Challenge Number/Title: #4 / Mother's Forgiveness
Date Posted: 2-1-13
Content Descriptors: Angst/Romance
Character Pairing: Edward and Bella
#4 – Mother's Forgiveness - Write the thoughts in a man's mind as he hurries to ask his mother's forgiveness.
Bright Light, Dark Room
When Dad died, I threw myself into my work. I forced myself to become busy with menial tasks just so I wouldn't have to think about the fact that I did nothing to help him survive. I should have been there more, I should have found him a better doctor, I should have done a lot. But, I didn't.
Instead, I left you to tend to Dad, alone. I never once went to the house to help you. I avoided. I couldn't picture myself seeing Dad so sick inside the home that I grew up in. I didn't want to taint my memories of him there, so I stayed away. I would stop at the hospital when he was there but that was the extent. I was an absentee son. I let you down.
Since then, I've been so consumed with distracting myself from the grief that I can feel it building, I can feel the regret coating my insides and making me sick.
I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to leave you alone. I never meant to abandon you. Everything I did was incredibly selfish and disdainful.
If I could take it all back, I would. I know that means nothing now. I know that I can't turn back time, I know that I can't bring my father, your husband back, but if I could, I would.
I know I've been insufferable, horrid and rotten for months. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it. Please, forgive me.
I love you, Mom.
The letter is stuffed inside an envelope with, Esme Masen, written in the same scrawled script. Someone dropped it on the floor in the shop and a lady handed it to me, saying I should put it in "lost and found". When I asked Paul where the lost and found was, he laughed at me and pointed to a bussing bucket under the register that had a key-chain, sunglasses and belly bag shoved into it.
I'm hesitant to throw the letter into the bucket, everything in there seems so impersonal and left behind. This letter shouldn't have been left behind, it should've been given to Esme. I can feel the emotion floating off the pages, the sadness in each letter.
"Birdy, large mocha with skim milk." Embry snaps me out of my thoughts. I get back to work, glad it's after noon and I don't have to deal with morning customers with this mindset.
Mr. Cullen was in this morning and as grumpy as ever. You'd swear he was being hit on the head with a hammer the entire time he was here. Everything about him radiates anger and annoyance. I found a way to make myself busy and not have to take his order, but I couldn't help myself from staring at him a little bit. It's a shame he's such an asshole because he's very nice to look at.
Today, I noticed he purses his lips in this pouty way whenever he's waiting for something. It'd be totally adorable if when he stopped pouting he didn't speak. It'd be even better if he didn't speak at all. Yeah, no talking would be a lot better.
There's a few other regulars that I've come to know since I started almost a week ago.
One woman comes in and gets a coffee so white it's basically a splash of coffee in her cream. A man with a knit hat always comes in to get an iced coffee with one cream, one sugar. Another lady comes in and always gets English breakfast tea with milk.
I'm starting to get the hang of things, I don't ask as many questions as I used to. I'm noticing that you can usually tell what people will get just by what they look like, it's silly.
"Did you get your last break yet, Birdy?" Paul comes over, his hand resting on my lower back, his shoulder touching mine, as he whispers in my ear.
"Um, no. Not yet." I'm extremely conscious of how close he is to me.
"Go now, then. Leah is leaving early." He nods his head at me, smiling sweetly, before walking away.
"Okay." I grab a coffee before getting my purse from the back room and heading to a table by the window. For the first couple of days here, I didn't want to bring my camera, I didn't want to get lost in the lens. When it became too difficult to leave it at home, I brought it. For the past three days I've taken pictures during each of my breaks.
The street view from inside the logo-painted glass. People's feet as they walk in. The bell on the door dinging with each move. Coffee cups on tables. The line of people craving their caffeine fix.
I capture the life inside the shop for the minutes I'm not working. It helps me ease the intense cravings that I have to click the shutter button. I try to focus on work when I clock in, I try not to think about the shot with each part of my day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Paul said the foam on some of the cappuccinos I make is an art piece. He thinks I do it for the customer when, in reality, I do it for the fact that it'd look amazing with the right angle and a yellow filter.
Pulling my camera from my bag, I pull it up to my eyes, looking through the lens and immediately relaxing. Someone's curled up on a couch across from me, buried in a book with a Liquid Happy cup in their hands. Click. I turn toward the window, camera never leaving my eyes and consume myself in the fog on the window. Click. Click.
My body loses itself in the camera and my break flies by. With one last shot of my empty coffee cup, I pull all my stuff together and head back to the counter.
"Birdy baby's back! How was your break?" Paul winks at me, like he always does, as he fills up a cup with coffee.
"Short," I laugh.
"Yeah, always is. What are you up to after work today?"
"Nothing really." I'm never busy unless it's work; a social life isn't on my list of things to-do.
"Want to hang out?" He's fun, why not? My mind is trying to think of reasons not to, as I answer.
"Sure?" I answer him in a question but I don't think he notices, his smile just gets bigger.
Stephenie owns Twilight. I'm still waiting for Midnight Sun.
Thank you to my awesome beta: mauigirl60
TypoKween is my motivator & she loves Sheldon. Go to her ffnet page & read her stories!