Ch 12 - Entry Way Song

Well, should I admit
That my promise is counterfeit
That I'm careless and childish
And that's all I can hope to be
And would you concede
That I think only of myself
I refuse everybody's help
Who has been reaching out for me

“Entry Way Song” - Bright Eyes

“Isabella?”

Someone shook me gently, startling me. I sat up quickly, glancing around in confusion. My eyes met Margaret’s and it took me a moment to make sense of the situation. I looked at the clock and saw it was noon. Realization dawned that I had fallen asleep at the library, in the middle of my shift.

“Oh God!” I exclaimed, jumping up. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to doze off.” I grabbed the books off the desk in front of me, turning to go shelve them. Margaret caught me by the arm and smiled timidly.

“It’s okay, no big deal,” she said, taking the books from my hands and placing them back down on the desk. “But you look exhausted, so how about you go ahead and call it a day.”

I shook my head no quickly, once again reaching for the books, but she blocked me from picking them up. “It wasn’t a request.” I looked at her warily and she sighed. “Look, it’s a slow day and you could definitely use some rest. I can hold down fort here, don’t worry.” Her voice was soft, compassionate.

I smiled and nodded, thanking her. She once again said it was no big deal, and picked up the books with a smile. I put my coat on and headed out of the library, strolling home.

I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. I laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to shut my mind off. Yesterday had been a difficult day overall, with it being April 1st, but my mysterious caller had only added to my unease.

I never even considered the option that it could’ve been someone I actually knew. I figured it had to have been a random stranger… I’d only recently gotten the cell phone and the number was new and unlisted. I’d only given a few people the number, all of them being related to the hospital and my case.

So when my mysterious caller sent me a text message and called me “Bella”, shock and nervousness took over. No one had called me Bella since I left Forks, everyone here referred to me by my full name. I wasn’t sure who they were or how they got my number… even worse, I wasn’t sure what they wanted. And that was what worried me the most—why they were calling me.

I made it my building and stopped in the foyer to check my mailbox. The hospital had started forwarding my mail for me finally so I didn’t have to go there and pick it up. I pulled out a stack of papers, a magazine, and a few envelopes. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, going inside and locking the door behind me. I tossed the mail onto the table and kicked off my shoes, heading for the bedroom.

I undressed, not bothering with pajamas, and climbed into bed in my bra and underwear. I drifted off to sleep quickly.

I woke up hours later to a dark room. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly 10pm. I was shocked, as I couldn’t recall sleeping that long before without being disrupted at some point. I felt completely rested and groaned at the realization that now I’d be up all night, and the cycle would started again tomorrow with me exhausted at work.

I got out of bed and grabbed my robe, throwing it on over my undergarments. My stomach growled, so I walked into the kitchen and threw together a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich quickly. I sat down at the table to look through my mail while I ate.

Most of it was junk—coupons and advertisements. I sorted through the envelopes and paused at the last one. It didn’t have a return address, but the handwriting was unmistakable and the postmark came from Florida. It was from my mom.

I sighed. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever, that someday I’d have to face it. I chewed my sandwich, but suddenly no longer felt hungry. After a few minutes of contemplation, I got up and walked into the bedroom. I opened the bottom left drawer on my desk and pulled out a stack of envelopes. I walked back to the table, grabbed the new envelope, and settled on the couch in the living room.

I grabbed the first envelope in the pile. It was from Renee, dated two weeks into my treatment. I pulled a paper out from inside it, taking a deep breath before unfolding it. I read through it hesitantly, relieved that she kept it light. She told me she missed me and wrote a bit on how things were going in FL. She talked about Phil’s baseball and her newest hobby—painting.

I put that one aside and pulled out the next. It wasn’t much different from the first, focusing on Florida again. She’d apparently given up painting already, because she had ruined a few of her favorite shirts trying to mix acrylics.

The third and forth were much of the same. Phil got her a cat, which she named Toby. She hadn’t told Phil, but she had named it after the actor Toby McGuire. Apparently, Renee had developed a crush while watching Spiderman.

The fifth envelope was from Phil. I hesitated briefly before pulling out the contents. It was short and to the point, merely saying they were worried about me and missed me and wanted me to write.

I opened a few more letters from Renee, each just as simple as the first ones. I got to the blue envelope from Phil, the last one I had received in the hospital. I pulled the letter out and unfolded it. This one wasn’t as light-hearted. He said Renee was agonizing over me and that things were strained. He stated that they needed an explanation as to what happened because not knowing was tearing them apart. He said Renee tried to put up a front that everything was fine but that she blamed herself for my situation and that it wasn’t fair.

I sighed, feeling guilty. I’d never really sat down and thought out how my mother would be handling everything. I figured she had Phil and would be fine, and felt bad that she was apparently miserable.

I opened the last envelope, the one that arrived today. I pulled out the paper and a picture fell out. I picked it up and smiled—it was an orange and white cat with bright green eyes. I started reading the letter; Renee was telling me about the mischief the cat had been getting into, how it was driving Phil crazy. She said she thought of taking up painting again and went out to buy an apron so she didn’t ruin her clothes this time.

Out of nowhere towards the end of the letter, she threw something in that caught me off guard:

I talked to Charlie a few days ago, he asked about you.

I reread the sentence a few times. She said no more on the subject, no clue as to what had been said.

I stuffed the letter back in the envelope, tossing it onto the pile with the others. I grabbed the picture of the cat and walked into my bedroom, propping it against the lamp on my desk. I’d get a frame for it later—it was the closest I’d ever come to having a sibling, after all.

I was about to walk back into the living room when a faint beep from the bed stopped me. I moved the blanket around, locating my phone tangled up in the sheets. I picked it up and flipped it open.

1 missed call
Caller ID Unavailable

I looked at the details and realized that they had called when I was asleep.

I sighed, tossing the phone back down on the bed. I grabbed a notebook and pen from my desk before heading back out to the couch. I sat down, took a deep breath and started writing.

Renee deserved an explanation.