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The Falling

Summary:
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!


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


15. Chapter 15

Rating 0/5   Word Count 563   Review this Chapter

Together they fall…

“Uh, the… the… the… chicken with garlic and thyme. And potatoes…”

I pick out the first thing I see, nervous, and immediately regret my bland decision. This is likely to be the only time I ever set foot in a restaurant.

The server stares. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Umm… lemonade, thank you.”

“And you, monsieur?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even a drink?”

Carlisle stifles a laugh I don’t understand. “No, thank you. Just for the lady.”

I look askance at this lack of appetite, then decide from the stony look on his face he’s no intention of answering. If he doesn’t want to tell me, I won’t pressure him…

The food comes out swiftly, and I decide I don’t mind my choice, not at all. It’s certainly a welcome relief from the hospital food.

It is arrayed neatly on a white plate, the sprig of thyme protruding neatly from the chicken. It is also way more food than I can consume.

As I eat, Carlisle and I talk. He instigates the conversation. “So, Esme, do you have any siblings? I know you said you like children.”

“No, I’m an only child… but I have a younger cousin. She’s only ten, and she lives very close to me. We’ve always been good friends.”

“What’s her name?”

“Eileen. Well, technically she’s my second cousin. But she’s the closest relative I have, except my parents…”

“Tell me about them.” He steeples his hands on the table, apparently utterly engrossed in the mundane details of my insignificant life.

“My mother is never satisfied. I must be a young lady, no matter how many times I try to tell her it isn’t 1875 anymore- they aren’t going to present me at court. She was born in England, daughter of a wealthy family, trained at some old castle, presented to the Queen… all the medieval rituals. Then she came here to live with Eileen’s father, a businessman, after a family scandal. Met my father, got married, lived a thoroughly middle-class existence and tried to push her daughter into the same life.”

My, but I sound unpleasant.

“I understand. My father was… extreme. He had a faith in God that involved killing anyone who disagreed with his brand of worship… and the only way I could make him happy was by following in those bloody footsteps.”

“I can’t see you hurting anyone,” I said, and it was the simple truth.

“I never did. I tried very hard to please my father without bringing down false justice, but eventually there was nothing for it… I, too, was born in England. I made my way to Italy where I attended medical school and met some very engaging friends. They are wealthy, and so they paid my passage here.”

“How old are you, Carlisle? You seem to have done and seen an awful lot.”

“Thirty… but I feel much, much older sometimes.” I can see the honesty of the answer in his eyes.

“You look so young…”

“So do you,” he whispers. “Sometimes I think we are all children in this world. And will be forever.”

I know there is significance in this, but I cannot pluck it out.

Together forever…