It was an eighty-four hour ride to Seattle then another hour in a small boat to Port Angels and a thirty minute drive back down to Grader. I looked forward to the ride with my Dad. Dad was just as excited about me moving back home as I was. Dad was awaiting for me with the cruiser. I smiled wryly in my head at the thought of the townspeople wondering what was going on.
My Dad gave me a distant one armed hug once I got off the boat. It was good to know he was still emotionally inept, "It's good to see you, Rave." I smiled warmly at hearing my childhood nickname, "You've changed so much. Longer hair, taller and not to mention the tattoos," he looked at my arms as I smiled. On my inner left wrist was a black and red nautical star, up high on my left arm was a wolf howling at the moon surrounded by flame. On the inside of my right forearm, where my winter coat hung, was a red and black rose entwined with the thorns circling around my right wrist. He looked back up at me, "How's Rochelle?"
"Mom's mom. It's good to be back, Dad." I would never have called him Barry to his face. Shows how disrespectful my mother was towards him. I had a couple of bags, I took most of my winter clothes though I had a few favorites I couldn't resist taking. I couldn't leave them at my mother's pretty in pink mercy. "I found a good car for you," he declared once we were on the road.
"Really? What is it?" I asked in curiosity. I could have had my own car in North Carolina but it was only a three mile walk to school so I high tailed it. I had gotten my license one summer here in Grader, so I was covered to drive. "A 1966 Chevy Pickup." He spoke as he stopped at a red light. Ole fashioned pickup truck, exactly what a gearhead girl would want.
"Cool, maybe I'll give Jason Black a call, if he even remembers me and we'll jazz it up," I opened my checkbook while we toted along. I had made a decent amount of money in North Carolina working on cars and stuff, "How much is it?"
"Well, I already got it for you." I smiled in return. How amazing was this man? From my first moments, my father and I connected. We were always so close despite the fact that he was socially inept. Hard to socialize, yes. Heartless and cold, most definitely not. "Okay, then, how much do I owe you for it then?"
"Don't worry about it, Rave. I didn't mind. I want you happy here." My Dad stared blankly at the road ahead. "That was really nice. Thank you. It means a lot to me." I was ecstatic to be here. It was beautiful, I could not deny. Everywhere I looked it was green. Plush moss covered the trunks of trees, the ground and even the ferns.
"I bought it off Willie Black. You remember Willie, don't you?"
"Didn't he go fishing with us every summer?" I looked in my Dads' direction.
"Yes, well, he's in a wheelchair now so he can't drive it anymore."
"Oh, well that's disheartening," I looked down. It was hard to hear that someone I considered family has such unfortunate news.
Finally we made it the old house. The small, two bedroom Victorian house that my Dad bought in the early months of their marriage as an attempt to make my mother part of his isolated, vintage world. And there, parked in the driveway in front of the house that hasn't changed, was my truck.