise, so I glanced up at him, still palming the plate in one hand, gripping the water bottle in the other. He took a deep breath, then slowly scooted himself toward me.
I remained very still, holding the plate and water upward and out toward him. When he was within reaching distance, he lifted his arms cautiously. His eyes remained focused on my face, and he wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the water bottle and placed his other hand underneath the plate, his fingertips brushing against mine as he did so. He exhaled a raucous breath the moment our skin touched, then lifted both items from my hands while scooting back toward his corner.
I feigned sedateness as I grabbed my own plate and began eating small bites. We ate in silence, and once we were finished, I placed my plate on top of my tote back, grabbed my book, and began reading again. I read for the remainder of the time I was with him, only because it seemed that's what he wanted me to do. And when I glanced down at my watch, seeing my time with him was over, I sighed in disappointment, then bookmarked the page and closed the book, inserting it back inside my tote bag.
I shifted my entire body so I could face him. "Tomorrow starts the weekend, which means my dad and brother will be around a bit more, but I'll be back." I wasn't sure yet what excuse I was going to give Emmett and Charlie for my absence, but I'd figure that out later. In any case, I knew I had to be here with Edward. "I could always bring another book to read too, if you want." I waited to see if he'd give me some response, and when he didn't, I turned back around and shoved the food and plate inside the thermal bag, then stuck it inside my tote. I set Lancelot upright against the wall, placed the straps of the tote bag over my shoulder, stood up from the floor, and began walking toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Edward. You too, Lancelot."
And just as I stepped inside the hallway, making it just past the threshold of the doorway, he said in a desperate plea, "P-please…stay." His voice lowered an octave, becoming almost a whisper as his eyes met mine with a keen hope. "Bella."