Dec 23, 2008 18:31
"Try me," I finally said.
He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the sun - the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles - and spoke. “Ruby-tinged?” What the hell, I thought it was like diamonds. Rubies and diamonds are not the same thing Meyer. Rubies are you know… red.
"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza."
Looks like Meyer knows how to use wikipedia at least. I checked, the out break was in 1918, and it was most common among healthy young adults. Here’s a cookie for you Meyer.
He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. He looked down into my eyes again.
"I don't remember it well - it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. Saved him? I’m not sure if turning someone into a creature, that’s traditionally a monster, is the same as saving him. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."
"Your parents?"
"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone." And of course Carlisle choose Edward over all the other people in that hospital because he’s just so damn speshful. And by the way, why did he chose a pretty young boy to be his companion? It seems kinda gay, huh?
"How did he… save you?"
A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.
"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. Accomplish the change is that what he’s talking about? I’m confused. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." He paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."
I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. How generous of her. There were many things I needed to think through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt his quick mind had already comprehended every aspect that eluded me. He even thinks prefect now?
His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating." Wouldn’t the parametrics know her heart was still beating? I mean they would check to see if she had a pulse. They wouldn’t think, “oh she fell off a cliff, most people die from that, so we can half ass this and bring her to the morgue right away.”
"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I couldn't frame it now. “Frame it,” some more thesaurus rape, I see.
"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." But still, don’t you think some people would rather die than become, what Edward says, are monsters? Carlisle still isn’t giving people the choice. We’re supposed to believe he’s oh so compassionate, but like so much Meyer fails in this, too. The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.
"And Emmett and Rosalie?"
"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn't realize till much later that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him - he was careful with his thoughts around me." He rolled his eyes. "But she was never more than a sister. Here’s Meyer’s not so subtle allusion, or rip off, of Romeo and Juliet. In the play, we have Roselyn, sounds like Rosalie, who is Romeo’s big crush at first, but she’s the wretch we never even meet. And then Romeo meets his Juliet, which is what Meyer wants us to see with Bella and Edward. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting - we were in Appalachia at the time - and found a bear about to finish him off. Wait a tick, Meyer has said that, when hunting, vampires will attack anything that appeals to them, and humans are supposed to be the most tasty. So wouldn’t Rosalie been more likely to have killed the bear and eat Emmett then save him if we’re sticking with Meyer’s rules? She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I like that Rosalie was the one to find her guy, but she didn’t get to rescue him for humanity. She had to go back to Daddy to him to do it for her. God Meyer! You really would die if you made your women equal in anyway to men, wouldn’t you? And plus, why wouldn’t she take him to a hospital to save his life? I mean she went 100 miles to go back home, I’m guessing it was likely a hospital was as close by or closer. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." He threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of his hand.
"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty of his eyes.
"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again." God what a boring life. Really, doesn’t it sound boring to be a sparklepire?
"Alice and Jasper?"
"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Meaning they decided not to kill people on their own, points to them. Jasper belonged to another… family, a very different kind of family. Let’s here about that back story! Got to be more interesting then all of Bella and Edward’s crap. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."
"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's
thoughts."
"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things - things that might happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change." Okay Meyer, I really don’t think you’re sophisticated a writer to deal with the deep philosophical questions of fate and free will. Let’s see how she screws this up, she’s bond to with her track record so far.
His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it. What? Why did he do that? Is he having facial ticks?
"What kinds of things does she see?"
"She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."
"Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected? Well there are people other there who are far more clever than you Bella, obviously they’re good at hiding themselves or they would have all been run down by an angry mob by now.
"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people" - a sly glance in my direction - "can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together."
"And the others?"
"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. How could it get tedious? You could backpack everywhere in the world, I suppose only at night though. Well you could still travel during the day, as long as people couldn’t see you. Then see the sights at night. It would be awesome. And if you’re hungry, just find a squirrel or whatever. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."
"Why is that?"
We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my father wasn't home yet.
"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" he teased. "Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? Hahaha! That’s pretty good. I think the only people who would break for Edward would be someone looking for a male hooker. Because what man, who wasn’t looking to sell the goods, would wear glitter? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. There are other places that aren’t that sunny. Like isn’t the top of Russia and Scandinavia also dark for 6 mouths like Alaska? Correct me please if I’m wrong. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."
"So that's where the legends came from?"
"Probably." Well at least that’s a half-assed reason for one of the supposed “myths” about vampires in this universe Meyer made herself. But what about the other ones?
"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"
"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. Could have been a “she.” If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage." Wait a second. Didn’t Edward say that the visions change when people make choices? So couldn’t she have still become savage if she wanted to? And it’s Jasper and Carlisle she sees, she needs men to save her from herself now. Am I reading too much into this?
On a side note, doesn’t Meyer not know herself how Alice was made? Because she says the characters hid things from her or some crap like that. Does she not realize this is her story, her creative universe and that she controls everything in it? Guess not, well she doesn’t write like a real writer. So why would she act like one and think more deeply about her own fucking story?
There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.
"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."
"I'm fine, really."
"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."
"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, why is that? knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to him. Again with the allusion to “addictions” like before with the heroin. I can’t believe Meyer is serious with these books, thinking this is true love.
"Can't I come in?" he asked.
"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting in my father's shabby kitchen chair. ::rolls eyes:: I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.
"Yes, if it's all right." I heard the door close quietly, and almost simultaneously he was outside my door, opening it for me.
"Very human," I complimented him.
"It's definitely resurfacing." He said that like three times, hasn’t he?
He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at him constantly to be sure he was still there. In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon. How can people stand this?
He reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. What a gentlemen, let’s see why the door was unlocked. I paused halfway through the frame.
"The door was unlocked?"
"No, I used the key from under the eave."
I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him with my eyebrows raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front of him.
"I was curious about you." I bet you say that to all the girls. And he was “curious” enough to search for the key to spy on her, that’s premeditated.
"You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper outrage. I was flattered. ::headdesk:: Bella is fucked in the head, clearly, and she acknowledges that it would have been right to be outraged and freaked out! This is messed up.
He was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?" OSUWARI! Sit you controlling, disrespectful bastard. This is now starting to make me angry, this book.
I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. Fucktard! He was there before me, needing no guide. She acts like it’s so damn casual, too! He sat in the very chair I'd tried to picture him in. His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I could look away. I think I’m going start crying. It’s so obvious that Bella, and Stephanie, can and will dismiss all of Edward’s horrible behavior just because of his HAWTness.
I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the fridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I didn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.
"How often?" I asked casually.
"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train of thought.
I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?"
"I come here almost every night." Meyer: “Stalking is so romantic girls!” You know, I wonder how she would react if one of her boys were stalked. She says she thinks it would be flattering, but if she saw what happened if the privacy of someone she loved was compromised by an obsessive stranger.
I whirled, stunned. "Why?"
"You're interesting when you sleep." He spoke matter-of-factly. "You talk."
"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I gripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about here, though. Isn’t that a stupid thing to worry about in any circumstances? Unless of course Big Brother is listening to you in your sleep, but Twilight isn’t set in Orwell’s 1984, so I think Bella is safe from being sent to Room 101.
I talk in my sleep sometimes, so does my father, and I’ve heard my cousin do it too. It’s not that uncommon or unusual. My cousin said one time I was talking in German in my sleep. I wonder what I was saying. She said she didn’t know because she didn’t understand me.
His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. CHAGRIN! "Are you very angry with me?" And he’s annoyed that she’s upset that he violated her privacy. ::facepalm::
"That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of me.
He waited.
"On?" he urged.
"What you heard!" I wailed.
Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his.
"Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of my eyes, holding my gaze. I was
embarrassed. Why was she embarrassed? I tried to look away.
"You miss your mother," he whispered. "You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'" Christ, she complains even in her sleep. He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.
"Anything else?" I demanded.
He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted.
I sighed in defeat. "A lot?"
"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?"
"Oh no!" I hung my head. ::headdesk:: I need a drink.
He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.
"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at all, it would be about you. Dumbass fans say “ZOMG! Isn’t he so romantic!” And I'm not ashamed of it." You should be ashamed of yourself for this.
Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in his arms.
"Should your father know I'm here?" he asked.
"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.
"Another time then…"
And I was alone.
"Edward!" I hissed.
I heard a ghostly chuckle, then nothing else.
My father's key turned in the door.
"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? Why is she so critical of her father? Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base. At least now she knows why he calls out her name to make sure she’s there. People’s homes get broken into everywhere, you know.
"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. What? I grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walked in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Edward. I like that actually. Charlie bringing her back to reality like that, it’s clever.
"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." He stepped on the heels of his boots to take them off, holding the back of Edward's chair for support. He sat in the chair once, and now it’s “Edward’s chair.”
I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burned my tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while his lasagna was heating, and gulped mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. She must be in withdrawal, there’s all this talk about addition. Edward is also heroin, I think. Charlie sat in the chair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.
"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.
"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to my room.
"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?"
"Not really - it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another big bite.
"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to myself.
Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my milk.
Charlie surprised me by being observant. She clearly doesn’t know her father that well, but I think we’re supposed to believe she has him all figured out. "In a hurry?"
"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."
"You look kinda keyed up," he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to be his night to pay attention? Has she been asleep for the entire book? I’ve seen nothing to suggest that Charlie doesn’t pay attention to his daughter.
"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry.
"It's Saturday," he mused.
I didn't respond.
"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.
"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."
"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but trying to play it cool.
"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not to over-emphasize the word boys in my quest to be truthful with Charlie. I think you failed to be truthful with him when you lied needlessly to say that you where staying home instead of letting him believe you where going to Settle. Whatever, she tells lies all the time.
"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly." Huh, Charlie’s smart enough to figure out that what’s up with Bella is a guy. See Bella, not everyone in Forks is a moron like you want us to think.
"He's Just a friend, Dad."
"Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to start looking." Every father's dream, that his daughter will be out of the house before the hormones kick in. If that’s true then “every father” doesn’t care about his daughter very much.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.
"'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out.
"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at midnight to check on me. I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs to my room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. What a little sneak she is. I threw it open and leaned out into the night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the trees.
"Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic. Why would she feel idotic?
The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"
I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.
commentry on twilight