Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight
Chapter 5
Seven years ago
Bella
I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
'Til all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink, so
Tell me what you want to hear
Something that will like those ears
Sick of all the insincere
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time
*Renee calling*
“Uuhhhgggg… Sì madre, che cosa può io fare per voi?
“Isabellaaa!” my mother squealed like an over exited child. My ears were looking for a hole to crawl in and never emerge again. The digital clock on my nightstand displayed 5.08 in glowy green digital numbers.
“Sorry,” I groaned. My head was throbbing because of Renee’s high-pitched voice and because of all the background noise, it sounded like everyone was talking at the same time. When I heard some Latin music began to be played I groaned again.
“Bella, Phil and I are at Seville. Oh Bella you should see all these people, it’s the time of the Seville Tapas Fair. There are all these dishes with olives, different cheeses, meats, fish… The whole city is booming with life and colors, it’s so lovely, you would love it.”
I nodded with me eyes closed. When I realized she couldn’t see it I replied,
“Sure mom – sounds nice.”
“And did I tell you about the tattoo Phil got around his arm? Well it has this barbwire with roses and in the middle it has my name. Isn’t it wonderful?” she continued with her mile long monologue. She let me know about their former week in Iceland exploring its magical nature and swimming in the blue lagoons.
We continued chatting for a while talking of their future plans. They were going to fly to Egypt next and from there they would continue to Asia.
“So I can see you and Phil are having a blast. Mom could you not call me at five a clock in the morning. Remember there’s around an 8 hour time difference between Washington and Europe.”
I rolled in bed after the transcendent wake up call, waiting desperately for sleep to take me. After 20 minutes I rose and treaded heavily down the stairs to the kitchen.
I filled the aluminum moka pot and set it on the stove to brew and prepared a small breakfast. One thing that Charlie had come to love while living in Italy was our traditional homemade espresso. I was happy to see the pot Rose had sent him at Christmas was already worn as a result of heavy usage.
“Bella come on we have to find the perfect Christmas present for dad,” Rose sad while she rushed in her haste. The shops were closing in one hour and we had to find Charlie a present today if we wanted it to reach him before Christmas.
Dad had declined on spending Christmas in Italy with the family, claiming he had just a couple of days off work and was spending it at the reservation with his widowed fishing buddy. I was suspicious and suspected he didn’t want to spend the holiday with our family as mom was bringing her fiancé Phil along. I think he didn’t want to spend Christmas seeing his ex-wife with her new husband to be all cuddly and lovable in their own Christmas bliss.
It was the first Christmas we were going to spend without dad after our parents divorce. My parent had had a very cordial divorce and could still have a friendly chat. I think nonna was the one most disappointed – she had always had a thing for Charlie. Grandpa always joked they would run a way together.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Rose relax I’m sure well find something, it’s not like Charlie’s that picky,” I called after her as I followed her to the department store. I was sure we’d find something that dad like in there.
Rose and I had been sitting in our nonna’s grand kitchen, nonna fixing us some coffee to go with her just made panettone2.
“I trovato il regalo perfetto per Natale di Charlie,” she had added as an after thought to our holiday plan mapping up conversation.
“Oh, what did you buy him?” Rose and me asked.
“I had the picture of you three with your father in France developed into a black and white board for his living room.” Rose, Jasper, dad and I had visited our aunt Emily in Marseille two year ago for thanksgiving.
“I think he’ll love it. It’s such a nice picture.” I was not surprised nonna got Charlie a present – I think they were still regular weekly phone conversations also. I think they got along well because of their similar views on life – they both lived a simple and uncomplicated life.
“Isn’t that the picture were Bella has her bob cut,” Rose teased.
“Shut up, aunt Emily said I looked very French.” I elbowed her in the ribs.
“Yeah right. You looked like one of the Beatles,” she laughed
“So Bella what did you get your father?” grandma asked. Rose shut up right away – I was sure she’d forgotten dad’s Christmas present. Jasper and I had gone Christmas shopping the previous week and gotten everyone present.
“Cazzo! I forgot to buy dad a present.” I ignored her and told nonna of me prior shopping trip with Jazz with gloating satisfaction.
“I bought dad the new fishing rod thing he was yearning for after his fishing record-breaking-rod was crushed to smithereens. Jasper bought him tickets to the Red Sox game. I think mom even sent him a book or something.” I gave myself a congratulation tap on the back. In true Rosalie fashion she had left all the Christmas shopping for the last week.
Rose grabbed my hand, “Come on Bella we have to go. I have to find dad a present before the shops close,” and that’s were we where. Looking for the perfect Christmas present for Charlie to make up for Rose’s lapse in memory.
“I’m sure unlce Aro and aunt Fia sent him a present…” she prattled.
I knew this was a big thing for Rose. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, except for her killer fashion sense and ideal supermodel looks which she got from our mom – and, I literally mean killer fashion sense – people say fashion is pain well they haven’t met Rose, with her it’s fashion execution.
How do you think Rose became such a grease monkey. She and dad use to dissemble and piece together a car every summer. I think thanks to dad and Aro’s influence she has become a total boy-girl all her table manners and sport crazyness included. Rose doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her excluding dad.
It was time to help my sister before she went completely mad as a hatter.
“Rose why don’t you get a moka pot,” one thing that Charlie loved almost as much as sports and fishing was Italian coffee.
“Oh thank you sore.” Rose says as she hugs me as her worry eases.
“Could you maybe remind me next year, and when is dad’s birthday – I always forget.” I laugh – same old Rose I thought as I hug her back.
I sat at Charlie’s small dining table with my small one egg omelet and coffee. Sitting there I reckoned I hadn’t even inspected my new home. I had only rummaged through the kitchen for food.
I looked at the bright Carolina blue painted cupboards that graced the kitchen – they were probably the handiwork of my mother. Mom and dad used to use this house as a summerhouse, mom hated the grayish cloudy weather of Forks and the only time it was bearable was during the summer – it was a compromise between my parents. Mom knew dad loved his childhood home and to please him mom endured one summer month every year in Forks. I never knew what they did while in Forks, as they never took as with them, we always stayed at our grandparents.
“La madre e il farher hanno bisogno di un certo tempo adulto,” grandma always said when I’d cried.
I knew mom loved dad in her weird quirky way but it was obvious that it wasn’t the storybook true love kind of way. They just weren’t compatible – mom was an exceptionally loud and fickle woman unlike dad who was a very private regular guy, who liked to spend his evenings in front of the TV watching sports. I didn’t know if what mom had with Phil was it either but I knew they were good together – both of them whimsical young souls.
I quickly washed my dishes. I walked into the living room and assess the furniture. It is blatant that the house has not been refurnished after my parents split. The brick red Persian rug, the beige paintjob and the brown leather couch were something Renee would have picked. The only addition was the big leather comfy chair opposite to the TV – mom strongly disliked the male populations lazy-chair, “If they want to watch sports they can sit on the sofa. No Jasper you are not putting a monstrosity like that in my living room. You can get one when you live on your own.”
I smiled to myself. Sometimes Jazz could be such a girl – he whined for a day before uncle Aro helped him carry a lazy-chair into his bedroom. I’m sure zio did it only to spite his sister.
I walked out of the house in my running clothes. Just because Rose wasn’t here to drag me for a run didn’t mean I could let my body go to shit. Surprisingly jogging slash running was in the capability of a person who had two left feet and hands in sports. Rose said it would do wonder on my balance – and I think she might be right, I could walk on a flat surface in one and a half inch heels without tripping. (Sport’s is something I think I’ll never get better at. I’ll leave that to Rose and Jazz).
For my amazement the sun had come out behind the clouds. I put my iPod on and started my light steady run.
I ran towards the center of town to the beat of The White Stripes Seven Nation Army, the sun warming me face, as the antithetical tepid breeze felt refreshing. Maybe I could find a nice spot to just people watch.
The amount of fleeting cars started to increase as the time ticked by. It was already 8.52, I think the shop in Port Angeles open at ten. People were evidently trying to beat the morning rush hour.
As I passed the ostentatious hospital my breathing was heavy and I could feel my calves ache. There was a small park behind the hospital that housed a handful of wooden benches. I chose the one right in the middle of everything and caught my breath.
Sitting on a bench gazing at the bustling people around me, I relaxed and stretched my muscles. People-watching was something I liked to do – it calmed me down, made my fell at ease – I could already feel the knots on back loosen. There was something in just sitting in the center of hullabaloo and watch.
Every person has a story, a background – everyone had been somewhere and had there own destination – everything and everyone have there on past and future.
I’ve made it a hobby of mine to make up stories for the people I saw.
There was an elderly couple walking hand in hand across the not so busy street. The wife wore a light khaki colored jacket and grayish green (or is it the color of field green) slacks as she looked at her partner with affection, who was dressed immaculately in a cotton jacket and dark trousers.
I imaged they’d just come back from their 38th anniversary trip to Venice and now they were on their way to greet their third grandbaby.
A young man jogged through the park but I didn’t see his face, only his sweatsuit covered hard muscled back. The sun glimmered in his hair creating a golden halo around his hair.
I’m sure he was out for the same reasons as I but from the bellicose way he ran I concluded he might have had a quarrel with someone and was out to blow off some stem.
I ran home and completed my prospective Saturday routine.
Translations:
Sì madre, che cosa può io fare per voi – Yes mother, what can I do for you
Quello non è modo parlare con vostra madre – That is no way to talk to your mother
nonna – grandmother
Panettone2 is a type of sweet bread loaf originally from Milan. It’s usually prepared and enjoyed for Christmas and New Year
I trovato il regalo perfetto per Natale di Charlie – I found the perfect Christmas gift for Charlie
sore – abbreviated from sorella – sister
La madre e il farher hanno bisogno di un certo tempo adulto – mom and dad need some grownup time
zio – uncle
Song1 – Secrets by One Republic
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