“Yes, Edward. I have spoken with my daughter. She figured you’d call me.”
Her tone is cold and icy. She is pissed at me, and I can’t say I blame her.
“Please, Renee. You know how much I love her. I need to find her,” I say in almost a whisper. It’s an eight-hour drive to Jacksonville, Florida, but I’ll do it right now if that’s where she’s headed.
She sighs. “You know, Edward, sometimes love isn’t enough.”
What the fuck?
I let my head fall back against the headrest and squeeze my eyes shut. The pain in my chest is overwhelming. Renee is flighty at best, always jumping from one “life-long dream” to the next. Conversations with her are just as confusing and cryptic. At the moment, I have no energy for any of it, but I’ll endure it all if it helps me find her.
“What does that mean, Renee?”
“I know you love my daughter, but from what I gather, you love your job too, possibly more. Maybe if you put as much time and devotion into her as you do to your job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation? There has to be balance, Edward. You can’t love without balance.”
Fuck my life. Does she really think I love my job more? I’m a selfish bastard! A fool!
“That’s not true, Renee. I love her more than life itself. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. She knows that.” I let out a sigh and went to pinch the bridge of my nose.
She chuckles. “Oh, Edward. If she knew that, would you be calling me right now?”
Fuck. Point made.
We’re both silent for a few beats. It’s stifling. If Renee knows where she is, or where she’s going, she’s not going to tell me.
I hear her take a deep breath. “Look, Edward, I love you and I know deep down, you love my daughter. Somewhere along the way, you lost your balance. All I am going to say is that reality has given her a huge slap in the face, and she had to make a decision. She has done what she felt is best for her, and you need to try and respect that.”
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
“NO! I can’t lose her! Don’t you see? I’m a fu–, I’m a mess, and I need to fix this. I need to make it right!” I take another deep breath. “Please, Renee, did she tell you where she’s going?”
“Even if she did, I wouldn’t betray her trust in telling you.” Icy Renee is back.
No, of course not.
“If you talk to her again, can you please just tell her that I love her? That I need her? Tell her I’ll do anything to fix this.” I choke back a sob.
“Not that it will make a difference; actions speak louder than words, Edward. But I can pass along the message.”
I can’t shake the feeling that there is something more that she is not telling me, but I also know that no amount of begging is going to get me anywhere. I can only hope that she will tell her that I am desperate to find her and fix this mess. Hopefully, those actions will show her.
We end the call and I feel the desperation and pain take a deeper root into my soul. This can’t possibly be happening. I’m having one of those life-defining, out-of-body moments. The one where you get a flash of everything you have versus everything you could have and everything you stand to lose. Yeah, one of “those” moments.
I feel lost. Broken. Empty. She took a piece of me with her, and I realize that more than ever now. She’s the half that makes me whole, completes me, and all that other romantic bullshit. But it’s true. I’m nothing but a shell of a man without her. Incomplete.
A crack of thunder rumbles and the tears begin again. I pound my fists over and over into the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to rip the damn thing off. Instead, I lean my head against it and sob.
Poor me. Poor, fucking pathetic, pitiful me. Get over yourself, asshole. You did this to yourself. Now figure out how the hell to fix it!
After a few more deep breaths to try to calm myself, I start my truck up and leave the lake. I don’t have any idea where else to look. She could literally be anywhere! This may not be New York City, but it’s big enough for her to hide anywhere and I wouldn’t know where she is.
The rain is beginning to ease as I head back up Third Street. I make a left and drive down to the riverfront. The streets are pretty empty due to the weather, but the shops are open, and I can see one of the paddle-wheel riverboats pulling away from the dock.
We took a sunset river cruise on that one once. Eating, drinking, dancing. I remember laughing so hard that night and just enjoying each other. We had so much fun. She was so carefree…and happy. She pretty much radiated happiness.
I shake my head at the memory. When was the last time I saw her acting like that? Thinking about it now, I can’t even remember the last time we did something to let loose. Sure, we live on the beach, and we swim and surf, but how about a date?
Jesus, Edward, when was the last time you took her on a fucking date? No wonder she left my sorry ass! My God, I am an idiot! If I had only been paying more attention.
Rose is right. Renee is right. I don’t deserve her. Have I even done anything in the last six months to prove my worthiness of her? My fucking actions haven’t proven shit! Work. That’s all I have done. I got too caught up in goddamn work! Shit!
I drive until I found myself by the port, so I flip back around and decide to go home. Home. Yeah, like it’s home without her there.
xxx
As I walk back through the front door, the emptiness hits me like a brick wall. I drop my keys and my phone into the bowl on the entry table and glance at the clock. It’s been six hours since she left and yet, she’s everywhere. She’s cooking a meal in the kitchen. She’s dancing in my arms in the living room. She’s smiling and laughing as I chase her up the stairs to our bedroom.
I walk to the kitchen and glass crunches under my foot. Right. Need to clean that up. Like a robot, I go through the motions, all the while memories of the last few years in our home play on repeat in my mind. Where could she be?
As I dump the dustpan of glass into the trashcan, my phone rings from the entryway, and I fly out of the kitchen to answer it. Maybe?
Emmett. I internally laugh at myself for thinking she’d actually call me. What a joke.
“How ya doin’, little brother?” he asks solemnly.
“How would you be doing, Em?” I respond with a sigh.
“Yeah, well…I guess you have a point. Have you heard from her?”
“No. Have you? Has Rose?” I ask, somewhat hopeful.
He sighs. “I haven’t talked to her, no. But I am pretty sure Rose has. She’s pissed at you, man. I had to pretty much hide her car keys, so she wouldn’t drive down there and rip you a new one,” he half-heartedly chuckles.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I deserve whatever she has to give me, so…” I walk into the living room and fall back onto the couch. “Does Rose know where she is?”
“Honestly, I don’t know man. If she does, she won’t tell me. She knows I can’t keep my mouth shut for shit.” He chuckles again, and this time I join him.
He’s right. If he knew where she was, he wouldn’t be able to not tell me. That’s just Emmett. He’s honest to a fault.
“Fuck, Em! I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to live without her.” I choke out as I slam my fist into the couch and let my head fall back.
“Listen bro, from what I can guess, there is a lot more to this than you think. Rose isn’t telling me anything, so I am not one hundred percent sure. It’s just…I overheard some shit they were sayin’, and man…” He pauses. I hold my breath.
“What, Em? What? What the fuck do I not know?” I practically growl when he doesn’t continue. My heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of my chest.
“I think I may have said too much already. Rose is giving me the evil eye. You know that shit’s scary, man,” he whispers at the end.
I can hear shuffling on the other end of the line and their muffled voices.
“Em? EMMETT!” I shout. This is doing nothing for my self-control at the moment.
“Sorry, dude. Rose isn’t going to tell you or me where she is. She said she wants you to sweat it out some more. I’m sorry, man.”
Fucking son-of-a-bitch! I pound my fist repeatedly into the couch.
“Fuck, Em! Fuck! How am I supposed to fix this shit when no one will fucking tell me where she is?” Fuck!
“Breathe, little brother.” Yeah, because that’s just so easy to do. “Listen, I’m not making any promises, but let me talk to Rosie, okay? I know you love her, man; we all know that. Shit’s just hit the fan right now, and everyone needs to calm down and look at the bigger picture.” He’s trying to be soothing, but it’s not helping.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and try to settle myself. “Fine. Just call me back okay?”
“Hang in there, Edward. Everything will work out.” Easy for him to say, his woman is in the same room with him.
“Right. Talk to ya later, Em.”
I let my hand with the phone fall to the couch and think back over what Emmett was saying. What did he overhear? What did he mean “there’s more to this than I think”? Renee said reality gave her a slap in the face. What reality? We haven’t been living in fantasyland. Or maybe “I” have been?
A frustrated growl erupts from my chest and I leap up off the couch. I shove my phone into my pocket and walk to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. I twist off the cap and throw it on the counter. After a long pull, I turn to go up the stairs. The portraits on the wall stop me in my tracks.
Our first Fall here, she hired a professional photographer to take portraits of us. I wasn’t jumping for joy at the idea, but she wanted it, so we did. We met him out at Greenfield Lake one late afternoon. The weather was so perfect that day. I wore a white button up with khaki cargo pants and she had on this simple white dress that floated around her. She was stunning. He took well over one hundred photos of us that day, and while at the time it seemed excessive, I can’t help but be grateful for them right now.
The one hanging in the center is the largest of the three on the wall. It’s a twenty by twenty-four inch canvas. The angle of the shot was taken from behind us. You can see the lake in the background and the trees on the other side of it. We’re both turned slightly toward each other, lips pressed together. Even from this angle, you can see the smile on her face. The one to the right, we’re both facing the camera. She’s standing with her back to my chest, my arms wrapped around her waist, hers over mine; our eyes are closed and she has a small smile on her face. I’m pressing my lips to her temple. The one on the left, I’m holding her up in my arms. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, one arm around the top of my shoulder with her fingers lightly on the back of my neck, the other is low on my other shoulder, her fingers lightly on my shoulder blade. Our heads are together as we look at the camera, but neither of us is smiling. It’s almost a seductive stare. Her cheek pressed to my forehead, my chin near her chest. The way the sun is hitting us from behind we’re almost glowing. I gently trace the contour of her face with one finger, and the tears come again.
Fuck!
I stomp up the final steps, feeling anger take the place of pain. Misplaced anger? Probably. I’m mad at her for leaving. I’m mad at Rose and Renee for not telling me shit. Do they think this is some sort of fucked up game? This is my fucking life! Not some trivialized occurrence, but my life! Don’t they get that? Wouldn’t they want my help if this were their shit? Of course they fucking would! So then, what the fuck? Why are they so damn determined to keep me from finding her? From fixing this fuck up of epic proportions? Doesn’t she want me to fix it?
I stop in the doorway of our bedroom. I haven’t been in here since this morning. Not since she left. I lean against the doorframe and take another pull from my beer as I look around. Nothing seems out of place, and that’s just wrong on so many levels. It’s like the walls should be crying too. Shouldn’t everything be out of place without her here?
I hesitantly walk into the room and look around. The bed’s made, just like she always does it. The drapes are pulled back from the window, just like she always does it. A tattered paperback book rests on the table beside her side of the bed, just like she always…
Fool! You’re a fucking fool. You took her for granted. Idiot.
Another pull from my beer and I walk into our bathroom. She calls the color of blue on the walls ocean blue. They make the white marble counters and white cabinets stand out. Her sink is on one side, mine is on the other. The huge jetted tub sits in its corner with windows that overlook the backyard. The glass enclosed rain shower is to the left of it. She loves this damn bathroom. It’s her little sanctuary.
On her counter is a simple white porcelain vase that holds a single pink flower. Don’t ask me what it’s called, but she has a huge bush of them in the backyard. I walk to her sink, set the bottle of beer on the counter and press my hands to the cool marble surface. An errant thought pops in my head, and before I can stop myself from thinking it, it’s there. How could she just leave everything she loves behind? Even her precious flowers?
I lean forward pressing my nose to it and inhale. The scent rockets through me and my heart slams in my chest again. I pull back and look at myself in the mirror.
You’re a fucking idiot, Cullen, a complete and total idiot. You let her slip right through your damn fingers. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot!
An uncontrolled rage bubbles up from deep in my core, as I rock back on my heels and shove my fist hard into the mirror.
“Ahhhhhhh! Mother fu–son-of-a–FUUUUCK!” I cry out, realizing the idiocy of what I’ve just done as the mirror shatters under my knuckles and splinters out like a spider web. I clutch my wrist with my free hand and wince at the pain.
I bend down and throw open the bottom drawer to the right of her sink. I grab a washcloth and run the water to wet it. My knuckles are bleeding everywhere and I can feel pieces of glass as I try to gently rub the cloth across the wounds. Fuck, this is gonna need stitches. I wince again at the pain as I pull fragments of glass from my skin. Stupid move, Edward. I drop my head and let out a deep breath, leaning on my forearms over the edge of the sink. Something in the drawer catches my eye, and I furrow my brow in wonder.
I reach across and turn off the water, wrap the towel around my hand and squat down. Shoved behind the stack of washcloths is a blue and white plastic shopping bag. I pull the drawer all the way out, followed by the bag. It’s twisted and wrapped around a small box. I grasp it from the bottom and shake it loose, letting the contents fall to the floor. If it’s not the box alone that sends my head spinning and my heart racing, it’s the fact that the box is open that does.
I slump to the floor, lean back against the cabinets and bring my knees to my chest. For the second time today, I am frozen in my spot. I bring my shredded fist to my mouth and bite on the towel as I fight back a sob threatening in my throat. I just stare at it, like it may jump up and bite me or some shit.
I close my eyes and my stomach lurches. I jump to my feet and scramble to the toilet, bringing nothing but the beer and bile up. This quickly makes me realize I haven’t eaten at all today. Sweat beads on my forehead, as I continue to painfully dry heave. I slowly ease back and rest on my heels. I wipe my mouth with the back of my good hand and take a few slow breaths.
What the HELL is going on? Is this the real reason she left? But…why?
In a state of total confusion, I rise to my feet and walk to my side of the bathroom, still avoiding the box like it will attack me. I grab my mouthwash from under my sink and rinse out my mouth before turning around and leaning back on the counter.
Is this even possible? Again, why? Why leave?
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial her number. I’m sure it’s a feeble attempt, but it’s all I have right now. As the phone rings and rings, I feel another piece of my heart break when I realize she’s not going to answer. I choke when her voicemail picks up; the mere sound of her voice kills me.
“Baby, please.” I sob like the pathetic ass I have become. “Please talk to me. Please come home. I’m so, so sorry. I can fix this. I can make it right, I swear. I need you. God, I need you. I’m nothing without you. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, and I won’t stop trying to find you. Please, just –“ the beep from her voicemail cuts me off, and it takes the last bit of restraint I have not to throw it across the room. I sigh and end the call.
I make no attempt to clean up the bathroom as I walk back into our bedroom. I fall back onto the bed and let the pain in my chest take over. There has to be a way to get her back. There just has to. I toss my arm over my eyes, wince at the pain in my hand and realize first things first…. I need to go get stitches.
Stupid ass.
