Watching Her Chapter 33 - Snow White

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
Chapter 33 - Snow White - Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Snow White was very loved by her father. She is kind, sweet, and gentle.

The entire ride home, all the way up the stairs and into my room, I think about the conversation I've just had with Emmett and Jasper. It's not like I haven't thought about it all before, but somehow, like Bella mentioned in her letter, saying things out loud is a hell of a lot different than thinking them to yourself or writing them down on paper.

I drop my soccer bag on the floor and kick my shoes off. Lifting my arm, I sniff and decide a shower's definitely in order before I get down to business. By the time I'm done and dressed in clothes that don't smell like ass, I grab the notebook and a pen and for a change of pace, take it downstairs and out the front door.
The afternoon's dark, charcoal gray storm clouds have moved in and there's a rumble of thunder off in the distance. It's not raining yet, but it will be soon. The wind's picked up just enough to swirl a few leaves and make them skitter along the front porch and to make the air smell wet and like pine trees.

It's a perfect day to spend alone.

I've never really thought of myself as an introvert, and I suppose in the literal sense I'm not. I mean, I love hanging out with Jasper and Emmett, and with Alice and Rose, too. I don't even mind larger groups, but I definitely prefer quiet time over anything loud. I go to parties and stuff because I like seeing my friends and because, well it's Forks, and there aren't a whole lot of options, but I never stay long and I never mind when I'm the first one to go home.

I think Bella and I might have that in common. The thought makes me smile and inordinately happy.

Turning, I move toward the large wicker chair in the corner and settle down in it so I can read her letter and get moving on my own back to her.

Dear Edward,

Gah, did it feel strange to you when you wrote my name the first time? Because, I have to tell you, my hand's shaking like crazy right now and my heart feels like it does after I get done playing a set … ready to fly out of my chest.

Edward, huh?

Not at all what I imagined, I have to be honest, but somehow, I think it's absolutely perfect for you.

I snort, again, and wonder, again, what names she'd imagined. Not sure I'll ever tell her what I came up with for her. I shudder just thinking about it.

You asked me a lot of questions, but I'm going to answer the ones I had prepared myself for and save the others for later. Some of them were unexpected to say the least. Not unwelcome, at all, just so you know, but ones I hadn't really thought about. Wished for maybe, probably, but definitely not expected. Am I rambling again? I am, aren't I? Don't laugh at me. Thanks to you I'm staring at your handwriting, which again, I think rather suits your name as weird as that is to say, and it's making my knee bounce up and down and hands shake a bit … and I know my handwriting isn't nice enough that I can afford for it to be any messier than normal.

Bet you think so, too, don't you? You have to tell me, you know, especially in light of your proclamation that we won't hide things from each other. In that whole spirit, um … can I tell you that I'm a teensy bit freaked out that you've actually seen me up close and personal like. Well, I guess it couldn't have been too close since I don't remember seeing anyone in the store that day and

Here she's marked out a few words, scribbled over them in swirls of ink until I can't tell what she's written. It doesn't matter though, and I laugh, because well, my girl's adorable if not a little bit crazy.

Crap, I just called you out on being honest and not hiding anything and there I go marking stuff out. Not fair I suppose, is it? Okay, the reason I know I don't remember you being there is because when you come here, inside my building, I can always tell. I know you come inside, of course I do, but I can feel it. It's like there's this, I don't even know what to call it, a presence maybe, that you leave behind. It's nice. I like it. It makes me feel safe and … well, I think that's what I was so afraid of the night of your birthday … not feeling like that again.

I sigh and rub my fingertips across my chest and over my heart. The one that's expanded and stretched and is full of nothing but her. Jesus, what this girl does to me.

Anyway, back to answering your questions. First, I guess I'll start with my dad. His name was Charlie and he died when I was 10. Well, he didn't die, he was killed in the line of duty. He was a police officer in Phoenix and was out on patrol one night and got sent to a domestic disturbance call. He and his partner walked in on some high as hell guy waving a gun around at his wife and two little kids, threatening to kill them and then himself. When one of the kids, a little girl who was three, started crying and wet her pants from being so scared, the guy lost it even more and pointed his gun at the kid, and my dad … well, my dad jumped in front of the mom and the kids, and pushed them out of the way right as the guy fired his gun. Dad was wearing a bulletproof vest, but he got shot in the leg, in the femoral artery. They tried to save him, but he didn't even make it to the hospital before he died. 

It took me a long time to even understand what had happened to him. A part of me still doesn't. He was my whole world, my hero. I loved, love, my mom, but my dad was everything to me. We were so happy, that I remember. My mom didn't really like him being a policeman, I remember that, too, but I also remember him talking to me about what he did one day when I was about nine and telling me how it was what he was meant to do, to help people. 

He was this larger than life man with arms that felt like steel and hands and fingers that were scarred and gnarled, but were as gentle as a feather when covering up my many cuts and scrapes with Band-Aids. Looking back on it, I suppose he was intimidating, but I never thought that. He was a big guy. He had a mustache and he always smelled like coffee and Old Spice and butterscotch … they were his favorite candy and he always had some in his pocket. Whenever we would play hide and seek, I could always find him because the cellophane crinkled in his pockets when he would walk. I never told him that, but I think he probably knew. 

He worked a lot, but I don't remember thinking that because when he was off, our days were full. Arizona Diamondback baseball games, camping in the desert, tea parties in my room, basketball in our driveway, long walks that included a stop for ice cream. When he didn't work, my mom used that time to do whatever new hobby she'd found: water aerobics, pottery class, learning how to speak Japanese. You name it, she's tried it. 

We vacationed in the mountains and took long trips to California to go to Disneyland ... at least a few times a year. Bet you're wondering about all my shirts, aren't you? Disney was this magical place for me. I've never believed in fairy tales or in princes that slay dragons and rescue damsels from towers, but there was something about walking into that place with my mom and dad that made me feel like I'd stepped into this whole other world. I know that's the point of the place, but at six or eight or ten, all you see is colors and hear sounds, and smell things that shouldn't be possible but are.

I remember never being happier than when we were at Disney. The t-shirts started with our very first visit when I was five and just took off from there. Every birthday, every Christmas, every visit and sometimes just because, I got a new shirt. Sometimes they'd have a picture of my favorite character at the time, sometimes it was because a new movie came out, or an old one that was released on DVD.Sometimes it was because my dad liked the picture on the front. It didn't matter; all that mattered was they came from him and were our special thing. 

I have every shirt I've ever gotten from him, even the ones that are threadbare and the pictures have faded so much you can hardly tell what's on them. But they're a part of him and I can't let them go. 
My mom kept up what he started, I think because she has never stopped loving my dad. She loves Phil, don't get me wrong, and until her accident, they were very, very happy, but my dad was her one great love. When she and Phil got married five years ago, I didn't really understand how that could be possible, but now I know how lucky she is to have loved and been loved in return by two great men. 

So, at night, when I talk to mom, I think and remember and talk about my dad or what I'm afraid of, or a memory that's been on my mind a lot. I use the shirts as my way to remember and connect and feel close to him and to her, and to never forget what it was like to be a family, to know where I belonged and that I'd always have two people who would always love me. It's probably strange and might not make sense, but it helps. Luckily for me, Dad bought me plenty of shirts that I could use as night shirts and I haven't grown very much since he died so I have some that still fit. The ones that don't far outweigh the ones that do, and when the time comes that there aren't any left, I have no idea what I'll do. 

Silly, huh? 

Don't answer that … no wait, do. Once I knew you were out there watching me, I wondered what you would think of the shirts. I only wear them when I go outside, and only at night. Playing makes me feel closer to my dad since he was the one that taught me. I play for me though, and now I suppose I play for you, too. 

You asked me what I wanted? I'm not sure besides the fact that I don't want to come outside and not see a notebook and not feel you out there watching me. I don't know how it happened, but I need you. You make me feel safe and like I matter. I didn't know how much I lacked that until you showed up.
I don't know how to label you, but do I have to? For now, I think I'll just keep you as my Creeper, how's that? 

Sometime, someday soon, we're going to have to take the next step and meet face to face. As much as that terrifies me, I can't wait for it to happen either, but is it wrong for me to say that this, what we have right now, I don't want it to end? I don't know if it's possible to have them both, but if it's okay, can we keep doing this? 

If I haven't said it already, I'm glad you found me. I didn't know how lost I was until you.
See you soon … or I guess you'll see ME soon, 

Bella 

P.S. - I haven't decided if I like using Drummer Girl or Bella better. I'll let you know when I figure it out. Which do you like better?
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~