Again: Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

Chicago, 2012

EPOV

I pace back and forth across my living room, until I'm sure if I look down I'll see
a path worn in the carpet. I know I should find something to do, but I can't
think about anything but Bella and our pending meeting.

"Meeting? Seriously?" I mumble to myself. The word sounds so formal. I can
think of a million other ways to describe what we have planned for the
afternoon, but each of them seems wrong. We aren't going on a date, it's not
necessarily a social call, and referring to it as a "coffee thing" seems much too
impersonal. So, meeting it is, at least in my mind.

I retreat to my bedroom and slide open my closet door. I've never been good at
being fashionable. Even now, I stand here clueless. I eye a green sweater, then
a blue one, and then a black one before finally deciding to go with a maroon
one. I pair it with dark wash jeans and high top Chucks and it's the most put
together I've felt all morning.

Self-imposed pressure weighs heavy on my shoulders. I keep telling myself this
isn't a big deal. Bella agreed to meet me and hear what I have to say, not to
run off into the sunset and get hitched. For all I know she could get up in the
middle of things, throw her coffee in my face, and tell me she never wants to
hear from me again. I hope that doesn't happen, but I know I need to be
emotionally prepared for all the possible scenarios.

Truth be told, I haven't loved anyone but her for the past 13 years. I loved her
from the moment I first laid eyes on her at that stupid fraternity party on New
Year's Eve. I loved her even after she ended things between us. And, despite
the fact that she's been gone for 10 years, and I've tried my hand at other
relationships, I've never been able to stop loving her.

This isn't something I'll tell her today, but I hope in time, I can let her know. I
hope that she sees that I've changed, notices the ways in which I'm different.

I hope she gives me a chance to apologize to her for tossing our relationship
into a raging sea and never bothering to check to make sure we both had life
vests on first.

I hope she knows that I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally.
Cocaine makes a person do all sorts of ugly things, and though I'm not looking
to make excuses, I do want her to understand that the Edward I had become
was that way because of the effect the cocaine had on me. Not because I
wanted to be a dick to her.

I have lots of hopes for her, but just one hope for myself:

I sincerely hope I don't fuck this up.

.

.

.

I find Bella exactly where she said she'd be, and twenty minutes early to boot.
We say our greetings, and she leads me inside, where I glance at the menu
board to make sure they have everything to craft her favorite espresso drink.

"Cappuccino with extra foam, two shots of espresso, and a shot of sugar free
vanilla." The words come out as a statement rather than a question. Bella
seems taken aback, but she quickly gets control of her expression.

"Ten years later and you can still order for me," she mumbles. I laugh and step
up to the counter, placing our order and paying for both drinks. Bella tries to
protest, but I insist on taking care of the bill.

"I've got these," I tell her. "I'm the one who asked you to join me for coffee,
after all. It's only right for me to pick up the tab." She relents easier than I
expect, which is a relief. The last thing I want is a showdown over a three-dollar
cup of coffee.

We're at her favorite spot in the city, a place called Java Nation. The space is
small and quaint, the decor consists of funky pieces by local artists, and I
immediately see the appeal. Bella just fits in here. I can picture her tucked away
at a table, ear buds in place, book in hand, enjoying the free time of a Saturday
morning.

Once we get our drinks I follow her to the back corner of the shop, where she
settles into one of two large, cushy armchairs. Five feet from us a fireplace
roars, and even though it's only late October, the heat feels nice.

"This place is great. I've never been here before," I comment as I look around. I
try to make sure my eyes don't stay fixed on Bella for too long of a time. I don't
want to weird her out anymore than my presence in her city already does.

"I love it. I stumbled across it a few weeks after I moved here and I haven't
stopped coming ever since." Her eyes light up as she speaks, and I can't help
but smile. Her passion and enthusiasm for the small things in life always has
been one of the most attractive things about her. I'm happy to see she hasn't
lost those qualities.

"You always were good at finding places like this."

"Some things never change I guess." She cups her mug with her hands and
takes a whiff of the steam coming off of the liquid.

"How much time do you have?" I ask.

"My afternoon is free. I have dinner plans at six." She doesn't offer up any
details and I don't pry. As much as I would love to be privy to all parts of her
life, I know that's not something I'll earn overnight. Building up that kind of
relationship will take months, and that's assuming she'll ever fully allow me
back in.

For a brief moment, I can't help but wonder what things between us would look
like if we'd never broken up in the first place, if I'd never fallen in love with
blow, and lost the most important person in my world. Would we still be in
Minneapolis, or would we have spread our wings and gone somewhere else?
Would we have kids? Neither of us was really the child-rearing kind, but things
like that can change with time. Would we live an apartment in a big city or
would we have a place in the suburbs? Would we travel together, eat good food
and drink lots of wine, and socialize with all the people we'd met along the way?

"Edward?" I shake my head, clearing my mind and bringing me back to the here
and the now. Bella wears a frown on her face and her eyes are fill with concern.
"Where'd you go just now?"

"Just thinking about something." I take a sip of coffee and clear my throat. "So,
thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know you don't even have to give me
the time of day, but I appreciate that you're willing to."

"Yeah, well, I figured the only way to get you to stop asking was to say yes."
Her words make me wince. She notices right away, and throws her hands up in
the air. "I was just kidding. Sorry, I guess it's probably too early for humor,
huh?"

"Maybe just a bit too early." I sip my coffee once more, searching for
caffeinated liquid courage. "I appreciate you meeting me like this. I know the
letters weren't enough to earn me any sort of forgiveness on your end, so the
fact that you're sitting here across from me right now means a lot."

Bella closes her eyes and brings the mug to her lips, taking a long swig. When
she opens then again, they're like a mixed bag of emotions. "What brought you
to Chicago?"

"I needed a change," I answer honestly. "I had a lot of … troubles after you and
I ended."

"What kind of troubles?"

I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. Writing letters about this time
of my life was easy, especially since I thought the chances of Bella every
actually reading them were slim to none. Sitting here, face-to-face, across the
table from the woman I once loved—still loved —and hashing out all the ugly
details of my fall from grace is intimidating as hell. "When you ended things
between us, I convinced myself it was just temporary. I told myself all you
needed was a bit of time and space before you realized what a mistake you'd
made and came back. That train of thinking, those thoughts, it was the cocaine
talking. Anything's possible when you're high.

"When graduation rolled around and I hadn't heard from you, I started to freak
out. Another week passed and I went looking for you. I tried the apartment, but
you weren't there and the girls were anything but nice to me. I drove all the
way down to your mom's place, thinking maybe you decided to spend the
summer at home to clear your head. She was the one who told me you were
gone—truly gone, moved away with no plans to return to the cities. And she
wouldn't tell me where you were."

"I asked her not to," Bella says softly. "I needed as clean of a break from you as
I could get. It seems so dramatic now, but I changed my number, nuked my
email addresses … got rid of any paper trail I might have left."

I nod, remembering how hard I'd searched for her, and how mad I was every
time I came up empty-handed. "I tried everything and when I realized that you
were gone, I lost it." I close my eyes and swallow back the tears that threaten
to surface any time I open up about my low points. "When I was waiting for you
outside of Mrs. Cope's office that day, it wasn't just so I could apologize, though
that was my primary reason. Earlier that day I found out that a gallery in Rome
wanted to showcase some of my pieces during a two-week period in July. Mr.
Varner had been in contact with the owner of the place, and she was impressed
with my work. I was so excited and I couldn't wait to share my news with you. I
had this whole scenario concocted in my mind, where I'd apologize, you'd
forgive me, I'd tell you about Italy, and we'd take off on this romantic getaway
after we graduated.

"When the realization that you were gone sank in—when I was forced to come
to terms with the fact that I would never see you again—I got really fucked up,
went down to the studio I was working out of, and I destroyed every single
piece of art I'd finished for Italy. I slashed canvases, broke glass pieces, and
then I piled everything up outside the studio and torched it. I was so far gone,
so amped up on coke and whiskey and some other shit Jake had given me, that
I didn't care who found me."

"Oh, Edward …" Bella covers her mouth with one hand and tears brim her eyes.

"Mr. Varner ended up finding me. I'd completely forgotten that I was supposed
to meet him at the studio to show him everything in the collection. The Italy
showcase was cancelled, obviously, and then word started getting around about
how off the hinges I was. My missing your showing was the spark and then the
stunt I pulled at the studio just fanned the flame. Nobody would work with me.
Nobody wanted my work. I'd barely been out of school for a month and I'd
completely fucked myself over, in so many ways.

"I went into rehab for the first time at the end of that summer," I continue. The
more I say, the lighter the weight on my shoulders feels. Even if Bella tells me
to go to hell when all is said and done, the simple act of sharing everything with
her is therapeutic for me. "Eric was the one who really urged me to go. He bore
witness to my downward spiral, and was always there to pick my ass up off the
floor when shit got too tough. I checked myself in voluntarily and checked right
back out three months later. I couldn't do it. Your birthday was rolling around
and all that did was dredge up a bunch of memories that I wasn't prepared to
deal with. So I checked out and instead of going back to Eric's, I went to stay
with Jake."

I polish off my coffee and stare down at the backs of my hands. Bella looks like
she wants to say something so I stay silent for a moment. The look she gives
me is all the encouragement I need to continue. "I stayed with Jake for a few
months, got a shitty job at a record shop, and spent all my extra cash on drugs.
I didn't paint, didn't sculpt … I wanted nothing to do with art. Every time I
picked up a paintbrush, the first thing I thought of was you, and even though
you were once my biggest inspiration in this world, that all changed when we
ended. I just wanted to erase everything that made me think of you, and that
meant I couldn't create art anymore."

"Oh my god, Edward. You shouldn't have given your art up for anything, least of
all me."

"I'm not telling you this to guilt trip you, Bella, so please don't feel bad. I just
need you to hear all of this, so you have a better understanding of how I got
here," I say, fidgeting with the sleeve of my sweater. "When it became clear
that my habit was getting me nowhere, I decided to give rehab a try again. It
was a new year and I thought that meant it was the perfect time to work on
becoming a new me. Just like the time before it was short lived, and I left after
only a few months.

"I saw Kate around town a few times after my second attempt to get sober. She
was never willing to tell me what had happened to you, but each time I saw her
it seemed like her heart thawed a bit towards me. She was dating some guy
named Tyler, whose dad was a counselor at an in-patient treatment program in
Wisconsin. I have no idea what inspired Kate to try to help me at all. I don't
even know if you two were in touch at that point—"

"We had a falling out," Bella interrupts. She swipes her thumbs under her eyes,
catching a few stray tears that have fallen. "I had no idea she'd ever even spoke
to you."

I smile sadly. "She introduced me to Tyler's dad, and after meeting with him
one-on-one a few times, I agreed to check in again, this time at the facility in
Wisconsin." I fumble with my napkin and look out the window. "That was the
last time I ever checked in to a rehab place. I stayed there for 18 months. I
hated it at first, and then getting clean grew on me. I learned more about
myself and about life in the short time I was there, than I had in my 23 years
combined. Once I got to a place where I was ready to be clean, where I actually
wanted to help myself, things became so different."

When I look back at Bella she has a smile on her face. I can't help but mirror
hers with one of my own. "The first thing I did when I got out of treatment was
made sure Jake and Jessica and all my old friends knew I wasn't like that
anymore. I made it abundantly clear that there was no place for them, or for
our old habits in my new life. Eric let me stay with him until I got back on my
feet. But I still struggled with my art. I just couldn't create anything I liked.
Nothing met my own expectations, and eventually it was like my inspiration well
ran dry. So, I decided a change of scenery was in order, and I headed here to
Chicago."

"You've been here for a while then?"

I nod. "I've lived here for almost four years."

"Wow." Bella strums her fingers on the rim of her mug and shakes her head.
"Rose lives here with her husband. That's why I came here after leaving
Nashville. I never would have guessed you were here though. You always said
you'd be in Minnesota forever."

"Well, with all due respect to the North Country, I'm glad that changed," I
chuckle. "It's a whole different ball game here, and I love it."

"So what inspired you to create a collection of nothing but reminders of home
and the past then? And why the hell are you using a different name for your
work?"

I shrug. "The old Edward died years ago. I didn't want to come back on the
scene and risk having someone from my past make a big deal out of the stupid
shit I'd done. So, I grabbed a new name and ran with it. I like to think of it as
the same as an author who writes under a penname. And, as for the collection
…" My words trail off as I try to think of the right way to explain myself. "My
heart has never not belonged to you, Bella. And even if you didn't want it, even
if you still don't, at least I can feel somewhat connected to you through the art I
create. Every piece in this collection has some significance to us. Call it my
tribute to the most incredible person to ever walk into my life."

Silence surrounds us as Bella processes everything I've told her. And even if my
honesty doesn't matter—even if she takes my words, harbors them somewhere
inside herself, and chooses to continue to live her life without me in it—at least
I've had a chance to explain.

I know that's more of a chance than many others are ever given.

I appreciate how truly lucky of a man I am.