Ice Thaws
DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns. I'm just borrowing her characters until I can come up with some of my own.
Soundtrack: Rocket by Nuclear Free City.
Preface
It's the life in your years
'And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.'
-Abraham Lincoln
I've lived eighteen years today. And so far, there's not been much to say about the life in those eighteen years.
I was born in Forks, Washington. I lived there for all of two months before my mom escaped the dark dampness of the rainiest place in the state of Washington and moved with me to Phoenix – the sunniest place in Arizona.
And I stayed in Phoenix with my mother up to this very day.
My eighteenth birthday.
And to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, guess what I'm doing. I'm moving back to Forks.
Great year. Great life.
***
Coming back to Forks for the first time in eight years reminds me why my mom left. Her flighty and spontaneous character didn't suit the tall mossy trees that resembled a thick impenetrable wall, locking you in and hiding you away from sunshine and daisies and life.
Do I suit this place? Who knows. I'm glad to be here. It's almost a relief. A breath of fresh air. A change. And change is good, right?
Mom proved herself unchangeable by surprisingly maintaining her impulsive and unstable personality even through to today, when one hopes she would have matured following raising an eighteen year old daughter. But the truth is, she didn't do much raising. That was left up to Grandma Swan. And by the time Grandma Swan died, I was old enough to look after myself, letting my mother off the hook.
Poor mom. She could never have taken care of me even if she tried. Mostly she was too stoned to even remember her name, let alone remember her daughter's. I loved her so much and she hardly recognized me. I put up with it for so long. But I had my limits.
And that came six months ago.
I knew I couldn't just pack and leave. Renee would slowly dwindle away, and I couldn't allow that to happen.
I planned my departure carefully. I called in a favour from a friend, whose father happened to work in one of the best rehab institutes in the state, and he arranged to have a place ready for her when the time came, free of charge.
Whilst waiting for the time to come, I organized the emancipation. Charlie had handed over custody to my mom when I was a baby without a fight – from what I hear he was more alcoholic than anything at the time. Which meant I was emancipating myself from my mother.
People asked me, why emancipate yourself with your birthday in less than six months? And the answer is simple: I didn't want to have any attachment to the woman.
The emancipation was granted easily. I had plenty of evidence and witnesses in my favour, and Renee had nothing. Not surprisingly, she hardly put up a fight. She didn't know me well enough to care.
I stayed with her until the day came – and the day came the day before my birthday. Yesterday.
She was stoned. Heavily. I tried waking her up, but there was no response. I called an ambulance. They came. I handed them the documents with her arrangements to enter rehab, with her signature at the bottom – the story of how I got her to sign it is for another time. And then they drove away, and I was done.
I hopped on a plane this morning. I'd had the tickets booked for a while. As soon as the emancipation was finalized, I'd given Charlie a call. He'd been sober for a while – since I turned eight and walked in on him passed out whilst visiting him on holiday. And he was happy to hear I was coming to stay. He understood why I wasn't quite ready to live with him, and arranged for me to rent a place nearby instead. So I'd booked my tickets for today, knowing that my mother would be sure to have cracked either the drink or the pills by now. And she didn't fail to meet my expectations.
And so here I am.
***
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Love,
HBMuse
