Blinded

My weekend went by smoothly after . . . whatever happened with the cold and warm thing with the nose that pushed me. I did homework, tried to catch up with the rest of the class, and pulled out my violin when I finished it all. I have been playing the violin since I was five, before I became blind. Ever since then I have only become better and better. I loved it. I’ve even played concerts - with other violinists, and still, it was pretty exhilarating. I miss it.

Angela drove me to school again on Monday. When she parked and shut the car off, she gasped. “What is it?” I asked her, trying to hear anything out of the ordinary.

“This huge kid - or guy, I don‘t even know. He‘s - he’s huge,” she answered. Before I could respond she added: “I think that‘s Bella‘s Indian friend . . . Jacob?”

“Jacob?” I questioned.

“I think so.”

“What‘s he doing?”

She was silent. Probably evaluating him. “He‘s leaning against a . . . black bike, arms crossed, and has a shirt - which he never wears; and he looks pretty darn scary. I‘ve never seen such a look of hate before in my life.”

“Not even when I got mad at you for breaking my violin a few years ago?” I teased.

“Yeah, that was a look of love compared to this,” she giggled but was completely serious. “Oh, and I can see why. Bella and Edward are coming up.”

“What‘s wrong with that?” I asked curiously. “Aren‘t him and Bella friends?”

“I‘ll explain later. Come on, let‘s get you to class.”

We got out of the car and she linked her arm with mine, walking slowly with me and telling me about a date her and Ben had, how he was being romantic, this and that about their love. It was cute, but I was centered in on the little comments about Cullen and the big Indian brawling it out coming from the various alumni around, but I heard no fighting. Maybe the people talking about them were hoping the two would fight. When we passed by something warm I had a feeling it was Jacob. I heard a hushed, husky voice to confirm it as Jacob.

“No one got hurt,” another voice, sweet like honey, said, and I recognized it as Edward’s. “Emmet and Paul are fine.”

“I don‘t need him breaking the treaty,” Jacob said, “and getting in my way. I already had to protect a human from the blood -”

“Keep it down,” Edward hissed. “People can hear you, pup.”

My heart skipped a beat and I wondered if he knew I was eavesdropping. I kept my head down and shuffled along with Angela to my first class.

The rest of my day passed in a blur. I couldn’t help but think about what happened yesterday, what was going on between Bella, Edward and Jacob. What treaty? And Jacob said something about blood. . . . I would not find out about that but I would find out why Jacob sounded so mad at Edward and vice versa. Edward seemed fine at lunch but Bella was a bit quiet. Maybe it had to do with Jacob. Throughout the day we all heard Mike, Ben and Eric betting on who would win in a fight between Edward and Jacob.

|-*-|

When bringing me home Angela explained exactly how close Jacob and Bella became when Edward left. She thought they were going to become a couple until she saw Bella and Edward pull up to school in his Volvo holding hands. Jacob obviously hadn’t gotten over Bella and is obviously jealous.

“I wonder if that‘s why he called me Bella when he saw me,” I thought aloud.

“When did you see him?” Angela asked. “You know, other than when he picked his dad up from your house.”

I told her about my little adventure into the woods on Friday. She was madder at me for going out into the forest by myself than anything. She also said she would have to thank Jacob for helping me get back home safely and with only one cut.

“But he drank my lemonade!” I exclaimed.

“He saved you from being lost forever out there,” she replied. “The least you could have done was giving him your lemonade.”

I pouted and felt the car come to a stop. She waited until I reached the door before she drove off. No one was home when I walked in and I felt the emptiness of the house. Cara works at the hospital in Forks as a doctor, the same one as Dr. Carlisle Cullen, Edward’s father. She usually has to work late nights. I would be home alone for a while.

It was getting late by the time I finished my homework; I could tell by the sound of crickets singing through the sound of drizzling. Cara called to tell me that she and Steve were going to be working very late and that I would be alone, but only for a little while longer. She said she and Steve had called someone to “come keep me company.” That was code for they called someone to basically baby-sit me. They mean well so I did not take any offense to it. Only problem was I didn’t know who they had called.

Someone knocked on the door and I figured I was about to find out.

“Hi?” I asked to the still closed door, unsure of who was outside.

“Hey Mariab-bella, let me in,” the deep voice that was becoming more familiar answered me. “It‘s Jacob.”

He was the person I least expected. I opened the door and moved aside. “Come on in,” I said. I heard his heavy footsteps on the wood floor. “Um, make yourself at home.”

Romeo barked once and began sniffing something. I assumed it was Jacob. He’s not the one to bite new comers, as long as they don’t touch me or appear threatening.

“I didn‘t know you had a dog,” Jacob said cheerfully. “I knew I smelled you, dog.”

“You can smell my dog?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer right away. “Can‘t you? He needs a bath.” I pursed my lips.

I made my way to the couch and sat down. Not even a few seconds after I felt extreme heat on my left side, the couch sinking in, and a rather hot arm brushing mine and staying there. I was just about to ask why he was sitting so close when he quickly shied away from me, moving to the other side of the couch in a hurry.

“That was -”

“Leave it alone,” Jacob snapped.

I laughed. “No need to get embarrassed. It was just weird.” He didn’t answer but I heard a growl. Was it his or Romeo’s? I got up, my stomach growling as I did so, and went to the kitchen. “Hungry?” I asked, searching for a pan in the cabinets next to the oven.

I heard him stand up and come over to the kitchen. “I‘m not letting you cook,” he said in a wary tone. I opened my mouth to protest but he beat me. “Even if you can, which I don‘t know how you could, you wouldn‘t make enough to make me barely one serving.”

I poked his stomach and felt no flab, just a hard stomach, a well toned one at that - and still no shirt! I felt him flinch when I poked him. “You‘re not a fatty,” I announced, becoming curious. “So why do you need to eat a lot?”

I heard him place the pan I found on the stove and then I heard the pantry door squeak open. “I just need it,” he answered vaguely. “Fast metabolism.” The pantry closed, the fridge was opened, and things were being moved around. “There‘s the cheese.” He grabbed a few things and closed the fridge.

“What are you making?” I asked. I felt the counter behind me and jumped up onto it, taking a seat on the spot I cleared for myself.

“You are so full of questions,” he pointed out, his voice giving away annoyance and fake sweetness. I scowled and he sighed. “Grilled cheese sandwiches. Maybe tomato soup.” The pantry opened and after a few moments it closed. “I am making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.”

“I could have made that,” I grumbled under my breath.

“Sure, sure.” He heard me? “But you‘re not; I am, so deal with it.”

I listened to him cook for a few minutes before I bluntly asked. “Why did you come?”

He stopped whatever it was he was doing with clanking metal. “What?” he asked, obviously caught off guard.

“You don‘t seem happy to be here,” I explained. “I‘m sure my aunt could have asked someone else if you declined. So why did you come?”

I heard sizzling. It was all I heard for about a minute and I figured he wasn’t going to answer so I hopped down from the counter. I felt the heat radiating off of him as I passed him, and then something hot gripped my arm. It startled me and made me jump. His grip prevented me from leaving it was so tight.

“Steve called my dad and asked if I could come and watch you to make sure you would stay safe and not hurt yourself. My dad was telling him that I couldn‘t, that I was busy . . . but I insisted,” he explained, his voice soft and contemplating, like he was trying to figure out what he had just said. “I had to.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

He threw my arm back to my side, his tone changing completely from soft to slightly harsh. “I don’t know,” he answered in an angry but genuinely confused tone.

I scurried away from him, confused by his decision like he was. I ran into the corner of the counter in an attempt to flee and sucked in a sharp breath, muttering how stupid the counter was in Italian.

“I scared you off,” he chuckled, but it was lacking humor in a way. “I‘m sorry. You can come sit back down here.” When I hesitated he continued speaking: “I‘m grinning menacingly and have questions.”

I grimaced and came back to claim my seat on the counter across from the stove. “And I‘m scowling, unwillingly ready to answer whatever questions you have.”

He pulled out a couple plates and I heard the two glass plates clash together and hit the granite counter tops. At least, I thought they were granite. They felt smooth like granite countertops.

“So Steve and Cara are your aunt and uncle,” he began. I nodded and he continued: “What about your mom and dad? Why don‘t you live with them?”

I sighed and swung my legs childishly back and forth, right then left. “Well, um, my mom abandoned my dad and me when I was five, almost six. My dad is currently in jail for the rest of his life because he murdered our next door neighbors. I had no guardians there so my only ones were my aunt and uncle who are actually my madrina and padrino.” I could tell he was raising his brow in confusion. “My godmother and godfather.”

“Whoa,” he breathed. “Didn‘t expect that.”

“What did you expect?” I questioned.

“I just thought you moved with Steve and Cara because your parents were always traveling because they play sports like Bell . . . like baseball.”

“Like Bella‘s . . . ?” He didn’t respond and something bubbled. “Bella Swa -”

“I‘m the one asking questions,” he snapped. He inhaled and exhaled. “Sorry. Next question.” I moved my hair from my eyes. “How‘d you become . . . ?”

“You ask seriously serious questions, don‘t you?” I asked him.

“If you don‘t want to tell me. . . .”

“But you want me to,” I said, smiling when I knew I was right. “It‘s all right.”

“Were you born blind?” he asked, and I heard something being flipped onto a plate. “Or did you have an accident that caused it?”

“I wasn‘t born blind, no,” I answered, my mind going back to the day eleven years ago. “But it was some accident.”