I only came to Forks because my mum died. My only living relative was Charlie Swan, my Uncle. I'd never met Chief Swan, but he was all I had. So unenthusiastically I'd made the long journey from Heathrow airport in London to the small town of Forks Washington AMERICA! Me Alex Swan, in America!
Although I was 17 my mum's will clearly stated that upon her death I was to be looked after by Charlie until I turned 21 (aren't parents the best?). I wouldn't have cared as much except I wasn't really a people person and had never been very good at living with other people (especially my mum's various boyfriends).
Before leaving I did a little research on Forks, to know what to be expecting when I arrived. The first thing I saw was the weather reports. Rain. A problem for most people, but I'm not normal. I love the rain; I love the cold, wet, the dark. Everything most people hate about the rain is what I love most about it.
I also loved flying, so while in the air I didn't have to think about what was waiting for me when I landed. When I did land I looked around, not really knowing what I was looking for exactly. I hadn't even seen so much as a photograph of my Uncle.
Fortunately I was spared the trouble of shouting out Charlie's name, when a large man came up to me,
"I'm Charlie, Charlie Swan. Your Uncle" he said extending his hand, I took it and shook it briefly.
The car ride was tense but I was glad Charlie didn't feel the need to fill the silence. We reached his house in barely any time, or at least it didn't feel like a majorly long time. The rain fell soothingly on the windshield. When we arrived at Charlie's two bedroom house I saw two other cars already in the driveway. A big Chevy truck, I would guess a 1967-1972 model (yes I know a lot about cars and motorcycles) and a small silver Volvo. It wasn't much of a surprise because one of the stuffy paper pushers back home had said that Charlie had a daughter my age.
I walked through the door after Charlie and shut it behind me. Down from the hallway was the kitchen; sitting at one of the miss-matched chairs was a young man. He was talking to a girl (obviously Charlie's daughter).
Upon our entrance, the kitchen's inhabitants stopped talking and turned to look at us. Charlie's jaw was set as he walked past the boy in the chair. The boy in the chair nodded kindly at me and I courteously nodded back. To be honest I felt kind of uncomfortable. I lingered in the doorway not wanting to overcrowd the small kitchen that barely fit the three occupants it had.
Charlie and his daughter exchanged a few whispered words and then she looked over at me and smiled. Not the kind of smile that you know is meant, the kind of forced smile. I smiled back warmly anyway.
"So you're Alex then?" she asked, not really caring if I was or wasn't. I didn't really take it personally, I could tell that she had a lot going on at the moment.