our-yellow-house.pdf

Our Yellow House

Fanfic by CaraNo

Disclaimer: I don’t own Twilight.

Chapter 43, 44, 45, and the epilogue are beta'd by HollettLA

Chapter 1

… I'm here without you, baby…

… I think about you, baby

And I dream about you all the time…

… I'm here without you, baby

But you're still with me in my dreams

And tonight, girl, it's only you and me…

~Here Without You by 3 Doors Down – chapter song.

July 1st

Edward Cullen.

I never thought Charlie Swan would end up being my best friend, but I

stand corrected. Not only is he my best friend, he is also the one I can be

myself with. The one who understands, the one who never pressures.

Because he's the same. The two of us are the same. Broken. Muted.

Dead inside.

I even wear flannel nowadays.

You would laugh, and I would smile because I love the sound of your

laughter.

Everyday is the same. I wake up, take a shower, sometimes I shave,

sometimes I don't. I get dressed – jeans, a wife beater, and a flannel shirt

that I leave unbuttoned. Can't part with my well worn black All Stars,

either.

I skip breakfast. If you can call it breakfast. I wake up around two PM, so

perhaps I should call it… what do you call a meal around that hour? It

can't be lunch, right? Too early for dinner.

Late lunch. Yeah.

I skip that, anyway.

I sit on the porch for a couple of hours. Sipping coffee, smoking

cigarettes. Sometimes Charlie comes over. Sometimes I tinker with my

guitar, sometimes I don't. But often I do.

I always think of you when I play.

Then around five in the afternoon, I head to work. I stop by RJ's on the

way, because by that time I'm starving, and Rose and her brother James,

they make the best burgers. Except for the pickles. I can't stand pickles

but I can't bring myself to order a burger without them. Instead I throw

them in the garbage.

You always smiled when I gave you the pickles.

RJ's is right next to my bar. The bar I took over when mom wanted to

slow down. She loved that bar. Still does, and she isn't too old to work,

but she craved better hours. Esme is not a night person anymore. I am,

though. We run Twilight together, I suppose. I take care of the bar and

she runs the office, takes care of the paperwork and all that shit. That's

very fine by me. I love that bar. It was always my plan to work there and

there's not a thing about it I don't like. It's small but big enough.

I'd say we're a small family working there. Mom is there during the day,

and then at night, it's me and Alec tending the bar, and my cousin Tanya

working as the waitress.

You loved the bar, too. Remember, angel?

I'm back home around three AM, and that's when I know for certain that

Charlie joins me. Sometimes we're on my porch, sometimes we're on his

porch.

Our houses are the same but don't look the same, standing next to each

other. Two stories. Small front yards. But our house is yellow. It's a bit

faded now. I need to repaint it. The shutters are white.

You painted the door dark red, and I grinned because you got paint on

your nose.

I need to repaint the door, too. Need to find the exact same red, though.

It must be that color. Must be. Would be wrong otherwise. She said it was

the perfect color for our door. The door that opened up to our home. She

said the same when we painted the house yellow. It was the perfect color

because it was happy, and our yellow house would stand out amongst the

white ones on our street.

Charlie's door is white. He also needs to repaint. Perhaps we should

repaint some day.

On the other side of the road, right across from my house, Jasper and

Alice live. Alice isn't a night person but Jasper is, and sometimes he joins

me and Charlie on the porch for some jamming. And of course a few

beers. He doesn't play the guitar, though. No, he plays the harmonica.

Then we just sit there for a few hours. We don't talk much. Only a little.

We speak when necessary. That isn't often. Instead we enjoy the quiet, or

the music, and the night. We all love the nights. Doesn't matter if it's

summer or winter, we still sit there. Doesn't get that cold here in New

Orleans, anyway, in the winter. It's summer now, though. July. It's the

4th tomorrow.

The smile you gave me when we watched the fireworks together…

When the sky goes from black to red, we part ways and go to bed. I go to

bed alone. Missing her. My Bella. My wife.

Is our son alive?

In bed I lie awake for an hour or so. I think about when the days were

ours. We were so happy. Everything was perfect. The pregnancy was a

surprise, a big surprise, but we were happy. So damn happy, and when

she started to show, I was there all the time. I couldn't look away to save

my life. I watched her and her belly, and we smiled whenever our eyes

locked because while I watched her, she watched me. Always with that

adoration.

I miss you, baby.

We had everything we wanted. I had the bar. Even then. And we had our

house. The yellow house that stands out, I live there alone now. The

house where we were going to raise our family. Together.

Remember? We always said we wanted two children.

Bella's dream was to either work in the bar with me, or work with

children. Sometimes she said she wanted to do both, and I used to laugh

and tap her on the nose and say, "When are you going to sleep? Take

care of kids during the day and then the grownups at the bar at night?"

She gave me a scowl then, which morphed into a pout because she could

never hold the scowl. In the end I thawed her up by kissing that spot.

That special spot on her hipbone that made her sigh softly. That was my

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