1.
"You're going to love it here, trust me."
Trust her? Was this her way of earning my trust? I didn't want to be here, in this city. I looked up at the sky through my foggy passenger seat window to see nothing but only hopeless, gray skies. Dreary clouds hung above me, and I only had but one thought.
This is the end of the world.
My mother continued to brief me on the minor details of Forks, a small, pit town in Washington. I couldn't imagine anyone intentionally wanting to live here, where houses were miles apart and trees caved in around you. Was I supposed to be safe here? Before too long, I become lost in the lush grass passing by in the window and her words started joining together. It became a jumble of "I'm sorries", "its better this way", and "he won't find you."
"He won't find you." She repeated, only this time she turned to look me in my eyes and I took every detail of her with me. Her light, honey-blonde hair tossed into effortless spirals around her heart-shaped face, making her the envy of any angel. Her tan skin served her no justice under the cloudy sky, but it was her soft blue eyes I remember best. They were old. The deeper I looked the more pain shot out from them, multiplied by age. If mothers know best, why did this feel so wrong?
"I promise you. . . He won't."
I thought she might reach out to me, grabbing one of my hands and giving me her light smile I knew her best for. Instead, she gripped both her hands tightly around the wheel. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I turned back to the window when I realized we had reached our destination.
It had been a little over three years since I had last seen my grandmother's lofty, aged farm house. We had come for a visit the week before my thirteenth birthday and I had been extremely hasty on my decision for a trip back. I gave out a loud sigh, making sure my mother had heard it before I pushed the car door open and plopped my feet onto the gravel.
My grandmother shot out from the front door and in no time forced her arms around me in an awkward bear hug. Awkward because I was nearly two feet taller than her.
"My oh my! Megan, darling, you get any taller and you'll need a new bed!"
Ha-ha. Clever sense of humor grandma.
I turned my attention to the farm house as my mother and grandmother passed mushy family greetings to my left. It was an old house, that much was obvious, but somehow well-kept. It was bright with fresh, white paint and two-stories high, chimney smoke streaming out of the roof to complete the post-card view. With both my suitcases already in their hands, my oh-so-polite elders ushered me inside, due to a brewing storm above us. Surprise there. This was all one big storm.
"You remember where the guest room is, hun?" My grandmother asked. I nodded my head and began up the stairs. I was almost amused by how quickly their topics changed from weather to him. The reason I was here.
"Oh Ellen, I'm so sorry," my grandmother began, "this isn't your fault. It's no one's but his. Henry is a bad man, you know this. This isn't your fault. This isn't your fault."
I had stopped on the tenth step for a little detour eavesdropping. My grandmother was now wrapped around my mother, one of them sobbing.
"The divorce will be final next week and you can both let the demon go in your lives. This will be good for her. She can start over." She stopped talking after that. I don't know exactly how long we all stood there. My grandma and my mother, entangled in a sympathetic hug, and me, crouching on the stairs, unnoticed. I managed my way up the rest of the stair without sounds and collapsed on the soft mattress waiting for me. I buried my face in the cotton, trying to absorb the tears that hadn't escaped yet. Memories of lovely evening with my father, playing Monopoly and eating celery sticks had been replaced by disastrous nights with his newly found infatuation with a stash of whiskey, unknown to me and my mother. Celery sticks become angry words and Don't Pass Go cards became unmistakable bruises. Before too long, daddy dearest and his whiskey started creating hospital bills neither of us wanted to explain.
"I'm leaving, Megan." My mother echoed from the doorway. She stood there, blankly staring at me with a tired face. I rose from the twin-sized bed and wrapped my arms around her. "I'm going to miss you." She said. Understatement. She was going to hate New York without me.
"I'm going to miss you, too."
After what seemed like forever, I was waving at her through the windshield of her red Ford Liberty.
It felt slightly like freedom.
It was the end of the world.
When night finally strolled around, I made myself comfortable under the light sheets of my new bed. New, in a sense I'd never slept in it. The bed itself was far from new. My grandmother came in and flicked the ceiling fan on. I watched it spin to my life over my body. "I've already gotten you enrolled for school, so you can start first thing tomorrow, if you're ready, that is."
I wasn't looking forward to a new school, with new people, in such a new yet familiar place. "That's fine." I responded. My words don't really connect with my brain too well.
Before I knew it, I was asleep.