Writings

Even though it would be one of the biggest accidents ever on the Trans-Canada highway, the Calgary accident started with one car. One car that hit one patch of ice at the wrong angle, or going a tiny bit too fast. It spun, and hit a car going in the other direction, which made that car spin, and that car wound up under a semi, which buckled in the middle, which slammed into another car.

It’s always a possible outcome, any time anyone gets in any car. There’s always one outcome of deciding to get behind the wheel that is a terrible crash. I’ve learned not to even worry about it.

That’s the thing about seeing the future. When you do, you know that every single day ends in death. And every single day ends in happiness. It’s just a matter of which choices get made by whom along the way that decide which outcome you get today.

That day, the driver of that one car got the death outcome.

So did a lot of other people.

And that last part? That was my fault.

Forward

When I first saw Jasper, I saw him with the pale gold eyes of one of our kind. He was running through the woods, as lithe as he always has been, barefoot, and with only a pair of pants rolled up to the knee.

He sprang at a moose, and as his teeth made contact, he snapped the animal’s neck.

In the vision, I cheered.

Jasper has the power to keep from attacking humans; he always has had it. I thought it was a matter of making a choice.

But that night in Calgary, it was a matter of too great a temptation.

Forward

I found myself alone in the Portsmouth house, which was rare. Rosalie and Emmett were off in Newfoundland, and Jasper was off hunting with Carlisle. Esme was drawing plans for a new house on the back porch.

Edward came home from the library early, sat down. Opened the piano and started to play.

Chopin Nocturnes.

I hadn’t heard them in months.

Taking the invitation, I tiptoed across the living room. Sat down on the bench.

He didn’t get up.

I listened to him play for the better part of two hours. Edward gets lost in his music. He closes his eyes, and he rocks back and forth as he plays, like his whole body is involved in the playing. Like pushing the pedal requires every muscle, and not just his right ankle.

As I listened, I found myself thinking of the photo that got thrown at me. The way the glass shattered and fell out of the frame. The way the woman looked-with her light eyes the same shape as Edward’s. The man, with his strong build and his wild hair.

Their little baby.

The music stopped. Edward pushed himself back on the bench and reached for the keyboard cover.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “It’s good that you remember them.”

The keyboard cover closed with a soft thud and Edward disappeared.

Forward

I listened to Edward play nocturnes for the better part of ten years.

Sometimes, I would just listen, thinking about us, or him, or our new family. Sometimes I would think about Jasper. Sometimes I would imagine his mother sitting next to him while she played, with him leaning into her side, with her ruffling his hair.

Those times, he’d get up and walk away.

Forward

“I promise, we’ll be gone only a little while.” Jasper pressed his forehead to mine so that his hair fell forward and tickled my cheek. “A few hours. I just need to say some things to her, get her to see that I’m never coming back. Shake her off Peter and Charlotte’s trail.”

It made sense. But my stomach was all knotted anyway.

At the time, I thought the stomach knot was about Maria.

Jasper pressed his lips to mine. Briefly, his mouth opened and he sucked my tongue inside it. Our tongues wrestled against each other, and he exhaled softly onto my cheek.

“I love you,” he said. “Only you.” He reached his hand to my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “She’ll be gone soon.”

And then the door opened and closed and he was gone.

~End of Part II~

Part III
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