Chapter Text
"Bella?"
"Yes?"
"May I ask you something? You aren't obligated to answer, of course, if it bothers you."
The two of us were in my newly purchased bed at home tonight, because Charlie had planned a fishing trip with some others to take advantage of a long holiday weekend. As safe as Forks usually was, Bella's unexpected excursion a few months ago had left him wary about leaving her alone for so long, and so she had convinced him to have his fun with the promise of having a sleepover with Alice until his return Monday afternoon. Initially, she'd planned to take the time to fly out to Jacksonville and see her mother and Phil, but a mere week before Renee had casually admitted that it had slipped her mind and had already made plans to travel to New York with her husband. I was there during this phone call, and it took me by surprise the way not even a flicker of disappointment showed in Bella's eyes. Instead, she'd readily accepted the hurdle and told her mother not to worry, that she'd purchased a refundable ticket anyway so it wasn't a big deal.
I had asked her then, if she hadn't been looking forward to going, but she'd shook her head and said she did miss her mother very much, seeing as she had spent most of her life with her, but this sort of thing was a common occurrence and that it wasn't a problem. I wanted to believe that she was lying, that she was hiding her pain like she tended to do, but as I heard her putter around downstairs making dinner and talking to Charlie, I realised that she was indeed being truthful. It really didn't bother her. In fact, Renee's relationship with her was starting to bother me more than her own daughter. From what little I knew, Bella and her mother didn't have the most conventional relationship - in fact, she'd implied that between them, they had their roles reversed, and the closest she'd thought of Renee was as a friend, not a parent figure.
Now, as I laid my head on her chest, taking comfort in the sound of her heart beating right into my ear, the feel of her soft flesh cushioning my cheek and the warmth of her fingers as they combed through my hair while we waited for her to fall asleep, I decided I couldn't remain ignorant anymore. I had to know. It was such a hardship, not being able to know her true thoughts, and I was desperate. Her fingers faltered for the briefest moment, and I knew without even looking that she'd furrowed her brows ever so slightly, the way she always did when she didn't understand something. "Of course," she murmured as she continued to play with my hair.
As usual, at least when it came to the two of us, I messed up the first time round. "Does the way your mother treat you really not bother you?"
A pin dropping would have sounded like thunder in the silence that followed the implication my question made. Being in a house full of vampires, privacy was but an illusion no matter how hard we all tried, and I didn't need to my ability to hear the shock and berating I had coming for me for my choice of words. Even Rosalie, who had no context whatsoever had wondered if Bella was abused, the way I had made it sound. My eyes widened as soon as I'd processed what I said and how it sounded, now that I said it out loud, and Bella's stillness mirrored mine. It was probably one of the few times I stumbled over my words as I tried to explain myself. "I- I didn't mean; that's not what I-," I stuttered, but Bella, as she always did, amazed me completely by defying my expectations.
Instead of being offended, she'd merely chuckled softly, and went back to messing up my hair even more. "It's okay, Edward. I think I understood what you were trying to ask me. I know you know that I love Renee, but are you wondering if I resent her for my parents splitting up? If I'm bitter about the nature of my upbringing, even if I'm used to it by now?" I sighed in relief, and the whole house seemed to breathe with me as what could have been an argument was so quickly and easily avoided. "Yes, that's exactly what I so tactlessly wanted to know. I'm sorry, love." She told me not to worry about it, that I wasn't the first to ask her, but she fell silent after that, and I had taken it to mean that she didn't want to talk about it, but it was exactly then that she'd stated: "I'm not avoiding it by the way. I'm just trying to put it into words, so give me a moment, okay?"
I nodded my acquiescence against the smooth satin of the pyjama set Alice had gotten her, giving her the space she needed to think about her answer. Finally she sighed, and my still heart dropped at how heavy it sounded. I hadn't meant to make her feel so burdened, just to satisfy my curiosity. But when she spoke, she sounded as light as always. "Do you want the short answer, or the long one?," she asked me in a matter-of-fact tone. "The... short one?," I tried. She hummed. "The short answer is that this is all I've ever known. Renee left Charlie before I could even form sentences, so I've never really felt like I was suddenly lacking anything."
Well, that barely helped. "I think, my love, that I might need the long version to understand better after all," I sighed. She laughed, and fell silent once more - for so long, that I would have thought she'd fallen asleep, if my nights spent watching her hadn't made me familiar with how much deeper she breathed in slumber and how often she fidgeted, both physically and verbally. "I know that, to an outsider, it seems like I got the short end of the stick when it comes to my parents," she started softly. "It looks like my mother was selfish and flighty, and my father didn't try hard enough for me to have both my parents raising me together. And then, because that wasn't enough, my mother seemingly couldn't to provide me with a stable household, because she focused on herself as much as she did me, and that meant moving around a lot, even within the same city, and never thinking in the long term, especially financially. Sure, we weren't homeless or in poverty, but the way my mother switched from one job to another, from one hobby to a new one... wasn't what would be considered ideal for raising a child. But I never held that against them."
She'd voiced my impression word for word, and it was difficult for me to accept what she said at the end. "Never? Not even as a child, when you couldn't understand why you only had one parent for things, and one that, from the little you told me, seemed to be so absent?" I may not have interacted much with humans, but I have consumed enough media and been around them long enough to know that children tended to focus on things that differed in their lives from others, let alone other adults who could be as harsh with their judgement against things so out of the norm. "Mmmmm." Bella shook her head in disagreement. "The first time I asked Renee why Charlie didn't live with us, I was a kid, and someone in preschool had asked me why my dad didn't live with my mom like her dad did, and I had no answer then. That was the first time I realised I wasn't like most of the other kids, and when they started being mean about it, Renee finally sent me to talk to someone, because she really didn't know how to help."
"We didn't have the money, so a shrink was out of the question, but the church my grandparents used to go to offered free counselling sessions, because a few of the priests there had some background in psychology, and where I lived at the time... it wasn't the most perfect, suburban, white-picket-fence households, let's just put it that way. Ironically, it was one of them that made me more accepting about things like divorce, and broken homes. I still remember him, his name was Father Ault. Essentially, he made me realise that the problem was never my parents, or my circumstances. It was having expectations that more often than not led people to being unhappy."
"Bella, I'm going to be honest with you - I'm not following," I muttered in frustration, and she simply whispered "Patience, Mr. Cullen."
"Until someone put their outlook, their opinions on me, I'd had no problem with my life. The fact that my parents didn't live together was just that, a fact. My dad didn't come to my school performances. My mom worked odd jobs every few months based on what tickled her fancy. As soon as I could comprehend it, I started helping around the house, and doing things like cooking. But at no point was that a negative to me. It was only as soon as someone else thought it wasn't right, that they knew better that suddenly all these facts were problems. But think about it, why is it a problem, exactly?
"Because people tend to expect things, tend to form an image of what something should look like, and as soon as reality doesn't match that image, it's immediately branded as wrong. As bad. Father Ault said that there is no such thing as right or wrong, as long as no one is being harmed. We are human, we're not cookie cutters, so why should our lives be like them? Us people, we don't even look the same, how can we be the same, then? My mother may not be making me elaborate breakfasts every morning and attending every single one of my events, but she loves me and she did right by me the way she knew how. She tried her best, and if that was enough for me, why should it matter if it was enough for other people?
"Take your insistence on 'the human experience', for example. Your perspective on that, from what I know, is rather rigid, Edward. It probably looks something like go to school, graduate, go to college, graduate, get married, get a job, start a family, work, retire and die at a ripe old age. But how many people actually end up doing that, and how many of them end up satisfied with that kind of life? Some people live to 85 beyond happy they never settled down with anyone or had any children, and some people regret starting a family, because it limited their career. Just because you want it, doesn't mean everyone else is wrong for not wanting it. Does that make sense?," she finished, and for once, I had nothing to say. It was rare to hear Bella say so much in such a short span of time, especially with such strong conviction, and I needed a moment to digest it all.
Especially that last point she made. It may sound silly, but she hit the nail on the head because I did indeed have such an opinion, and her argument against it had never once, in the many decades of my existence, cross my mind. Not just me, I could hear the way Rosalie and even Alice were taken aback to be countered, even though neither of them were part of the conversation. I shifted to look up at her, and her eyes looked unusually serious, almost forceful. I knew she could tell I was honed in on her closing argument. Before I could form any kind of response or rebuttal, Bella went on.
“I’m not saying your opinion is wrong, Edward. That would be hypocritical of me. What I am saying is that we see things differently, and it’s absolutely fine if we can’t agree on things, just as long as we acknowledge and respect and trust each other’s outlook on things, even if it doesn’t make sense to us,” she concludes, and before I can let the conversation divert to this wholly different but somehow parallel topic of human life, Bella forges on, shutting it down almost immediately. “So nope. My upbringing has never been an issue, not to me, the person who matters the most in this situation. I’ve never felt neglected, unloved, unappreciated, or anything negative anyone might think. You don’t have to worry about me.”
There’s a retort building at the back of my throat, purely automatic, but I can freely admit that her admission has me stumped. I have some thinking do to, especially if I want to broach this sensitive subject between us, and now is not the time nor the place for it. “I’ll always worry about you, Bella,” I finally whisper, resting my chin on the flesh of her breast as I meet her soft brown eyes. She smiles, and suddenly I can see how resigned she is, like she’s tired of repeating and justifying herself and trying to make everyone, make me understand. I know this isn’t about her mother. Not anymore.
“Well,” she huffs. “You don’t have to, at least not on this. I’m pretty set on my opinion. Have been for a long time now, and I’ve had enough time to think and rethink about it.” I dip my head in acknowledgment, before leaning forward to press a firm kiss on her mouth and moving to rearrange us so she has her head on my chest. I’ve gotten my answers - on many fronts, and it is time I let my beautiful human rest. This time it’s me playing with her hair when she speaks.
“Edward?”
“Bella?”
“I love you.”
“More than anything, love.”