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The Falling

In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

13. Chapter 13

Rating 5/5   Word Count 540   Review this Chapter

Shelter falls…

We continue to talk about the play, and nothing else, as the theater empties. I enjoy our conversation, as always, but I find myself oddly impatient. This intelligent discussion is wonderful, truly it is, but it has nothing to do with the things really on my mind.

Like that he loves me- Carlisle would never lie- and that he can’t stay with me. I wonder desperately why that is, why he can’t marry. Perhaps he has a crazy wife in an attic somewhere.

I almost laugh aloud at my own comical thought. If Carlisle had an insane dependant, I know he wouldn’t be off courting sixteen-year-old girls. He’d be trying to help her. That’s the person I know he is. So I can’t imagine what, beyond any choice of his, might be keeping him from staying with me.

It is a mystery that deeply affects my actions.

The last people are leaving, and finally I broach the subject. “Carlisle, I know you have to leave, but why?”

He looks up and away, tilting his head so I can’t see his eyes. It is a very defensive posture. “I have to. I can’t tell you… I’m sorry.”

“All right.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Will you not speak of it anymore tonight? Tomorrow we can deal with the consequences of all this, but tonight…”

“Is too beautiful. You’re right. I thought Juliet was too old for the part. What about you?”

“I don’t know. I know the play says she’s a child, but she acts like a woman. And times have changed so much. When I was… when this play was written, I think she would have been seen much differently, old to get married, even. As opposed to you…”

“Well, my mother thinks I am.”

“I disagree. You’re still so young.”

“And you’re not?”

He looks away. “No.”

I do not pursue the topic. He clearly is unwilling to discuss his age… I wonder if it has anything to do with what he’s not telling me. Simple logic would state it must. How many secrets can one man have?

He changes the subject. “It’s only about ten. The show was short, as Shakespeare goes. Would you like to get something to eat?”

“I’ve never been to a restaurant, either.” Then I blush. Was he asking me out to eat, or merely mentioning we should get up and head back to the hospital?

“Then I am honored to share the experience with you,” he replies. I grin at him, a most carefree expression. That’s a good word to describe my current state of mind… carefree. I shall simply set my worries aside and enjoy the moment.

I won’t look ahead to the darkness of the rest of my life… because I know already I will never find another who shines as he does.

His hand wraps around my waist as we stand. He assists my walking much more intimately than on our entrance- could it have been but three hours ago?

We exit the theater so.

Twining close, falling together…