With or Without You.pdf

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5807324/1/

She jumps, carefree and indulgent, on her new trampoline. Every time she goes

high the light filters through her hair, making a halo out of it; she's beautiful,

she's mine.

We had another trampoline, but years of being outside finally did it in, and rot

began to make it a dangerous device. She was so devastated when we threw it

out, so we bought her another one, and it was delivered just today.

It's summertime, warm, golden, but also sweet and breezy beneath our tree.

Dappled sunlight spills like honey through the branches of the over grown oak,

the one he says he'll trim but never does.

And I hope he never ever does; I like it messy and wild… some things deserve to

be that way. We plan and plan and plot and plan, and yet life just is. No amount

of micro managing and pruning can set straight what's meant to be crooked.

A shriek and a giggle and my eyes are back on her, a smile on my own face

growing in response to her simple joy. She's so little and yet she's so big; I have

trouble believing she came from me.

The moving van that has been parked in the driveway next door since yesterday

finally pulls away, and I wonder what their story is. They have kids, I know that

much; I've heard the youthful voices drifting on over to our yard. Maybe I'll be

neighborly and bring cookies over later; babycakes loves to help me bake, even

though she does more spilling than stirring, her mouth guilty with chocolate and

batter.

Movement from the corner of my eye makes me look and there stands a little

boy, the cutest little thing with the prettiest hair I've ever seen – at least, on a

boy. He looks longingly at the trampoline and the tireless fairychild on it, her

dress flying up every time she does, revealing tiny red corduroy shorts

underneath.

Laying my lemonade down, I stand up and wander over to the little boy, all the

while glancing over to his new house so that I can meet his parents too.

"Did you want to play?" I ask him, recognizing desire in his grassgreen eyes.

"Yes, please," he lisps, his eyes steadfast on the prize.

I look again and this time I see who I assume is his father and I squint, holding

my hand over my eyes because the sun is so so bright out here, away from the

shelter of my oak.

"Excuse me," I call. "Is it all right if your son plays with my daughter? She just

got a new trampoline, and…"

He turns around, smiling, only his smile dies when he sees me, and then so does

mine.

He was the one, forever ago, that broke my heart.

What should have been a typical summer afternoon, lazy and carefree, has free

fallen into angst of an ancient kind… my insides tighten accordingly.

He gazes back, steadily, untill the children's voices - his… mine… not ours –

severe the connection. Running a hand through his hair, which is shorter now

than it was in high school, he blinks and looks down at the child at his knee.

"Can I, Daddy? Can I play over there?"

Edward looks back at me, and I have to look away, back at the grass, anywhere

but at him.

Seeing him so suddenly is not unlike ripping open stitches that haven't yet

healed.

Forcing myself to look at him once more I nod. "He's welcome to play… I've been

outside all day…"

He knows I will watch over his child. He knows he can trust me.

"Sure, buddy. I'll be right here, okay?" he says, ruffling his son's hair.

"What's his name?" I ask quietly, watching as my daughter pauses long enough

for her new companion to clamor aboard.

"Jaime."

I nod, trying not to wring my hands. I'm so confused, so caught off guard. The

only thing that came close to being happy with him was being happy without him,

and now it looks like I don't either one.

I hardly even thought about him anymore.

"What's… your daughter's name?" he asks. His voice sounds like he hardly uses

it.

"Sophie," I exhale her name as a sigh. "Ok, well, I'll be over there." I point to my

lawn chair and walk away, my breezy, lackadaisical mood now weighted.

"Bella," he says, and it hurts my heart to hear him say my name.

I glance over my shoulder.

"Thanks," he says, smiling a little bit.

Nodding, I take my place on my chair and reach automatically for the glass of

lemonade I left behind.

Jaime and Sophie tag team, one in air while the other hits the surface. This silly

dance makes them each bounce higher, and sometimes I fear for their safety,

calling out every now and then for them to slow it down, cool out.

The sun continues its arc across the sky and by the time it starts to fade Edward

has come to collect his tired little boy.

"Say thank you to Ms. Bella,"

"Thank you, Ms. Bella," Jaime repeats dutifully.

"Can he come tomorrow?" sings Sophie, her cheeks flushed from hours of

jumping.

"Sure," I say, my eyes focused only on her.

But her eyes are on her new friend.

"I like him, Mommy," she says, after Edward and Jaime leave.

"Me too," I say. "He's really sweet." Tugging her gently along, we leave our flip-

flops on the back porch and walk barefoot into the house.

"Yeah," she agrees.

Later, eating hotdogs on the patio, we watch the sun set, bleeding rouge and

burnt sienna through the tree line.

"That's pretty," I say, appreciative for this sliver of contentment.

"Mhm" Sophie says. "Jaime's hair looks just like that."

My heart sinks as quickly as the sun.

I must get over what happened ten years before. Sophie's friends are spread out

all over town and she doesn't have any as close as Jaime is now. It would be

unfair for me to prevent their friendship because of Edward's actions that long

ago.

"I miss daddy," Sophie says suddenly, coming over and sitting in my lap.

"Me too, baby," I whisper. "So much."

Sighing heavily, I turned the TV off and dropped the remote to the cushions

beside me.

There was nothing on. Not that I was into television – there wasn't much to

watch when you didn't have cable – but still. It's nice to unwind that way

sometimes.

Because we were smack dab in the middle of summer, the nighttime breeze

warm and lilting, the house didn't feel so barren. But I knew when things cooled

down outside I would begin to feel trapped in here; the solitude would be

overwhelming.

Jake and I had bought the house soon after we'd had Sophie. He'd already done a

few tours in Afghanistan, and was set to stay home for a long stretch. I

remember being so excited about everything; the possibilities had been so vast

back then.

We put most of our savings into the house, and every little bit of extra that came

our way went into the house, too.

When Jake died overseas, I wanted out.

I hated the house with all of its memories, its paint schemes we'd chosen

together, the kitchen table where we'd shared breakfast with Sophie. I wanted to

go someplace fresh and new, someplace sterile and blank. It was my mother who

encouraged me to keep it.

She felt that Sophie would appreciate it if we stayed. Why uproot her right when

she's lost her daddy, she'd asked. And she was right.

"Mommy?" a sleepy voice asked.

I startled slightly, turning around. "Hey, baby, what's up? You okay?"

"I wanna watch TV with you," Sophie said, rubbing her eyes and walking closer.

"I don't think so," I chuckled. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours –

something must have roused her. "You need to go back to sleep. Come, I'll take

you." I rose from my chair and held my hand out. She refused, folding her little

arms and shaking her head.

"I wanna stay up," she insisted.

"Sophie. It's late – let's go," I repeated.

"No!" she said, looking away.

This wasn't the first time she had been drunk with sleep, and irrational.

"Just as headstrong as your daddy," I joked, pulling her along the hall.

Her room was a little girl's fantasy haven, a dreamy array of soft pastel. I tucked

her back into bed, where her eyes began to flutter even though she thought she

wanted to be up.

"Night babycakes," I whispered, kissing her cheek and tucking the blanket around

her. I reset the little projector on her night stand so it showed the night sky on

the ceiling.

Pausing in her doorway, my eyes caught on a light from next door. I could see

right into Edward's house, I realized.

We'd met my sophomore year, when I'd transferred to Forks High from a magnet

school in Phoenix.

Edward was a junior, and there's a good chance our paths would never have

crossed, except for the fact I had honors classes. One would think this meant I

was brilliant, but really, it just meant the school I had been in before was light

years ahead of Fork's curriculum. Having completed geometry and algebra II, I

was placed in Pre-Calculus, but it was a little too advanced. When I began to

have a little trouble, the teacher recommended a tutor, a junior named Edward

Cullen.

Edward was one of those kids that seemed sort of good at everything. He played

on several sports teams, excelled in academics, served as his class treasurer.

And, he tutored students like me during his free periods.

We got along well from the very beginning, and it wasn't long before he asked me

out. This earned me the envy and irritation of half the female student population,

but I didn't care. I was just as smitten with the golden boy as they were.

By Christmas we were dating exclusively; he was my best friend and my

boyfriend. While he wasn't my first kiss, he was certainly my first everything else.

As the months flew by and then the years, I feared the day when we'd be

separated by his graduation from high school. He'd been accepted to a number of

excellent schools and was so excited to be leaving town.

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