When I'm Alone…
I hated visiting Carlisle at work. The smell of blood set me on edge, hardened my heart until I screamed for the liquid that would ease my burning throat. But that wasn't why I loathed it. It was the walk back, when we would pass the nursery and my Rosey would linger, looking at the small infants, safely cocooned in their swaddling blankets, small fists beating in the air or else lying peacefully in their slumber. She would sigh and smile a small smile and I knew she was sad. And I hated it.
I knew people pitied me. Poor Emmett, they thought, doomed to put up with her.
Sometimes, in those brief moments I was alone, alone from her distracting scent and from Edward's prying mind and Jasper's sensitive comfort, I pitied myself too.
Don't get me wrong. I loved Rosey. Every unnecessary breath, I breathed for her. When I held her, her curvaceous body twined against mine, I felt whole. I felt needed. People thought they had my Rosey pegged. It was so easy to label her as a narcissistic, self-centered, petulant girl, but she wasn't any of that. She was so hurt, so insecure. She wore her sexuality like a mask, dividing her inner self from everyone but our family. Even with them though, she held back. Sometimes, when I was alone, I'd let myself acknowledge the sad and terrifying truth: she held back with me too. I know she loves me, but her love is so reserved.
I mourned with her as best I could. I wanted children too. But I wanted my Rosey more. I heard Bella once say that part of the reason she loved Edward was that he put her first, above all else. And that hurt me too. Rosey loved me. I knew that. I could comfort her like no one else and I reveled in that fact. But when I was alone, I knew, in my deepest heart, that it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. I could comfort her, but I would never be enough to make her happy.
Sometimes, when I'm alone, I think of Rosey's pain, of her loneliness, and her despair makes my own happiness cheaper. In those moments, if I could, I would cry. We each have one wish. Hers is to have a child; mine is for her happiness. I'm scared, scared that because one is impossible, the other is too.
I try so hard for her. I smile and laugh, crack jokes to ease her pain. I challenge her to races and hunting and a thousand other things knowing her competitive spirit will distract her. When we're alone, I kiss her and hold her and prove to her that she's a woman. How silly, I sometimes think, that my Rosey thinks that she's less of a woman than Bella. I pointed this out to her once, and she cringed. I knew then what she was referring to. She couldn't give birth like Bella could.
I do everything for my Rosey, everything.
But it will never be enough.
A/N: Please R&R. Please!