![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionWhen we last left off, I was hoping to be put out of my misery because Meyer thought that after Bella was nearly assaulted by four men, her main concern should be CALMING DOWN EDWARD.
In case you missed it:
So, we’ll pick up from that LOVELY conversation wherein it was MORE IMPORTANT for Edward to be calm than for BELLA TO BE CALM. You know, right after BELLA WAS NEARLY ASSAUTLED.
::breathes::
Yakko, ladies and gentlemen!
All right, let’s see if we can find the end of this.
I doubt it.
Bella’s idea of a conversation to relax Edward, is to say she’s gonna run down Tyler with her truck. She’s kidding, of course, and it would be charming. Were it not THEM.
"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends.
Yeah. She still thinks that Tyler LYING about her and their relationship is some sort of APOLOGY.
Edward has heard about the prom thing:
"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.
"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring.
The FUCK is with that emphasis? The way Bella’s talking, you think she didn’t come from a tiny high school. You know, the ONE SHE ALWAYS BITCHES ABOUT BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS HER SHIT. Hey, Bella? I know you think Edward is all sparkly and WONDERFUL, but you know what else he is? EVERYONE.
Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.
"Better?"
"Not really."
Because how Edward feels just MINUTES AFTER BELLA WAS ALMOST ATTACKED BY A GROUP OF MEN is the most important thing, right everyone? Because HE HAS A PENIS.
"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.
"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella."
Bet she still wants to touch his penis. Because he’s DANGEROUS. Right?
Honey, could you make the appropriate face for the idea that a woman wanting a man who KEEPS TELLING HER HE’S DANGEROUS is REALLY FUCKING SICK?
And now that you’ve thought about it, how does it make you feel?
Thank you, honey.
Then Edward says it wouldn’t be useful to track down the guys who tried to assault Bella:
"But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."
Oooh, I see what this is. Because Edward DOESN’T go beat the living shit out of them, he’s NOT ACTUALLY VIOLENT YOU GUYS. So he’s an all right dude! Right? RIGHT?
And then Edward takes her back to town:
We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try.
WOW. Hey, Meyer? You know how we talked about metaphors? YEAH. STOP IT. You are no good at metaphors, and referring to the cooch as a PARALLEL PARKING SPOT is NOT A GOOD METAPHOR.
I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.
"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.
I see we have the plot anvil of no cell phone. Because, of course, in 2005, kids NEVER had cell phones.
Ten bucks says Bella won’t find it creepy that Edward JUST HAPPENS to know where she was supposed to meet them. I mean, how could it be creepy? HE SHOULDN’T EVEN KNOW SHE’S IN PORT ANGELES.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.
He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."
I shivered at the threat in his voice.
WHAT. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL. There’s a THREAT in his voice, people. A THREAT. Aimed at BELLA’S FRIENDS. And she’s OKAY with it.
BREAK:
Thank you, Sportka. You’re a great little car. Now go do that to Bella.
"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.
"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.
Jessica? YOU ARE AWESOME.
"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them before.
"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.
Jessica, DUDE! You were COOL!
And, while Jessica and Angela were apparently fretting over their dear friend Bella, they went ahead and ATE WITHOUT HER. Because I know when I’m horribly concerned that one of my friends is MISSING, I always stop off for a snack.
"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.
"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of authority.
That’s right ladies: No eating unless you HAVE PERMISSION.
"Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."
"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted.
Um, Bella, if you’re so IN WUV with Edward, like you say, JESSICA SHOULD BE ABLE TO TELL WITHOUT YOU TIPPING HER OFF.
I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior.
PERPETUAL SAVIOR. PERPETUAL FUCKING SAVIOR. Don’t worry if you’re caught in the midst of four guys you don’t know, ladies; SOMEONE WILL SAVE YOU.
BECAUSE YOU ARE A WOMAN.
Angela and Jessica split [Seriously, Jessica, you were COOL!].
"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression was unreadable.
"Humor me."
DO AS HE SAYS BELLA. HE HAS A BALLSAC.
He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.
Or you could, you know, TELL HIM NO. But, of course, that would mean you have a BACKBONE BELLA.
The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me.
You’re fucking kidding me, right? Bella’s SURPRISED that she’s having an IRRATIONAL JEALOUSY RESPONSE? This is the woman who went into DESPAIR because EDWARD WASN’T AT SCHOOL.
I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness,
SO ORDINARY YOU GUYS. SO FUCKING ORDINARY.
VID!
Thank you, Steven and John. Always a pleasure.
I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.
Now, Bella, we’ve been through this. MEN SIT FIRST.
Oh, wait, he just wants a more private table. Yeah. THAT’S NOT CREEPY.
Then it turns into Bella stroking Edward’s ego. Prepare the vomit bucket.
"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."
He seemed confused.
"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."
He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"
"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"
He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"
"Frequently," I admitted.
Pardon me a moment.
It’s not gonna be fun, cleaning out that hat.
And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed.
Because GOOD-LOOKING PEOPLE never go into restaurants.
"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?"
I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.
Yeah. Edward’s JUST THAT HOT, you guys. A hot for which we still have NO REAL DESCRIPTION.
He looked at me.
"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.
"Two Cokes," he said.
If that sounds like a question, why doesn’t it have a fucking question mark? That’s a grammar drink.
He was watching me.
"What?" I asked when she left.
His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.
"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"
"Should I?"
He chuckled at my puzzled tone. "Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.
Oh, Edward, you sweetheart. It only took you A HALF HOUR OR MORE to make sure that BELLA’S NOT HAVING A TRAUMATIC RESPONSE TO NEARLY BEING ATTACKED. And you think IT’S FUNNY.
"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A CRACKER YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS. YEAH. THAT’S HEALTHY.
I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom ravioli."
"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.
"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.
Don’t forget, guys, his lack of eating where she can see him makes him a VAMPIRE.
"Drink," he ordered.
I sipped at my soda obediently,
That’s a good dog, Bella. Now balance a treat on your nose.
"Are you cold?"
"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.
"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.
Because how DARE she be without a coat on what was a WARM day. My god, Edward, how DO you keep from hating her?
No, seriously? How? I mean, you’re a douche, yeah, but Bella’s FUCKING USELESS.
Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever.
WAIT. Before anyone snarks about Bella’s attention span. Just wait.
I just couldn't seem to look away from his face.
I wouldn’t want you to make the joke that Bella makes on herself.
And then we get a description of Edward’s clothes—beige jacket, ivory sweater—which probably look GREAT next to his pale skin. You know, the skin for which we have MORE DESCRIPTION than Edward’s ENTIRE FUCKING FACE. You know, the face Bella CAN’T STOP STARING AT.
"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.
LOVELY? SERIOUSLY? DIE.
"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.
"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled.
But Bella’s such a SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE [drink] that NEARLY GETTING VIOLENTLY ASSAULTED doesn’t PHASE HER. As long as THERE’S A MAN TO SAVE HER.
God, what a shitty, shitty message here. No need to be shaken, ladies. A MAN will save you and compliment you because YOU DON’T FREAK OUT AS IS YOUR RIGHT IF YOU’VE NEARLY BEEN ATTACKED.
"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.
That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.
BUT HE’S STILL HOT YOU GUYS.
So then Bella says she has a theory, and OF COURSE Edward can’t wait to hear it. Because it’s ABOUT HIM. Fucking hell, people. Double snowflake. DRINK.
"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.
I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"
He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.
"Next."
"But that's the easiest one," I objected.
"Next," he repeated.
Fuck forbid Bella ask a PERFECTLY RATIONAL QUESTION. And, OF COURSE, Edward brushes her off. And what does she do? ASKS A DIFFERENT QUESTION.
"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."
"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."
Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it’s going. Please tell me this isn’t going straight into Edward not being able to read Bella, and that’s why he finds her fascinating.
Oh, god, it’s going to be true, isn’t it?
FULL DISCLOSURE: It’s now much later than it was when I started tonight’s snark. I’ve had dinner and three drinks with friends. The drinks include a Margarita, a Cosmo, and a Carmen Miranda. I’m admitting this so that any weird phrasing or typing is explained.
Also, I look very classy.
I have two-and-a-half pages to go. Let’s see if the booze softens the blow.
So Bella and Edward start talking in HYPOTHETICALS about a guy named “Joe” who has magical VAMPIRE powers and “Jane”, who is a goddamned IDIOT. Guess who she’s supposed to be?
Bella wants Edward to admit the truth. Edward’s response?
"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong— you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."
He doesn’t have a choice? Really? Edward seems to LOVE telling Bella NO. And OBSERVANT? COME THE FUCK ON. She’s never LOOKED AT HIS FUCKING CLOTHES. And still hasn’t DESCRIBED HIS FACE.
"I thought you were always right."
"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."
First line: VOMIT
Main paragraph: OF COURSE SHE’S A MAGNENT FOR TROUBLE. FUCK FORBID MEYER GIVE US A FEMALE PROTAGANIST WHO ISN’T A COMPLETE FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE AND TIME. Because, you know that Edward’s going to save her EVERY GODDAMNED TIME.
"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.
His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."
EDWARD HAS JUST TOLD BELLA HE IS TROUBLE. BET SHE’S COOL WITH IT. BECAUSE SHE’S AN IDIOT.
"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."
THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME BECAUSE FUCK FORBID I DO ANYTHING TO SAVE MYSELF.
Look, the Tyler thing? With the van? There’s nothing Bella could have done about that. I don’t expect anyone in a “Oh, shit, VAN” situation to fix the problem without help. HOWEVER, while Bella IS NOT at fault for four guys being possibly violent creeps, she had the chance to scream or yell or holler or DO SOMETHING, and she decided not to, BECAUSE HER THROAT WAS DRY.
Personal story time: I had a guy who’d been harassing me on the bus put his hands on me. And when I say, “put his hands on me”, I mean “grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go”. It happened, in my mind, OUT OF NOWHERE, and I still had the presence of mind to use the seats as leverage and kick him in the head. He let go.
What I’m saying is this: While it is not possible to react in a way that its always beneficial to situations, it IS possible to REACT TO SITUATIONS. And this is not something THAT BELLA HAS ACTUALLY DONE.
His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"
I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing both of his under the table. But he leaned toward me.
Prepare yourself for epic shock:
I’m AGREEING with EDWARD. Because, you know what? Not wanting Bella to end up in a POSSIBLY VIOLENT situation MAKES SENSE.
Which brings me to a very important question: WHY THE FUCK IS BELLA SCOWLING? I DON’T GET IT. The boy she wants to hump like a horny dog in a room full of coffee table legs is telling her NOT TO BE HARMED and it PISSES HER OFF.
THE FUCK.
"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush.
Oh, sure, this is COMPLETELY NOT CREEPY.
I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me;
YES.
instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure.
OF COURSE YOU DO YOU CRAZY FUCKING WEIRDO.
He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.
He’s not the only one. Since when is a guy YOU BARELY KNOW taking the time TO FOLLOW YOU considered PLEASURABLE? Personally, I’d RUN LIKE HELL.
"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.
YES. Get that TARDIS that fucks up your grammar so horribly, show up at the scene again, and LET TYLER HIT YOU. HARD.
"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."
If this is the kind of line that makes you cream your jeans, we can’t be friends anymore. And I’m not kidding when I say that.
I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence stifled it.
SO IT’S OKAY THAT SHE WAS SCARED OF HIM. BECAUSE SHE FEELS SAFE NOW.
Edward and Bella make a deal. If she’ll eat, Edward will explain how he found her. How bad is it? Aren’t you glad you’re not reading this whole thing? YES YOU ARE.
Fuck the quotes. It comes down to this: Edward read people’s minds to find Bella. Yeah. That’s not creepy times a billion. And then we get this:
"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive."
Oh, poor Edward. It must have been SO FUCKING TERRIBLE to have to RESCUE BELLA FROM A NEAR-VIOLNET ATTACK. HOW TERRIBLE FOR HIM. Notice how there’s nothing being said about HOW HE FEELS THAT BELLA WAS ALMOST HURT? It’s ALL ABOUT HIM.
His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.
Taking her to dinner so he won’t wail on some dudes? NOT CHARMING. I don’t care that those dudes were most likely going to physically harm Bella; if you think it’s hot that he took her to dinner so he WOULDN’T BE VIOLENT, you have problems. REALLY.
Thank you, Seth. And apologies to non-Americans who may not be able to see the clip. There are a couple of versions on youtube [search "seth meyer really" and pick the 1:59 about Michael Phelps], but this is the purest clip. Damned you, hulu, for being so awesome and closed-off to non-Americans.
"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.
Because, to Bella, this whole conversation about BEING TAKEN TO DINNER SO THAT EDWARD WON’T BE VIOLENT isn’t SCARY. It’s ROMANTIC.
I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that he didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.
But she’s TOTALLY COOL with the idea that he can HEAR THE THOUGHTS OF OTHER PEOPLE.
I hate this book and every major character in it. The Husband, during a read-through a few nights ago, mentioned how Bella and Edward were fucking useless, but Mike seemed like the type of boy a writer would WANT to have as a protagonist in her books. He’s polite; he’s good-natured; he seems to genuinely care, IN A NON-CREEPY FASHION about Bella’s well-being. But Mike, of course, is FUCKING BORING. Because he’s NOT A BAD BOY.
Look, take it from a married woman: the bad boys are fucking useless. You know who are worth keeping around? The DECENT GUYS. FUCK EDWARD.
In case you missed it:
So, we’ll pick up from that LOVELY conversation wherein it was MORE IMPORTANT for Edward to be calm than for BELLA TO BE CALM. You know, right after BELLA WAS NEARLY ASSAUTLED.
::breathes::
Yakko, ladies and gentlemen!
All right, let’s see if we can find the end of this.
I doubt it.
Bella’s idea of a conversation to relax Edward, is to say she’s gonna run down Tyler with her truck. She’s kidding, of course, and it would be charming. Were it not THEM.
"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends.
Yeah. She still thinks that Tyler LYING about her and their relationship is some sort of APOLOGY.
Edward has heard about the prom thing:
"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.
"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring.
The FUCK is with that emphasis? The way Bella’s talking, you think she didn’t come from a tiny high school. You know, the ONE SHE ALWAYS BITCHES ABOUT BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS HER SHIT. Hey, Bella? I know you think Edward is all sparkly and WONDERFUL, but you know what else he is? EVERYONE.
Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.
"Better?"
"Not really."
Because how Edward feels just MINUTES AFTER BELLA WAS ALMOST ATTACKED BY A GROUP OF MEN is the most important thing, right everyone? Because HE HAS A PENIS.
"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.
"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella."
Bet she still wants to touch his penis. Because he’s DANGEROUS. Right?
Honey, could you make the appropriate face for the idea that a woman wanting a man who KEEPS TELLING HER HE’S DANGEROUS is REALLY FUCKING SICK?
And now that you’ve thought about it, how does it make you feel?
Thank you, honey.
Then Edward says it wouldn’t be useful to track down the guys who tried to assault Bella:
"But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."
Oooh, I see what this is. Because Edward DOESN’T go beat the living shit out of them, he’s NOT ACTUALLY VIOLENT YOU GUYS. So he’s an all right dude! Right? RIGHT?
And then Edward takes her back to town:
We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try.
WOW. Hey, Meyer? You know how we talked about metaphors? YEAH. STOP IT. You are no good at metaphors, and referring to the cooch as a PARALLEL PARKING SPOT is NOT A GOOD METAPHOR.
I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.
"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.
I see we have the plot anvil of no cell phone. Because, of course, in 2005, kids NEVER had cell phones.
Ten bucks says Bella won’t find it creepy that Edward JUST HAPPENS to know where she was supposed to meet them. I mean, how could it be creepy? HE SHOULDN’T EVEN KNOW SHE’S IN PORT ANGELES.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.
He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."
I shivered at the threat in his voice.
WHAT. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL. There’s a THREAT in his voice, people. A THREAT. Aimed at BELLA’S FRIENDS. And she’s OKAY with it.
BREAK:
Thank you, Sportka. You’re a great little car. Now go do that to Bella.
"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.
"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.
Jessica? YOU ARE AWESOME.
"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them before.
"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.
Jessica, DUDE! You were COOL!
And, while Jessica and Angela were apparently fretting over their dear friend Bella, they went ahead and ATE WITHOUT HER. Because I know when I’m horribly concerned that one of my friends is MISSING, I always stop off for a snack.
"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.
"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of authority.
That’s right ladies: No eating unless you HAVE PERMISSION.
"Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."
"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted.
Um, Bella, if you’re so IN WUV with Edward, like you say, JESSICA SHOULD BE ABLE TO TELL WITHOUT YOU TIPPING HER OFF.
I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior.
PERPETUAL SAVIOR. PERPETUAL FUCKING SAVIOR. Don’t worry if you’re caught in the midst of four guys you don’t know, ladies; SOMEONE WILL SAVE YOU.
BECAUSE YOU ARE A WOMAN.
Angela and Jessica split [Seriously, Jessica, you were COOL!].
"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression was unreadable.
"Humor me."
DO AS HE SAYS BELLA. HE HAS A BALLSAC.
He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.
Or you could, you know, TELL HIM NO. But, of course, that would mean you have a BACKBONE BELLA.
The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me.
You’re fucking kidding me, right? Bella’s SURPRISED that she’s having an IRRATIONAL JEALOUSY RESPONSE? This is the woman who went into DESPAIR because EDWARD WASN’T AT SCHOOL.
I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness,
SO ORDINARY YOU GUYS. SO FUCKING ORDINARY.
VID!
Thank you, Steven and John. Always a pleasure.
I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.
Now, Bella, we’ve been through this. MEN SIT FIRST.
Oh, wait, he just wants a more private table. Yeah. THAT’S NOT CREEPY.
Then it turns into Bella stroking Edward’s ego. Prepare the vomit bucket.
"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."
He seemed confused.
"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."
He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"
"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"
He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"
"Frequently," I admitted.
Pardon me a moment.
It’s not gonna be fun, cleaning out that hat.
And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed.
Because GOOD-LOOKING PEOPLE never go into restaurants.
"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?"
I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.
Yeah. Edward’s JUST THAT HOT, you guys. A hot for which we still have NO REAL DESCRIPTION.
He looked at me.
"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.
"Two Cokes," he said.
If that sounds like a question, why doesn’t it have a fucking question mark? That’s a grammar drink.
He was watching me.
"What?" I asked when she left.
His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.
"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"
"Should I?"
He chuckled at my puzzled tone. "Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.
Oh, Edward, you sweetheart. It only took you A HALF HOUR OR MORE to make sure that BELLA’S NOT HAVING A TRAUMATIC RESPONSE TO NEARLY BEING ATTACKED. And you think IT’S FUNNY.
"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A CRACKER YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS. YEAH. THAT’S HEALTHY.
I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom ravioli."
"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.
"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.
Don’t forget, guys, his lack of eating where she can see him makes him a VAMPIRE.
"Drink," he ordered.
I sipped at my soda obediently,
That’s a good dog, Bella. Now balance a treat on your nose.
"Are you cold?"
"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.
"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.
Because how DARE she be without a coat on what was a WARM day. My god, Edward, how DO you keep from hating her?
No, seriously? How? I mean, you’re a douche, yeah, but Bella’s FUCKING USELESS.
Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever.
WAIT. Before anyone snarks about Bella’s attention span. Just wait.
I just couldn't seem to look away from his face.
I wouldn’t want you to make the joke that Bella makes on herself.
And then we get a description of Edward’s clothes—beige jacket, ivory sweater—which probably look GREAT next to his pale skin. You know, the skin for which we have MORE DESCRIPTION than Edward’s ENTIRE FUCKING FACE. You know, the face Bella CAN’T STOP STARING AT.
"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.
LOVELY? SERIOUSLY? DIE.
"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.
"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled.
But Bella’s such a SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE [drink] that NEARLY GETTING VIOLENTLY ASSAULTED doesn’t PHASE HER. As long as THERE’S A MAN TO SAVE HER.
God, what a shitty, shitty message here. No need to be shaken, ladies. A MAN will save you and compliment you because YOU DON’T FREAK OUT AS IS YOUR RIGHT IF YOU’VE NEARLY BEEN ATTACKED.
"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.
That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.
BUT HE’S STILL HOT YOU GUYS.
So then Bella says she has a theory, and OF COURSE Edward can’t wait to hear it. Because it’s ABOUT HIM. Fucking hell, people. Double snowflake. DRINK.
"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.
I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"
He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.
"Next."
"But that's the easiest one," I objected.
"Next," he repeated.
Fuck forbid Bella ask a PERFECTLY RATIONAL QUESTION. And, OF COURSE, Edward brushes her off. And what does she do? ASKS A DIFFERENT QUESTION.
"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."
"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."
Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it’s going. Please tell me this isn’t going straight into Edward not being able to read Bella, and that’s why he finds her fascinating.
Oh, god, it’s going to be true, isn’t it?
FULL DISCLOSURE: It’s now much later than it was when I started tonight’s snark. I’ve had dinner and three drinks with friends. The drinks include a Margarita, a Cosmo, and a Carmen Miranda. I’m admitting this so that any weird phrasing or typing is explained.
Also, I look very classy.
I have two-and-a-half pages to go. Let’s see if the booze softens the blow.
So Bella and Edward start talking in HYPOTHETICALS about a guy named “Joe” who has magical VAMPIRE powers and “Jane”, who is a goddamned IDIOT. Guess who she’s supposed to be?
Bella wants Edward to admit the truth. Edward’s response?
"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong— you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."
He doesn’t have a choice? Really? Edward seems to LOVE telling Bella NO. And OBSERVANT? COME THE FUCK ON. She’s never LOOKED AT HIS FUCKING CLOTHES. And still hasn’t DESCRIBED HIS FACE.
"I thought you were always right."
"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."
First line: VOMIT
Main paragraph: OF COURSE SHE’S A MAGNENT FOR TROUBLE. FUCK FORBID MEYER GIVE US A FEMALE PROTAGANIST WHO ISN’T A COMPLETE FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE AND TIME. Because, you know that Edward’s going to save her EVERY GODDAMNED TIME.
"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.
His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."
EDWARD HAS JUST TOLD BELLA HE IS TROUBLE. BET SHE’S COOL WITH IT. BECAUSE SHE’S AN IDIOT.
"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."
THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME BECAUSE FUCK FORBID I DO ANYTHING TO SAVE MYSELF.
Look, the Tyler thing? With the van? There’s nothing Bella could have done about that. I don’t expect anyone in a “Oh, shit, VAN” situation to fix the problem without help. HOWEVER, while Bella IS NOT at fault for four guys being possibly violent creeps, she had the chance to scream or yell or holler or DO SOMETHING, and she decided not to, BECAUSE HER THROAT WAS DRY.
Personal story time: I had a guy who’d been harassing me on the bus put his hands on me. And when I say, “put his hands on me”, I mean “grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go”. It happened, in my mind, OUT OF NOWHERE, and I still had the presence of mind to use the seats as leverage and kick him in the head. He let go.
What I’m saying is this: While it is not possible to react in a way that its always beneficial to situations, it IS possible to REACT TO SITUATIONS. And this is not something THAT BELLA HAS ACTUALLY DONE.
His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"
I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing both of his under the table. But he leaned toward me.
Prepare yourself for epic shock:
I’m AGREEING with EDWARD. Because, you know what? Not wanting Bella to end up in a POSSIBLY VIOLENT situation MAKES SENSE.
Which brings me to a very important question: WHY THE FUCK IS BELLA SCOWLING? I DON’T GET IT. The boy she wants to hump like a horny dog in a room full of coffee table legs is telling her NOT TO BE HARMED and it PISSES HER OFF.
THE FUCK.
"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush.
Oh, sure, this is COMPLETELY NOT CREEPY.
I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me;
YES.
instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure.
OF COURSE YOU DO YOU CRAZY FUCKING WEIRDO.
He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.
He’s not the only one. Since when is a guy YOU BARELY KNOW taking the time TO FOLLOW YOU considered PLEASURABLE? Personally, I’d RUN LIKE HELL.
"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.
YES. Get that TARDIS that fucks up your grammar so horribly, show up at the scene again, and LET TYLER HIT YOU. HARD.
"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."
If this is the kind of line that makes you cream your jeans, we can’t be friends anymore. And I’m not kidding when I say that.
I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence stifled it.
SO IT’S OKAY THAT SHE WAS SCARED OF HIM. BECAUSE SHE FEELS SAFE NOW.
Edward and Bella make a deal. If she’ll eat, Edward will explain how he found her. How bad is it? Aren’t you glad you’re not reading this whole thing? YES YOU ARE.
Fuck the quotes. It comes down to this: Edward read people’s minds to find Bella. Yeah. That’s not creepy times a billion. And then we get this:
"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive."
Oh, poor Edward. It must have been SO FUCKING TERRIBLE to have to RESCUE BELLA FROM A NEAR-VIOLNET ATTACK. HOW TERRIBLE FOR HIM. Notice how there’s nothing being said about HOW HE FEELS THAT BELLA WAS ALMOST HURT? It’s ALL ABOUT HIM.
His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.
Taking her to dinner so he won’t wail on some dudes? NOT CHARMING. I don’t care that those dudes were most likely going to physically harm Bella; if you think it’s hot that he took her to dinner so he WOULDN’T BE VIOLENT, you have problems. REALLY.
Thank you, Seth. And apologies to non-Americans who may not be able to see the clip. There are a couple of versions on youtube [search "seth meyer really" and pick the 1:59 about Michael Phelps], but this is the purest clip. Damned you, hulu, for being so awesome and closed-off to non-Americans.
"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.
Because, to Bella, this whole conversation about BEING TAKEN TO DINNER SO THAT EDWARD WON’T BE VIOLENT isn’t SCARY. It’s ROMANTIC.
I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that he didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.
But she’s TOTALLY COOL with the idea that he can HEAR THE THOUGHTS OF OTHER PEOPLE.
I hate this book and every major character in it. The Husband, during a read-through a few nights ago, mentioned how Bella and Edward were fucking useless, but Mike seemed like the type of boy a writer would WANT to have as a protagonist in her books. He’s polite; he’s good-natured; he seems to genuinely care, IN A NON-CREEPY FASHION about Bella’s well-being. But Mike, of course, is FUCKING BORING. Because he’s NOT A BAD BOY.
Look, take it from a married woman: the bad boys are fucking useless. You know who are worth keeping around? The DECENT GUYS. FUCK EDWARD.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-02-20 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-20 09:03 pm (UTC)Disturbed relationships can be terribly interesting to write about. The whole stalker-romance aspect could even be interesting, if the book was not... how do I put it... a giant, reeking, steaming pile of crap, maybe?
I'm to the point where I'm not so much amazed and concerned about how much my friends adore this series.
(This is like six posts late, but I adore that you recced The Bean Trees. That book is made of awesome.)
no subject
on 2009-02-20 09:04 pm (UTC)Work has eaten my English skills, apparently.