The Other Way : Thirty

I Couldn't Get Out Of This. I Tried, Believe Me

-

The night of the Mirabell dinner, my foot was on fire.

Burning from somewhere deep in very the center and feeling as awkwardly attached to my body as the rest of me was. We’d been back nearly two weeks and the stitches had already dissolved away but I’d spent every second of every last never-ending moment far too focused on my foot, or my mouth, or my heart, and all the different ways those three things could ache.

It was astounding, really, the variety.

Rose had outdone herself. Which said a lot because the girl regularly amazed the shit out of me and she’d just done it again. The dress fit me perfectly, a golden, shimmery fabric that made me feel like a statue on some actor’s mantle and glittered frantically every time I moved. She wasn’t happy about the fact that I still couldn’t wear anything beyond a mid-sized heel and made me stand on a stool for nearly an hour while she hemmed the bottom so that it wouldn’t drag. She sat on her knees, forehead furrowed in concentration, mouth full of pins, which was good because I needed some time to think.

Two days ago, I found Jacob waiting on our doorstep.

It was also the day I found Edward’s note, folded up small and tucked into a pocket of my suitcase. A simple “I’m Sorry” missive in a slanted scrawl that made me wish I’d never found it at all and left me feeling wrung out and listless. I parked the car and peered at Jacob, taking a moment to place his face and blanching when I finally did. He stood as I approached, hands in his pockets and eyes on his feet. He’d shorn his hair off, chopped cleanly to his neck and only just long enough to tie back, which seemed a little drastic considering the beautiful length of it before.

“Jacob? Are you ok?”

“I think so. Mostly,” he shrugged and I noticed the knapsack on the step near his feet.

“Should I ask what you’re doing here?” I knew before he even looked up at me, soberingly doe-eyed, pushing his vulnerable side right out into the open between us. I knew before his lip trembled, before he opened his mouth.

That haircut said it all.

“I can’t stop it,” he stuttered. “I tried, but I just can’t.”

I sighed, a hand to his elbow and gulping down something that tasted like the faint traces of destruction. “Come inside.”

---

Nine thirty that evening found me chin deep in a mob of slightly drunken partygoers, trying desperately to escape, which is a much harder feat than normal when you’re wearing a gold dress. I was stopped nearly every few steps by yet another person who wanted to congratulate me on our success with Lawson Park, or the updated playground equipment at Dorset. I was tired and hungry and I hadn’t seen Jasper in so long I was beginning to wonder if he really had come with me or if I’d just conjured up the car ride and the conversation we had there.

Don’t think about that car ride. Not now.

This year the dinner was being hosted at the sprawling mansion of some bigwig in architecture, a balding man with a wife twice his size and a bank account big enough for a hundred people. The house was enormous, lavishly decorated, too ornate for my tastes and reminded me of a museum. I eventually found an empty hallway and darted down it, trying four doors before I found one that was unlocked. I ended up on the small patio that beckoned from the french doors of what looked to be a library, for all I could see in the dark. The room was on the opposite side of the mansion from the party and it was actually sort of peaceful out here, the full moon blanching everything in silver. The softest strains of music were cartwheeling across the lawn, dancing with the random flashing of lightning bugs and I wrapped my arms around myself, still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Jacob was in love with Jasper.

Fully and completely. So thoroughly ensnared that it was almost hard to watch. Jasper hadn’t seemed surprised, neither by Jacob’s appearance nor his nearly tearful confession.  It was almost as though he knew. As though he felt the same. Neither of them spoke the words out loud, but this was that moment, I was sure of it. Something underneath my feet was drifting, a tectonic shift of events that I had no control over, strong enough to suck me under. I’d known it was coming but had been doing everything in my power to ignore it. Denial. It typically works wonders but tonight the air tasted different and I was missing that lavender buzz I’d worn so easily last week. I’d tried to imagine my life without Jasper before this but the seemingly implausible occurrence was now a sobering reality and I wondered what was going to happen to me when this was all over. I wrapped my arms around myself and watched the lightning bugs dart haphazardly across the lawn in heartbroken silence until someone ambled around the corner of the house, trudging through the grass.

Edward.

Still looking out of place in his fancy clothes, a simple tux that hid too much of his ink and not enough of his tormented demeanor. He stopped short when he saw me, eyes widening.

“You’re here,” I stuttered.

“You’re glowing.” He sounded just as shocked as I was. It was probably the dress.

“Why are you here?” I tried again, unable to wrap my head around anything even remotely resembling logic until he offered an answer.

“My mother asked me to escort her. I couldn’t say no.” His hair was neatly slicked back, jaw cleanly shaven and I was in so much trouble. He was staring at me hard enough to resurrect that filigree tattoo of his across my skin, the one that I was sure had been in the final throes of a slow death. I hadn’t felt it in days. It burst back to life like a wildfire, licking hungrily at every arid inch of my skin.

“I thought you went to Africa.” I kept my eyes off his, locking them on the light piece of fabric tucked into his breast pocket instead.

“I did, but I couldn’t stay. Are you disappointed?”

I had no answer for him, brain deprived of oxygen because my lungs were refusing to do any sort of manual labor. Wanting to say yes. No. Unable to move or breath. Foot on fire, skin scorching, mouth full of flames. Just burning away to nothing, really.

“Where is Alice?” The tremble in my voice was totally apparent.

“Still there.” He glanced away, eyes shifting off into the distance.

“You left her?” I was instantly terrified, even if I was a little heartbroken by her. Imagining for a moment what the claw of a lion could do to the skin of a girl. What a rogue virus could do to a blood cell.

He tucked his chin, voice suddenly edging in frustration. “She’s happy there. I’m not.”

“So you flew there, turned around, and flew right back?” The jet lag must be killer.

He ignored me. “How’s your foot?”

“Terrible. It hurts,” I answered honestly, secretly alluding to the state of my heart and my mouth too. My skin, torched beyond recognition.

“You shouldn’t be wearing shoes like that,” he admonished.

“I couldn’t get out of this. I tried, believe me.”

Edward chuckled almost harshly and opened his mouth to say something but the sharp echo of a microphone screeching through an amplifier pierced the air, making me jump a little. A familiar voice wafted across the lawn, Esme heralding the beginning of the customary speeches. Edward stepped up onto the patio, closing the space between us and I could hardly bear it. Missing the days when I jumped right over the edge, floundering for a future that didn’t exist in the patterns he burned into my skin. Unable to decide between flinging myself into his arms or running away.

My aching foot kept me pinned to my spot.

Edward stooped and plucked me off my feet, my glittery dress tumbling nearly to his knees as he held me to his chest. Still sporting his five o’clock shadow and that lion-like hair. Still striking me senseless. Still only half real.

“This feels like a dream,” I exhaled without meaning to and he shot me a cynical look, eyebrows tucked low.

“As long as it’s not a nightmare.”

I hung onto his jacket and let him carry me back through the house, wondering what he might have meant by that. He smelled so good, exactly like I remembered, butter and salt and sex. He’d changed his piercings, swapping the silver hoops for ones that were ebony black and he held his face away from mine, a bit of his dandelions peeking at me from his shirt collar.

I was almost certain he wasn’t breathing at all.

He stopped just outside the entrance to the great room, the pulse in his neck beating heavily and I clung to his shoulders, too dizzy to think straight. He set me back on my feet, gentle and patient until I’d gotten my balance before straightening, tucking his hands into his pockets and his lip rings into his mouth. Esme was standing on the stage that was erected in front of a towering wall of windows, hair gone blisteringly blonde under all the bright lights and she was smiling as she waited for everyone to seat themselves. I hobbled through the room, finding Jasper with Emmett and Carlisle seated alongside a couple of people I should probably know. I expected Edward to give me a ten-second start and then seat himself next to his father, but he didn’t.

A cautious glance over my shoulder found him still shadowed in the entrance.

Esme cleared her throat again and I downed half of my champagne.

“On behalf of the Mirabell Foundation, I’d like to thank all of our benefactors, many of whom are present tonight. Without your generous support our team would not have been able to overhaul Lawson Park, turning a neglected acre of land into a thriving playground. We certainly would not have been able to support the community garden that was erected this spring at Buckley Park and the new The Boys And Girls Club facility would be nothing but a dream. Every effort we have made has been because of your support and we are so thankful to each and every one of you.”

The audience clapped politely, lots of smiles and atta-boys.

“I’d like to introduce a man who is quite dear to me for other reasons, but this year pledged more resources toward our mission than nearly all of our other funding combined. He has shown fierce loyalty and dedication, not just to me,” she pressed a hand to her heart and beamed dreamily, “but to so many others as well. I’m proud to present my husband, Carlisle Cullen.”

The roar of applause was deafening. I was half tempted to slap my hands over my ears but restrained and made myself clap timidly along instead. Carlisle stood and made his way briskly to the stage, ignoring the crowd to capture Esme for a hug and a rather indecent kiss, considering their audience. He took the microphone from her and sent her on her way and only by the time she’d made it back to our table, the room quieted.

“She sure knows how to give a man an introduction,” Carlisle chuckled into the mike and everyone laughed along. “Most of you know me, but I’m going to bore you for a moment, for those of you that don’t. My name is Carlisle, named for some long lost relative that I have hated every day of my life.” The crowd chuckled. “When I was twenty, two very important things happened to me. I bought a small company that was close to failing, and I met a girl.” He winked at Esme from clear across the crowded ballroom as though they were the only two people there. “That was a long time ago and most of you have come to know me in more recent, prosperous times. That little gamble of mine paid off, both company and girl, and here I am today, wealthier that I ever dreamed simply because that woman over there asked me to marry her. It’s true, it’s true!” Carlisle laughed into the mike over the buzz of the crowd.

I nudged Esme, enjoying her blush and she waved Carlisle off teasingly, half hating and half enjoying the attention.

“However, I can’t even take the credit for the latest of my business success. My company spent years stagnating in an obviously growing market. We were maintaining, at least by my book keeper’s standard, but our profits hadn’t increased for nearly four years and I was at a loss as to what the problem might be.”

Carlisle swapped the microphone to his other hand and ambled across the stage.

Nonchalant.

“Five years ago, I hired a new employee. He was recommended to me by a dear friend and business partner, someone I’ve known since childhood, a man who has never done such a thing before in the all years we’ve been working together. Marcus? Where are you?”

The room erupted in a light buzz as an elderly man stood on the far side of the room unfolded himself to his feet, the buzz boiling into a healthy round of clapping again. My palms were starting to sting and it was only when I really got a good look at the man did I recognize him. He was the one who had taken such an interest in Jasper at the very beginning, tapping him for glory, and I couldn’t help but think about those first few awkward times we’d played like we were in love for someone else’s benefit. Steak dinners and wine and Marcus’ grandfatherly compliments that still made me blush. His skin was pallid and sepia toned around the edges, eyes sunken in and bones pushing up from underneath, looking so much older than I remembered. Aged over a century in a fraction of that time.

“Marcus, my dear old friend, you look terrible. Come up here.” Carlisle teased, smiling broadly and even I laughed out loud when the old man flipped Carlisle the bird in response. He made his way gingerly through the tables, taking Carlisle’s offered hand to help himself onto the stage and giving him a solid hug once he was safely there. The room fell quiet as Carlisle pulled the microphone back to his mouth, arm around Marcus’ shoulders.

“What most of you don’t know about Marcus is that he’s dying.” Carlisle continued doggedly on despite the collective gasp from the crowd and an eyeroll from Marcus. Apparently he was used to this version of Carlisle, the spokesperson. “We’ve known for some time now, nearly five years, but as you can tell, the end is drawing near. When he told me about his diagnosis, he asked me to do two things for him. Keep his secret,” Carlisle extended his index finger, then a second, “and give an interview. Simple enough, the least I could do for an old friend. But I’m no stranger to business, I’ve learned to keep my expectations low, especially when it comes to employees. They tend to lead to disappointment.”

The whole room laughed again, but I missed the point of that particular joke,

“Marcus, however, sees things that are buried far below the surface. Looking back on it now, I know now that he saw something of himself in this certain young person and in the spirit of paying it forward, sought to launch them in way that he could have never done for himself. Many of you know this young man, most of you have worked with him and almost every last one of you has been impressed by him in some way or another. Three of you have threatened to steal him from right underneath my nose. You know who you are.” Carlisle tossed an accusing stare out over the crowd, getting another gentle wave of laughter out of the room.

“But what you don’t know about this particular young man is precisely what makes him incredible. He has become as close to me as a son. I have found myself becoming very attached, almost dependent on him, in a way, but my rather inappropriate feelings aren’t the only thing you don’t know about him.”

Oh god. He was doing it.

Now.

Now?

I reached for Jasper, clutching his hand tight and trying my best not to scream his name out loud, forcing it out as a ragged whisper. “Jasper.”

He glanced at me, looking a little ashen but determined. He took in my fearful face and his eyes widened briefly before his mouth cocked to the side in a sad sort of smile. “I’m sorry, I meant to tell you, but you wort of blindsided me in the car . . .” He waved his hand lightly through the air, indicating the conversation I was still trying not to really think about. “If you’d like to leave, you should go now. Edward is here.”

“You saw him?”

“I asked him to be here.” Jasper blinked at me solemnly, clutching my hand and trembling deep down in between the bones of his hand.

I couldn’t leave. Not when his face paled like that. Not when he was gripping my hand as tightly as I was gripping his and certainly not when he looked so uncertain. I’d never seen him like this, without all his usual security. He’d come home late tonight, barely making it in time to ride with me and I wondered if he and Carlisle had talked about this before he left that towering skyscraper.

If it had been planned.

“This young man, the same one who picked my company up by the belt loops and put it back on its feet, has been carrying a secret with him the entire time he’s been with us. A secret that he felt he couldn’t share, if only to break into our world, and he has been quietly denying his choices in order to work beside us. A secret that he shares with our friend Marcus, here.”

Carlisle put a hand reassuringly on Marcus’ shoulder and nearly glared at the crowd.

“This is wrong. Wrong because I know all of you. I know that underneath the business veneer you truly are good, understanding people. Your prejudices do not determine you. Your judgements do not speak fully of your character and tonight, I ask that you set those aside. I ask that you open your mind and your heart and accept that our world is changing.”

Carlisle met my eyes across the sea of people with an apologetic shake of his head.

“That being said, I’d like to officially welcome the first gay man that my company, and yours, has ever seen before and the second to have touched me deeper than this entire room combined.” Carlisle spoke mostly to Marcus for a moment, the two of them exchanging a look that spoke eons worth of trust and loyalty before he turned back on the crowd.

“Jasper Hale.”

Carlisle stretched an arm out toward us, motioning across the room of people and Marcus began clapping loudly, the room joining in with a stuttered response that quickly escalated as Jasper pressed his lips softly to the side of my palm. He released my fingers and stood, straightening his jacket, suddenly composed and collected as though he’d been practicing this moment and I wondered if he really had been.

Esme was staring at me.

They were all staring at me and I was like a goddamn neon sign in my gold dress and my bright red blush. I’d been so concerned about what they would think of Jasper that I hadn’t bothered to stop and ponder over what they might think of me. Their faces were either soft or hard, pity or resentment with no grey area in between.

By the time he reached the stage, the applause was thunderous. I met Edward’s eyes from clear across the room and his eyebrow arched as he tipped his head ever so slightly toward the front of the house. The circular driveway and the big gate near the road that looked more like the entrance to a tomb than a house. The highway and all the space I could put between me and what was happening right now. I stood, not quite sure what I planned on doing. Half the room was watching me, half watching Jasper make his way through the tables, pausing once or twice along the way to shake an offered hand. The pain in my foot suddenly flared, nearly unbearable, and Edward was beside me the moment I faltered.

His hand on my hip and his mouth in my face.  

“Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

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