Charlie trailed off. It was hard listening to this, knowing how much pain I'd caused him. "But?" Alice prompted.
"She went back to school and work, she ate and slept and did her homework. She answered when someone asked her a direct question. But she was… empty. Her eyes were blank. There were lots of little things–she wouldn't listen to music anymore; I found a bunch of CDs broken in the trash. She didn't read; she wouldn't be in the same room when the TV was on, not that she watched it so much before. I finally figured it out–she was avoiding everything that might remind her of… him.
"We could hardly talk; I was so worried about saying something that would upset her–the littlest things would make her flinch–and she never volunteered anything. She would just answer if I asked her something.
"She was alone all the time. She didn't call her friends back, and after a while, they stopped calling.
"It was night of the living dead around here. I still hear her screaming in her sleep…" I could almost see him shuddering. I shuddered, too, remembering. And then I sighed. I hadn't fooled him at all, not for one second.
"I'm so sorry, Charlie," Alice said, voice glum.
"It's not your fault." The way he said it made it perfectly clear that he was holding someone responsible. "You were always a good friend to her."
"She seems better now, though."
"Yeah. Ever since she started hanging out with Jacob Black, I've noticed a real improvement. She has some color in her cheeks when she comes home, some light in her eyes. She's happier." He paused, and his voice was different when he spoke again. "He's a year or so younger than her, and I know she used to think of him as a friend, but I think maybe it's something more now, or headed that direction, anyway." Charlie said this in a tone that was almost belligerent. It was a warning, not for Alice, but for her to pass along. "Jake's old for his years," he continued, still sounding defensive. "He's taken care of his father physically the way Bella took care of her mother emotionally. It matured him. He's a good-looking kid, too–takes after his mom's side. He's good for Bella, you know," Charlie insisted.
"Then it's good she has him," Alice agreed.
Charlie sighed out a big gust of air, folding quickly to the lack of opposition. "Okay, so I guess that's overstating things. I don't know… even with Jacob, now and then I see something in her eyes, and I wonder if I've ever grasped how much pain she's really in It's not normal, Alice, and it… it frightens me. Not normal at all. Not like someone… left her, but like someone died." His voice cracked.
It was like someone had died–like I had died. Because it had been more than just losing the truest of true loves, as if that were not enough to kill anyone. It was also losing a whole future, a whole family–the whole life that I'd chosen…
Charlie went on in a hopeless tone. "I don't know if she's going to get over it–I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from something like this. She's always been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past things, change her mind."
"She's one of a kind," Alice agreed in a dry voice. "And Alice…" Charlie hesitated. "Now, you know how fond I am of you, and I can tell that she's happy to see you, but… I'm a little worried about what your visit will do to her."
"So am I, Charlie, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I'm sorry." "Don't apologize, honey. Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her." "I hope you're right."
There was a long break while forks scraped plates and Charlie chewed. I wondered where Alice was hiding the food.
"Alice, I have to ask you something," Charlie said awkwardly. Alice was calm. "Go ahead."
"He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?" I could hear the suppressed anger in Charlie's voice.
Alice answered in a soft, reassuring tone. "He doesn't even know I'm here. The last time I spoke with him, he was in South America."
I stiffened as I heard this new information, and listened harder.
"That's something, at least." Charlie snorted. "Well, I hope he's enjoying himself."
For the first time, Alice's voice had a bit of steel in it. "I wouldn't make assumptions, Charlie." I knew how her eyes would flash when she used that tone.
A chair scooted from the table, scraping loudly across the floor. I pictured Charlie getting up; there was no way Alice would make that kind of noise. The faucet ran, splashing against a dish.