Bella liked winter. Winter was the only season she did like in fact. Funny that, considering how she used to hate the cold and the rain, but now, now it brings release from the pain. In winter, she could forget that she used to be warm and soft, because the temperature outside matched that of her skin. She could sit in the snow and forget all the things that reminded her of him. Like sunshine. And heat. And droplets of water running down warm flesh, causing a gentle steam to rise into the air. She could forget that she ever knew what it felt like to be warm. She could forget that he was the one who made her warm. Warm skin, warm lips, warm breath, warm voice. In winter she could forget the feel of those lips on hers – soft, pliable, heated. So different from what she was used to – hard, unyielding, cold. In summer all the memories would come bubbling up, rising like steam into her awareness, taunting her.
In summer, everything she saw or felt or heard reminded her of him. Tanned bodies leaping with joyous abandon from great heights, their bodies plunging gracefully into the cold water below; golden sunlight shining through the trees, bringing tiny dancing particles into sharp relief; boisterous laughter – not tinkling like Alice’s or musical like Edward’s, but deep, thrust up from the depths of the laugher’s chest, so very human. Flawed and all the more beautiful for it.
Autumn was not much better. In autumn, the very colour of the falling leaves reminded her of his skin tone – russet, golden brown – and his eyes – rich, dark chocolate. Everywhere she looked were hues of brown and gold, bringing out the stark contrast with her own whiter than white skin. She used to have colour in her skin too. But now, it is as cold and white as the snow around her.
As for spring. Spring was possibly the worst season of them all. Because everything about spring spoke of life, living, love, birth. All around her animals fawned on each other, batting their eyes seductively and wagging their tails, prancing around each other in the timeless dance of love. Birds would serenade each other in sweet voices and from the woods wolves would howl in husky abandon. Even the plants were giving birth – new flowers opening up to the sunlight; soft, living petals breathing in the clean air with virgin lungs. And when the fruits of the fawning, batting, wagging, prancing, and howling were finally realised, and little newborn creatures eagerly tasted the world and opened their curious eyes for the first time, then she remembered a vision that she had once had, many years ago. Little children with black hair and eyes and coffee-coloured skin, little living, laughing children running on sturdy legs towards her, smiling at her, loving her. Little children that she would never know now. Yes, spring was the worst; for never more than when she was surrounded by life did she feel so dead.
Bella pulled herself from her thoughts as she heard Edward coming towards her. Looking at the snow surrounding her and the icicles on the trees, she thought perhaps I will go to Alaska after all.
