beware of the street sharks, ready to swallow you up [edward]

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Oscar...

His name crept along the aisle, slinking up over the pews until she felt it burrow into her skin. She didn't see him or hear him, but she could feel him anywhere. She met the glance of the pastor, when he looked to her, acknowledging something in the back. It's him, of this she was certain. She felt his eyes burning into the back of her skull and she turned.

why is he here?

She felt the wood of the pew ache beneath her as her body shifted at a harsh angle to see him. For a moment she forgot they were at a funeral, she shifted to move, wanting nothing more than to be there with him. The sobs of her mother, broke through her daydream of what could be, bringing her back to what was. Where all her colors had melted into a black dress and she was being urged to her feet. She cracked a mourner's smile as she thanked people for attending. Half of which she knew her father didn't like.

When the time was right, when she could break away from the funeral crowd of the rock God, she slipped toward the back, she didn't say a word because they didn't need that. Silk gloves kept the expanse of fair skin tucked away at her mother's request (because he mother, above all, knew how to dress for a funeral). She tangled her hands up in his and urged him from the church, because while Edward wasn't bothered much by funerals, she hated to see her mother cry. She urged him away from the tears and sadness. "I wrote you a letter and I don't know if you read it all but I meant everything I said," she wouldn't give him time to reply, because she was on her toes and kissing him; her body in a mansuit with his upside down smile and awkward glasses. Right in the middle of the funeral procession she was kissing him, arms coiled around his neck to reel him in close. Like Gone With the Wind, in her mind. She paid no mind to the people staring, because she had Oscar wrapped up and right where she wanted him...in her arms.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ September 21, 2006 09:11 AM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

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<center>I wrote your name in the sky,
but the wind blew it away.
I wrote your name in the sand,
but the waves washed it away.
I wrote your name in my heart,
and forever it will stay.

Jessica Blade</center>

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"Edward," her mother chirped from across the small cafe, fingers wiggling to compliment her greeting, "over here!"

While her mother hadn't said anything over the phone, she knew exactly why the woman wanted to meet with her in the middle of the week. It would be their second time seeing each other in the past six days and that was far too many times for Edward. Her mother, Edward thought, was like cancer; slowly eating away at you until you withered away and died. Except this she-devil stole your soul too. She settled into the plush chair, arms braiding together beneath her chest.

"You have your colors back," her mother observed, eyeing her daughter with a renewed curiousity from behind the thin brimmed glasses. Ella Evans-Murdoch was the woman that everyone looked at but was far too afraid to touch. Impressively tall and slender, she was gifted with the high cheek bones and defined jaw structure of her European forefathers. Bright eyed and fair haired, she was an older, taller, and far more judgemental Edward. Much to her young counterpart's dismay. The former supermodel dream queen was still miles of sculpted legs and creamy skin, despite being in her late fifties.

"Yep!" she chirped, happily. She'd hated that plain white dress with the plain white shoes. She had hated how no hair had been out of place and how she had to be careful not to spill anything on herself.

"So he liked your colors?" she inquired with a slow arch of a single, artfully sculpted brow.

"Yep."

"Was that him at the funeral?" she asked, without missing a beat. It made Edward think maybe her mother had planned it all before she had even showed up here.

"Yes, it was," she leaned forward to eye her mother closer. "Wasn't he wonderful?" she swooned for him, dramatic flutters of long, sooty lashes making her dreamy eyed.

"You seemed taken with him," she remarked while latching her lips onto the brim of her tea cup. No wine for her mother today who was cutting down to three glasses a day rather than three bottles.

"He has a hold on me," she crooned.

"Does he make it hard to breathe when you're near him?"

"Every single time. He makes my heart beat so fast!" She patted her chest to emphasize the dangerous pitter-patter of her heart.

"Mm, so you do love him," matter-of-factly and with an all knowing smile.

"More than he could ever know."

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ September 22, 2006 02:37 PM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

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<center></center>

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Tonight Edward was wearing her best smile, and a red dress she hoped to make worth Oscar's while. She'd stood on his front step for a hour and a half, too nervous to knock. Her hand raised, fist clenched and finally managed to let the courage spill from her limbs.

Knockknockknock.

She fixed the wild curls, brushing them away from her eyes. Her smile stretched wider, broadening to display the rows of perfect pearly whites. And when Oscar answered the door? She had but one thing to say to him, knowing he would know exactly what she meant by it all.

"I'm ready."

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( all my posts for this character have been transferred over to my board. the end. )