A/N: I know, I know! This chapter took so long to finally write! I blame it on life, the universe and everything. Either way, here it is in all it's glory.
This chapter's title is taken from a lyric in the Tori Amos song, "Not Dying Today," on the Abnormally Attracted to Sin album. There's also another Tori reference in this chapter itself – an internet cookie to the first person (if anyone reads my drivel anyway) who can correctly identify it.
I had taken one of the last flights out of Phoenix, so it was too late in the day to make it out on a flight to Port Angeles. Charlie had rented two rooms at a nearby hotel for us to sleep in before we continued on to Forks the next morning. Before we retired for the night, we grabbed a quiet dinner together. We spent most of the evening being awkward and silent, neither of us really knowing what to say to the other.
"I talked with Jan down at the diner," he said, pouring more A-1 onto his steak. "She said to come on in as soon as you get into town. She's got a piece of pie and a job for you."
"A job?" I was curious and, to admit, a bit confused. I hadn't asked Charlie to find me a job. In fact, I hadn't mentioned anything about getting a job.
"Yeah, I know," he replied, almost reading my thoughts. He started to cut into the sauce-covered steak. "I kind of overstepped my boundaries, I suppose, but Phil thought it might do you some good, rather than moping around the house all day."
Ah. I should've known Phil had been in on it. "Well, all right," I said, although I wasn't too entirely sure I was all right with it. "I'll head down there once I've settled in."
Charlie replied with a satisfied harrumph and started in on his steak, effectively bringing a close to any further discussion on the matter.
As I ate my own dinner (an enormous plate full of pasta carbonara with too many peas in it for my liking), I debated silently if this little turn of events pissed me off or not. I hadn't had any hard, set plans for my time in Forks. In fact, thinking about it more fully, I had probably started to look like a bit of a sponge to Charlie. I'd graduated high school, dropped out of college and then run up here with no concrete plans whatsoever...just expecting him to take me in and care for me as though I were incapable of doing it myself.
I sighed into my noodles. I knew that wasn't likely Charlie's method of thinking at all, but I sure did feel pretty bad that I'd made no plans as to what I'd be doing with myself once I arrived. While I didn't relish the idea of immediately getting to work in a greasy diner (although it had been so long since I'd last set foot in Forks that I could barely recall if it was greasy or not), it would give me something to do. It would be nice, too, to be making my own money and not having to mooch off of Charlie quite so much.
My mind made up, I went back to eating my food. The rest of the night was quiet between us, with the exception of the rain beating mercilessly into the windows beside us. I found it hard to sleep that night, even after the warmest shower possible, cranking the heat up in the room as high as it would go. The sound of rain was practically foreign to me – even though it did rain in Phoenix on occasion, it wasn't enough to get me used to it. I felt like it was metaphorically seeping into my life, sealing off my past in Phoenix and cementing with my unknown and shrouded future in Forks.
* * * * * * * * *
Over the course of the next few days, I found myself getting settled into Forks a lot easier than I had imagined. Away from the sunshine and our seemingly empty house, I found it easier to wrestle aside the crushing weight that came with missing my mother. I had not yet talked to Phil since that first evening I'd arrived at Sea-Tac, but I expected that when I did, my overwhelming grief would likely return.
On my third day in Forks, Charlie dropped, quite literally, another surprise in my lap. I was sitting on the couch, folding clothes from the laundry and mindlessly watching an episode of Maury when he came in the front door and tossed a set of keys towards me. They landed neatly on top of the pale pink undies I had just folded. I quickly scooped up the keys and flipped over the pile of clothing so that my unmentionables weren't out there for the whole world to see. I turned my head and looked at Charlie, who had quite the shit-eating grin on his face.
"Come on out and take a look at 'er," he said, motioning me to the door. I couldn't help but smile back at him – his good humor was a tad infectious. The smile felt a bit strange on my face, as though it were the first real smile I'd cracked in a long time. I suspected, as I stood and slipped into a pair of sandals, that it was.
I followed Charlie out the door and beheld in front of me a beast of a vehicle. Clearly a late 60's model pickup truck, painted red and quite possibly made entirely of steel. To cap the occasion, there was even a small bow on the hood. I looked at Charlie, who still held the same grin on his face.
"Is this…for me?" I asked him.
"Sure is," he replied. "Had my eye on it for awhile, before you got here. One of the local kids was selling it. Figured you could use it to get around town and see the sights." He waggled his eyebrows at me.
I laughed, feeling the same sort of mystery in my voice as I had with the smile earlier. "You crack me up. Dad, you really shouldn't have. I planned to find my own vehicle and spend my own money on it."
Charlie shrugged. "No big deal. I couldn't pass this girl up. Besides, I thought you might want to drive to the diner without your old man in tow."
Aha. Was that part of his angle? I figured it likely was a small thought in the back of his head, but with his sheer enthusiasm, it appeared that he had really just wanted to give his daughter some wheels. I stepped down from the porch and up to the truck. I ran my hands across the hood. The paintjob was new – it still felt like shiny should feel like if it were a texture.
"It's great, Dad," I said, choking up a small bit on my words. "Thanks so much."
Charlie looked away. Emotions aren't exactly our strong suits and to tell the truth, I was glad for it. He cleared his throat and looked back when he figured the coast was clear.
"So, why don't you take her for a spin? Jan's been asking when you'd be down."
I took the hint. "You know what? I think I will. Let me get changed and I'll head over."
That seemed to please Charlie. He came over and patted me on the back, then harrumphed a bit. I looked over at him and saw that he was trying to say something that he didn't know how to say.
"You know," he said, "I know it's been hard on you since your mother passed. I just don't want you to have to put on a show for your old man."
"Dad," I started, but he stopped me.
"Just…just know that it's okay to miss her while you're here," he said. "Just because she and I split up when you were small doesn't mean that I don't want you to miss her. You don't have to hide it, but I want you to know that it'll be okay. All right?"
The lump in my throat threatened to rise against my better intentions and turn me into a puddle of tears. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."
He kept his hand on my back for a moment longer, then cleared his throat and turned back toward the house. I followed quickly behind me, heading upstairs to my room to change.
* * * * * * * * *
The truck, I found out, was in no need of an alarm – if one was even necessary in such a place as Forks. The sheer act of turning the key in the ignition was alarm enough that someone was driving a freight train down Main Street or trying to take off with my truck. Honestly, how I missed the sound of it as it barreled into the driveway at Charlie's house, I had no idea. Perhaps I thought that elephants were in season and stampeding through the front lawn?
Either way, I found myself, an hour after my exchange with Charlie, headed into town in my new-to-me truck/Tyrannosaurus. The diner should be, according to Charlie, on the south side of Main Street, nestled in between an antique shop and another antique shop. What was it with small towns and antique shops, anyway?
I found the diner quickly enough, next to Olde Tyme Collectibles, but before My Grandmother's Attic. I snickered at the kitschiness of the names and parked my truck on the street outside the front door of the diner. The neon sign in the window told me, in no uncertain screaming pink terms, that I was about to enter "The Dew Drop Inn." More kitsch. I laughed inwardly, then pressed through the doors and looked around. A busty, heavyset woman behind the waitress station immediately wiped her hands on her apron and bustled up to me.
"You must be Bella!" she exclaimed. "Oh, you have your father's eyes! Come on in, darlin', I'm Jan. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something to eat?"
The warmth exuding from Jan was nearly as infectious as Charlie's smile this morning. "I could go for some coffee," I replied. "Thank you."
"No problem, no problem at all," Jan responded, heading back around the waitress station and grabbing a pot of coffee and a clean mug. She plunked the mug on the table nearest us, then beckoned me to sit down. I did so as she poured the coffee into my cup. Then she sat at the seat across from me.
I took two packets of sugar from the caddy in the middle of the table and shook them into my coffee cup. In my brief look around the diner, I had noticed that it was relatively empty. I looked at my mother's watch – it was 3pm.
Jan saw me check the time and laughed. "This is our downtime, hon," she said. "The golden period between the lunch and dinner rushes. A few people come in for pie or coffee around this time, but you'll see it really heat up around 5 or 6. Tonight's special is a town favorite – Edward's Lasagna. People will be lining up for it."
I smiled. She was enthusiastic and charming in that small town kind of way. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few curious pairs of eyes looking at us from behind the cook's station. I pretended not to notice as I faced Jan.
"Charlie told me that you were looking to hire a waitress," I said.
"Yes, yes," Jan replied. "We're losing our mid-day and evening gal. Jessica's been with us since she was in high school, but she's headed off to college in New York. We'll need someone to work with her to learn the ropes and then take her place once she's headed out."
One of the pair of eyes behind the cook's station apparently had hands, too. One hand, a dainty female one, surreptitiously waved. I surmised that the hand (and eyes) belonged to Jessica.
"I've never waitressed before, but…" I started, but was cut off by Jan.
"No problem!" Jan said. "I'm happy to train you and Jessica's been chomping at the bit to get her replacement ready to go. If you want the job and can start tomorrow, it's yours!"
"Tomorrow?" I was kind of surprised. I hadn't exactly expected to be working so soon.
"Do you have any obligations? We can be flexible, of course," Jan said, hope in her eyes.
I didn't have anything to do except watch more episodes of Maury. "Nope," I replied. "I can be here tomorrow. What time?"
"Two o'clock," Jan replied. "Just wear a white polo shirt and black pants. I'll get an apron for you from my office." She stood and headed through a set of double doors that led, I assumed, to the kitchen. Before the doors could swing closed, a short and small-framed girl rushed out of them and towards me.
"Hi!" the girl exclaimed and slid into the seat that Jan had occupied. "I'm Jessica! I'm so glad that Jan hired you – I've been so worried about leaving. I didn't want them to be without someone to take my place!"
"Hi," I said. The girl was bubbly and cheerful, probably a cheerleader in high school. I noticed that another set of eyes still watched us from behind the cook's station. I focused on Jessica, feeling nervous at all this attention.
"So, you're Chief Swan's daughter?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"How come I've never met you before? Have you always lived in Phoenix?"
"I've visited in the summers before, but I usually spent most of my time with Char…I mean, my dad," I replied.
"So why are you here now?" Jessica twirled a loose strand of her honey blonde hair around her finger. The girl sounded like she could talk a mile a minute if given the chance.
"Um…my mom died." I responded. Jessica's face fell momentarily.
"That sucks," she said.
I laughed a little. "Yeah," I said, enjoying the simplicity of her statement. "It does." Jessica smiled at me.
Jan returned to the table with an apron in her hand. "I see you two are getting along famously," she said, visibly pleased. She handed me the apron, then rushed over to the front door where some guests were entering.
"Sorry to rush off, dear," she called over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow at two!"
"Two o'clock," I repeated. I swallowed half the cup of coffee quickly. I felt bad that I hadn't had a chance to touch it yet.
Jessica also bounded off, ready to serve up waters to the customers that Jan was seating. "See you, Bella!" I waved back at her and slid out of the booth.
The eyes from behind the cook's station followed me as I headed towards the door of the diner. I looked to them briefly, wondering what was so exciting about plain old Bella Swan.
"Edward!" Jan called from behind me.
The eyes seemed to slowly remove their focus on me and turned towards Jan.
I took that moment to duck out the diner doors.