**The characters of the Twilight Saga are owned by Stephenie Meyer.**
Chapter One: Welcome Home
I'm so sorry about the long wait. I forget my password and email to this account a long time ago.
I appreciate everyone who has taken their time to read this story. Enjoy.
Chapter Song: Welcome Home-Radical Face
The recurring thought pierced my thoughts for what seemed like the billionth time. The true meaning of life stood clear in my mind, scratching for me to give it a definition-to figure out what exactly it really meant. Each time I even came close to figuring out what it meant to me, my mind would blanch at those five heavy loaded words and tune out the entire subject.
There was a time where I'd wonder where my life would take me. Those thoughts were immediately erased once reality set in. I grew older and society affected the way I thought. Every dream I once aspired to carry out was brushed away like little particles of dust. To society, I was nothing. Living on an Indian Reservation in the middle of nowhere doesn't grant you a college education and a high rank in society. Rarely do people actually leave the Rez and go to college and it's a definite never that anyone from the Rez becomes something to society. It just isn't planned in our futures. We're not stupid people, we never have been. We just don't need to waste money we don't have to waste on a pointless education program that may or may not secure us a job. On the Rez, it's safer for us to live. We can live with the people who accept us and we're insured a job.
Whenever I step foot back in my home of La Push, Washington I tell myself be grateful. Even though I don't see La Push all too much, I still call it home. I find myself deployed in Iraq more than I'd like and each time I grind my teeth at the never end of flowing sand in my socks and clothes, the damn stuff gets everywhere. The sun is overly hot there and they have sand storms like none other. It's pure poverty and even though the Rez isn't exactly the suburbs, it's better than Iraq.
Living on the Pacific coast hasn't been that bad. La Push has a mile long stretch of beautiful land, with large rocky cliffs overlooking the rarely calm water and tall green trees boarding First beach. Our land sits fourteen short miles from the small town of Forks and is next to the Quileute River. Unlike most on the Rez, I fully appreciated my access to the sea. Whether I was cliff diving or surfing, I had a grand time. I taught myself how to surf when I was six. I remember I found a surfboard in the garage, I was so fascinated. At that point surfing became my rock, when my father left us and my mother became quite distracted with alcohol, surfing was my outlet. The ocean always had a way of being there when nobody else was.
I was so angry at the world when I was younger. Being born on the Indian Reservation makes me an immediate member of the Quileute tribe. I couldn't be taken away from my incapable mother by the state, nor did I want to, but I didn't want to see her. The tribal council could have easily placed me in another families care while Tribal Chief ordered her to fix her shit. They ignored the problem though, even when it was right in front of their faces.
This place brings memories I'd love to forget. Memories aren't always joyful when you had a messed up father. I stare out at the passing line of trees; the site gives me a weird feeling. I'm so used to being able to see out for miles-miles and miles of nothing. Now I can't see ten feet around me and the thought scares my taunted mind.
"I'm doing better now," my mom's voice breaks through my thoughts. I glance over at her, she's nervous. Her long dark hair twisted in a bun on the top of her head and eyes glued to the road in front of us. I pierce my lips as she swallows hard, her eyes flickering over and meeting mine.
"I hope," I find myself saying as we pull into the driveway. Before the car even comes to a complete stop I've opened the door and am halfway out. I stop and turn back to look at her. "Just please don't go back to him."
I didn't bother to hear what she had to say. So instead, I walked into the house and quickly went into my room not even glancing to see how disastrous our house most likely looked.
It felt so weird being back in my old room. The small room painted navy blue, closed in on me as I slammed the door shut. Nothing had changed since I had last been here two years ago. I highly doubted my mother even went in here while I was gone. The bed was still pushed up against the wall right under the window; my desk across from it and my dresser about six inches away from that. The posters I had put up somewhere in the time I was in high school still hung on the wall and a layer of thick dust coated just about everything. I'll have to clean it up later.
I opened my closet; I had cleaned it out during my first and last leave I had spent in this place. Throwing my duffel bag on the floor, I grabbed my old black vans and the Penny board I bought sometime during my senior year. Making my way to the window, I pull on my Vans with one hand. Climbing on my bed, I pull open the window. Sliding out and sitting on the edge, I look down at the small drop below me.
I pause. "What the fuck?"
Flowers, there are actual real real flowers lining the strip of backside of the house. Pink, purple, blue, you name it, they're there. My mom never cared what the outside looked like, never. Damn, she never even cared what the inside looked like and she definitely didn't care what her son did.
"Paul, what do you think you're doing?" I'm startled out of my thoughts by moms voice. "And watch your language."
"What?" I stutter, my eyes meeting mom's identical ones. She's holding a garden hose and has one hand on her hip. She raises her eyebrows at me.
"Are you about to sneak out and jump on my flowers?" she questions looking at me. "You're twenty-three for holy sakes and you're about to sneak out? And with that damn board? That thing almost killed you."
I'm frozen, pierced with shook as she grinds me with words that actually seem like she cares. My hand grips the window edge and I jump out, landing on the grass about an inch away from her precious flowers. I look her straight in the eyes..
"You remember that?" It isn't what I wanted to say nor was it something I wanted to bring up.
When I was 17 years old, my first quarter of my senior year in high school I got a Penny board to help me get around. I needed something light in weight and small, plus I hated bikes. I ended up going to a party down at first beach, some high school kids from Forks were throwing it. I got totally wasted and when it was time to push home, I could barely stand. Most the time I just cut through the forest and I'm right in my backyard. My buddy Jared decided it would be fun to take the long way home and to go that way, you have to go down a huge hill coming down from the cliffs. I crashed half way down it, my board got speed wobble but it didn't help that I was totally drunk. I ended up in the hospital with a broken leg, shattered ankle, dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and more road rash than road kill. It was horrible and for a moment, the doctors thought I'd be paralyzed. I ended up fine though, missed four months of my senior year but I didn't really care.
During the two weeks I was in the hospital my mother visited me once and it was only to yell at me for the huge hospital bill she'd have to pay. I never had insurance, mostly because my mom refused to pay it. The hospital bill was huge and luckily the Reservation is one big family. They helped us pay it all.
"How could I not," it was a statement, not a question. She let out a little laugh continuing to water her flowers. I twitched, wanting nothing more than to get out of this awkward situation.
I don't want to talk to her; I haven't since I was probably six years old. So I do the only thing I know how to do, I walk away.
"I'm making dinner, please be there." She calls out, her voice shaky and nervous.
I don't even glance back. "I'm meeting friends for dinner."
It's a lie, a complete utter lie. Guilt settles in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn't feel guilty though, I shouldn't feel anything towards that woman beside disgust and dislike. It's not like she hasn't ever lied to me before.
It doesn't take me long to get to Sue's diner. In the downtown part of La Push there is a narrow street with a few locally owned shops; Sue's diner sits right across from them. Riding my board was a bit sketchy at first seeing as I haven't ridden it since before I enlisted.
Sue's place is pretty small and always seems to have a good amount of people in it. Everyone loves her cooking, even though I know she doesn't actually cook half the time. Her son helps out and so do some of his friends. The exterior of the old place is falling apart. The wooden walls are slowly falling apart and the roof has so much damage from the constant rain fall, I'm surprised it's still intact.
"Paul!" Sue grins from behind the counter. She shuts the door of the pie holder case and quickly makes her way towards me. Smiling, she wipes her hands on her apron before wrapping me in a tight hug. "It's so nice to have you back." She whispers in my ear.
"Thanks Sue." I say, returning her hug. I don't even bother to tell her that I go back in two short weeks.
She pulls away and grins at me. "Now look at you! You've grown so much, but they're probably feeding you nothing in that army I bet." She winks at me.
"They aren't." I tell her with a short laugh. The army never feeds us right. I haven't had a homemade meal in two years. I'm so sick of the fake shit they give us in those grey packages.
"Well no worries, I'll personally whip you up your favorite." She tells me. I smile and thank her before making my way to the counter. Sitting in the red stool, I watch as she goes in the kitchen, a small grin on her face.
Sue has always liked me, even when I was a shit starting teenager that never went to school and always got in too much trouble. She supported me, no matter what I did. Whenever I needed some extra cash she always allowed me to work at the diner. She's tried to make my life better, always treating me like I was her own son. She even tried to get me to compete in a surfing competition. I refused though.
I look around and take note that there are a few people eying me. In this small reservation everyone knows everyone. I had a bad reputation here and nobody can forget it. I nod at a passing man with his young son; he glares at me and shakes his head. I sigh, wrapping my hand over my scarred fist. Nobody can forget.
"Here you are." Sues warm voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look down at the steaming steak, potato, and Sue's special pasta and my mouth waters. I used to get his every time.
"Thanks Sue." I thank her before digging in.
"No problem Paul." She rolls her eyes at my antics, but laughs never the less. "Now why you lying to that mother of yours?"
I look up at her in surprise. "What?"
"We both know that you aren't meeting any friends Paul. Now why are you lying to her?" she questions, wiping the counter off, gaze fixed on me.
I swallow hard and shrug. "She wants to have dinner and talk. I don't want to talk nor do I want to have dinner with her."
She lets out a sigh. "She really has changed."
I look down at the red counter top and shake my head. "So I've heard."
"It's okay to not forgive her Paul, but people do change and that woman has." Her tone of voice is final, yet gentle. I know Sue means well and even if my mom has changed, I'll never forgive her for what she has done.
Sue slips back into the kitchen. I finish my meal and look over to the open window where all the booths are. I do a double take. There's a girl sitting alone at one of the booths. I didn't even notice her when I was looking earlier. She's definitely not native, with her pale skin and long mahogany hair. She's reading a book and I can tell she's really into it by the way she's hunched over the table, her eyes fixed on the words. I watch as her hair falls in front of her face and she runs her free hand threw it, pushing it out of her face. She's attractive, not hot, but pretty. I can tell even from here that she doesn't wear makeup, which says a lot about a girl. She doesn't care what people think about her.
"Ah, I see you've spotted Bella." Sue says I look at her startled. She jerks her head over towards where the girl, Bella, is sitting.
"Huh? Oh no I was just looking,"
Sue lets out a laugh. "It's okay Paul. I won't tell." She winks at me. "Bella is quite the fascination around here. She's from Forks but loves it here. Always tells me that the smell of the ocean mixed with the trees puts her in bliss."
I glance over at Bella. She's drinking coffee out of a white mug, the book still in her left hand and her eyes still glued on the words. I snicker as a slosh of coffee drops on her white t-shirt. She curses, throws her book on the table before trying to clean the stain out.
"Poor girl, she's more clumsy than anyone I've ever met." Sue rushes towards the booth that Bella sits in, wet rag in her hand.
I grin, pulling my wallet out I put a twenty on the counter. I grab my board before making my way out into the chilly air my mind still on the beauty Bella.
I think I'm pretty okay with how this chapter turned out. I really hope you guys are.
Please feel free to let me know your thoughts. Thank you.
I plan on updating soon.
-Rosie