7. SUPPORT
My phone buzzed at 6 AM. I jerked awake, disoriented for a moment. I felt much better than the previous evening, during which I'd vomited once, slept several hours, and then managed to eat some toast with jam. I felt more or less normal, now, and was grateful I didn't have a hangover. I'd never been drunk before and never had a hangover, but if the wheeling dizziness and intense nausea from the night before was any indication, they could be pretty terrible.
I remembered most of the previous afternoon. Going to the Cullen house, drinking the wine, being rescued by Rosalie. I remembered what she said about Edward. What Edward had done. But the memories were mostly hazy, thin ideas that weren't as detailed as they should have been.
I sat up, taking a long drink from the glass of water that sat next to my bed, and answered the phone.
"Hello?" I asked groggily. Who would call so early?
"How are you feeling?" With sudden clarity I remembered Rosalie asking if she could call me. I should have told her 'no'.
"Better." I said. I wasn't sure what to say, or why she even wanted to talk to me. "Thanks for driving me home," I said grudgingly. "And, you know… telling me what was going on."
"You're welcome." Her lovely voice responded. "I think you deserve to know the situation. It affects you. I don't think any of us realized how much."
I knew she was now talking less about the events in Seattle, which did affect me (and my father, which worried me), and talking more about Edward's absence. I didn't want to talk about Edward.
"Yeah." I said.
"I know what it feels like, Bella."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"I'm talking about having your heart broken. Being disappointed, and hurt… if you ever want to talk about it, you can talk to me."
"What do you care, Rosalie?" I demanded. "None of you have been willing to talk to me. Alice practically told me to piss off, and I actually thought she was my friend. You've never been my friend before, but now all the sudden you want to share our feelings? What the hell are you getting at, here?"
There was a long silence. I'd never imagined I would be able to make Rosalie speechless, but it appeared I had.
"Listen, Bella," Rosalie said, her voice soft. "When we left, Edward thought all of us should cut off contact. He wanted it to be a clean break. But when I saw you, last night… it struck me as unfair. And I'm sure it hurts your pride, but I really felt bad for you. What Edward said to you, how he left, it was too harsh. He's my brother and I love him, but that doesn't mean I can't see that he was wrong this time. I just want to give you some support."
"I have to go to school." I said, to keep her from saying anything more. It was too hard to hear her voice. I hung up.
…
Jacob was waiting for me in his garage. My chest seemed to relax as soon as I saw him, making it easier to breathe. My preoccupation with the Cullens that had been triggered by my stupid decisions and the resulting contact with Rosalie had been on my mind all day, and it had been a constant struggle throughout my classes to keep my head above water. Angela seemed to understand that I was having a bad day, and was especially kind to me throughout lunch.
I'd almost canceled on Jacob, because I felt so tired, but I wanted too badly to see him. And I was glad to have come to La Push. Every time I saw Jacob's face, I became more aware of how powerful his influence was on my mood.
"Hey, Bella," he called as he saw me climbing out of my truck.
I smiled in relief. "Hey, Jacob." I waved at Billy, who was looking out the window, before moving past the front of the Black house to the garage where Jacob already was.
"Let's get to work," Jacob said in an eager voice.
I laughed, though it was weaker than what had become usual for me. "You seriously aren't sick of me yet?" I wondered. He had to be starting to question how desperate I was for company.
"Nope, not yet."
"Well, let me know when I start getting on your nerves. I don't want to be a pain."
"Okay," he laughed, a throaty sound that warmed me from the inside. "I wouldn't hold your breath for that, though."
When I shifted around the Volkswagen, I was shocked to see the red bike standing up, looking like a motorcycle rather than a pile of jagged metal.
"Jake, you're amazing," I breathed.
He laughed again. "I get obsessive when I have a project," he shrugged. "If I had any brains I'd drag it out more."
I blinked. "Why?"
He looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if he hadn't heard my question. Finally, he asked me, "Bella, if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you say?"
I didn't answer right away, either, and he glanced up to check my expression. I couldn't believe he was doubting my feelings about him, rather than the other way around. I had so little to offer, and he had become almost everything to me. Had I done something to make him think he wasn't very important to me? He was normally so confident, comfortable in his skin, and I was a neurotic mess.
"I would say… that's too bad, but I'll bet we could figure out something else to do. If we got really desperate, we could even do homework."
Jacob smiled, his shoulders relaxing. He sat down next to the bike and picked up a wrench. "So you think you'll still come over when I'm done, then?"
I gave him a puzzled smile. "As long as you'll let me come over, I'm going to be here. Probably even after that. You'll have to come at me with a weapon to get rid of me."
"Hoping to see Quil again?" he teased. Quil had taken a shine to me when we'd met; he was slightly shorter than Jacob but much burlier, with very short hair and a handsome, cocky face. His swagger reminded me of Mike, though he was less poetic and dramatic with his flirtations, opting instead for frank innuendos.
"You caught me."
Jacob chuckled. "You really like spending time with me?"
"Of course!" I said. He smiled at my insistent tone. "I'll prove it. I have to work tomorrow, but we'll do something nonmechanical after that."
"Like what?"
"I have no idea," I said. I suddenly wanted to make sure he didn't think this was a date. I wasn't ready for that. "We can go to my place so you won't be tempted by the bikes. You could bring your schoolwork – you have to be getting behind, because I know I am."
"Homework might be a good idea." He made a face, and I wondered how much he was leaving undone to be with me.
"We'll have to start being responsible occasionally, or Billy and my dad aren't going to be so easygoing about this." I gestured toward the two of us. He beamed, apparently liking the way I refered to us as a single entity.
"Homework once a week?" He suggested.
"Maybe we'd better go with twice."
I sighed heavily, but reached into a paper grocery sack and pulled out two cans of soda. He cracked one open and handed it to me, opening a second for himself and holding it up ceremoniously.
"Here's to responsibility." He toasted. "Twice a week."
"And frivolity every day in between."
He grinned and touched his can to mine.
…
The next night, Charlie didn't seem the least bit surprised to find Jacob and I sprawled across the living room floor with our books scattered around us. I guessed that he and Billy were talking behind our backs.
"Hey, kids," he said, his eyes straying to the kitchen. The smell of the lasagna I'd spent the afternoon making wafted down the hall. Jacob had spent that time acting as my helper, surprisingly willing to get his hands dirty and follow my instructions, something I'd started to think was something men couldn't manage. It may have been partly because he was able to occasionally sample, but Jacob seemed to actually enjoy cooking with me. He grudgingly added another year to my negotiable age for being a good cook.
Jacob stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for Billy. We both were sorry to see the other go, though I couldn't help but think it was different for me than for him. The closer we got, the more I reasoned that I should end things somehow, protect Jacob from me. I was damaged, and I was afraid of being hurt again. Jacob had never been with anyone before, and he didn't know what it entailed. I didn't want to let him down, but I couldn't seem to prevent my feelings for him from growing.
Friday was the garage, and Saturday, after work, was homework again. My dad felt secure enough in my sanity to spend the day fishing with Harry. When he got back, Jake and I were all done – feeling very sensible and mature about it, too – and watching Monster Garage on the Discovery Channel.
"I probably ought to go," Jacob sighed. "It's later than I thought."
"Okay," I grumbled. "I'll take you home."
He laughed at my expression, seeming pleased that I didn't want him to go.
"Tomorrow, back to work," I said as soon as we were safe in the truck. "What time should I come up?"
He tried to conceal a new excitement in his smile, but I could tell it was there. "I'll call you first, okay?"
I blinked, confused. "Sure," I said, wondering what was up. His smile widened.
…
That night, Tyler and Mike both called me just to talk. It was strange, suddenly having my friends back in my life after being alone for so long. I knew they'd only stopped calling because of how I'd been – I had rejected them over and over again until they had given up – but they seemed so willing to forgive me. Mike was back to his usual flirtatious self, though he knew I wasn't interested in dating. Most of our conversations consisted of joking around about nothing of any real importance.
Tyler was different, he was so genuine and honest with me. He talked frankly about how he'd worried over me while I was unwell, and that he'd tried to break through to me a few times but it hadn't seemed to do any good. He told me how hopeless he'd felt at my erratic and withdrawn behavior. He admitted to talking to his parents about it, and that their eventual advice was that I had to take care of myself, and that he couldn't worry himself to death over me.
"I'm sorry, Tyler, really. I can't believe I acted that way, it was selfish,"
"No, no, Bella. Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad at you. I don't want you to apologize, and I don't think you're selfish. You can't help how you feel. I'm just sorry that he hurt you so badly," he said. "It was because of him, wasn't it? Edward Cullen…"
"Yes," I answered, my stomach turning at the name. "Without warning. He started acting strangely, not talking to me, and then he disappeared for days. Even his family didn't know where he was, and I was so worried. Then when he came back, he wouldn't talk to me. He just ended it… and the same day, his whole family left town."
"He must be crazy." Tyler said, and something in his tone both reassured me and made me wary. It was the way someone would reassure a person they wanted to be with.
I liked Tyler – too much, perhaps – and I approached my friendship with him the way I approached mine with Jacob. I hadn't been repairing my relationship with Tyler for nearly so long, of course, so I hadn't been worried yet. But I couldn't let either of them come after me, romantically. I needed to learn to stand alone.
"Maybe." I said at last. "I can't describe what it felt like. The way it happened, with him disappearing, and then just ending it, with no explanation. And his whole family leaving town. I've never felt like that, before. It was like his entire family rejected me at once. It was just… it was like being told I wasn't good enough for any of them. Like I was just trash to them. I don't know."
"It was degrading," Tyler suggested.
"Exactly." I said. "It messed me up. I know a lot of people were worried about me, but I was just such a total wreck that it took me a long time to start to recover. I didn't even see what was happening to me, my dad finally had to sit me down and make me face it."
"No one has the right to make you feel that way." Tyler said. I didn't say anything. "If he comes back, I'll punch him in the groin for you."
I laughed abruptly, and couldn't stop for several seconds.
"Aren't you sweet!" I said sarcastically, when I'd gotten control of myself. I took a breath. "He won't come back." I added, more seriously.
"He'd better not." Tyler said. "I wouldn't be the only one waiting to punch him in his pretty face."
…
I laid in bed that night, trying to push away my feelings about the boys. I didn't know what to do about them. I knew that Jacob and Tyler both cared about me, and both of them wanted me to be happy. I just didn't know if I could be with someone other than Edward. I didn't want to lead them on, not when my heart might not be able to love in that same way again.
I had no one to talk to about it. Jessica? No, she would probably start talking about Mike. I loved Jess as much as any of my friends, but she tended to pull the conversation back to herself. I normally didn't mind that, I would rather others talk about themselves than for me to have to talk about myself, but today I needed some real counseling. I supposed I could talk to Angela, but she was more of a passive listener. I didn't think she would be able to talk me through it. So who?
I had an idea, then. It was stupid, probably, and made no sense, but I decided to act on it, anyway. Maybe it would come to nothing, maybe it was just a condescending lie to make me feel better, but maybe she could actually help me.
I called Rosalie.
"Bella?"
I took a breath, looking up at the dark ceiling of my room. "Hey," I said. I wasn't sure how to begin. "I'm sorry for hanging up on you, the other day. I was still upset."
"It's alright," she said. She sounded puzzled, but not angry.
"You said you knew what it was like to be heartbroken," I said.
"Yes." But she didn't offer the story.
"I feel weird talking to you about all this," I continued, avoiding the meat of what I wanted to talk about. "I mean, he's your brother."
"It's alright, I won't get offended. I'm sure I want to smack him as often as anyone he's not related to, maybe more."
I gave her a vague chuckle, sitting quietly for a moment before continuing. "When he left… when you all left… it messed me up."
"I know – " she began.
"No, you don't." I said. "You don't know. When you saw me the other night, that was after weeks of recovering. I spent months here like a zombie. You can't imagine, Rosalie. All of you leaving at once? Like I was so horrible, so worthless, that you all couldn't stand to be near me? I can't really say anything about what you guys intended, or what the rest of you wanted Edward to do. All I can speak to is what happened to me afterward. I'm still dealing with what happened, every day, and it's really hard. He made me believe that he loved me, that we would always be together, and then he just threw me away like I was nothing."
"I wish I could apologize for him, Bella, but I won't do him that kind of favor." Her tone was much harsher than I had expected, and I realized she meant it. She really was angry with Edward for treating me the way he had.
"I don't want you doing him that kind of favor," I said. "You didn't make him do it. And if he really could just change his mind about loving me, it couldn't have been real to begin with."
"It's hard to accept something like that, though. When you really believed it was true."
"Exactly." I said. I sighed, turning my eyes to the stars outside my window. "You said you knew about heartbreak," I continued. "Will you tell me about it? You're the only one in the family whose story I don't know. Edward wouldn't tell me without your permission, and you always seemed so distant to me."
Rosalie didn't say anything for a long moment. "I guess that love is a touchy subject for me," she said at last. "It sounds strange. Everyone thinks they care about love, at least in theory, but they don't. They don't always appreciate it. The way Edward discarded you offends me, probably because of my own experience as a human."
"What happened?"
She paused again. "I grew up on the frontier. My father had moved to Kentucky in 1792, a year after both of his brothers were killed in the Northwest Indian War. They were his only brothers and he looked up to them tremendously. I think he moved in hope of understanding what his brothers' last days had been like, but he never had the courage to actually talk to any of the people that lived in our town about their experiences during the wars with Indians. He was a very timid man, cripplingly shy. But he was wealthy and handsome, so he managed to get married to my mother. Eleven years after he moved to the frontier, I was born. I want you to understand the way society was, then. The way my family shaped me…"
I was consumed with curiosity. I wanted to talk to her about my current problems, but that would have to wait. Somehow, I believed that by listening to her story, I would understand my own life better. "Yeah?" I prompted.
"I was actually my parents' ninth child, but two had died in infancy and three more died after me. Having children was dangerous in those days, for both mother and child, and with each pregnancy I was more worried for my mother's sake. My strongest memories from childhood were about my father. He was extremely controlling, and obsessive. He was desperately afraid of Indians, he just absolutely hated them. He blamed the Indians for his brothers' deaths, of course, nearly everyone felt that way at the time. But I can't recall a time when he even managed to speak to a native. It was only at home, where he felt powerful, that he would go on his tirades. Normally his rants were racist in nature, but sometimes he directed his hatred instead toward women. He thought nothing of women at all."
"Did he hurt you?" I asked.
"Oh, not physically, if that's what you mean. And very honestly, all of us in the family kind of understood that my father was hateful because he felt weak in his life. He took his feelings of inadequacy out on us, but we all knew it was just words with no truth to them. But it's strange, when you're young. You may rebel against your parents' efforts to control you, but most of the time you don't much question their basic beliefs. I never questioned my father's racism, it was just what people thought. It was very easy to be racist then. Society reinforced those beliefs at every turn, and it was much more difficult to believe the opposite. I don't want to suggest that everyone was racist, then, because there's never a belief that every person in a group agrees with. But I didn't know anyone who didn't speak in that way about Indians.
"And so too did the culture at large believe that women were inferior, not to be trusted or listened to. That we were weak in both will and body. It's silly, because within our own groups we talked about men as if we were the ones in control. But I think we believed it. We'd been taught it was true until we believed, ourselves, that we were not as worthy of respect as men. And for what reason? I'm not sure anymore. Even then, the arguments presented were easily disproved, but most women never tried to. In truth, whenever my friends or sisters began talking too seriously about how silly men were, I thought they were daft and presumptuous. It seemed stupid to bother with something like that. It felt as if women had always been the weaker sex, and men had always been the stronger. And I confess that I cared very little about societal issues. I thought politics and war, and any issues of equality or justice were the concerns of men, and my parents supported that sentiment."
"If all women felt that way, though, we'd never be where we are today." I said softly.
"I know," Rosalie said. "We are very fortunate that there have been women throughout history that have broken free of that belief system. But I was not one of those women. I am ashamed to admit that it also took me much longer than it should have to overcome the racist beliefs I held in my life. When I think back on them now, I'm mortified. They were absurd to begin with, and it took me far too long to see that." Her voice lowered in shame.
"But you did overcome them, didn't you?" I was thinking of Jacob. Who could hate Jacob? And for something as arbitrary as skin color… I felt a knot in my stomach at the very thought of it.
"Yes, eventually. I had to work very hard at it for a very long time. Things like that hook into your mind, and so many times you think you've finally gotten rid of them just to discover that the roots are still there. It's as if I still expected my father to be watching me, to be listing dates and evidence to support his racism. There were times I'd even hear his voice in my head, as if he were there beside me. He never would have allowed me to marry someone like Emmett, who's half Californio."
I wanted to ask what 'Californio' meant, but she continued before I could.
"And as to marriage, which is the heart of my story… when I was fourteen, I began to be visited by suitors. At first I quite enjoyed it. Though my mother and sisters called me beautiful and told me how people envied my hair, or my lips, or my eyes… they didn't convince me of it. I didn't accept it until men began to send me letters and flowers. So much of my self-worth was tied up in men. We women had our own separate social world, but a man's world was the one that mattered. My father was very firm on that subject…he was such a meek individual in public, usually. I think he thought that convincing all of us in his family that a man was powerful and a woman was his servant, that it would reduce his embarrassment over himself. As if by teaching us to live how he could not, it could change who he was. As the years moved on, he got harder and harder on us about behaving like proper men and women.
"By the time I was sixteen, several boys had caught my eye. I spoke to my friends only about the virtues of each man vying for my hand. I must have bored my sisters to death! Any time a friend spoke more about her own interests than about the men courting her, if she did not seem to seriously be working toward marriage and family, I thought her to be childish and stupid."
"That's crazy," I said.
"I know," Rosalie gave a vague laugh. "I can see now that the opposite was true. Being so absorbed in myself, that was the childish thing. But that's who I was, then. And as time went on, and I began to narrow my choices, my father became more controlling than ever. My mother spent all of her time in the kitchen or at the market to avoid him. Our every conversation seemed to involve him calling me fickle and soft-minded. He told me again and again that romantic love was a fiction, that a match should be based on logic and common values. I knew which man he wanted me to choose. His name was Royce, he was very handsome and very wealthy. His family owned a plantation in Louisiana, but he had come to Kentucky to investigate the fur trade, which was very profitable.
"I wasn't certain, though. Royce wanted me to live with his mother in Louisiana. I didn't want to move, I knew nothing of southern women and I was afraid the people there would not like me. I also knew that he planned on traveling for work, leaving me alone with his family for months at a time. I was afraid to live that way, and I had little interest in Royce aside from physical attraction. But my father put no value in my feelings, so I didn't bring that point up very often."
"He wanted you to marry a stranger? I can't believe he'd just send you off like that," I said.
"He wanted the money," Rosalie said frankly. "But there was another man. Joshua Martinson was a young man in town, the brother of my best friend Vera. We had known each other for all our lives, but I hadn't come to know him well until he began sending me letters. He wrote me the loveliest letters, Bella!"
Her voice grew wistful and affectionate, something I hadn't heard from Rosalie before. "He'd say, 'since we were young you have had my whole heart'. He said, 'I feel we are two halves of one whole, twain, two bodies animated by one soul and the Lord has given us to each other'."
It was clear she'd read this boy's letters so many times that she had them memorized. It was surprising to see this side of her.
"He was such a gentle and passionate man. He loved me wholly, and as we became closer I began to love him, too. He was not so handsome as most of my suitors, certainly not as handsome as Royce, but with every passing day he seemed to get more beautiful to me. I think it is true that love is blind. My friends couldn't understand why I continued to speak with him, because he had no real money and he had made remarks before about the wealthy in our town, calling them foolish and frivolous. He was rather serious-minded, too, compared to the exuberant personality that Royce had.
"All these things were repeated to me by my sisters, and then my mother, and at last my father. He forbade me to pursue a relationship with Joshua. Among the other suitors that I was allowed, Royce was the obvious choice. I did not have feelings for any of them but Joshua, and Royce's fortune seemed very important to my father. So, I agreed."
"How can you marry someone you don't even love?" I asked. I couldn't imagine choosing someone else, not if I'd had feelings for someone like she'd had for Joshua. It must have broken her heart, but that didn't seem to be the end of the story.
"I had to," she said. "It was the only choice I was given. I married Royce at home, and immediately afterward he took me with him to Louisiana. The wedding was beautiful. Royce was all courtliness, such a gentleman. But my father had told him to keep me away from Joshua, without my knowing. I wanted to see Joshua before I left, I wanted to explain myself. I was unable to. When Joshua came to congratulate me, Royce broke his nose. I was horrified and began to cry, but Royce was not at all concerned about me. He made some remark to my father about me being hysterical, and my father took me away. I later learned that Royce challenged Joshua to a duel, after Joshua said he was sorry to see me marry such a savage. It deeply offended Royce, he spoke of it for days. Joshua refused to fight him, of course, he had always been a nonviolent man. I could see how it disappointed Royce – he was used to the satisfaction of a fight to relieve his anger – and Joshua had failed to provide him that outlet."
"He sounds like a jerk," I said.
"Yes." Rosalie agreed. "We spent two weeks together in his house in Louisiana. I think he enjoyed it more than I did. He seemed to believe that women were made to gratify a man's appetite, and nothing more. He made no attempt to reciprocate any aspect of our relationship. He gave me rules to follow as if I were his daughter, rather than his wife. He kept me on a small allowance and forbade me from being alone with any other men. I badly missed my sisters, which he mocked me for. And he laughed at the way I interacted with the slaves."
I sucked in a breath at the word. Slaves. It put her lifetime into a context I had failed to provide on my own.
"I was not at all comfortable giving them instructions, which seemed to amuse him, and he ordered me to do it again and again. I worried that they would dislike me, and I often cried when he would strike them. I was not happy there at all, even though his mother and sister were quite lovely. Very opposite to Royce himself. They did everything they could to make me happy, but it was impossible. After two weeks, Royce tired of my company and left for work. Even though I had come to deeply dislike him, I was lonely by myself. His mother and sister were rarely with me after Royce left, returning to their own lives."
"That's awful."
"Until one day…" Rosalie took a breath. "Joshua appeared on our front step. He still had bruising from where his nose had been broken, but it was perhaps the sweetest sight I'd had since arriving in Louisiana. I invited him in, ignoring the kitchen girl's warnings about Royce forbidding me from being alone with men. I suppose she was right, I shouldn't have allowed our affair. But I loved Joshua, and after the treatment I'd received, I could not resist him any longer. I gave myself to him completely. He was everything that Royce was not. He made me feel beautiful, he made me feel worthy. He made me his equal and never for one moment did I doubt our love. Not once. He sacrificed having a wife of his own, of having children, and he did that for me. Because I was trapped. We often spoke of running away together, but it always seemed premature. We had no money to survive on."
"Maybe you could have been alright, anyway." I said. "Maybe you could have lived on the land, or found jobs in the East somewhere,"
"I'm sure we could have, now." Rosalie said, with clear sadness. "But we were young and foolish. We'd never lived outside our own little bubble, and we had no idea of what the country had to offer. We should have gone. We should have found a way. Somehow, it always seemed like we would have more time… for almost five years, whenever Royce would leave, Joshua would take his place. And Royce was almost always gone."
"Royce never suspected?"
"After a time…" Rosalie said. "When I was twenty-one, things got very bad. Royce had heard rumors of my infidelity, which I didn't know. He surprised us. I don't know why he didn't have his pistol on him – it was clear that he had planned to catch us – but instead he seized a poker from the fireplace and thrust it into Joshua's chest, killing him."
My stomach dropped. I couldn't accept the horrifying turn that Rosalie's story had taken. It seemed like too much.
"I reached to Joshua, trying to help him – somehow – even though he was already dead. Royce grabbed me and forced himself on me, although I tried to fight him off, all the while with Joshua's body next to us. It was the worst thing I have ever experienced."
We were both silent for a long time. I didn't have the words to react, I had no idea how to respond. "Rosalie…" I finally began, without any idea where I'd go from there.
"For another year, I remained there. I had nowhere else to go. Royce had told my father what I'd done, and my family condemned me for it. I was trapped there with that monster, that murderer. He became more violent toward me every day, and after a while I didn't even bother to fight him. I just waited for it to end. Then, one evening, he lost control. He struck me around my head until I lost consciousness.
"I woke up in the woods some miles from our house. I'd been changed. I wandered for a time, disoriented by my new senses and thirst. I came across a slave girl, she looked younger than me, but she was a vampire. Her name was Martha. I never found out if she was the one who turned me… it seems likely, but without her confirming it I can't shake that hint of doubt. She told me to run deep into the woods and avoid people at all costs, until I controlled my thirst. At first I didn't quite understand what she meant, but I soon learned. She didn't stay with me."
"Did you feed from animals?"
"At first." Rosalie said. "I was on my own for many years. I fed from animals, and there are a few times where I came across people in the woods, but in those early years the frenzy took me over completely. I don't remember what happened. Perhaps I killed them, perhaps not, I don't know. When I discovered I had new strength, I began to look for information about Royce. I learned he had cut my ties with the world of the living, so I wouldn't have to do it. He'd claimed me missing, and suggested a slave named Jon had taken off with me. I assume he killed the slave also. When I found out about this, I went back to the house. I stayed in the darkness, observing him for any sign of guilt or regret. He showed none.
"I killed him.
"I wish I could say it hurt me to kill a man. I wish I could claim some level of remorse or human compassion for taking another life. But it didn't, and I can't claim that I experienced those things. I felt no qualms whatsoever. Only justice."
"He deserved it." I said with certainty. Hearing of the killings Edward had done, even though he'd discussed how it damaged him to kill the monsters of the human world, had bothered me slightly. But I'd forgiven that, at the time. Rosalie, however… she didn't need to be forgiven. "I can't even imagine anyone deserving it more." I added.
"I'm glad you think so." Rosalie said, and she sounded vaguely relieved. "I never regretted killing Royce. I did regret other things, many other things. Most especially I regretted accepting Joshua in the way I did. If I had resisted – sent him home, even pretended I didn't love him – he would have survived. He'd have found another to love, he may have had children. I can't bring myself to regret loving him back, but accepting him after I was married… I shouldn't have done it. It was Royce's fault he died, but I can't deny my role. But although I mourned him so, my love was transformed. Perhaps my reluctance to kill was because my grief was still so fresh when I had changed. I clung to my love for Joshua, even after being turned. Whenever I was tempted to feed from an undeserving host, I saw his face. He had the softest hair, tawny and fine. His nose was larger than would be considered handsome, but it gave him an earnest face. He looked intelligent. And his eyes, they were his most wonderful feature. They were blue like ice in the arctic, that shocking pure blue. Even though we both were dead, I couldn't disappoint him. I couldn't let myself do things that would let him down, and I believed that he looked on me from heaven. I threw myself into activity to prevent myself from focusing on feeding. When you are a vampire, if you let it, feeding becomes absolutely everything."
I bit my lip, thinking of what Rosalie's face looked like right now. I could almost imagine her, my imagination painting her features in a look of love and sadness, an expression I'd never actually seen her display.
"What about Emmett?" I asked.
Rosalie gave a light, breathy laugh. "Emmett knows that we all bring with us the experiences of our lives," she said. "I do not judge him for his unwholesome history and he does not judge me for the love I had before him. My relationship with him is so different, anyway. He is a force of nature, you see. Joshua was… oh, tenderness, respect, and gentle love. Emmett is different. He's joy, boisterousness, he's frankness and indulgence and excitement. I love them both. It's hard to understand unless you've felt it, how you can love two people equally, but have love feel so different from one to the other."
I worked that thought over in my mind. It was exactly the kind of thing I needed to hear, but I didn't yet want to bring up the topic. It was hard to compare my troubles with what Rosalie had experienced; they seemed so inconsequential when held up next to murder and rape. They seemed so silly.
"How did you meet Emmett?" I asked, instead.
Rosalie laughed again, more fully this time. "Well, as I said, I chose to be as active as I could to prevent temptation. I've always been attracted to exhilaration. I started out with boats. I taught myself sailing, salvaging, and for many years I occupied myself with running tugboats and ferries. Then I went to ballooning – it is really incredible, floating above the world. Piloting has the same appeal. But it wasn't until I got interested in automobiles that I met Emmett. We met at an auto race. I immediately saw him for what he was, and he was more than happy to speak to me. He's a bit shameless in that way." She said. "A few weeks after we met, we actually went to France together. I'm sure his family was just floored by his sudden devotion to me, nearly a stranger to them. But in the states at that time, women were still forbidden to race, and in France I was permitted to compete."
"You were a racecar driver?" I couldn't reconcile the idea of Rosalie in a racing car with the way she'd always seemed to me at school.
"I never was able to make a true name for myself, of course. I was only able to participate when weather permitted. It's sunny enough anywhere, unpredictably enough, that I had to withdraw from a lot of key races. But racing is just wonderful, Bella, it's like nothing else. It gives you the feeling of being strong and in control, of being fast. Right now Emmett and I are doing motocross – you can't believe the rush! And the protective gear covers us enough that we can compete on sunny days, too."
"I can't believe you're doing motocross." I said. "Weirdly, my friend Jacob and I are rebuilding some old bikes right now. Not quite the same, but still."
"Really?" Rosalie seemed just as stunned at that as I had been when she'd told me about her own racing interests. "That's great, Bella! Oh, just wait. It's such fun."
"I'd never be able to compete with you, though, I'm sure," I said, smiling slightly to myself.
"That's just it, though… our reflexes give us a slight advantage, but really it comes down to the skill of the rider. It's not like a footrace where humans are physically unable to compete with us. It's a real challenge, that's the best part."
"I guess," I said softly. "It's part of the reason I called, though. Jacob. And another boy, Tyler. Because I like them, especially Jacob. He makes me feel like… everything will get better. Tyler and I were good friends, before I… fell apart. Now we're starting to get to know each other again. And even though – even though Edward was so… you know. I just, I can't imagine being with anyone else. It scares me when I feel so good around the others. I don't know how to stop myself from wanting to be with them, and Jacob… he's two years younger, and he's never had a girlfriend. I'm afraid he wouldn't understand. I don't know what to do."
Rosalie paused. "If Jacob makes you feel like things will be better," she said. "Then you should let yourself feel that. Don't do anything you aren't comfortable doing, but don't be afraid, either. I know that it seems impossible to trust again, but don't distrust someone who hasn't given you a reason. Don't let someone who's gone control you. Don't let him win."
"He's your brother," I pointed out again, surprised once more at her willingness to discredit Edward.
"Which makes me even angrier." Rosalie said. "I can't believe he acted the way he did. I can't stand a man who acts like he has the right to treat a woman that way. I just can't. And he knows how I feel."
"You won't tell him we talked, will you?"
"Of course not. He doesn't deserve to know it. He's forfeited his rights to knowing what's going on with you."
"Thanks, Rosalie." I said, and I actually meant it. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you really helped."
"I'm glad." Rosalie said. "Listen, you'd better go to bed. It's late, and you actually have to sleep."
"Okay. Goodbye."
"Take care, Bella."
I had the feeling that she wasn't planning to talk to me again. This was a one-time connection, rather than an actual friendship. But that was alright. She had reasons to keep her distance – I couldn't expect her to abandon her family even if she didn't approve of Edward's actions – and I wouldn't press it. If I needed help, I'd call her again. But unless that happened, I would let the Cullens go. Any continued contact would only prolong my link to the man that had destroyed me.
I fell asleep after the phone call ended. I woke up feeling refreshed.
