The Twilight franchise belongs to Meyer.
A World of One
The starch sheets resembled that of a hospital's, as did the generic rock-like pillow. My body refused to get comfortable, my mind refused to shut down. I tossed around, the blanket pattern printing itself on my skin as my limbs sought a more desirable position. I had once read of a boy who had invented a mattress which had a peculiar slot to rest your arm, so as it would be out of the way if one wished to lie on one's side. The image had stuck in my mind, and I wished for such a mattress right now.
I should have slept with ease; a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Yet it was not the rock hard pillow, or the scratchy sheets that kept me conscious, nor was it the inexplicable excitement or joy that I felt. It was, in fact, the two voices that were coming from the lounge room.
". . . what do you think you're doing?" one of them argued.
"Quiet, you'll wake her!" the other whispered fiercely.
Their hushed conversation turned to a blurred mush, reduced to a mere hum. Quietly I got out of the bed, my feet padding across the floor-boards, my hands held out in front of my face in an effort to find the doorframe. This was the stuff of nightmares: I was surrounded with darkness, unable to distinguish features. I was cooped up in an unknown hotel with a single vampire who was carrying out a conversation with an unknown person. My foot caught on my shoes and, despite my best efforts to remain silent, I let out an ouf of pain.
". . . Bella?" came Jasper's voice, a light switch flicked on in the next room over. I stuck my head out from the doorframe, my hair in messy disarray.
"I heard somebody."
"Bella, it's two in the morning. Go to sleep."
Jasper was examining an upside-down television guide with frightening intensity. There was no sign of our mystery visitor, nor any indication of their existence. Sheepishly I turned around, shuffling back off to the miserable bed.
"Goodnight, Jasper."
"Night, Bella."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a white flash.
.
Alley. Jasper. Clara. Rosalie. Wedding. Food.
I yawned, a watery sun was visible through my window and I admired it for a moment. My stomach protested, and I rolled out of bed before making my way to the lounge room. Jasper was in the same position as I had left him last night.
"The earth says hello," Jasper said by way of greeting. He was lazily trailing his finger over the child's maze on the back of the cereal box. I gently poured a glass of water before spotting the newspaper article; it appeared to have been torn out, its edges were ragged and severe fold lines scored the print.
Wedding Announcements
Joshua Hernandez, son of Peter Hernandez (dec'd) and
Michelle-Jane Hernandez, announced his wedding
to Miss Rosalie Hale, daughter of Robert Hale (dec'd.)
and Sarah Hale (dec'd.)
Ceremony to take place at Lacey Park, December 30th,
1 pm. By invitation only.
Congratulations!
"That's today," my voice was blank.
"Yes," he agreed.
I dropped the clipping and started to prepare breakfast, going through the rituals. And wasn't it odd, I thought, to include the set time and destination, whilst also clearly indicating that you needed an invite to attend. I wasn't sure if it was a deliberate ploy by Rosalie, a desperate plea calling out to her true family members.
.
Our feet crunched on the gravel in unison. We had finished consoling Dot about the reception and were heading towards my car. As we neared the vibrant cab Jasper halted, holding his palms up.
"There is no way," he assured me, exaggeratingly turning on the spot.
He peered at my truck and it made me uncomfortable. I began to notice the chipped paint, the mud incrusted wheels, the dented doors, the scratched windows. I had always felt a certain pride for my vehicle, a sense of relating to the awkward build. With Jasper's clear distaste for the cab my pride melted away.
"D-does it even run?" he asked with mock concern. I rolled my eyes.
"Feel free to walk, old man."
"Which, in my case and possibly even yours, would be far more quicker and efficient." I looked at him. He looked at me. "I'm driving," Jasper added.
I heaved myself into the passenger seat and he laughed when I tightened the seatbelt. My fingers clutched the seat in a death grip, and I silently wondered if Jasper would turn out to be as unstable a driver as Edward.
Jasper smiled again and turned the engine; it was odd, I thought. There was certainly a whole lot of awkward stiffness about us, yet we were closer, indeed closer than we'd ever been, to each other. I didn't feel entirely comfortable around Jasper, yet the more time I spent around him the more I had to re-evaluate my initial assumptions. He was not the brooding vampire that I had first assumed he was. He was surprisingly cheerful, and I reminded myself that he was an empath.
"You're so happy," I commented.
"Yes," he agreed. "So are you."
And I could almost feel the joy radiating off me, myself.
Author's note: bed dreamt up by Oskar Schell, - Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close; Jonathon Safran Foer.