So, apparently in my CRAZY world this: “Hmm. I just want to play with Rhys and Eden and not have to worry about them aging, plot, staging
pictures, or writing. I know! I'll send them on a world tour! Yeah! That'll be fun! Yay! I get to play my game!”
Actually means this: “I'm gonna take over three hundred pictures because I can't help myself. Oooohhhh, look at the pretty new pose boxes!
SHINY! I MUST USE THEM!”
Which then turns into this: “GODDAMMIT! I'm not letting these pictures go to waste! I'm writing an interlude! To the dummy 'hood, Batman!”
The style of this is a bit different. It's all told in first person: Eden's point of view. I guess her starring in the Simlish version of “Twilight” rubbed off
on her. Also, a lot of slides will have multiple pictures on them which sort of represent memories tumbling around as she tells the story.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this accidental interlude! (See the pose boxes in the background? Seriously, I have no self control.)
The most frequent question that I was always asked was, “What's it like being a movie star?” So naturally people assume that any book that I write
about my life would be about that, if they even believe that I wrote a book without using a ghost writer.
I'm sorry to disappoint, but this book isn't about that. Not really. As much as I was forced to do so in my youth, I really didn't like talking about
myself; I much preferred to listen.
Besides, I knew what they were really asking: “What's it like getting dressed up in pretty clothes, having perfect hair, perfect makeup, and having all
the best looking men in town on your arm every night?”
I almost laugh every time I think about that. My hair was, and still is, the bane of my existence; it took a lot of hairspray, painful bobby pins, and the
work of a professional hairstylist to make it look nice. This is the reason why I wore a braid for most of my life: it was just easier to wear it that way.
As for the makeup, again, the work of professionals who knew how to downplay my facial flaws while drawing attention to my better features. The
clothes were uncomfortable; it was hard to breathe and hard to move in them. In other words, there was really nothing glamorous about it. But
nobody wanted to hear about that, so I would always smile and say, “It's wonderful,” and leave it at that.
As for the men, well, that part I actually enjoyed. I always liked meeting new people and spending my time socializing (and admittedly more) with
them. However, the downside to it was the constant mean-spirited gossip that accompanied it.
Nobody really wants to hear about how stressful it actually was to constantly be in the public eye, though. Nobody really wants to hear how very
ill-suited I was to be in the limelight. Would you really want to read a book about the massive amounts of dental work I had to go through because
I used to grind my teeth at night from stress? Or how about the fact that inside I was a fit of nerves and how I still have issues eating in front of
Actually, I'm sure people do want to read about that, but I honestly don't feel like writing about it. It's painful to think about and it's my book, so I
will write about what I want.
Which brings me to the second question that I was frequently asked: “What's it like being married to Rhys Fitzhugh?” or the more direct one of:
“How can you stand being married to Rhys Fitzhugh?” I would always be surprised at the bluntness of that question, but not Rhys. His infamy
My problem with that question was that the actual answer was rather mundane. How can you say, “normal” and have people believe you? In all
honesty, it was normal. Normal, and for the most part, fun. He promised that we would have fun being married to each other. And we did.
We were happy together.
What was it like being married to Rhys Fitzhugh? I'll give you the honest answer, which is the same answer that I used in interviews: It was almost
always like we were on our honeymoon. This was never a stock answer; I always told the truth.
But it was so much more. However, how can one explain in a five minute interview the happiness behind building sandcastles, slap dancing in your
underwear, or kissing in the rain? How can one put into words the passion, love, and even downright lust that a couple feels for each other even
well beyond their honeymoon?
How many people are that lucky?
And that's what I want to write about. I want to remember, most likely through rose colored glasses, what it was like to be so very much in love
with my husband and just starting out our whole lives together. Forgive me in advance for being sentimental.
First and foremost, I have to say this: The sex drive of a man who is physically in his early twenties is, well, not fit to describe in polite company (nor
appropriate for my descendants to read). However, I will say that I certainly didn't mind and my that own libido matched his. Of course, my
number one duty was to produce an heir so, suffice it to say, we both enjoyed going about that task immensely.
My mother, however, was not pleased with our vigor. To be honest, she was never pleased as a general rule. To say that she didn't approve of Rhys
would have been a major understatement. Her outright hatred for my husband increased when he played the radio in our bedroom loudly, and the
songs he had chosen were songs like “You Sexy Thing.” (He only played that type of music once. While it was amusing, I told him that was going a
bit too far. He stuck to The Beatles and the like after that.) Then there was the incident where he casually mentioned to me, but loud enough for
her to hear, that “some people in this house really need a good lay. Maybe then they wouldn't be so tense.” If my mother would have had
superpowers, his head would have been on fire after that statement.
Anyway, after about a week, the situation had fully escalated to the point where I almost wanted to slap the both of them; they were both right (in a
way) and they were both wrong (again, in a way). Of course, instead of resorting to physical violence, I pointed out that perhaps it would be best if
Rhys and I took a vacation, a honeymoon of sorts. I suggested that with hope that my mother would use the time to get used to the idea that I was
married to Rhys (and there was nothing she could do to change that) as well as give me and my new husband some space to do what we wanted,
whenever and wherever we wanted.
I believe that was the only time that both my mother and husband agreed on something, so we booked a three week world tour.
Our first stop was my family's beach house in Twikkii Island. I remember how nice it was to visit there with him again and not have to worry
overmuch about photographers taking scandalous pictures of us together. He was my husband, not just another boyfriend.
“Thank you. I like yours, too.”
“I'd really like yours a whole lot more if it were just a picture of me on it. Having my dad's face also on your chest is rather...I dunno. It just seems so
wrong, like I shouldn't be staring. What does the back say?”
“'The Fitzhughs: If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em.'”
“Oh, really? Hm. Have I mentioned that I really, really like your shirt?”
Now, I would like to clarify that I never really had any self-esteem issues. I thought I was pretty enough, I was always in shape, I was proud of my
talent, secure in my intelligence, and I was never uncomfortable with my sexuality. In other words, I was very comfortable with myself and I
actually liked who I was.
Except for my eating habits. It wasn't an eating disorder (as I loved food and hated throwing up), but I was incredibly paranoid about my sloppy
tendencies. The paranoia increased ten fold when I got involved with Rhys, who was anything but sloppy. No matter how hard I tried, I was always
dripping something on my clothes or eating my food too fast, and I thought it would gross him out, that I would gross him out.
So, up until that point I had managed to not eat major meals in front of him. I knew that he realized something was up, but even after the wedding I
was fortunate enough to grab food while he was in the shower or something along those lines. I am also ashamed to admit that I would distract him
with flirts and more when the question would come up.
The first meal I prepared on Twikkii Island, for me, was a big one. I was stuck. There was no way for me to distract him as he wasn't tired, there was
no need to shower and while, yes, I could have taken off my clothes and strutted around in the nude (and I'm positive that he would have enjoyed
that very much), I had come to the realization that it would have been impossible for me to do as such for the rest of our lives together.
Of course, it's very easy to have that determination when you're thinking about the situation in the hypothetical. It's completely different when
you're actually confronted with it.
“Let me guess: you aren't that hungry.”
“Mmhm. Well, then you won't mind if I grab that tomato slice off your plate then, right?”
“No. Go right ahead.”
“Look, I want to do this right, okay? That's going to be very hard for me to do if you aren't going to be truthful with me. I..I don't want there to be
any secrets. Not this time. So, what is the deal with how you eat? You either don't eat at all, at least not in front of me, or when you do it's
painfully slow and hard to watch. You don't...I don't know. You don't have one of those eating disorders that seem to plague the movie and model
industry, do you?”
“What if I did?”
“...If you did, then it's a reason that I can understand and it would be something that we could work out. Do you?”
“No, I don't.”
“Then what is the deal? I would honestly like to know.”
When he outright asked the dreaded question, I had the wild urge to strip off my clothes to change the subject. I was far more comfortable with
being physically naked in front of him than to have him know the things I was most ashamed of. I almost did it, but instead I found myself telling
him. I told him about being backstage at the theater only having an hour before the next show, so only having an hour to get my makeup touched
up and to eat. I told him about being over scheduled with dance, voice, piano, acting, and singing lessons on top of school, so only having a few
minutes everyday to eat. I told him about high school and having a full load of honors classes on top of the lessons and on top of the acting gigs, so
I was constantly having to eat on the go. I told him about being on the movie sets, the hurry up and wait, the cameras on me, and the constant
need to be careful.
“College was the first time in my entire life that I could relax somewhat. But at that point, I was so used to eating fast and having the unfortunate
habit of getting my food on my clothes that I just, I don't know, started to prefer eating alone. And then, when I started dating you, my mother said
that you wouldn't like--”
“You know what? I have a pretty good idea what your mother had to say about it. So, in other words, you've been practically starving yourself in
front of me because you're afraid of, what? Accidentally dripping food onto your clothes?”
“...Essentially, yes. It sounds so much more stupid when I say it out loud, doesn't it?”
“Hey, what's that on the wall over there?”
Then he did something that I had never seen him do before or after: he grabbed a handful of his food and threw it at me.
“You threw food at me!”
“Yeah, I did.”
“It's all over my clothes!”
“Yeah, it is. And guess what? I. Don't. Care. Seriously, I don't. You can't go through this entire marriage not eating in front of me.”
“I'm a mess!”
“Yeah, you are. And if you would like, I can help you clean up. I'd start by helping you out of those messy clothes...”
Seeing as I don't intend to write “Main Maid Lust the Sequel: Sporting a Red Fauxhawk,” I will gloss over some details of the trip and just remind
anyone who reads this that my number one duty was to bring in the next heir. Moving on.
“That is a very nice view.”
“What is? The Witchdoctor's hut?”
“Hardly. I'm talking about the fantastic set of legs and awesome backside in front of me. Oh, and once again, I have to comment on the very wise
slogan on the back of your shirt...”
For the first half of the week, we did the typical things that tourists do. I honestly think Rhys was determined to show me just how much fun we
would have being married to each other. I think he made a personal bet to show me, my mother, the world, and himself that he could be a good
husband (and later, father) if he tried hard enough.
Anyway, one of the first spots that we hit was the Witchdoctor's Hut. I personally wanted to see if it was as commercialized as my grandfather
Sebastian had claimed (he didn't talk too much about his time in Twikkii, but he did mention the Witchdoctor). Rhys, on the other hand, really just
wanted the Mr. Mickles doll.
My friend, Karen Smith, had mentioned that her fathers had a theory that the Witchdoctor had all the broken appliances either imported, or he
broke them himself specifically to watch his guests repair said items. Whatever the case was, Rhys and I had set about doing the tasks required of
us. Truth be told, cleaning is not one of the things I have ever found fun (that was definitely more up Rhys' alley) , but my husband, on the other
hand, also really liked tinkering and repairing items. Well, as long as the electronics were cooperative.
After hours of cleaning and repairing broken items, we were rewarded with the doll. I, personally, had no use for it. Rhys, on the other hand, had
been suspiciously thrilled to receive it.
“Fine! I won't use it on your mother.”
We also had a lot of fun playing on the pirate ship, though the pirate had seemed rather perturbed that “someone” had plundered his cabin.
We had also went to the ancient ruins where I made a wish. I was never a terribly superstitious person, but I did like throwing coins into the
fountain. For one, it never hurt to wish for luck and happiness, and two, I knew that the coins would get invested back into the tourist site.
Well, whatever coins were leftover after the fountain started “mysteriously” spouting lava after some “random” person put soap into it.
“You about done?”
“What did you wish for?”
“If I told you, it wouldn't come true. You know that.”
“Well, I know what I would have wished for.”
“And what would that be?”
“Come here and I'll show you. I'll let you know when you get warm...”
The second half of the week we had pretty much stayed close to home and played on our section of the beach.
Oh my goodness! I had completely forgotten about the terrible sunburn Rhys had gotten, the poor thing.
“Oh, that looks like it hurts. Are you going to be okay? I can get some aloe to make it feel better if you want.”
“What are you doing all the way over there?”
“Are you sure? I just thought that, you know, it would hurt you.”
“Hey babe? I don't know if you know this, but we're alone and we're on our honeymoon. Do you really think I'm going to let a little sunburn stop
However, he had been fairly insistent that he was still very dedicated to the cause of producing an heir despite the fact that his skin had been nearly
as red as his hair.
The next morning though, his attitude had been far more petulant towards me and, well, just at life in general. His words weren't unkind, exactly,
but let us just say that he hadn't been in the mood to throw food at me because I was eating too slow.
“Does it still hurt?”
“What do you think?”
“I think that I can go and find the aloe and apply it where it hurts.”
“I don't need you to put it on me, alright? I'll find it myself and do it. Just...go outside and leave me alone right now, okay?”
“...Fine. Whatever you want, Rhys. There's no need to get all pissy with me.”
“Oh, whatever, Eden.”
Despite the fact that he had been peevish towards me, I had actually felt bad for him. I had known that he was feeling sulky because he was in pain
and I remember being torn between wanting to baby him or just leaving him alone. Babying him typically meant cuddling with him though which,
given what his mood was at the time, would have caused more harm than good. So I had opted to leave him alone and instead went outside to
work on my tan.
Here is a fact that you may or may not know about him: very rarely did he ever say the words “I'm sorry” or “I was wrong” and of course “I love
you.” He never said the words and that was one of the keys to understanding and getting along with him: I had to know and read his actions. So
when he came out onto the beach by me and just struck up an idle conversation, I believe it was something mundane about the water being cold, I
knew that was his way of apologizing without actually having to say the words.
Here is something else: I always knew when he was sorry, and I always felt loved. There was never any question in my mind though the words
were rarely said.
His attitude had improved tremendously a day or so later when his burn turned into a tan. Unfortunately for me, though, I had gotten a sunburn
I had gotten lucky, though. The burn had looked far worse than it actually was. I think that I was far more paranoid about possibly having to walk
around without makeup than about any actual pain.
Okay, as an addendum to what I had said earlier about my looks: I liked how I looked in makeup. At that point in time I was still making sure that I
had my “face” on all of the time, particularly around Rhys. I was irrationally afraid that he'd hightail it out of town if he ever saw me dressed down; I
thought he was accustomed to the “Glamor Eden” and liked her. At that point, he'd only seen me without makeup once, and he was far more
concerned about another issue at the time than to comment about what I had been wearing and how I looked. Thinking back, I should have
realized that he didn't care about it, especially since he had proposed to me that same night. I was young and stupid, what can I say?
“Hardly, Rhys. I look like a demonic clown.”
“Nah, you look like you changed the color of your lipstick and blush a little. That's about it. Does it hurt much?”
“Honestly? No, not really. It's more red than anything else. It should clear up in a day or so.”
“You sure? I found the aloe vera and I hear it works wonders on soothing sunburns.”
“Are you really up for this? I'd hate to think that I was actually, physically hurting you. You really don't strike me as the type to be into that.”
“You're right, I am not into that. But I'm also not really hurting. Besides, you managed quite well with a burn; it was just the morning after that you
weren't doing so hot. Are you implying that I'm a baby who can't handle the same things you can?”
“...No...no, I am not. So, my dear, you can bench press two hundred pounds as well? I never would have guessed!”
“Ha! Oh, Rhys, just kiss me.”
My husband could be very sweet and gentle when he wanted to be. I find it a shame that there are only a handful of people in the world who
knew that about him. I find myself fortunate that I was one of them.
Fortunately the sunburn had completely gone away by the time we settled in at Three Lakes.
“Can you imagine my mother, of all people, taking me camping?”
“...Yeah, I'm going to assume then that the answer is a resounding 'No.'”
“An emphatic 'No' would be more like it.”
“Uh huh. Well, I think we should do it.”
“Rhys, I'm surprised! You're usually a lot more elegant, or at least clever, when you make those propositions.”
“...Ha, ha, smart alec. Don't get me wrong, I'm really looking forward to getting that part later, but you know what I mean. I'm talking about
He had somehow gotten it into his head that camping, outside, in the cold, in a tent, would be a “fun” activity for us to do together. On one hand, I
had wanted to do it because it would have made him happy. On the other hand, I really, really didn't want to do it because the entire concept had
sounded uncomfortable. So, when he had first brought it up, I had shrugged noncommittally in the hopes that he would leave it alone.
“Okay, I'm ignoring the very obvious innuendo about pitching tents when I say that I'm serious about spending a night in one.”
“You followed me into the bathroom to talk about camping?”
“Among other things. Speaking of which, could you move some of the bubbles?”
“Why? Everything is covered.”
“I know and that's very disappointing. Anyway, yeah. One night under the stars. It'll be fun.”
“You? In a tent? Rhys, it's cold outside! We'd freeze!”
“And that, Ede, is the point. We'd have to try and find a way to stay warm, right?”
“I just got out of the tub and got dressed. The water has barely finished draining.”
“And the view would be much nicer if you were in your underwear.”
“I heard that, you know.”
Why I had thought that he would drop the idea about camping, I don't know. One of the things I had liked best about him was his persistence,
determination, and unapologetic nature. He was very much the type of person to say, “This is me, take it or leave it.”
Of course, I could have resented the small half smile he would always give me when he knew he was going to eventually get his way, but for some
reason, I rarely did.
A good portion of our time in Three Lakes was spent proving to each other that the chemistry between us still hadn't died after two weeks of
marriage. We found that we still enjoyed each others company very much.
I know that I'm making this entire thing sound like the places we went to were completely empty and that I wasn't approached by any fans. That's
not true, it's just that after a while everyone starts to blur together. I loved my fans, I really did. But there was one young boy who had really stood
out in my mind, and we met him in Three lakes.
Unfortunately, the reason why he stood out was because he had behaved in a very ungentlemanly manner. A word of advice to any people who
happen to meet “famous” people: treat them like human beings. And very specifically, do try and refrain from making very sexual comments.
“Damn. You're boobs are huge!”
“I..I beg your pardon?”
“Seriously, just look at them!”
Oh, and especially don't repeat those comments to the person's husband!
“Damn! You are the freakin' master. Man, if Eden were my wife, I'd be tappin' that all day! We'd, like, never leave the bedroom. Please tell me, I
have to know, are they real? Oh, man, please tell me they are. What do they feel like? God, can we toss a football around or something?
Touching something whose hands have been all over her would almost be like touching her myself.”
“You want to play catch? Here. Catch this!”
“Ah! Not the face! Not the face!”
Any time the topic came up later, the only things I could get out of Rhys was his occasional mutter of “kids these days,” and that he had set the boy
straight. Thankfully that was the only incident, and even after years of being in the industry, that incident was pretty much the only real offensive
“Man, this guy really got around. Hey, Ede, did you ever come here with Don Lothario?”
“No. I mean, he was an extra on 'Dusk' so we were here at the same time, but we weren't romantically involved. I was with you.”
“Were you ever romantically involved with him? I'm just wondering because I see the initials 'DL+ED' on here.”
“Rhys...I don't ask you about your past lovers. I thought we had an understanding.”
“Hm. No. You don't. But that's also because you know about all of them.”
“All of them? Every single one? What's the phrase that goes with you; the one about you being everywhere? Does it really matter in the long run?
I'm with you now.”
I remember that at one of the tourist spots he was doing something to the huge tree ring display before we had a discussion about one of
Pleasantview's more notorious playboys. Of course, I didn't see exactly what he had done until he walked away.
To say that I wasn't both amused and touched by the fact that he carved our initials onto the tree ring would be a lie.
I believe it was sometime during the middle of the week that we started playing the game, “Bet You Can't.” It was a silly game that carried on well
after the honeymoon. The first person would set a goal and essentially dare the other person to do it. The loser then had to kiss the winner, or
something of that nature. It was a silly game that we both had fun playing.
“Bet you can't hit all three axes on the target.”
“Bet you I can.”
“You missed with the first axe.”
“Yeah, but the other two hit the bulls-eye.”
“That is a very good point. You know, Ede, I'm very glad you don't have any murderous tendencies. I'd be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”
“If I happened to have a few axes laying around.”
“Well, yeah, there is that.”
“That's three. You lost. Now you have to give me a kiss. Those are the rules.”
“Oh, woe is me. Those are some awfully though rules...”
As I had mentioned before, Rhys almost always had a way of getting what he wanted in the end. He had bet me that I couldn't toss him into the
water first on the log roll. However, if he tossed me into the water, well, then I had to spend the night in a tent with him. I had been fairly confident
in my balancing abilities at the time (years of dance had taught me that), so I accepted the bet.
In less than a second, he managed to get me into the water.
Doing the best two out of three, and he managed to get me into the water all three times.
By the fifth time, I was feeling mutinous and at that point, I had stopped thinking about the bet and had become determined to see him thrown in at
I always had a feeling afterward that he knew what my thoughts were. He always denied it later and claimed that I dunked him fair and square, but
part of me will always be convinced that he fell in on purpose.
Not that it stopped me from laughing. And I'm ashamed to admit, but I believe I pointed as well.
I have never been a person who went against my word, even if it was a stupid little bet. So after we went back to the cabin to dry off, we both did
the very unusual act of putting our clothes back on and adding even more layers on top of them.
That night was very cold (in fact it had started snowing a few days later), so Rhys built a little campfire for us to sit around.
Once he had the fire going we sat by it and just talked. I had always found him easy to talk to; he knew how to ask the right questions and make
appropriate comments to keep the conversation going. We could talk about almost everything: books, movies, music, and even politics. Our
opinions differed in a lot of areas (such as, I personally liked the book that the movie 'Dusk' had originated from. He hated it. I liked modern pop,
whereas he preferred classic rock). The point is, I always had fun talking to him and he was one of the few people who could actually make me
That night, I had asked him about what life was like in an apocalyptic world (the cold weather might have prompted the discussion). I worded my
questions in such a way to avoid talking of his wife there (I'm not a jealous person, but I also don't like being reminded that I'm one of many people
who has-and who will-share him across the Multi-Verse), or hate spewings about his 'Simself Creator.' I simply asked him about his work.
I remember how his eyes lit up and how animated he was as he talked about being a botanist and how he brought plant life back to the region.
Apparently, that amounted to kicking major ass, and that conclusion was supported when he said, “I kicked major ass.”
All in all, that night was a very good night-despite being dunked in freezing water almost half a dozen times.
“You're acting like I'm sentencing you to death or something. Did it ever occur to you that you might, gasp, actually enjoy yourself? But you'd
never know these things unless you actually try them.”
“I've never drank a cup of battery acid, but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't find that enjoyable.”
“Oh, ye of little faith...”
And surprisingly enough, sleeping in a tent wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be and it was certainly a lot warmer than I had originally
But, as pleasant as my experience was sleeping in the tent, I was very glad that we had decent restroom facilities.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Raking the leaves. What does it look like?”
“Because they were here and they needed to be raked.”
“Rhys, you make me smile.”
“Yeah, I know I do. Except this time I get the distinct feeling that you're actually laughing at me because I'm raking the leaves.”
“No, I'm honestly not. I just wanted you to know that, well, you make me happy.”
“Mm. Well, I aim to please. How about after I'm done raking the leaves I make you smile some more?”
Throughout our visit to Three Lakes, we went on quite a few nature hikes seeing as the weather was fairly nice. Unfortunately, after a run in with an
unlucky patch of poison ivy, we had to stop.
“I thought the saying went, 'Leaves of three, leave them be. Leaves of four, eat some more.'”
“Ede, I am not going to go through my life living by what Homer Simpson says.”
“And that's fine, sweetie, but he was right about that.”
“What were we thinking, 'hooing in the woods? Are we out of our minds? Gah! It itches!”
“I know it does. I'm going to try to wash it off because I'm itching in some rather...uncomfortable areas.”
“Oh God, same here, so I'm right behind you.”
Thankfully, the discomfort from the poison ivy only lasted the rest of the day, but he and I had opted to stay close to home after that. We hunted
bugs, if I recall correctly. Neither of us liked bugs all that much, so we'd let them go. But for the most part, we did what “normal” people would
have done while on vacation. I remember wishing to myself that our lives would have been like that everyday, and then I remember it dawning on
me that that was why he had been so insistent to do those type of things: he wanted everything to be normal, to show me what life was like out of
the view of cameras. And, as I think back on it now, I think us doing those types of things was his way of showing me that while he didn't mind
being in front of the cameras (which was always a huge bonus to being married to him) he also liked being alone with me in situations that didn't
purely involve 'hooing.
Of course, I might be reading too much into the bug collecting part, who knows.
We also did a lot of fishing. I think we had vague plans of catching our own dinner, but when we actually caught some fish, neither of us were
overly enthusiastic about the thought of gutting and cleaning them. We ended up throwing whatever we caught back into the pond. It was still
fun, either way.
“Well, my dear, I'm certainly not surprised at how well...”
I will leave out the obvious innuendos he made about my ability to handle a fishing pole.
By the end of the week I had felt exhausted, so the final night we built a fire and relaxed in front of it.
“Only a week left before it's back to the real world with a million cameras on me.”
“You really don't like being a celebrity, do you?”
“...Well, it's okay, I suppose. It's not what I would have chosen for myself if I had been born as an adult, but I'm used to it I guess. On the other
hand, I doubt I would have ever popped up on your radar if I wouldn't have been a celebrity.”
“...I wouldn't be so sure about that.”
“I like this, though. It's relaxing. I'm going to miss having this time off.”
“Well, there is a plus side. We still have another week...”
It was snowing the morning we left for Takemizu. The flight was an early one and I remember waking up that morning and feeling like I hadn't slept
And even though I had slept on the plane, I was still tired and even nauseous when we checked into the hotel (my family didn't own a house in
Takemizu at that time).
At first I thought it was a combination of the time zone difference as well as the massive change in climate that was wearing me down, so I had
been determined to just ride it out as Rhys and I changed into the local attire.
“Okay, I'm going to say this outright: the sandal things are not very comfortable. I will look on the positive side though and point out that I really
like the easy access the robe gives me.”
“Nothing. Just a little tired and and I think this sash thing is wound around me too tight. I'll be fine.”
I remember thinking that some of the local tea would perk me up. It didn't, but I tried to hide it from Rhys.
“So here we are in a nice, little far east village. Do you have that white makeup and red lipstick so you can paint your face like a Geisha girl? And
then, maybe later, we can have our own little tea party and--”
“Rhys! I don't know what you think, but Geisha girls aren't prostitutes. They are incredibly talented entertainers who--”
“Eden. I. Was. Teasing. You. I know that, and I thought that you'd know that I'd know that. I didn't think you'd get offended. Jeez.”
“...I did know that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you.”
“No, don't apologize if I've really pissed you off because I'd actually like to know if I do.”
“No, I'm really not offended. I'm just..I don't know.”
“...Are you okay?”
“Yes, I'm fine. Like I said before, I'm just a little tired. That's all.”
However, even though I was tired, I had still insisted that we should do the things we had planned for that day.
The helicopter tours made my head pound, which in turn made me feel even more nauseous.
When I had told Rhys that I wasn't hungry, I truly meant it and it wasn't because I was trying to hide my eating habits from him.
And, for the first time since I met him, I was too tired to go much beyond kissing that night.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Hmm? I'm fine, really I am. I promise that tomorrow we can--”
“Ede, that's not my concern and I really don't want you thinking that you have to do that if you're not feeling up to it. I'm not that kind of jerk, and I
never intend to be. How are you feeling?”
“I'm just really tired and my stomach is a little queasy. I'll be okay in the morning. I think the jet lag is starting to catch with to me.”
“Mm. You're sure that's what it is?”
“I'll be fine. Just...tired...”
The next morning, however, I had felt even worse. I don't know why, now, I felt the need to hide that from Rhys, though. But back then, I think I
was afraid of disappointing him. I wanted to show him that a little stomach bug wasn't going to prevent me from being able to keep up with him.
Thinking back, I should have had a lot more faith in him, but when you're young you tend to think irrationally.
Of course I know you are all thinking, “Duh, Eden, obviously you were pregnant.” And I was, but I didn't realize it at the time. Keep in mind that I
had never been pregnant before and with all the traveling around I had lost track of my schedule. When I did the calculations later, I realized that,
ironically, I was pregnant before we went to Twikkii Island. Rhys and I had quite a few laughs over that.
Anyway, the following morning he had asked me again how I was feeling and I had just smiled at him and told him that everything was okay.
It seemed suspicious, though, that all the activities he wanted to do in Takemizu had been a lot slower paced. I didn't say anything to him about it,
but I was grateful for the break. I remember feeling guilty, however, and determined to shake the flu. Up until that point, I had been a very active
person, as was he, and I didn't want him thinking that I was going to roll over and die every time I was afflicted with something.
Of course now I realize that my feeble attempts to appear okay in front of him had been just that: feeble. I should have been suspicious when he
would periodically ask me how my stomach was feeling (queasy), how my breasts were feeling (sore), and just how I felt in general (exhausted), but
I had been so caught up in trying to appear okay in front of him (as my mother would have put it: Perky, Pretty, Perfect) that it didn't raise any flags
Oh yeah, he suspected that was pregnant before I knew, and I feel terrible now for not having enough faith in him. I should have realized that he
would have understood. Our marriage was far from perfect, especially in the beginning. And I realize now that I had been the main problem.
Anyway, a good portion of the week was spent relaxing and taking everything slow.
“Would it be possible for me to get a massage as well?”
“Absolutely, sir. Please remove your clothes and wrap the towel around your waist.”
“Fantastic. By the way, hands above the waist, please. I am a married man, after all.”
“...Yeah...I will try to restrain my self, sir.”
We weren't idle the entire week, of course. We made a few trips to the Meditation Garden so Rhys could meet the Ninja. He thought that learning
how to teleport would be useful. Personally, I think he wanted to learn how to do it to irritate my mother.
“Know thyself, or know thy enemy?”
“Know myself. How can you learn to win over your enemy if you don't know what you want?”
“Your answer is incorrect.”
“Better luck next time.”
“You know what? Pirates are cooler than humorless ninjas anyway.”
“Courage or wisdom?”
“Courage. Definitely courage. You have to have courage to want to seek wisdom.”
“Nope. Still the wrong answer.”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“I'm a 'humorless ninja,' so I don't make jokes. Why don't you ask a cool pirate to give you what you want.”
“Oh, for the love of...”
“Seriously, Ede, pirates are so much better than ninjas. Ninjas are a bunch of pajama wearing pricks.”
“E..Eden Devereaux! I had no idea you were here! The gossip site didn't mention that you were traveling. Would you like to learn the secret of
“Is that the question you're asking me?”
“Yes. Yes it is. Oh my God. I'm talking to Eden Devereaux!”
“Well, yeah, sure I'd like to learn to teleport, if you're willing to teach me.”
“Consider it done!”
“By the way, I loved you in 'Dusk.' The movie itself was pretty lame, but you really stole the spotlight in whatever scene you were in!”
“Thank you very much.”
“Is there anything, anything at all that I can give you? I'm your number one fan.”
“Can you teach my husband how to teleport?”
“That's who that red haired guy is! I thought I recognized him from somewhere. He's kind of a jerk, you know.”
“It doesn't matter. I love him.”
“Meh. Love is blind, I guess. Come on by tomorrow.”
“Thank you again.”
“Oof. Useful, I suppose. Not so great on the stomach, though. Blech.”
“He..you..you got the answer right on the first try, didn't you? Unbelievable. Where is he? I'm going to--”
“Rhys? Can we please go back to the hotel? I really need to lie down. The Ninja said that he'd be here tomorrow.”
“Oh, my God. Are you okay?”
“Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired an queasy. I promise we can come back tomorrow.”
“Screw teleporting, Ede. Seriously, it's not that important. Your health and well being, however, is. Are you going to be okay? What do you need
me to do?”
He was a man who had many good qualities. Granted, I probably had an easier time with him than most, so those qualities were easier for me to
see. I got lucky, I guess.
However, I would like it to be known that while I did love my husband very much, I wasn't completely blind to his faults. It was just that, for the
most part, they made me smile; his faults were what made him him.
Anyway, I really wanted to visit the Wise Man while in Takemizu, so the day before we were scheduled to go back home, we got up early and
made the long trek there. Of course, I was exhausted by the end of it, but I managed (or so I thought) to hide it. Realizing that humility was not
Rhys' strong point, I knew that I was the one who had to make first and direct contact with the Wise Man. To be honest, Rhys was reluctant to go;
he thought the idea of a Wise Man was just another scam, much like the Witchdoctor in Twikkii. He went more to humor me and, as I think back
on it, to make sure that I made it there all right.
“Ah, child, I was wondering when you would arrive. I have been waiting. I also see that you are newly wed.”
“You've been waiting for me? And how did you know that I just got married?”
“It doesn't take a genius to know that. It was all over the news.”
“Shh. I'm sorry, Wise One--”
“Indeed, I have been waiting for quite some time for someone from your family line to visit. I would have much preferred to talk to the target to
which this message is intended, but that is quite impossible. It will never occur to him to come visit me and unfortunately I cannot penetrate the
fog which surrounds him to contact him directly.”
“Of course he can't.”
“But, I will get to that in a moment. First, I must point out, through the magic of just plain observation, that you feel tired, you feel weak, you feel
dizzy, and you are moving with greater care than normal. You are with child.”
When the Wise Man just casually mentioned that I was pregnant, I nearly spilled the tea I had been pouring. I specifically remember feeling rather
stupid as I had sincerely thought I had a mild case of the flu. Why, I don't know. We went on the honeymoon specifically to try for a baby after all.
Anyway, I had glanced out of the corner out of my eye at Rhys, who was looking at me with a bemused expression. I think I heard him mutter
something like, “I thought so,” but when I looked at him fully he was taking a sip of his tea. However, I also remember the small, pleased smile he
had on his face as he did so.
“The spinner and the weaver have told the cutter that you will have one child.”
“They have obviously never heard of the mystical powers of cheesecake.”
“The spinner and weaver say again that you will have one child. They would also like to remind you that cheesecake is illegal in this dimension.”
“Oh, whatever. Ede, you like strawberries, right?”
To this day, I remember what the Wise Man said after he informed us how many children we were having. He stood up and said, and I quote:
“It begins now. The catalyst is planned.
The robed angel will fall.
Though love may die and seem lost forever, they must learn to find it again.
The death of a mortal begins the life of a new.
The Blood of Death. The Blood of Life.
They will be ruthless when the other is unwilling.
The cold punishment is set.
The self sacrifice of a loved one known but unknown is the key.
Only the blood of theirs can save them, but no one of this world can.
They will be tested.
They cannot be found wanting.
Hopelessness will be eternal if they are found otherwise. I can write this down if you need me to.”
The words he had said had sounded very ominous, which had been bad enough. What had made it worse was the frequent use of the word “love”
and it being lost then found. I was pretty sure at the time that none of what the Wise Man said applied to us, but I still panicked at the love part.
You see, at that point in our marriage, the words “I love you” hadn't been uttered between the two of us. It was an understood sentiment, yes, but
as I said before, he didn't like to say those words and I wouldn't say them to him because it would have put him on the spot and he'd feel that he'd
be forced to say it back. It would have made him angry. To be honest, it was one of his most frustrating quirks, but it was one that I had learned to
Anyway, I remember being rather panicked and looking to see what Rhys' reaction was.
“Mm. Cryptic. Just how I like my ominous prophecies.”
If his eyeballs wouldn't have been attached to his head, I think they would have rolled like a slot machine. To borrow how they used to word things
back in the day: Unimpressed Rhys was unimpressed.
Though the Wise Man hadn't seemed all that bothered by Rhys' irreverent attitude, I had thought it wise to take our leave before things became
“Thank you and I apologize.”
“There is no need to be embarrassed, child. He is not the first person who pretends not to believe what I say, and I highly doubt he will be the
“Ah, I will not spoil it for you. You have a lot to learn. You will do well, but you must learn not to depend upon him for everything. You will need to
fight your own battle eventually.”
And after he had said a few more cryptic words to me, the Wise Man disappeared.
“I told you it was a scam. We walked all the way there and all the way back for nothing more than some scary words said by some actor. Might I
also add at a great risk to the health of you and our kids.”
“What about some of the things he said? Like the part about someone not from this world. You aren't from this world, Rhys. And the self-sacrifice?
“Ede, the only useful thing that came out of that man's mouth was when he said that you were pregnant, and I gotta be honest with you, I already
knew that, so it wasn't exactly a big revelation. Which reminds me, I'm irritated with you. Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”
“Because I honestly didn't know, okay? I really haven't been keeping track because I have been far too busy having fun with you.”
“Mm..fine, okay, I'll give you that. But, Eden, seriously, you need to tell me if you are feeling sick or something like that, alright? I'm part of your life,
okay? I don't like the idea of being shut out, especially when it's about something major.”
“Okay. I'll try.”
“It's not easy having someone in my face all the time knowing all these intimate things about me, okay? And I'm not just talking about physical
intimacy, but the day to day things as well. You're going to see me sick. You're going to see me cry. You'll know that I have to use the bathroom
half an hour after I drink coffee. You're going to know so much more about me than anybody else ever will...and that scares me.”
“Ede, I'm not going to run to the tabloids and give them a rundown of your bathroom and bedroom habits. And all those things that you're worried
about, guess what? Those are the very same things that all husbands know about their wives, and vice versa.”
“...True. I'm sorry. I'll try very hard.”
“So you really didn't believe anything the Wise Man had to say? What about--?”
“Oh, God, not this again. No, I did not. 'Prophecies' are just a bunch of vague threats that may or may not actually happen. When they don't
come true, nobody thinks anything of it. But when even the slightest bit comes true, everyone gasps and says, 'Just like in the prophecy!' And then
they go about their entire lives interpreting every single step that they make and testing it against what some 'all powerful' person said as a threat.
And guess what? They end up fulfilling the prophecy without even meaning to. The entire thing is a crock of bullshit!”
“You honestly believe that?”
“Yes. I honestly do.”
“So now you're mad.”
“No, I'm not. Not really. You're probably right about the entire thing.”
“But you're going to make a wish to counter-act the 'evil curse' that some old guy with a bathrobe fetish told you.”
“It wasn't a curse, Rhys. Besides, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wishing for luck, health, and happiness.”
“Mm. It's your coin.”
“I'll also wish to be a good mom. I hope I will be.”
After our visit to the Wise Man, Rhys and I had talked a little bit about what was said during our visit there. The words had sounded rather
ominous, but on the other hand, it would have been very self centered of us to think that the prophecy was about us. Looking back on the actual
words now, I realize that actually very little of it had to do with us. We were just supposed to pass on the message (of which I'm technically doing
My husband, being the way he was, refused to believe anything, and while I might have been slightly superstitious (enough to always toss coins into
fountains and wish for health, luck and happiness) I was perfectly fine with him not being so.
“What's this for?”
“Does a man need a reason to hug his wife?”
“I'm going to have more kids.”
“The Wise Man said that we're having one child.”
“Pfft. Whatever. Seriously, has no one ever heard of cheesecake? It's very easy to make and very easy to hide the evidence. You eat it. It's gone.
Pregnant with twins. It's not rocket science!”
“Ede...I'm going to be a good father to our children. I want you to know that.”
“I know you will be. There was never any question in my mind about it.”
And then the next day we went home. I realize that it seems rather anti-climactic when I put it like that, but back then my life, our lives, and
everything that had happened afterward was still the unknown future. If I could travel back in time and talk to my twenty-three year old self, I
wouldn't tell her everything; I wouldn't want to ruin the hopeful feeling that she felt as she climbed into the cab.
Instead, I'd tell her that she will learn to trust Rhys. That she would learn to depend upon him in a good way. That they would be each others
strength when they need each other most.
And then, when she got done being confused, I'd step back and watch her climb into that waiting cab. I'd watch her kiss her new husband. I'd
watch them smile at each other. I'd watch him place his hand on her belly. And then I'd watch them drive off.
I realize that this book was really about nothing; it was just some random ramblings by someone who couldn't sleep and wanted to reminisce. To
be honest, I probably spent more time remembering the conversations we had than actually typing anything of use. It's very disappointing, I know.
I will say this, though: I have had only one regret, and marrying Rhys was not it. Marrying him was, quite possibly, the best decision I made in my
I take that back. I do have another regret...
I regret that we couldn't live together forever. But, that's not possible in this world.
I hope it will be in the next.
I hope there is a next.
I hope he smiles at me the same way there like he did here.
Editor's note: The Devereaux Estate compiled and submitted the notes and thoughts that the late Eden Devereaux had written, in her final days, about her life with her husband,
the late Rhys Fitzhugh. Though the outline was far from complete, it was published, as is, as a tribute to one of the most celebrated icons of her generation.
Sappy interlude is sappy, I know, but I about “awwwwed” (and admittedly blushed) myself to death watching these two interact in game. So, what
was originally going to be a bit of pic spam turned into something that was the length of a real chapter that actually hinted at future plot! I was also
feeling sappy because Keith and I just celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary, so that might have carried over into the story a bit.
A very special thanks goes out to these people:
Marina/Smoothiequeen for the perma-loan of Rhys Fitzhugh (The Fitzhugh Legacy/The Villainous Apocalypse). Eden and I both adore him.
Di/Dicreasy for the brief appearance of <3 Stanley Legacy <3 (The Victorian Legacy). May my love for him never end.
Cait/RegacyLady (Author of the Regacy) for making the shirts that Eden and Rhys wore in Twikkii Island. They totally rocked them!
Thank you everyone for reading!
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