Chapter 13: Stories Pt 2
It would be different if he would just smile and act like it happened. He could flirt. He could be coy. He could be charming. He could tell me to get on my knees. I'd do it. It would be easier. He is giving me a polite, "Good Morning, Bella," and acting like it was all just a dream. Perhaps nightmare. He is acting like this is all professional and he is just the good doctor and nothing happened. I am just a regular employee and nothing fucking happened.
I want a bottle of some good shit. I need it. He has plenty of liquor, but it's all for show, or parties I assume. I haven't seen him drink and judging by his eating habits, he won't. Doesn't. It's all I can think of. I barely hear him telling me things and handing me papers. I am a robot and just going through the motions and chores. He leaves and I make my way to the cabinet with the good shit. I take a mouthful of something clear and swallow it down. It burns. It feels fucking great. It's not enough, but it's something. I twist the cap back on and close the cabinet door.
He's in a bit of frenzy when he returns and there are other girls. They are fucking loud and chatty and smiley and I am not. They are looking at me like I am trash and they are not far off. They are giggling like idiots and it is pissing me the fuck off. I do all of my work and I am dying. It's hot and I am sweating and hungry and they are all just laughing. He's in there with them and it is too much. The truth…I know it, but sometimes it's just too much. Too in my face. I need to escape.
I find a spot outside and the air feels good. It's cold as fuck, but it feels like freedom. It's quiet and I can't hear the banshees from the kitchen. Thank fucking God. His backyard is pretty nice. A little bare, due to it being cold, but he probably has flowers and shit in the spring. Edward sneaks up on me, again, and I am about done with the tip-toe shit. Fucking cough when you enter a room for fucks sake. He says he is sorry for Sunday. Fucking sorry. Can you believe this guy? I give him a damn blow job and he is apologizing. He is definitely a freak. Just enjoy it and move on. Shit.
He's back into serious mode, being all emotional and I need to tell him to knock that shit off. I don't want to trade to stories, I don't want to offer shoulders to cry on or vice versa. He seems to get it and I can't help but to bust his balls about feeling like a pathetic creep.
News flash; all men are pathetic creeps, Edward.
We go back inside and after he asks me to change, he disappears upstairs. I am left with the laughing hyenas, again. They all stare at me as I go for a drink, but resume their conversation as though I weren't even here. I round the corner and sip my juice, away from them, but their voices carry and this house echoes.
"Who is the new girl?"
"I don't know. Never seen her before. You know Edward and housekeepers, though. I swear; he should just set up a revolving door."
"She's a lot younger than the last one."
"Ratty looking, though. Don't you think? Ugh, like dirty."
"I'm sure Edward thinks she's really dirty."
The bitches laugh.
"You know he isn't like that."
"Oh, please. With that body?"
"Pfft. I've been practically throwing myself at him for the last six months. Why do you think I cook and do all this shit for free? I'm telling you; whoever said the way to a man's heart is through is stomach, was a damn liar."
They laugh again. I roll my eyes. The way to a man's heart is through his cock. Jesus Christ. Amateurs. I return to the kitchen and throw away my juice. I don't want to be around them, but he asked me to help and I have no other choice.
"What can I do?" I ask. One of the girls hands me trays and I just follow. Robot again. Go through the motions. Get it done. Let this be over.
"So, how long have you known Edward?" She asks.
"I've only worked here a few days."
"Oh. Did you like find an ad in the paper or something?"
I set down my tray and she waits. Her face is smug and it reminds me of the girls I worked with at the club. Bitches. All bitches.
"Something like that," I nod.
"Well, don't get too comfy. He never keeps housekeepers for long." The other girls are standing by her now. "He sort of changes them like…dirty underwear."
They all snicker, but try to look like they aren't; covering their mouths. I nod and they are nothing. "I've heard that actually."
"Have you?" She challenges.
"Yeah…lucky for me though, he really likes my blow jobs." And the doorbell rings right on cue. "Excuse me, Ladies." Bitches.
Edward is stepping into the foyer same time I am. I pray he didn't hear what I just said. He doesn't look pissed, so I assume all is clear. He goes to the door and I am taken aback by what happens next. He is playful with a little girl and my heart stops. He is like a father. Or maybe he is a father. I'm not sure; but his actions are like Charlie's. There's a girl with long brown hair and she is laughing at his jokes and when he looks at her, she owns him. It's clear.
Fuck. This was the person on the phone? Not a wife, not a girlfriend, but a harmless little kid? Fuck. Two adults step inside and I assume they are her parents, not Edward, but I am not sure, still. He sees me staring and looks away. There's a soft spot there.
More guests enter and we serve dinner. I hide in my room through most of it; avoiding the bitches. I go back down when I hear movement and assume it's time to clean up. They have moved to the living room and thankfully, the bitches have joined them. I am left in the kitchen alone, with only dirty dishes as my company. They are better than the bitches.
I scrape and scrub and all is almost clean. Some of the guests have moved outside to smoke and there is a fire pit in the yard, underneath some heating lamps. It looks nice. I don't see Edward, but I hear him. He's talking with the little girl and I shouldn't be fucking eavesdropping, but it's too easy and I am not trying hard enough to ignore it.
"My scar is still ugly," she complains.
"It's not ugly; it's a part of you. Just like mine is a part of me," he reassures her.
I wish I could see them, but I won't chance it.
"Does that mean you're a part of me? Because I have a part of you?"
He laughs. "You're confusing me. Too many parts."
"Oooh, that part. Yes, Sweetheart. I suppose that is right, but you know what?"
"You have another part of me too."
"No I don't. Just one scar, see," she argues.
I really want to look. I want to see what he sees. But I don't. I can't.
"You can't see this scar. It's right here, though."
She giggles after a moment. "My heart is okay. You're silly."
"As is mine; beats just fine, all thanks to you and your hugs."
The other guests rejoin them in the living room and I am rendered fucking speechless. Speechless. The dishes are almost done and I start wiping down the counters. They are all talking and laughing and telling stories. I hear Tanya's name mentioned and figure she must have been the wife. He said her name outside earlier and then there is the book with the notes and the…fuck. A year ago. Sunday. It was the fucking anniversary…wasn't it?
The kitchen is clean and I am about to leave when he enters. He has the girl on his hip and sits her on the counter. She smiles at me and won't stop looking. I want to leave, but my path is blocked. He has the fridge door open and there are people blocking the other side, if I go around the kitchen island. She is still staring.
"You're pretty." She comments and the room seems to be way too quiet. Edward looks over as he rummages through the fridge. He smiles and I look at my feet.
"Just one scoop, Bree and if you tell your mother, I'll never give you ice cream again, understand?"
She nods and smiles and so does he. He kicks the door closed and reaches for a bowl, but pauses. "Would you like some, Bella?" I shake my head and he continues on. He puts some in the bowl for her and then adds a spoon. She takes it.
"Do you have chocolate syrup?" She asks, licking the spoon.
He shakes his head. "Sorry, Sweetheart."
"Aunt Tanya always had chocolate syrup. It tastes better that way. Sprinkles, too."
Edward kisses her forehead as she eats. "I know she did." He turns around and pulls open a drawer. His hand pushes things around until he finds what he wants. It's a miniature candy bar and he opens it and breaks it off over her ice cream. "Really don't tell your mother about that."
She giggles and eats bigger bites.
My heart is hammering. It is all too surreal. The candy. The little girl. His temperament and the secrets. It's not Edward and this kid. It's my father and I feel ten and I can still taste caramel and it still makes me gag.
"I'll be home soon, Baby. I'll bring you a little treat, alright?"
I still hear myself asking him to bring me home one and I still remember when he didn't. I'm going to throw up and I need to move. I can't get past him and the people are still in the way. I push my way through the small crowd and I know I am being rude and probably ruining his night, but I need to get the fuck out of here.
I run up the steps and close my door. I sit against it and try to breathe, but it won't help. There are flashing colored-lights and Billy and my mother screaming. There is Charlie, pale and cold and dressed in uniform. There are flowers and sickness and sweetness that is sugary and disgusting. My stomach rolls and I crawl to the toilet. I hug it and cling to it and lose all of myself and flush it down. I deserve to go with it.
I wish I could go with it.
It's cold and I rest my head, but it throbs and I'm dizzy. I lie on the floor and curl myself on the fuzzy mat. I hear a tap on my door, but can't move. The invisible weight is back on my chest, I can't move.