Make It Count | ✓

12 - sunset

[ forever & always]
parachute
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—twelve—

sunset

THE FOLLOWING DAY, I apologized to Belle for being a jerk. I was too caught up in my own emotions, nearly unaware that she had her own, too. We didn't talk much after that, though, for she always wanted to sleep.

As lunch came along, we also managed to bring Belle home and I joined her and Ms Petunia for lunch. Belle was right; her grandma was pretty cool. We had a decent conversation over a meal, soon realizing about how nice she could actually be. She just didn't smile too often, making me believe she was rather shy. I guess that was what Belle brought us—bringing the goodness out of people.

"Belle," her grandma called moments later. "Someone wants to talk to you."

Belle frowned as we looked at her, standing by the entrance of the kitchen. Then, in came a woman that resembled my girlfriend's hair and face. I now knew where she got her beauty; it was simple logic to know that she was her mother.

"Mom?" a soft voice pierced through the air, too soft, I almost didn't catch it. Belle sounded like she couldn't quite believe her mother was right in front of her eyes.

"Belle," her mom cried, closing the distance with three hasty strides and lunged right into her daughter's arms. Belle went rigid, ostensibly surprised at the sudden gesture. She told me they weren't exactly hostile but they weren't in speaking terms, either. Belle didn't like the idea of her remarrying another man besides her father. But I knew she'd come to a point to understand her mother in a different perspective.

My girlfriend returned the hug, till her arms clasped tighter, like her walls she put up all this while obliterated because Belle sobbed, joining her mother's stifled cries. I looked away; she moved me greatly.

I let them catch up what they had to talk about. After all, they hadn't seen each other for months now. Her mom was on a long-time honeymoon, leaving my girl alone in their home in Sheldon, a thought-provoking idea that pushed her to move here in Fairville. But she had always wanted to bury the hatchet, maybe because she knew she needed to have a closure to whoever she was mad with.

"Hi. Chase, right?" Belle's mom asked me moments later; her husband was behind her back, absorbed with talking to Belle. They were laughing and I was very glad they were fine now.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, with a well-mannered tone.

She chuckled in a rather cultured fashion, her slender, well-manicured fingers waving me off. "Oh, please. Just call me Betty."

"Hi, Betty." Awkward. First time meeting a girl's parents, really. With that being said, I was kind of unfit to scan a decent reply, and I just preoccupiedly blurted, "What brings you here?" Completely knowing how blunt I was with the way I asked, I mentally banged my head against the wall. I wished this wooden chat was over. I literally felt like a stupid wood or something. She looked put off by my question, so I cleared my throat and hastened to add, "Sorry, didn't mean to be rude. I mean, you're living in Sheldon, correct?"

Betty's face went back to normal; or calm. I didn't know what she really was thinking; well, I didn't want to sound like a jerk—she was beautiful, sure, but I really thought she went under the knife, if her seemingly unbendable face was of any hint. "Oh, yes. But I heard from Mom that Belle's here...so here we are," she chirped. "Thank you," her tone in a faint, breathy manner, the words that slipped from her mouth making me scowl, "for taking care of my daughter. I know that I've been irresponsible. I was devastated when her father died. She told me you've been there for her every single day. Belle absolutely loves you. She was just talking about you non-stop."