I sighed. "Then tell me what you do want me to do."

"Bella," he hesitated, scrutinizing my reaction to his next words. "Honey, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

"I know that." My accompanying grimace was limp and unimpressive.

"Listen, honey. I think that–that maybe you need some help."

"Wow, she must be bad if he's going to suggest that," Emmett said.

"Help?"

He paused, searching for the words again. "When your mother left," he began, frowning," and took you with her." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."

"I could imagine," Esme said sadly.

"I know, Dad," I mumbled.

"But I handled it," he pointed out. "Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better." He stared at me and I looked down quickly. "I think we both know it's not getting better."

"I'm fine."

He ignored me. "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional."

"You want me to see a shrink?" My voice was a shade sharper as I realized what he was getting at.

"I'd like to hear that," Emmett suddenly laughed. "'You see, doc, I'm so depressed because my vampire boyfriend left me and took his whole family with him.'"

"She can't say that," Alice said.

"The shrink wouldn't believe her anyway," Emmett shrugged.

"Then they'll think she's crazy," Alice said and that subject was now very sore to her after what she'd learned in the last book.

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit."

I didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but I was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively honest. Sure, I could tell the truth–if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a padded cell.

He examined my obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack.

"It's beyond me, Bella. Maybe your mother–"

"She must really be bad," Esme said. "Charlie loves Bella more than anything… he wouldn't just send her away if it wasn't bad."

"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch."

I pretended to be dense, looking down at the table. "I don't understand, Dad. First you're mad because I'm not doing anything, and then you say you don't want me to go out."

"I want you to be happy–no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

My eyes flashed up with the first small spark of feeling I'd had in too long to contemplate.

"I'm not leaving," I said.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Yeah, why not?" Emmett said.

"I'm not sure, but I'm sure it must have something to do with me," Edward sighed.

"I'm in my last semester of school–it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student–you'll figure it out."

"I don't want to crowd Mom and Phil."

"Your mother's been dying to have you back."

"Florida is too hot."

"Well, that one's believable," Emmett chuckled.

His fist came down on the table again. "We both know what's really going on here, Bella, and it's not good for you." He took a deep breath. "It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."