This is my version of how it could have gone for Rosalie, a character created by Stephanie Meyer.
Chapter 3: Fishing
Today was going to be busy. My mother and I were reviewing for one last time the flowers and decorations to be used on the grounds of the King estate on the day of my wedding. The lawn on the east side of the palatial homestead was beautifully manicured. Dozens of round tables would be set-up with white tablecloths. The centerpiece would be a floating candle surrounded by pink and red rose petals. The King's servants would be dressed in black and white as they served refreshments to all our guests.
There would hardly be one surface that would not be overflowing with roses of all colors. When Royce began courting me he would send a bouquet of roses every day. I wanted the grounds to be overflowing with them, just as my room had been. I wanted the beginning of our life together to smell as sweet.
Jane, my mother and I spent the day walking the grounds, discussing exact
placement of tables, flowers, and even the servants. I wanted them to be almost invisible to the guests. I wanted them to be single-minded as they hawk-eyed the tables, serving each guest and removing the empty plates quickly. My mother and Jane agreed of course.
I was feeling girlishly giddy as we finished our tour and critique of the grounds. I skipped to where Royce was sitting with Felix and threw my arms around his neck. He grabbed my wrists and forcibly removed them. His hands were so big, he hurt me as he pushed me away.
I stood there, aghast and embarrassed as I rubbed my wrists, his fingerprints still showing white on my skin.
Facing away from his friend he said viciously "you're not going to cry are you?" He had an evil glint in his eye as he stared me down.
"Of course not" I whispered, wide-eyed, as I backed away.
"Run along then, Rosie," he said with irritation, that same malevolent edge in his voice.
I turned and walked away. I could hear the caustic chuckle of the best man as I hurried to be out of their line-of-sight.
Felix watched her run up the stairs. He straightened his lanky legs, and, like a tick, burrowed farther into the chair. He turned to look at Royce and said, "The wedding night won't get here soon enough."
Royce got up from his chair and poured them each a drink. He handed a glass to Felix and took a long swig from his own. He sat down and crossed his arms across his chest with satisfaction. "Nope. Not soon enough."
I ran up the stairs and wrenched the bathroom door open and threw myself inside, locking the door behind me. I was certain no one had seen me, so I knew I had a few minutes to consider his slashing reaction and calm my scattered emotions. I shrunk to the floor, my chest still heaving with fear and anxiety. What had just happened?
I looked at it from all angles. It was my fault of course. I should have never been so familiar with him in front of his friend. It betrayed my meticulous upbringing. He is the patriarch of our new family; I needed to respect his space and his privacy. I finally stopped breathing so heavily, mostly comfortable with my assessment of the situation. I stood up and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was horrified by my addled appearance, red splotches showing on my cheeks and neck. I quickly smoothed my hair and washed my face.
As I dried my face, feeling better and still contemplating my reflection, I noted the angry marks rising up on my wrists. I dropped the towel I was using and stared. Will they have faded by Friday? I tugged at the sleeves of my blouse covering the marks. I stood back, surveyed my appearance and told myself to relax. As I opened the door, I stared myself down, blew out some air, turned out the light and walked down the stairs.
My mother's eyes widened when she saw me. I nervously pulled on the sleeves hoping to conceal my fresh wounds.
"Honey, what is the matter?" she questioned as my foot hit the bottom step. She put a loose strand of hair behind my ears and distastefully surveyed my splotchy skin.
Before I could answer she said, "ah, you're just nervous. Who wouldn't be? You're marrying the most eligible bachelor in New York. You're lucky to get him." She patted my cheek, took my hand and led me out the door.
Her not-so subtle meaning sliced through me. I was lucky to have him. I would find no compassion in her eyes. I was now realizing that the extravagant shopping trips and celebrity dinner parties were dancing in my mother's eyes as well.
A memory reared up in my head; the day I first met Royce. My father, who worked at King Bank and Loan, had forgotten his lunch. Mother had me do my hair and wear my best organza dress just to take my father's lunch to him.
I had seen Royce from afar and had certainly heard his name, but was unprepared for how handsome he was. He was well built and stunning in a 3-piece suit. His dark hair curled slightly around his collar. And his smile; his smile stopped me in my tracks. It was obvious I looked equally appealing to him. At the time I had been grateful I was dressed up. He started sending me a bouquet of flowers a day beginning that very day.
My shoulders sagged. What had been a tingling kind of memory, a memory that made me blush when conjured was now tainted. Suddenly it all made sense – the hair, the dress … I had been bait. My parent's fishing expedition had been a success.
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