Post by charlie on Aug 1, 2008 14:37:45 GMT -5
It had happened. Bella Swan had become Bella Cullen. Charlie now knew that in a matter of days, his house would be empty once more. Her room would be bare as it had been two years before, leaving nothing behind but the lacy yellow drapes that hung in front of her window. The smells of her cooking would be absent, replaced by cardboard pizza boxes. The rumble of her truck had been silenced weeks before, but now there would be no black mercedes parked in front of the house beside the woods. There would be no one to stay up late for to come home, no one to leave the porch light on for. He was alone, yet again.
Charlie wondered how he had ever made it without her before, and how they had nearly been strangers when she had moved to Forks. Everything had changed. Still sunken into his chair with his chest paining him with every breath, every movement, he knew the reception would start soon, and had only these last moments to be miserable. Bella had raced off to meet and hug her friends and new family, and Charlie knew it would be his time to say goodbye soon, too soon. He waited as everyone began to make their way out of the arrangement of white chairs, but did not stir. There he was, alone, desolate, and wishing he was courageous enough to suck it up for Bella.
He would become an actor, he thought. He could pretend easily enough that he was having a good time, and even shake hands with his new son in the friendliest of terms, and when they would wave goodbye, he would return to the empty house that awaited him. Her things would still be there, yes, but with the sinister reminder that soon enough they would not be there any longer. Charlie wished it would rain. Rarely was it that the clouds did not release their watery stash, and here they were, pleasant and dry when it deserved to rain like it did in the movies. The character would sit in the open, allowing the water to beat down on them while they soaked in their depression. Yet here, no drops fell from the friendly skies that gave no sympathy. Birds sang and rejoiced, and Charlie Swan felt as though he were the only person the world did not grant happiness to, of all people, the father of the bride.
Inhaling deeply, he stood as if a heavy weight had been strapped to every inch of his body that needed lifting. Striding alone, he followed the crowd to what was sure to be the most wonderful, expensive, thrilling party he would ever attend that would prove to be the worst dance he would ever experience.
Charlie wondered how he had ever made it without her before, and how they had nearly been strangers when she had moved to Forks. Everything had changed. Still sunken into his chair with his chest paining him with every breath, every movement, he knew the reception would start soon, and had only these last moments to be miserable. Bella had raced off to meet and hug her friends and new family, and Charlie knew it would be his time to say goodbye soon, too soon. He waited as everyone began to make their way out of the arrangement of white chairs, but did not stir. There he was, alone, desolate, and wishing he was courageous enough to suck it up for Bella.
He would become an actor, he thought. He could pretend easily enough that he was having a good time, and even shake hands with his new son in the friendliest of terms, and when they would wave goodbye, he would return to the empty house that awaited him. Her things would still be there, yes, but with the sinister reminder that soon enough they would not be there any longer. Charlie wished it would rain. Rarely was it that the clouds did not release their watery stash, and here they were, pleasant and dry when it deserved to rain like it did in the movies. The character would sit in the open, allowing the water to beat down on them while they soaked in their depression. Yet here, no drops fell from the friendly skies that gave no sympathy. Birds sang and rejoiced, and Charlie Swan felt as though he were the only person the world did not grant happiness to, of all people, the father of the bride.
Inhaling deeply, he stood as if a heavy weight had been strapped to every inch of his body that needed lifting. Striding alone, he followed the crowd to what was sure to be the most wonderful, expensive, thrilling party he would ever attend that would prove to be the worst dance he would ever experience.