"Edward, have you seen my ribbon?" Rosalie's voice came from upstairs.
I sighed in exasperation, frustrated that I was being distracted from my novel once again.
"No, dear, I haven't," I replied, returning to my book.
I heard Rosalie sigh and in seconds she was in front of me looking severely agitated.
"Are you sure you haven't seen it?" she asked again with her eyebrows raised. When I assured her that I had not, she gave a small growl and began searching about the room, flinging objects behind her and creating a trail of mess in her wake.
I tried to block out Rosalie's continuous thoughts of "Where could it be?" and "I could have sworn I had it yesterday…" and focused on my book, not really reading the dusty pages.
It was 1935. Seventeen years since Carlisle had first changed me. Seventeen years living in a soulless, immortal existence and feeling the weight of perpetual loneliness press down on me with each passing year. Yes, I had Carlisle and Esme to keep me company and play the role of my parents, but I'd always thought there was something else missing; love. Not just platonic, parental love I received from Carlisle and Esme, but real, true love; my soul's – the figurative one, of course – match; the kind of love that Carlisle and Esme shared. After roaming the Earth for seventeen years and finding nothing that even came close to the love I so desired, it was understandable that I immediately accepted the next female to join our coven without any second thoughts.
I searched my memory and recalled that moment two years ago when Rosalie had first become a vampire.
Is she not a gorgeous young woman, Edward? Carlisle's voice had floated through my head and drawn me out of my reverie. I'd looked up and seen Rosalie for the first time since she had completed the change. She was appraising herself in a mirror, twisting her head this way and that, trying to get a better view of her hair at the back of her head.
"Yes, I daresay she is," I'd replied quietly, dropping my gaze after the spectacle of Rosalie admiring her features grew insipid. Rosalie was indeed remarkably beautiful, even for a vampire. However, there was a certain air of vanity and tenacity about her, evident in the way she was looking at herself in the mirror now. I could see she was going to be a rather difficult person to live with, and I'd wondered why Carlisle had brought her here to be changed.
"Carlisle," I'd began very quietly, for fear of Rosalie hearing our conversation that was not meant for her ears. Though I'd doubted she would notice anything other than herself at this moment in time. "Why did you bring her here?" It had come out harsher than I'd intended.
Carlisle looked at me and seemed to be thinking hard on how to answer my question. He'd replied carefully through thought: The poor woman was left bleeding in the street, Edward. I couldn't just let her die there. Carlisle kept up a continuous rant on why he had chosen to save Rosalie, and, to me, his vehemence seemed a way to hide his true motives.
And besides, he continued, voice animated, I thought she would make a nice friend for you. I did not miss his emphasis on the word 'friend'.
He then went on to point out all of the good, admirable qualities that Rosalie possessed – the list was rather short – and describing in the most animated language how attractive she was.
It seemed to me that Carlisle's true intentions on bringing Rosalie to be changed were that I would somehow fall in love with her and take her as my soul mate. I laughed mentally and stared at Rosalie, wondering how on Earth I would ever fall in love with such a conceited being as her. I supposed that, in time, I would grow to love her, but something in the back of my mind told me that it would never surpass anything other than sibling love.
While I was musing, out of the corner of my eye I saw Esme go to Carlisle's side and wrap her arms around him, both looking at eachother fondly. Their love, so strong and evident, sent another pang through me and reminded me once again of the very thing I did not possess. How I wished I could find love like that!
I looked back at Rosalie and appraised her again, wondering if I could ever find the love I craved for in her, if she could fill the void that was widening within me with each passing year.
Could Rosalie fill that void?
I had been lonely for seventeen years. Seventeen years of searching and still finding nothing that even came close to true love. I began to think that I would never find anyone, convinced that I was doomed to spend eternity alone and loveless.
But here was Rosalie, a beautiful new vampire, changed with the single intention that she would make a fitting companion for me, by Carlisle himself. I would certainly be a fool if I passed up the chance to avoid eternal solitude.
I looked back at Rosalie and frowned thoughtfully, trying to convince myself that if I didn't seize this opportunity now, then I would surely never get another one for a long time, if not ever. I asked myself the same question I had before.
Could Rosalie fill that void?
I repeated my affirmations once more in my mind.
Yes. Yes she could.
"Edward?"
Carlisle's voice snapped me out of my reminiscing. I looked up and saw Carlisle standing in front of me, suitcase in hand and dressed for work. He looked at me with gentle eyes, a faint smile playing around the edges of his lips. I closed my book, slightly embarrassed.
"Oh, sorry, Carlisle," I mumbled, clearing my throat. "I didn't notice you were there."
Carlisle chuckled and said, "It's alright Edward. I was just here to tell you that I'm going to open up shop, and I expect you there in a couple of hours."
I nodded silently and bid farewell to Carlisle as he exited the house.
Carlisle had been working at the local medical clinic for quite a while now, and almost as soon as he'd got the job, offered me a place at the store alongside him. I accepted the job immediately, hoping it would give me some sort of relief from the surprisingly dull and quite loveless relationship I was in with Rosalie. My plan succeeded for a while; I would sit there every day, dealing with customers at the cash register and enjoying the general buzz and frivolity of the town. Over time, however, the task became boring and I found myself spending more and more time out hunting and exploring the town than at the clinic.
Whether it was to escape my profession or the reality of my situation with Rosalie, I did not know.
Realizing suddenly that Rosalie was summoning me from another room; I stood quickly and abandoned my book, walking rapidly in the direction of her voice. I found her in the kitchen where Esme was also seated reading the newspaper with a slight frown. She looked up as I approached and gave me a warm smile, before returning to her reading.
"What is it, Rosalie?" I asked.
Her head was inside a cupboard, her hands flying in and out as she searched for her lost ribbon. She ducked her head out when she heard my voice and fixed me with a frantic look. There were patches of some brown, unknown substance throughout her hair.
"I can't find it!" she cried, her voice cross between a hysterical shrill and a wail of despair. Her eyebrows remained raised and worried as she rose gracefully, picking at the mess in her hair and grimacing.
"Will you help me find it?" she pleaded. I nodded with a rather uninterested 'okay'.
We searched the house for what seemed like hours, going over every surface twice. After disrupting the general order of the house completely, disturbing Esme from her reading and still finding nothing, Rosalie made a noise akin to a whining child, and begged me to buy a new one for her when I was in town later this afternoon.
I agreed, if only to appease her. I knew I would never hear the end of it if I refused. Rosalie was content, but desired I go immediately for fear of another person buying it and there being nothing left for her. To this I said no. I told her I would go when it was time for me to meet Carlisle, and promised to buy her precious ribbon afterwards. She grumbled, but acquiesced.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Rosalie disappear upstairs, and made my way out of the kitchen into the living room. I returned my book to the shelf, searching for a different, more interesting volume. I could not focus properly, however, as my mind was consumed with thoughts of my relationship with Rosalie.
I kicked myself mentally for what seemed like the millionth time this decade for ever accepting Rosalie as my eternal partner. Though I had convinced myself firmly that she would be able to provide me with the love I desired, even then I knew, deep down, that it was highly unlikely – even impossible. My doubts were confirmed more and more as each year passed. I possessed nothing more than sibling love for Rosalie, and was sure that no matter how many years passed, it would never amount to anything more.
Whether Rosalie knew of my indifference was an entirely different matter. She had never been extremely affectionate with me, but still not shown any indication that she knew I didn't really love her. She went about her days as usual, completely oblivious to my lack of sentiment or affection towards her. Either that or she chose not to believe I did not love her.
As time passed a certain understanding arose between us. It was unspoken, never insinuated in general conversation, but somehow we both knew. It was the realization – if not fact – that we were not really destined to be together as anything more than adoptive brother and sister. That what we were experiencing was not true love, and never would be.
Where I had come to the complete understanding of these facts, Rosalie still seemed to hold onto the illusion that I was in love with her; still hoping that somehow, someday, I would come to my senses and accept her as my companion for the rest of forever. It was this belief that Rosalie had that kept me from breaking the truth to her completely; aloud. Selfish though I was for being with her purely out of loneliness, I told myself that I would not break her heart anymore than I presumably had.
It was the least I could do after ruining both of our lives so elaborately. I would sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of hers – regardless of how false her happiness was.
If only to appease her.
I kicked myself mentally again and, after searching for a new volume was fruitless, selected one of my old favourites that I had read countless times. I went back to my armchair, ensured that I was comfortable and started the first chapter. I was determined to think of this book and nothing else. I would not allow myself to drift onto thoughts of Rosalie again, for the sake of my own sanity. Sighing, I tried once again to focus – and failed.
_____________________________**************____________________________
It was nearing the evening when my shift was over and I exited the medical clinic. I made my way through the busy streets, thankful to be out of the stifling temperatures of the clinic. The paths were dusty and covered in litter, and the slightest breeze made everything swirl around my ankles in a whirlwind of waste. The streets were almost deserted, with very few people roaming the streets at this time of night; most had hurried home before sunset. I weaved my way through the maze of carts and stalls, walking south in the direction of the ribbon store on the outskirts of town.
Customers had been scarce today, unusual for a town of this size and population. Usually I would be grateful for the small numbers, but today I would have given anything to have the distraction of the townsfolk. My thoughts constantly bombarded me and gave me no moment of peace, even though each time they did I pushed them out forcefully. Still, they found a way to seep back into my mind and plague me with guilt about my current relationship with Rosalie – which didn't exactly do wonders for my sanity.
Incensed now, I tried to cease dwelling on Rosalie and focus on getting to the ribbon store. I quickened my pace slightly, and fought the urge to break into an inhuman sprint.
I finally reached the store and opened the door, a bell tinkling somewhere above me. The owner, a bright, amiable woman of forty greeted me as soon as I entered.
"Evening, Edward!" she said cheerfully, flashing a wide smile. I couldn't help but smile in response.
"Hello, Darla," I replied, and inclined my head. Darla smiled wider.
"Looking for anything in particular?" she asked kindly.
I leaned so I was closer to the counter and produced a slip of paper from inside my jacket pocket.
"Just this."
Darla fished her big, round spectacles from her bag and put them on, squinting in the light to read Rosalie's elegant script. I fought back a chuckle as I watched her try to read the paper. Darla Harris in thick, round spectacles always reminded me of an overweight dragonfly.
"Ah," she said quietly after finally making out the tiny words. "Another errand from Rosalie, I see."
I nodded. Darla took the paper with her as she went to the many shelves stacked to the top with ribbons behind the counter. She ran her fingers along the shelves, searching and making small talk with me while she did.
"And how is Rosalie, Edward?" Darla asked from within the labyrinth of ribbon shelves. He voice rang out through the store as she raised her voice – though I could hear every word perfectly.
"She is well, thankyou," I replied louder than usual, so she could hear. Darla nodded just as she found what she was looking for, and with a flurry of exclamations, extracted the thin strip very carefully. She made her way back to the counter and began to wrap the ribbon in brown paper for me to take home.
"Still gorgeous as ever?" she asked again with a laugh. I nodded.
"She is." At least that was one thing about our relationship I did not have to lie about.
Darla laughed again – a bright, shrill laugh – and finished wrapping. I handed her the money and she began the transaction, humming to herself.
"You hang onto her, Edward," Darla said, half singing, half serious, as she handed me my change. "Any young man would be lucky to have her."
I only nodded, my smile fading.
Darla waved me out of the shop with a merry farewell. I exited the store, the bell ringing again, and started walking back in the direction I had come. I was about thirty metres away from the medical clinic where I worked, when I saw her.
Walking in my direction with her head bent towards the ground slightly, white dress flapping around her ankles, was the most heavenly beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Rosalie was stunning, to be sure, but her beauty significantly paled next to this wonderful stranger. The woman, who looked about my age or possibly older, had soft, long hair that fell around her shoulders and was a lovely chocolate brown – the exact colour of her eyes. It contrasted spectacularly with her ivory skin and angular features. Her full, red lips were parted slightly into a look of pleasant tranquillity and relief. She was looking down at the object in her hand. I followed her gaze and was slightly astonished when I saw that she was holding a brown paper bag from where I worked at the medical clinic, the symbol on the front bulging outwards in the shape of a little bottle.
My mouth hung open slightly as I stared at the unknown beauty, marvelling at her splendour. I had ceased to breathe, literally a stone statue, frozen in the middle of the street. The wind changed directions abruptly, blowing strands of my hair into my face, and I sucked in a breath.
The most repulsive, stomach churning scent suddenly hit me as I breathed in. I coughed and spluttered, a hand at my throat as I gagged; one would think I had just eaten human food. I wondered why the gorgeous stranger had not been affected by the stench that was so pungent in the air now. It was a horrid odour, like rotten eggs and smelly socks and wet dog all mixed into one – only worse. I stood there, the smell having broken me from my trance-like state, and tried not to breathe as the disgusting stench swirled around me as the woman got closer. And then it hit me.
Wet dog.
Something familiar stirred in the back of my mind, like a light switch had just been thrown on. I stopped my choking and tried to focus on what was so significant about the smell. My mind pieced the puzzle together, working furiously to solve the riddle before the angel came too close. Another light switch flicked on suddenly, and I realised.
That smell, so vile and repugnant, one that had been familiar to me the whole time – only evident when the beautiful woman had come near. I hadn't smelt anything while I was in the ribbon store, or while I had finished my shift for that matter. Only evident when she was near…
Could it be that this ethereally beautiful, seraphic, mysterious creature was the source of the stench? My logic and reasoning nodded feverishly.
I drew myself out of my thoughts and back into reality, and saw that she stranger was nearing me with every step, the smell becoming even stronger with each step she took towards me. Gagging and suddenly very self-conscious, I ducked into an alleyway just as she lifted her head. I pressed my body against the wall so that I was flat and stoped breathing; consequently, the smell was not so bad when I was not breathing. I listened to her rhythmic footfalls get louder and louder, until she finally passed the alleyway in which I was hiding. I stood, motionless, against the wall and waited for her to pass, the smell increasing to such a horrible climax when she did that I nearly fell to the ground.
When she had walked a safe enough distance away that I would not be overcome by the smell, I poked my head around the corner and watched her back that was slowly retreating with my excellent sense of sight. I pondered on why such a stunning creature would smell so bad – and yet so familiar. And then the dog reference came rushing back to me. I withdrew my head from round the side of the alleyway and stared at the blank brick opposite me, utterly shocked.
Werewolf.
Only a werewolf could smell so awful. Only a werewolf could instil such revulsion and, yet, familiarity in my mind. Yes…yes, it was all coming together now.
The hauntingly beautiful stranger, the epitome of loveliness – was a werewolf. Hence the smell.
I poked my head around the corner again and watched her go, her figure still not so far away that my vampire sight did not work. For a reason I did not know nor could understand, I felt sad. I understood depression well – living for two years in a loveless relationship had certainly had its effects – and so I instantly recognised the familiar ache course through me, the stabbing pain in my lifeless heart, and the twinge of strange annoyance; all associated with depression. I stared at the stranger's back and thought, with a mental sigh, what a waste it was. What a waste for this dazzling female to be a werewolf; for her to be the very thing I knew I could never be affiliated with.
A sharp stab of guilt pierced me as I thought of Rosalie. Rosalie, waiting at home for her precious ribbon and I, wondering where on Earth I could have gotten to. The guilt increased as I thought of the instantaneous attraction I had felt towards the stunning stranger. Albeit she was a werewolf – and this factor only made the guilt even worse – she had made me feel more alive than I had felt in seventeen years. I had merely seen her walking through town, and yet I would have sworn my heart momentarily restarted as soon as I glimpsed her deep, brown eyes. The guilt dug deeper into me like a knife, and I was instantly overcome by a wave of self-loathing.
How horrid I was for thinking of another woman – and a werewolf, for God's sake – when I was with Rosalie. Even though there was clearly no love in our relationship, I'd still been more attracted to that unknown woman that I had ever been to Rosalie; my mate. And I didn't even know her.
I sighed again as I remembered that the stranger was a werewolf. A werewolf. Off limits, no man's land – forbidden. I sighed again.
What a waste.