Chapter 2
Despite the inner turmoil Bella thought she should probably have experienced, she’d fallen asleep almost instantly in Rosalie’s bed and woke clean and well-rested. Turmoil of the soul was surprisingly absent, but turmoil of the stomach had taken its place.
Bella cursed vampire hearing when she felt Rosalie’s cool fingers brush under her ears and along the back of her neck as she came to hold Bella’s hair back mid-spew. What right did the bloodsucker have to intrude on Bella’s private morning (or, in this case, evening) misery? To insert her sterile, nonbiological self into the boilings and sourings of all Bella’s human juices? And furthermore, what right did her cold hands have to be so soothing?
When she was finished, Bella spat and tried to stumble away, but Rosalie held her arm, steadying her. When Bella tried to stick her mouth under the faucet to rinse it out, Rosalie produced a cup instead. Grudgingly, Bella took it, making sure to gargle as obnoxiously as possible.
“I should make you eat a hamburger, then touch you without permission while you blow chunks,” Bella muttered.
Rosalie frowned and stepped back slightly, still in Bella’s space and vibrating with the desire to offer her elbow as if to a swooning Victorian maiden.
“The toothpaste is in the cabinet,” was all she said, and she said it gently.
“Yeah, I found it last night. This morning? Earlier.” Bella dug it out, along with the new toothbrush she’d opened. “Funny thing about fleeing the scene of your shattered dreams. You tend not to be the most logical about what you shove in your backpack.”
“You’re dramatic when you wake up,” Rosalie observed.
“You’re dramatic always,” Bella muttered through a mouthful of toothbrush.
“Fair enough.” Rosalie flushed the toilet and started pouring that mysterious blue cleaner inside—the kind that seemed to appear out of thin air wherever a nice suburban mom resided.
Fuck. Where did you even buy that stuff? Bella was going to be a shit mom.
“Do you think you can eat?”
Bella searched her feelings and found that she was fucking starving.
“Yeah,” she said. “A lot.”
Rosalie laughed like sleigh bells on Christmas Day. “Good. How about a granola bar now, and then we can stop at the diner in town on our way out?”
“Hedging your bets?”
“It seems wise.”
Watching Rosalie attack the toilet with a clean white toilet brush, Bella couldn’t blame her.
In a matter of fifteen minutes, Bella had accepted the granola bar and devoured it as she packed her things, while Rosalie closed up the house. Then it was time to go out to the garage and pick the right vehicle for the journey. Bella rather favored the vintage baby blue convertible thingy, which looked cool and zippy and a great way to squeeze a last bit of fun out of her life before it ended in a wreck of shameful teen pregnancy and dead-end secretarial work. But Rosalie wasn’t feeling that, nor even the non-convertible, modern zippy red thing that looked almost as fun. She nodded insistently toward the veritable armored vehicle at the end of the row.
“That is absolutely no fun,” Bella objected.
“It’s a luxury vehicle.”
“It looks like something a visiting dictator’s decoy would ride in.”
“Because it’s red?”
“The President has the same car in black, doesn’t he?”
Rosalie sighed, but didn’t deny it. She just opened the back door of the behemoth and threw Bella’s bag onto the backseat.
“You’re welcome for the free ride,” Rosalie said, opening the passenger door and offering her hand to help Bella up.
And, well, Bella wasn’t that much of a churl. It was nice of Rosalie to do all this—nice in that particularly stalkerish undead way. She took the offered hand and got in. And damn it, the seat was exceptionally comfortable.
“Okay,” Bella admitted, “I can understand why Mr. President likes these seats.”
“Actually, the President sits in the back seat,” said Rosalie. She caught Bella’s hand as it came out to swat at her playfully.
“Broken fingers are the last thing you need,” she warned.
“Shit,” said Bella, “I forgot.”
“I’m glad,” said Rosalie as she backed out of the garage. “I wish you didn’t have to be reminded now.”
Yeah, Bella kind of wished that too. She’d been getting used to going without, she thought. Without these strange creatures, their beauty, their haunting graceful presence like proof of heaven and hell on earth. Without their bizarre hobbies backed up by centuries’ expertise, their memorized essays, their cooking without eating. Without the thoughtless luxury of generational wealth never passed down. Without the warm gold light of their eyes and their heady scents of poisonous flowers.
She thought she’d been getting used to life without. It was clear now that she hadn’t. How was she going to come back from their world a second time?
Rosalie was her last chance. But if she and Jake decided to have the baby, he wouldn’t want her around. And if they decided not to? Bella doubted Rosalie would stick around then.
“You’re brooding,” said Rosalie.
“Takes one to know one.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah it does,” said Bella. “Maybe not grammatical sense. But you know exactly what I mean, don’t pretend you don’t.”
Rosalie didn’t answer. Moments later, the outlying buildings of the town started to pop up, and Bella was able to amuse herself with imagining how Rosalie possibly could have made a place for herself in such a community. Derelict trailers and literal shacks. Further in toward town, tiny post-war houses with bicycles in the yards. Cheap Halloween decorations showed up here and there—styrofoam gravestones with morbid puns and grinning plastic skeletons hanging tastelessly from bare trees. The smells of metal, rotting leaves, and a mild dankness as of boiling cabbage assaulted her, and she could only imagine how much stronger they’d be for Rosalie.
Bella thought about her life so far: parents that, while resources were sometimes thin, always kept her in a sturdy house with enough food to go around. Her own car. All the books she needed. A chance at college. And what had she done with it? Suddenly she wasn’t hungry.
“Don’t look at them like that,” said Rosalie.
“Like what?”
“They’re not there to make you feel bad.”
“They don’t make you feel bad?”
“You’re missing the point.” Rosalie pulled up to a little diner, apparently unchanged since the 60s, and parked the car. “Tell me what you were thinking.”
“Shouldn’t we go in and eat?”
“Tell me, first.”
“I was thinking…” Bella sighed. Why not tell Rosalie? It wasn’t like she was going to see her again after this trip. “I was thinking about all the chances I’ve had in life. And how I’ve thrown them away. Chances other people never get.”
“Making a mistake is hardly a sign of ingratitude,” said Rosalie gently. “If, indeed, this pregnancy turns out to be a mistake at all.”
“I mean,” said Bella, “it’s my worst fear come to life. Ending up just like my mom, missing out on my education because I couldn’t avoid getting knocked up for a few years. Only, it’s almost worse, because my parents actually used to love each other, y’know? With Jake…I dunno, it’s almost incest. And then there’s the thought of putting Charlie through this. He’s flawed, but he’s worked so hard to protect me from making his mistakes.”
“You don’t have to have this baby,” said Rosalie gently, almost tenderly.
“Well,” said Bella, “you’re right. But that’s its own thing. I think that would be hard for me. I’m not sure how I could go back, after that. I kind of feel like I’m screwed either way.”
“I just want you to remember you have a choice, even if both options are difficult.”
“Um.” Bella swallowed. “Thanks?”
Rosalie sighed. “Maybe I’m not as wise as I think I am.”
“Statistically, you, like, have to be wiser than me,” said Bella.
“Thanks for that.” Rosalie got out of the car and came around to open the door for Bella. “Breakfast?”
“I could eat,” said Bella as Rosalie handed her down like a royal footman.
The diner wasn’t too different from the one Bella and the other kids had frequented in Forks—a little smaller, maybe, a little more run down. And, just like in Forks, the other customers’ idle chatter became hushed when Rosalie walked in.
Rosalie nodded politely to the woman behind the counter, keeping her head held high and her expression neutral. Bella thought, for the first time in a while, about how tiring the whole thing must be. Living in geological time while the things around you bloomed and died. And having to smile and nod and keep up the whole time.
They slid into a booth, and Rosalie cocked her head slightly, taking in Bella’s expression.
”You look awfully thoughtful for someone who hasn’t even had breakfast.”
”And how would you measure that?” Bella prodded. “I mean, when’s the last time you ate?”
Rosalie pursed her lips. Whatever retort she was holding back faded as the waitress approached their booth.
”Hey, Rose,” she said. “Don’t see you in here much.” The words were unmistakably accusatory, but Rosalie just smiled.
”I’m on a really strict diet. Smells so good in here, I didn’t want to face the temptation.”
”Hmph. Well, what can I get you and…?”
”Bella,” Rosalie introduced her. “A friend from, uh, school.”
”I want bacon,” Bella blurted out. “Lots. Like, double bacon? And eggs. Pancakes. Chocolate chip?”
The waitress blinked, then smiled slowly. “We can do that, hun. Eating for two, are we?”
Bella stared back, a deer in the headlights. How did this woman know? Was she another vampire with mind-reading powers? A fucking…witch, or something?
”I’ll just have orange juice,” said Rosalie, coolly dismissive. “Thank you.”
”Right.” The waitress looked a little chagrined, but made no move to apologize for her prying. “I’ll put that right in for you folks.”
”Jesus,” said Bella when the waitress was out of earshot, “how was she planning to back out of that one if she was wrong?”
”I truly don’t know,” said Rosalie.
”I was so shocked by her confidence, for a minute there I thought she was reading my mind.”
Instead of the expected pity laugh, Rosalie gave her a frown.
”Does that sort of explanation pop into your head often?”
”Did you use to be a psychoanalyst or something?” Bella asked.
Rosalie shuddered. “No, although I saw one for a while when I was—you know.”
Human. Bella knew. She kept it light.
”And how did that make you feel?” She asked, lowering her register in a silly mockery of a stuffy man’s voice.
”Terrible impression,” Rosalie said. “I hope you weren’t studying acting.”
”No.” Bella swallowed. “Literature, actually.”
”Of course.” Rosalie’s tone was gentle. “You always loved to read.”
”You noticed?”
”Hard not to. Edward talked about you ad nauseum.”
”Oh.”
An awkward silence fell, until the waitress arrived with a glass of orange juice for Rosalie and one of water for Bella.
”Actually,” said Bella, “can I get some coffee as well?”
”Sure, hun,” said the waitress. “Decaf, I assume?”
”No?” Bella spluttered. “Just, like, regular coffee.”
”Are you sure you should be having caffeine?” The waitress prodded.
”Are you her doctor?” Rosalie interrupted sharply. “She asked for coffee.”
The waitress hit Rosalie with a slow look of disdain, indicating that she did not appreciate her meddling being meddled with. “Right,” she drawled, walking away.
”Fucking decaf,” Bella muttered.
”I mean,” said Rosalie, “you probably shouldn’t be drinking caffeine right now. But it wasn’t her place to say it.”
”If you wanted me to sleep through the car ride, you could’ve just slipped me an Ambien,” Bella said sourly.
”I wouldn’t—I don’t—“ Rosalie was momentarily dumbstruck, thinking through the implications of what Bella thought was just a stupid quip. “But—he didn’t—“
”He—? Oh, no. No, he never—he just put a lot of pressure on me. You know, to do what—what he thought was best. But he never…”
”I’m sorry,” said Rosalie. “I just…if he thought you were in danger, and he had a way to prevent it, I don’t know what he’d have done. I don’t…”
”You don’t trust him.”
Rosalie sighed. “No.”
“Huh,” was all Bella could say to that.
“I don’t trust…any of them,” Rosalie admitted, speaking almost too quietly to be heard. “Their intentions, maybe. But not their actions. Their choices.”
“I get that,” said Bella. “It’s like that with the pack, too.”
Rosalie looked Bella in the eye now. “Have you ever had that? That kind of trust?”
Bella paused. If it weren’t for the openness—very nearly, the vulnerability—of Rosalie’s expression, she would have thought the vampire was taking a dig at her. As it was…
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The closest I have is probably Charlie. I could never trust my mom to take care of herself, let alone me.”
“Hmm.”
There was a moment’s pause. Bella barreled into it.
”So you haven’t—“
”No.”
”Yeah.” Bella sipped her water. “I guess it’s like that for both of us.”
Rosalie flinched slightly.
”Come on,” said Bella, “It’s not that bad. We were bound to have something in common eventually.”
”Aside from looks,” Rosalie quipped, seemingly automatic.
”Ha,” said Bella. “Yeah right.”
”What?”
”Come on, Rosalie,” said Bella, “you don’t have to kick me when I’m down.”
”Oh, so you…” Rosalie pressed her lips together. “You think I’m making fun of you.”
”If the shoe fits.”
”Well, I’m not.” Rosalie’s gaze was steady. “I think you’re beautiful, Bella.”
”Okay, um.” Bella swallowed. “I guess I can accept that. And, um, thank you. But that doesn’t mean we have looks in common, you know?”
”You don’t think I’m pretty?” Rosalie pouted jokingly.
”No, shut up. Like, people used your name as a synonym for hotness at school. I once actually heard Jessica say a girl was hot but that she was ‘no Rosalie.’ It’s like…not even a contest.”
”No,” said Rosalie, “it’s certainly not a contest.”
There was something in the following silence that made Bella want to run. It wasn’t predatory; not like those momentary flashes she’d get with Edward where he’d look at her with a hunter’s eyes and she’d see her own death.
Actually, that had happened with Jake, too. Even before the change. Both of them would sometimes retreat from behind their eyes for the occasional split-second, leaving only the animal.
She’d never seen Rosalie do that.
But she certainly didn’t feel comfortable, either.
Eventually, Rosalie broke their eye contact, looking down into her orange juice, which she swirled lightly in the glass without drinking. They stayed that way until the waitress came back with Bella’s food and a carafe of coffee.
”Oh my god,” said Bella, “this smells amazing.”
”Sure it does, hun,” said the waitress, pouring the coffee. “Enjoy that, now.”
Bella squinted at the retreating waitress.
”Trying to stare a hole through her?” Rosalie asked.
”Trying to figure out what she was really saying. I don’t think it was nice.”
”I’m not sure even she knows,” said Rosalie. “I think it was just a general air of disapproval.”
“Definitely not nice, then.” With a sigh, Bella took a sip of her coffee. Then grimaced. “Jesus fuck. This is decaf.”
”Ought to be a law against it.”
Bella looked at Rosalie. There was a curl to her lips. On anyone else, Bella would say it was a fond smile.
Well. They were friends now, weren’t they?
”I suppose you’re above petty revenge plots,” she said, shoving a piece of bacon in her mouth.
”What did you have in mind?”
Bella chewed, swallowed, sighed. “Nah, nothing. I could never do anything even slightly mean to a waitress. Job’s too hard.” She started on the pancakes.
”You know someone who did it?” Rosalie asked.
”Renee did, for a while. When I was little. She’d always come home so tired. And like…” Bella paused, focusing on pouring her syrup. “Like, defeated. She wasn’t much of a mom, but she’s a good person, you know? All sunshine. But that job would get even her down.”
”So I suppose, in this case, we’ll show the nosy Nellie some Christian charity?”
Bella snorted. “Sometimes I forget how old you are.”
”You should hear me when I get really hungry.” The startling honesty makes Bella set down her fork. “Then I start jumbling a century of slang through five different accents. Carlisle calls me Rosetta Stone.”
”That’s cute.”
”Here.” Rosalie, apparently by way of changing the topic, slid her glass of orange juice across the table. “Drink this. It might help if you consume a vitamin at some point this week.”
”Fine.” Bella took a sip. “I do that too, you know.”
”What?”
”Take care of people when I want them to stop asking about me. It always worked on Renee.”
”Oh, so now you’re the head shrinker.”
”Can you imagine?” Bella laughed. “World’s least qualified therapist.”
”I don’t know. I can think of a few less qualified. With degrees.”
”Doesn’t Edward—“
”Some things can be left unstated.”
A good time for Bella to focus on her food. She gave the eggs a try. Added salt, pepper, and more salt. Tried them again.
”So what kind of music do you listen to? Like in the car?” She ventured after a while.
”Anything, as long as it’s not bubblegum pop.”
”Too hard on your vam—I mean on your very good hearing?”
Rosalie rolled her eyes. “No. Just reminds me of Emmett.”
“Okay, no pop.” Bella swallowed the questions she wanted to ask about Rosalie and Emmett’s relationship. “That’s fine, I don’t like it anyway.”
”What do you like?”
”Hardcore punk.”
Rosalie raised her eyebrows.
”Just kidding. Mostly sad indie. Exactly the kind of stuff I look like I listen to.”
”That’s a shame,” said Rosalie. “I have cassettes from the 90s that would make your ears bleed.”
”Yeah. Maybe some other time.”
”Iron and Wine will have to do.”
Bella tried to hide it, but she perked up at the mention of a band she loved. A band that Jessica had, not incorrectly, labeled “boring sad man music.” But, nonetheless, a band she loved.
Rosalie smiled slightly, and Bella returned to her food. When the waitress returned, she was nearly done.
”Y’all want one check, or separate?”
”One,” said Rosalie, and Bella decided not to fight her on it.
“Don’t worry,” said Rosalie when they were alone, “I’ll still tip well.”
”I wasn’t worried,” Bella said. And she wasn’t.
When they had paid and returned to the car—Rosalie helping Bella up again—Rosalie handed Bella a CD case.
“Pick whatever you want.”
Bella turned on the overhead light—it had been evening when they left Rosalie’s house, but now it was truly getting dark—and flipped through the case. All the CDs were home-made, and most were labeled in Rosalie’s florid handwriting. Some, however, were clearly from her siblings. There was a SUPER COOL FUN TIME POP HITS in a sloppy hand that could only be Emmett’s, and LILITH FAIR BUT IT SMELLS BETTER in Alice’s cramped writing. Bella felt a small pang seeing that; she missed the friendship she thought she’d had with Alice.
There were two CDs labeled in Edward’s handwriting, which was somehow even more cursive than Rosalie’s. CLASSICAL BROODING MUSIC and SONGS TO INSPIRE YOUR REPRESSED ROMANTIC INCLINATIONS. Bella flipped past them briskly.
She found a pair of CDs Rosalie had clearly made herself; one was labeled YOU’VE PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OF THEM (UPBEAT) and the other was YOU’VE PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OF THEM (DOWNBEAT). Bella chose the downbeat one and slid it into the player. The first track was Elliott Smith.
”Good choice,” said Rosalie.
”You made it,” said Bella.
”Still.”
They pulled out of the diner parking lot and, shortly, onto the highway. The headlights threw into relief the shades of shadow that bracketed the two-lane road. Bella glanced at Rosalie’s profile, which gave off a moonish glow in the dim artificial light.
”You probably have XM Radio,” Bella muttered.
”I do,” said Rosalie, “but I can’t control what plays on the radio. I like CDs better.”
”Cullen trait,” Bella suggested.
Rosalie snorted. “Maybe. I have a compilation of Gregorian chants from Carlisle if you want to hear those.”
”Sounds scintillating.”
They fell silent. Bella leaned back in her seat and focused on the pulse of sad guitars, the turn of the wheels, the steady determination that seemed to emanate from Rosalie. All in all, she found she was as close to relaxing as she had been in months.