I know, I've been slack on the blog lately, but don't hold it against me. RL sucks huge. Anyways, I'm hoping to post the latest chapter of Room 15 either tomorrow or Saturday, but enjoy a teaser until then.
“Well...where do I start?” Esme asked casually, no doubt pleased with the way the entire scene had gone down. She had confided in me during the last week or two that she and Carlisle had been having troubles for years in their marriage, some of which were allayed when she was battling cancer, but things seemed to have gone back to normal now that she was in the clear.
Esme had suspected for years that Carlisle had been cheating on her, though she had no solid proof, but I found it completely baffling that Carlisle would accuse her of cheating...with my father no less. He was clearly grasping at straws, knowing full well that it was him who was in the wrong. In what I had seen of Carlisle in the past few weeks, I wouldn’t put it past him to be cheating on his wife. Nothing that man did shocked me anymore.
“How about you start at the beginning?”
“Well, I was born on a warm summer morning back in 1963,” Esme began to say with a giggle as I snorted in my seat beside Edward and he narrowed his eyes at me briefly.
“Oh come on, that was funny.”
“You said to start at the beginning, Edward.”
“How much did she have to drink?” he asked under his breath as I laughed again at his concern. He was being beyond cute in dealing with this whole thing. I could tell he was so worried about what was going on with his mother, but I think drinking was really the least of his concerns.
“I don’t know, Edward. We weren’t there long enough for me to compile a log of your mother’s liquor intake,” I replied snidely as we stopped at a red light and he gave me a brief look of sadness. I felt bad for him, being kept in the dark about...well...everything, like he had, but it hadn’t been my place to say anything in the first place. Esme confided in me as a friend, and I wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. From the first moment I met her I knew she needed someone, anyone, to talk to. If nothing else, I could be that ear that listened to her and the shoulder she cried on.
“Oh Edward, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Esme added from the back as her hand reached forward and patted Edward haphazardly about his face. Okay, so maybe she had a little more to drink than I thought she had. “Be less like your father. Enjoy life. Don’t be a fuddy duddy.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment