Renesmee’s Diary – Exposure

July 24, 2010

Dear Diary,

I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to write in you since my “mother-daughter day.” A lot has changed in a week. My guitar skills have increased, and as a quick learner I am no longer learning nursery rhymes. I have traveled much farther into deeper songs such as “American Pie” by Don McLean. I have no clue as to how this is. But then again it was only at age one or so I began to read novels.

I wanted to move on to something more complicated—writing my own song. I knew it was going to take me a while to do that. I had to start listening to music that was going to get me there. I liked almost every genre of music; Indie, pop, rock, classical. But of all my favorite was country. And the acoustic guitar was my passion, my main instrument. Sure I gained my father’s aspect on music, but in a different way. My own way.

Who was I to tell first? My father already knew, so he didn’t count. I didn’t want to bother my human friends, Kim and Emily today.  I hear that it’s Sam and Jared’s time off from patrolling. I could inquire Esme, but she too was spending time with Carlisle. There was a mad flu being spread at the hospitable and of course Carlisle was the only one to not catch it. It was his duty to work his co-worker’s shifts while they were out. It didn’t annoy Carlisle so much, except for him being separated from Esme longer. I could understand that.

Emmett, my parents, and Rosalie were off playing a game of basketball or tag to kill time. You would think that with grown adult senses they would quit with the childish games, but I can see how boring life can get when you cannot be distracted with human needs. And especially without sleep, that automatically adds an extra eight hours to your day. I just hoped Emmett wouldn’t get so competitive (I wanted my mom to return in one solid piece). Even though my mom wasn’t a newborn anymore, Emmett still felt the urge to challenge her more so than others. I concluded it was because she was so feeble as a human and he wanted to still prove her so even as a vampire. He wasn’t quite so incorrect. My mom still does manage to tumble over even as a sleek, beautiful vampire.

Jacob was patrolling endlessly today with Embry, Leah, Quil, Paul, and Seth. I knew he would see me tonight, only he’d be exhausted. His mind would be drained of concentration and focus which means I could use his half nakedness to my advantage, hmm……

That left only two people left. One couple, actually. Alice and Jasper. Alice was a great aunt, but she was very prodigal. I knew she’d herd me into trying on new apparel. I wasn’t in the mood for unnecessary enthusiasm, not now. Right now I needed to reveal that I wanted to be a songwriter. Right now I needed to tell someone that understood.

Major Whitlock was seated on the sofa, burying himself in an unrecognizable book. I was told of his past, his human life. I knew the scars had their own story. Today the scars were hidden, shielded by Jasper’s sleeves. He didn’t talk much and usually avoided me (for safety reasons). But he didn’t frighten me nor did he creep me out. He had his own reasons to keep a distance and act the way he did. I respected that.

“Good morning,” I proceeded to the leather recliner adjacent to Jasper’s seating.

“Good morning,” He made eye contact. His eyes were a safe topaz, he had hunted recently.

I didn’t ask him about what he was reading because I didn’t want to send the message that I was nosy. I also didn’t want to intrude on his personal activity, but I needed to tell someone.

I was well aware country music originated in the 19th century, but I had the feeling Jasper might be the only one to connect with me on this. Telling him was a smart too because he wouldn’t tell a soul. He’s one of the quietest vampires you’ll ever hear of. Alice might accidentally blurt it out somewhere, and I wanted to tell others myself.

“So, you like country music?” I wasn’t trying to sound so obvious or obnoxious. Just because he was born in Texas doesn’t mean he favors country music at all.

“I don’t care much for any music. But country music is fine. Much better than most modern music.” I didn’t expect him to say anymore on the subject, which he didn’t. Here was my chance to jump at the truth. It was either I told him now, or never. Jasper wouldn’t have much persistence from ignoring his book for long.

“I love country music. That’s why I play the guitar. What do you think if I wrote a song?” He didn’t look shocked as I had supposed he would. Jasper was the one filled with surprises.

“If that’s what you like, then do it,” I wasn’t sure if I was intimidating him, or keeping him company.

“Was there a lot of music in the army?” Ok, it wasn’t a great idea to start with the Confederate Army, but I was curious. My mom would have scolded me and apologized for me. But Jasper’s expression was now a grin. A grin? And a chuckle too……what did I do now?

“Yes, there was now that I think of it. I always remembered the night before my transformation, but never the fun times with my soldiers…..we sang songs. That’s about it. I don’t remember if someone brought a banjo along. But we sang and danced to celebrate victories and increase moral,” His eyes glistened under the lamp light, as if dawning on something he’d never crossed before.

“I…I can’t believe I forgot about the jolly times we had….I guess my attention to my human life was always set on my transformation night….I do recall though that I loved my work as a major, but as far as positives go, that’s it.” Well we were going somewhere. I had reunited Jasper with the light (Alice did the job first). He could now see a day as a human where all was well. Not all his human memories had to be dark and depressing. At least I had done that, even if my sole purpose was to expose the truth of my desire to be a songwriter.

Jasper grabbed my guitar and strung the guitar strings. I didn’t mind because it wasn’t often you saw Jasper doing something heart-lifting. He played an unfamiliar song, but it sounded very vintage. He was also humming and mumbling lyrics at certain points. His foot tapped to every beat in which every way the rhythm had danced to. This was very rare, something I’d never seen Jasper perform before. He was talented, alright. He was experienced and all this time he didn’t inform me of this.

He sensed my appreciation of his performance. I was in such awe that I didn’t applaud when his outstanding song finished.

“This is a song popular back in my time in the army,” He explained to clear any confusion. Either way, I adored the song.

“You’re really talented. D’think you could teach me that? That’s if you’re comfortable…?”

So Jasper, the silent vampire became loud today. But loud in a productive way of course. He taught me every note I needed to know of in the vintage song. I was sure I could rack up something for my very own song. It would be a modern song with a vintage twist. I thanked Jasper for the lesson and departed for the pack’s living room.

Jacob was lazily resting on the couch that hogged the center of the living room. I didn’t want to wake him, so I took the opportunity to chat with my adoptive grandparents.

I didn’t mind walking back and forth from the pack house to Cullen household because I found walking as a lovable pastime. It was soothing to be out and about in the fresh, crisp cool air of New Hampshire.

The aroma of savory baked chocolate chip cookies hooked my feet, making a swift sprint to the kitchen. Esme was expecting me (or a hungry werewolf) as she patiently awaited while I hoarsed down the cookie that was melting in my mouth.

Esme had also prepared milk which perfectly accompanied to the warmth of the devoured treat.

“How. Do. Vampires cook so well? It’s not fair! I wish I could cook like this.” Esme formed her motherly smile, accepting my compliment.

“Years and years of practice and watching cooking shows. You know some vampires are fortunate enough to have diners. There’s no use in cooking something no one will eat.” I nodded my head in agreement as I sipped through the cool, creamy milk. Esme had a point. Not to shy away from being modest, but what she said was true. If you love to cook, but have no one to eat your creation, what’s the use in wasting food?

“Smells heavenly,” Carlisle dashed into the kitchen placing his Mercedes keys on the hook. He pecked Esme’s cheek and placed a strange box on the counter.

“Hello dear,” He greeted me. I have missed Carlisle since he has been doing far more than double shifts at the hospitable. I had thought he was spending time with Esme, but apparently he had just came from somewhere. He probably took a visit to the post office to pick up a his package or something.

I pondered what was inside the box. Carlisle would have said something about it if it was alright to share. I guessed it was one of his medical instruments or personal items.

I wanted to scurry for the pack’s house but it was too late. I’d have to Jacob tomorrow, but if by chance he were up I could text him.

My father tucked me in bed, and my mother planted the kiss on my forehead. And my father hummed me a lullaby, a sweet lullaby that sounded like it was played by piano.

I wanted to stay up to text Jake, but I couldn’t. Even the sugar from Esme’s cookies could not stir up my brain to take anymore light, or action. I was ready to sleep.

I dozed off to the gentle silence of the house. I drifted away to a world of peace.

In my dream I could see a woman with bronze hair and green eyes creeping into a misty and eerie meadow. She was looking through me, and staring at my skin glowing in the sunlight. She was covered in a long, ancient dress. Something you’d see in a movie with the setting in the early 20th century.

Another woman, about the same age appeared. Only she had brown hair, the same shade as mommy’s. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and was too astonished at my exposure. She shone more skin than the first woman. The stranger casted an army green tank top and jean shorts.

There was something about these women that reflected on me, not just the sunshine. I couldn’t quite get at it because something awoke me.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Carlisle checked my temperature. He was in his white doctor’s coat, studying my face. I looked around the room to see black and white. Was I alright? Where was I?

I realized my face was drowning in sweat and I felt hot and feverish. What was this?

A nurse with a white hat entered the room strenuously announcing “This influenza is sweeping the entire city to God’s door.”

Influenza? And then I found myself covering my ears to cheers for the home team at a baseball game. What the heck?

“Go Suns!” The crowd bellowed as they did the wave.

Who were these women? And what were these places?

My pupils locked themselves with my digital alarm clock and I aligned myself with reality. It was just a nightmare, or a haunting dream. The question was, how did the odd women and places connect? Why was my dream so obscure? And what lyed beneath Carlisle’s box.

I’ll explain the mysteries in my next entry.

Time to mob the fridge for breakfast,

-Renesmee Cullen


Renesmee's Diary

This entry was written by Alexandra Puccia. She was the writer of Renesmee's Diary before Sabrina took over. Alexandra is a true talent and we're so happy to have met her and believe she will go on to do amazing things!
©Alexandra Puccia

Latest posts by Renesmee's Diary (see all)