Disclaimer : As much as I would like to own Carlisle Cullen, he, along with the rest of the works of the Twilight 'saga' belong to Stephanie Meyer. Yeah, that was sarcasm. But I'm not going to release my rant upon you innocents as to why. But, Jennifer Aldrick and her beast of a mother, Marianne, belong to me. And the city of Anchorage, Alaska belongs to Alaska, which in turn belongs to the United States. And well, anything else you may recognize belongs to it's respective owner.
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I threw my purse and what was left of the pretzels onto the small table in my foyer before nearly running into my living room and throwing myself across my couch. I had held back tears all the way home and now, with no one around to judge me, I let them loose. I pressed my face into one of the pillows, muffling my sobs, somewhat ashamed of my unrestricted weeping despite the fact that I was alone. A part of me had always felt that crying was showing a sign of weakness, and this side now warred with the rest of me that said this was a perfectly acceptable time to cry.
My inner battle was interrupted with the high pitched ring of the phone. Wiping my face with my sleeve, I took in several deep breaths before dashing towards the kitchen. I glanced quickly at the caller i.d. Marianne Aldrick, 916 - 555 - 2245. Oh God. It was my mother. What the hell could she possibly want? I thought bitterly as I answered with the sweetest hello I could muster.
"Good evening, dearest," came my mother's sickly-sweet voice. "What were the results of the test?" I stood silently, mouth opening and closing, resembling of the many fish that were floating around in their tank upstairs in my bedroom. How did she find out I had tests done? I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Leave it to Mother to find out every single detail of my life.
"The tumors were malignant. I'm having surgery in a couple of weeks." My voice was remarkably deadpan. I could feel a small, smug grin creeping over my lips. Let's see if the ogre could decipher any feeling of sadness from that.
"Oh dearest, that must be so depressing for you! You may think I don't, but I still remember how much you loved to play house and care for those little baby dolls of yours when you were young." I actually was surprised that she remembered anything, since most of the time she was either drunk or hungover from her vodka and Diet Tab mixes. I stuck out my tongue at the memory of tasting the disgusting concoction.
"Yes, Mother. It made me sad, but I can always adopt, and then there's in vitro fertilization." I kept my voice steady, not wanting to betray anything.
"Yes, but didn't you always want a husband? I know in my time, when women couldn't get pregnant the natural way, men didn't want to even take a second glance at them." The condescension was practically dripping from her voice.
"Well, mother, that was back then. You'll find that there are plenty of men who wouldn't mind adopting." My voice wavered, my auditory mask already beginning to break. I knew it would only encourage her, but I just couldn't help it. I mentally winced, preparing myself for the blow that would completely break through.
"I suppose. Let's just hope you find one before you're too old. After all, you are twenty-five now, and that maternal clock is ticking, ticking away!" There it was. I wanted to cry and scream at that horrid woman, but I kept my mouth shut, feeling it would give her less satisfaction. Sensing that no answer would come, she continued. "And anyway, you could always get a pet. They're just like children, except the tend to whine less and they don't ask for everything under the sun. Well, darling, Vivienne has arrived for tea. You remember Vivienne? She used to baby sit you when I went out on the town with your father, God rest his soul. Ta-ta for now!" With that, the hag hung up, leaving me standing there slightly shocked that my own mother could be so cruel.
Surprise fading, I hung up and threw the phone down on the receiver, letting out a long scream that could only be described as a mixture of a wail of despair and a screech of fury. I felt like breaking something, and I almost reached for the glass vase before stopping myself. Violence would do me no good. Instead I walked slowly, dragging my feet, to the small kitchen table, pulling a chair out with barely enough space for my body to sink into it without grazing the table. I crossed my arms on the table, laying my head in the small space between them, the cold tile feeling more comforting than my mother's hands had ever been. I didn't want to cry, both for feeling it was a weakness and because it felt like my mother was still looming over me. And yet, I just couldn't contain it. All barriers were broken and tears (along with, much to my chagrin, phlegm) flowed freely, all the while I repeated that it was okay for me to cry, and no one was there to think any less of me. My shoulders heaved in silent sobs as darkness grew around me.
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I woke up slowly, vaguely aware that it was totally black and my face was sticky. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes to remove their crusty build-up. I glanced around, looking for the lights of a digital clock. The faint, blue-green numbers shown out light a beacon on both the stove and the microwave. The time read 2:27 A.M. I blinked a few times, still slightly groggy from my unintentional nap. I stood rather slowly, grasping blindly for the counter. I managed to make it to the light switch without too much trouble and flipped it on, immediately wishing that I had covered my eyes first.
I closed my eyes, temporarily blinded. I breathed in and out slowly, taking the opportunity to recover today's, well, yesterday's, happenings. It still hurt a little, to think of what was attacking my reproductive system, but it had dulled considerably. The afterglow fading away, I opened my eyes slowly before stumbling upstairs, flicking on every light I passed. I staggered, almost as if drunk, into my bedroom, past my bed, and into my tiny excuse for a master bathroom. I drew my hair back haphazardly into a ponytail holder before turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on my face. I shivered slightly as I scrubbed my makeup remover over my face, making a mental note to turn the heat up after I finished getting ready for bed. After thoroughly rinsing my face and brushing my teeth, I yawned rather loudly as I made my way back to my bedroom. Throwing on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, I made my reluctant way back downstairs, turning out all the lights while turning up the thermostat to a toasty 75. Taking a last look around at my empty first floor, I flipped out the stairway light and climbed the stairs carefully.
Heaving a sigh, I released my hair from it's bun and fell onto my bed face down. Today, yesterday, I reminded myself, had been too long for my liking, but I knew sleep wouldn't come after that nap, however unfitful it was. I gave my pillow a swift punch before heaving myself into a kneeling position. Carlisle Cullen's angelic visage swam before me. I blushed before trying to push him away. It wasn't as if I thought of him like that. Yes, he was gorgeous, but he was out of my league.
Wait... What? Out of my league? The feeling of being a teenager once again swept over me. I let out another sigh, this time one of frustration. Grabbing my alarm clock, I set it for 5:30, giving me enough time to hit the gym before work. Putting it just out of reach on the night stand so I had no choice but to get up and turn it off, I jumped out of bed to turn on my c.d. player. Throwing in a Yo-Yo Ma disk, I quickly pressed the repeat button and changed it to his rendition of Bach's Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1 before throwing myself back onto my bed, this time snuggled underneath the blankets. I wished momentarily that I could play the cello. Heck, I wished that I could play any instrument at all, aside from air guitar (which, in my opinion, I excelled at).
I yawned once again, focusing on the rather hypnotic melody. My thoughts became rather demented, and I knew sleep was overcoming me. It always amazed me later if I managed to remember those delirious musings when I was fully recovered from the drunkenness of my fatigue. Glancing at the clock, I noted that it had only been thirty minutes since I had awoken downstairs and was mildly surprised that I had managed to get to sleep that quickly. With that thought, and Doctor Cullen's face starting to appear, I let the sweet waves of welcomed sleep wash over me.
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Author's Note: So it wasn't the most interesting chapter, but it's a chapter that's helping me develop Jenny (shall I use this nickname in later chapters? o:), especially in her relationship with her mother. Who's the devil. Yeah... I'm hoping Carlisle's chapter will be much longer. After all, he's got all that dialog with the other Cullens/Hales. [/rambles]