I spent the rest of that day talking to Jacob. Well, not so much talking as listening. It was a conversation of sorts, though I contributed so little I seemed hardly involved. I loved listening to him talk-and I quickly realised just how pathetic my ‘life’ was; in my attempt to escape my memories, I’d become stuck in a hazy grey limbo of relative nothingness.

If Jacob noticed my silence, he didn’t give it away. He ploughed on with his many interesting and often amusing stories. I laughed for the first time in my recent memory, and I felt healthy, well. My nerves evaporated, and I felt good. Not exactly happy; content, in a way.

I did, however, notice that he seemed to avoid a certain subject. I didn’t know what it was, but he would hesitate for a second or less before continuing-as though sidestepping something uncomfortable. I didn’t really care what it was; I was just relieved that I was back, talking to him like I used to. Or, at least, listening. If I really needed to talk, that would come later. That conversation was about ignoring the bad things.

Moving on.

Charlie obviously noticed the change, though he had spent little time with me in my previous temperament. He had clearly been well informed by Renee. I overheard him talking to her, somewhat frantically and nervously about me, though I didn’t actually listen to what was being said.

My mood was lifted for the next few days, and, just as I was starting downhill again, Jacob invited me over for dinner. I hadn’t been to La Push since I’d left Forks, and was wondering how the rest of the pack was getting on. I hoped Sam was still coping, still strong as he was.

I had no idea of what to wear, as I had completely given up on my image recently. I ended up picking the first combination of clothes that came out of my wardrobe, hardly glancing at the as I threw them on. Charlie already knew where I was going, though he seemed quite concerned and a little wary; strange considering his attitude to mine and Jacob’s friendship before.

As I drove over to the reservation, I remembered the motorcycles, and wondered where they were. Had I sold mine? Had I given it to Jacob? I could not recall what its fate had been, and as I began to remember the reason I had taken them in the first place, I abruptly pushed the thoughts from my mind.

By the time I reached the house that I recognised so well, I was desperately trying to recall the lyrics, artist of and title to a song of which I seemed to know only the tune. Before I’d even stepped out of the truck, Jacob was at the front door, grinning from ear to ear-an expression which I returned; though perhaps not quite so enthusiastically or wholeheartedly.

“Bella!” Just his happy, sunshine-voice made me want to laugh until my stomach hurt. My smile widened, and I almost bounded up the steps, summoning energy which I had never really known existed within me.

He just laughed, and turned around, walking back inside the house. I continued to smile as I pulled the door shut behind me, half-skipping as I followed him. I felt so strange-I hadn’t even come close to skipping since I was about eight. Now, suddenly, I just felt like I had to. Jacob raised an eyebrow, still smiling, and shook his head. I laughed at the gesture, the imitation of a mature adult amused at the antics of a younger child. He laughed too, joining me in a harmony of beauty, happiness.

“Can I see the garage?” I asked, tilting my head to one side, eager to see just what he had been doing in my absence. To my surprise, he looked a little uneasy when I asked, but then nodded.

“We’ll eat first, though, yeah?” And suddenly he started up another conversation, about something totally random but interesting-and once again, I just followed along, swept up in the stream of ignorance, just listening and lost in his words.