Chapter 4 – Rosalie
Rosalie Hale was the most beautiful girl in Summerville, South Carolina; or, at least, her parents thought so. The Hales were high society leaders of the community, and they took pride in their flawless outward appearances and their abundance of expensive possessions.
"The perfect family," people would always say, and each time Mrs. Hale would glow just a little bit more.
They threw around their money in place of graciousness, and hired help rather than spend time working on anything together.
Rosalie could honestly say she didn't even really know her parents much. From birth she had been raised by a steady stream of nannies, which were never allowed to stay long enough for her to get attached.
"I'm her mother. She can only love me," Mrs. Hale would say as she would fire each and every hired staff member that Rosalie would display any level of attachment to. Because of this, mixed with her mother's lack of quality time, Rosalie grew up cold and quite emotionless, just as her mother had hoped for.
Everyone was below the Hales. Mrs. Hale was the only person permitted to choose friends or dates which she felt were worthy of her daughter. Every aspect of Rosalie's life was controlled. Every minute of her time was scheduled and accounted for. She even had designated bathroom breaks, which miraculously, she had grown to adjust to.
Rosalie's pristine world of privilege and strict exclusivity had always been comfortable for her – after all, it was the only way of living that she had ever known. However, with the arrival of a new girl at her exclusive preparatory high school during her senior year, Rosalie's perfect world began to crack.
Tanya Denali was the very definition of perfection. With a face and body that made supermodels jealous, Rosalie's new best friend had also become her biggest rival. Thinner than her, with better skin, and somehow even thicker, shinier hair, Tanya was fighting for top spot at the school, and she was doing a damn good job of it. For the first time in her life, Rosalie was suffering through the harsh reality that she was possibly not the most beautiful girl anymore.
Unfortunately for Rosalie, her mother had taken notice as well, and the pressure for her to reclaim her previous position at Pinewood Prep was intense. The already thin Rosalie was put in a strict diet and exercise regimen, and she doubled down on her push for popularity. Throwing the best parties, and putting in even more money towards her campaign for Prom Queen.
It may have all seemed fairly ridiculous to the average person, but in their tiny area of the world, nothing mattered more – at least, that was what Rosalie was always taught to believe.
It wasn't until she witnessed her frenemy being verbally abusive to a needy child that Rosalie began to see the fault in their way of life.
"Why did you do that?" Rose asked Tanya. "She was just asking you for your leftovers before you threw them in the trash."
"I know, but people like that are disgusting. Even our trash is too good for them," she said pompously.
"Okay, but you didn't have to call her those awful names," Rose added. "The poor girl didn't look older than ten."
"Ten is old enough to get her own food."
"I don't think her family had enough money," Rose disagreed.
"There are child labor camps overseas for children younger than ten. Maybe they should hop on a boat and get to work," Tanya said carelessly.
When all their other friends nodded in agreement, that was it. That was the moment Rosalie realized what horrible people she was surrounded by. That was the moment Rosalie Hale awoke from her privileged slumber.
Despite coming from a similar upbringing as Tanya, Rosalie still held out hope that her own family was nowhere near as reprobate as that. Her mother ran charities; surely, she would back her reasoning for walking away from her group of friends.
"Tell me exactly what happened?" Mrs. Hale said anxiously. The very idea that her daughter was on the outs with the most popular girls in school was downright stressful for the woman.
"A little girl asked for Tanya's food, which she was about to throw away," Rosalie began to explain. "Tanya basically called her a disgusting dirty rat and threw the food in the trash can. When she saw the little girl trying to actually dig it back out of the trash, Tanya called mall security. The poor thing was terrified."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but tell me what happened afterwards. How did the little tiff between you and Tanya go down?" Mrs. Hale pressed.
Rosalie had to pause as she considered her mother's dismissal of such horrible behavior, but on the off chance that she was just trying to get a complete understanding of the situation, Rosalie disclosed the entire argument that transpired afterwards. Her mother, looked horrified.
"I'm sure you can smooth things over, can't you? Maybe give Tanya a call and apologize."
"Apologize?" Rosalie asked dumbfounded. "Mom, they're horrible. All of them. How could they treat another human being like that, let alone a child?"
"Oh Rosalie, you have no idea what you're talking about. Tanya did the right thing. If you give in to poor people begging for food, they will continue to beg and never even attempt to achieve a better life, making themselves self-sufficient."
Rosalie laughed once humorlessly. "She was a child. Not an adult with the possibility of getting a job. There are zero reasons why Tanya couldn't give her the rest of her chicken sandwich. She was throwing it away anyway!" she yelled, exasperated.
"You need to calm down!" Mrs. Hale snapped at her daughter. "It is not our job to take care of everyone else. Our lives are what we need to focus on, and if you can't get back in with your friends, it is going to ruin our social standings in town. You might be going to college in the fall, but your father and I still have to live here with these people."
Rosalie was speechless. All of her mother's charity work, everything she thought she had been doing for the community – it was all bullshit. Her mother was a selfish monster, and it honestly made Rosalie sick.
Much to her mother's chagrin, for the rest of the school year, Rosalie hung out with some of the least popular students on campus. Mrs. Hale saw it as teen rebellion, but for Rose, it was so much deeper than that. She grew more as a human being in those few months she spent with the so-called nerds, than she had in her entire eighteen years. And her connection to the captain of the chess club would forever alter the course of her life.
"You're doing what after graduation?" she asked in shock.
"Backpacking across Europe. There is a group of us going. You should come," Angela offered.
"Where exactly in Europe?" Rose questioned curiously.
"We are going to fly into the UK and stay a few days, before we hop on a ferry to Belgium. Then we'll make our way through France, Switzerland, and Italy. We're going to be mainly walking, catching cheap transportation, and staying in hostels. It's going to be amazing!"
That adventure of a lifetime did sound amazing… and terrifying. Coming from an affluent family, Rose had already been to Europe several times, but they had always gone to the touristy areas and stayed in the finest hotels. This would be so entirely different. Different and scary, and there was nothing she had ever wanted more. Rosalie was desperate for some different perspectives. She craved experience and meeting new people. Real people. People her mother would never ever approve of.
"Okay, I'm in," she said excitedly.
Knowing her mother would never approve, Rosalie lied and said she was going to spend the summer abroad with some of her old friends. It was a lie her mother would surely catch on to eventually, since all of their mothers were friends of hers, but Rose didn't really care. Once she caught on to her deception, she would be long gone – and that's exactly what happened.
"Rosalie, where are you?" her mother shouted over the phone. Rose and Angela, along with a few others, had just arrived in Belgium, and they were beaming with excitement. Not even her mother's furious questioning could bring her down at that moment.
"I'm out discovering myself," she told her before hanging up the phone.
Adjusting to the new way of travel took a few days, but after Rose got used to things like questionably clean accommodations and communal restrooms, she was able to relax and let her spirit free.
Rosalie absolutely flourished in Europe. She came alive in ways she never could have imagined. She met an array of people, tasted a variety of cultural foods, and she finally learned how to dance. Not just the stiff ballroom type of dancing her mother had forced her to learn, but the kind that moved the soul.
As their travels brought them to Italy, Rosalie was a changed person; or perhaps, not exactly changed, but awakened. She discovered the core of who she was always meant to be, and despite their trip coming to its completion, she wasn't ready to leave.
"I wish I could just stay here forever," she mumbled as she watched the sun setting over the magnificent Mediterranean Sea.
"I know. Wouldn't it be great to just live here?" Angela asked facetiously.
It was their last day before catching their flight home, but Rosalie was feeling anxious. She couldn't imagine returning to her structured and fictitious life back in South Carolina. Even when she went away for college, she knew her mother would always be watching her. Judging. Criticizing. Attempting to poison her mind with disgusting and intolerable rhetoric.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't go back, and she wouldn't…
"Why can't we?" Rosalie asked, as if she was just hit with an epiphany.
"Why can't we what?" Angela responded, unsure of what exactly Rosalie was referring to.
"Why can't just live here?" Rose clarified. "I mean, why would we go back if we love it here so much?"
"Because, this is… it's vacation," Angela tried reasoning. "I mean, it's great for a time, but to live here permanently?"
"But why not?" Rose pressed. "People do live here. Why couldn't we be those people?"
"Because we have lives back in South Carolina. Family. College. Futures."
Rosalie shrugged. "Maybe I want my future to be here."
"Rosalie, what about college? Didn't you get into a really good school?"
"Yeah, but so what? I would rather work as a waitress here for the rest of my life then go back to a place I hate."
"But… but your family?" Angela sputtered.
"This is where I want to be. I'll make my own family. God…" Rosalie stood up and held her arms out wide. "This is now my home. I'm home!"
Angela was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Rosalie there, but what could she do? To help her friend out, she gave her what remained of her vacation money, and wished her well.
Rosalie was left alone in Italy with no acquaintances, no direction, no place to go, and rapidly depleting funds, but she never felt more at peace. The adventure of a lifetime was going to last for the rest of her life, and she knew she would never regret it.
Now, that's not to say her life in Italy was easy. She had to make her own way, and she did that by practically begging for a job bussing tables at a small restaurant. Since she didn't speak a word of Italian, the owner refused to allow her to be a waitress, but it didn't really matter to Rose. For the first time in her life, she was supporting herself, and living on her own terms.
For the first few months of her solo life, Rosalie stayed in the local hostel; she couldn't afford anything else. She got one free meal a day at the restaurant she worked for, and that was what she lived on. She pocketed every euro she earned, and eventually managed to save enough for a tiny rundown flat.
It was paradise.
And then that paradise somehow became even more beautiful when she met a certain dark-haired man…
"Can I ask you question?" the man stopped her one evening as she was finishing her shift cleaning tables at the outdoor portion of the restaurant. She had seen him before, and despite the shared smiles they had bounced back and forth, this was the first time they had ever spoken.
"Of course," she replied with a smile.
"You're American, no?" he asked with a heavy accent.
"Yes, I am," she confirmed, somewhat reluctantly. Over the months she had learned that not everyone in Europe particularly liked Americans, so she was always a little leery when admitting her place of origin.
The man smiled widely with his deep dimples on full display. It kind of took Rosalie's breath away if she was being honest.
"I have never been America. Always hoped," he told her with his broken English that was almost unintelligible. "Big buildings?"
She giggled. "Yes, America has some big cities. I actually come from a smaller town. Not many big buildings there."
"I think you take me your town one day," he said with far more seriousness than Rose would have ever expected. She probably should have been offended by his presumptuous comment, but his piercing stare literally made her heart skip a beat.
"You never know," she told him with a smile.
"Why you here? So far from home?" he asked her curiously.
She shrugged. "I guess it's a long story. This is my home now."
He nodded with a very pleased expression on his face. "Good. I have time. I make you fall love with me."
"Excuse me?" she said, thinking she heard him wrong.
"I will marry you someday," he said confidently, before looking closer at her nametag. "Rose?" He shook his head in disapproval of her name. "No. Bella Rosa. Beautiful rose you are. May I?" he asked, holding his hand out towards her.
"Um… sure," she said, not knowing what he planned to do, but unable to deny him either.
He took her hand, ever so gently, and then leaned over and kissed her knuckles.
"Remember me, Bella Rosa, I be back and win you heart."
And with that, the breathtakingly beautiful stranger left, taking all of Rosalie's rational thinking with him.
Over the next few days, Rosalie was stunned to find single red long stem roses waiting for her on the outdoor tables she was bussing. The tall dark and handsome stranger kept disappearing before she could see him, but she didn't have any doubts they were from him.
At the end of the week, he finally appeared, except this time, he was holding an entire bouquet of roses.
"All flowers beauty pale to you," he said to her without any other form of greeting.
She smiled and blushed. "I don't even know your name."
"Emmett," he said, his lips curled with just the tiniest amount humor. "Emmett Marchesseni."
"Emmett Marchess…?"
"Marchesseni," he repeated. "Or, Emmett Mac, as I called."
She nodded absently.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the street. He wanted to walk her home, and despite her not really knowing him, she somehow felt safe, and willingly agreed.
"So, Emmett, huh? I never knew that to be an Italian name," she asked, hoping to break the not so cold ice they had been walking in since leaving the restaurant.
"No, not Italiano. My amici always make laughs of me for it."
"Amici?" Rose asked confused.
"Ah, I apologize. Friends. My friends always make jokes of name. Mia madré loved old… how you say? Western movies. Cowboys. She liked Emmett. She-uh, thought sounded esotico…eh…exotic."
"Exotic?" Rosalie giggled. "Well, I suppose I can see that. Is that how you learned English?"
"Uh, un po," he said, holding his fingers up to imply small. "I mainly learn from work and Amici. My leader."
"Your leader?" she questioned.
"Oh, not right? Uh, person gives me work?"
"Oh, your boss," she clarified.
"Sì. Yes. I am still learning. Maybe you help me understand more?"
"I'll tell you what; I will help you with your English, if you can teach me Italian."
His smile spread across his face.
"Sì, sì! I teach you Italiano, and you teach me English. It is a good i accordo."
"A deal," Rosalie confirmed.
"A deal, yes!" he said enthusiastically.
That was the beginning of their relationship. A relationship, that was never casual or subtle. They ended their walk that evening with a kiss. A kiss that he asked permission to give. Rosalie, who had never felt such an instant connection to anyone, agreed to it, but she certainly never expected anything more than a small peck. That kiss – that amazing kiss, showed her for the first time what a kiss was supposed to feel like.
It.
Was.
Fire.
Their relationship didn't move slowly either. After that evening, she was his girl, and he was her polpetto. The "meatball" of a man was intense, and his love was all-consuming. Rosalie had never known anyone like him; hell, she had never known real love before at all. Her parents could barely tolerate each other, which was the only example she had to go by, and led her to believe that was how all love and marriages were. Emmett seemed to make it his mission to prove time and again how love was truly supposed to be.
They were absolutely inseparable. Drunk off each other and life, he showed her another side of Italy; the one only natives knew. He also showed her another side of life itself; the kind that was never stagnant or mundane.
That wasn't to say that they never fought; both had head-strong personalities that would often clash like thunder, but they refused to spend the evening apart or even let the sun set on their anger. Baciami sempre buona notte – always kiss me goodnight. Words they lived by like a second religion.
Rosalie couldn't imagine her life becoming anymore perfect. She was truly happy for the first time, and sincerely didn't have a care in the world. Even without much money or many possessions, the couple felt rich beyond compare.
Then again, just when you think you've got it all figured out, life has a way of changing everything…