The remainder of my first day of work passed quickly. John Newton invited me to spend the rest of my time on the sales floor. Thankfully it was a slow Sunday, and not many customers came in. We spent the rest of our time chatting, John was overly pleased to share details about his family. He was happily married to his wife Karen, who sometimes helped out in the store. He had a son, Michael, who was about my age, and the subtle waggle of his eyebrows as he mentioned this fact did not go unnoticed by me. I tried my best not to grimace.

He had lived in Forks his whole life, opening the store shortly after Mike was born. He laughed cheerfully as he recounted stories of attempting to stock camping supplies with an infant son. His best friend owned the grocery store down the street, and his wife was in the process of opening Forks' first beauty spa and salon. I felt a strange twinge of jealousy, listening to John recount these hometown stories, it all seemed so tranquil and homely. I realized that, if I was being honest with myself, the reality was not nearly as rosy as I was imagining. However, after spending so much time traveling and moving with my mother, I had never had the opportunity to get to know the people in my community, let alone enough time to become friends with them.

Again, I found myself imaging what my life would be like had I grown up in Forks. Each time I pictured it, the more clear and substantial this daydream was became. I could see myself strolling up and down the shopping center with Charlie and Renee, stopping into the small boutiques, catching up with old friends. Attending birthday parties of the kids in my neighborhood, riding bikes until the sun went down. I shook my head to clear the images, it would do no good to long for some idyllic version of the past. I reminded myself firmly that I was here now, and if it was something I wanted, I could stay and make a life here. I could fulfill those daydreams for myself.

I tried my best to be friendly with John without offering too much information about myself. I still believed that if I volunteered too much information, my secret would be discovered. I was unclear about what legitimate consequences might await me for running away from home. Yes, I was 18, but I was also still in high school, and I had simply gotten up left everything behind in Phoenix. I still hadn't heard from my mother, and the longer the day went on, the less and less I expected to. Surprisingly, I found myself hoping that she never tried to contact me. Initially, I left impulsively and out of anger. But now? I was beginning to feel more confident in my choice to stay. Being alone was starting to feel like a relief, a lessening of a heavy pressure that I wasn't aware of, and I didn't want it to return.

Near dinner time, John announced with a fake southern drawl, that it was "quittin' time". I had never worked a full 8 hour day before, and I found that I quite enjoyed myself. John informed me that he would expect me back at the same time the following morning, and we would continue to work on some of the processes I had begun to set up that morning. I waved cheerily to him as I left the shop. For the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely carefree as I loaded into the truck and drove home.

As I pulled into the driveway, I was pleased to discover that it was indeed real, I had been half expecting this whole day to be a fever dream. I gathered my things where I had tossed them in the passenger seat and headed inside. I kicked off my shoes oat the door and dropped my keys on the small table in the foyer. I was struck by how "normal" this all felt, coming home after work.

Wandering into the kitchen, I opened the fridge aimlessly, pondering what I would make myself for dinner. I didn't have many groceries, and I still hadn't been paid yet. I didn't want to go back to the grocery store, so I settled on the frozen waffles I had bought the day previous. Less than an hour later, I was munching on toasted waffles and peanut butter, flipping through channels on the flat screen in the living room, too distracted to pay attention to any one program.

I thought about what Renee might be doing at this moment, I wondered whether she was looking for me. I checked my phone again only to find that I still had not missed any calls or texts. I was beginning to feel hurt that she hadn't attempted to contact me. I knew I was being petulant and childish, and I briefly considered being the first to reach out to her. Perhaps this was her plan, to hold out long enough that I was the one who had to come crawling back to her. I could feel my heart rate starting to rise as I tried to read into whatever hidden message she was trying to send by not contacting me. I knew I would be in trouble, I didn't know if that meant the kind of trouble that the police got involved in, but I knew it wouldn't be fun.

For a moment, I considered the parallelism in our two stories. We both had run away in the night, running from something intangible and not well understood. I doubted that her motivations were the same as mine, but then again, I was also only starting to decipher what my true motivations actually were. It had seemed so simple in the beginning, see the place where I had been born, the place where Charlie had died. Now it sounded like a thin excuse, I uprooted my own life, flew thousands of miles away, and in nearly 48 hours, established an entirely different life for myself. I could have easily taken one look inside the house, maybe taken a few knick-knacks or mementos and turned around and gone right home. But I didn't do that, I made the choice to stay. I hadn't realized there had even been a choice to make, perhaps that was the lesson to learn about growing up, that life if full of choices, regardless of whether or not they were immediately visible.

I realized I my breathing had sped up as my mind abstracted and ping-ponged off the idea of growing up. I drifted back around examining the differences between the childhood experiences I did have, and the ones I was rapidly fabricating in my head. I started to feel a bit woozy. I probed the uncomfortable feeling further, and realized that there were layers of pain and sadness that were previously unknown to me. What surprised me most, however, was the faint taste of bitterness and rage that was building quietly under all that pain. I was so angry, I wasn't sure why yet, but as I probed further, my palms began to tingle, and I felt myself begin to detach from my body. To the soundtrack of my own blood rushing in my ears, I came screaming back into myself, near the peak of a spectacular panic attack.

I stood quickly, shaking, and groped my way into the kitchen. I wanted to run, run, run, RUN, until I had run all of the breath out of me. Logically, I knew these were the hallmarks of the Bella Brand(TM) of Panic Attacks, but it didn't lessen the urge one bit. I felt my way into the cupboard, my sweaty fingers clasped a tall glass. Somehow I managed to fill it with tap water and bring it to my mouth. The sensation of the cool water flowing past my lips brought me back a little, but I could still feel the adrenaline surging through my central nervous system. I sat down heavily (I might have just…fallen) on the kitchen floor, and scooted back until I was pressed against the cabinet below the sink. The sensation of my back pressed against the pressboard of the cabinet door calmed me. The rest of my senses began to return slowly.

I was unaware of how much time passed while I was still sitting on the kitchen floor. I might have dozed off. When I felt steady enough, I used the counter to pull myself up very, very carefully to return my water glass to the sink. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, while I stared at my reflection in the window overlooking the yard. My hands gripped the edge of the sink painfully. I studied my own reflection, anxiety had made me look older and more gaunt than usual. I rubbed the heels of my hands vigorously over my face to bring some color back into my cheeks. The same face stared back, now perhaps slightly flushed. I ran a more gentle hand across my forehead and through my hair, and felt more like myself. I decided now was as good of a time as any to call it a night.

I ran through my bedtime routine, and I found it southing that I was beginning to re-establish the routines I had for myself in Phoenix, only this time, I was setting my own pace. I slipped into Charlie's bed (I was having a difficult time thinking of it as my own) and was asleep as soon as I closed my eyes.


The next morning was pleasingly uneventful, I arrived at my second day of work without incident. John was thrilled to see me as the bell above the door tinkled to announce my arrival.

"So you've decided to come back!" he said, louder than was probably necessary. I shot back a genuine smile, and felt myself blushing.

"The grocery store didn't have any open positions." I said, and raised an eyebrow slightly. John grinned and walked around the counter display to clap me on the shoulder.

"Well, you don't seem one for packing groceries." He said, his eyes literally twinkling.

We launched into the tasks I would be accomplishing on my second day. Like the day before, I filled my morning with operationalizing some of John's older, more handwritten, processes. In the afternoon, I moved out of the back office to the sales floor and shadowed John during the stream of sporadic Monday afternoon customers. I knew at some point I would have to interact directly with the customers, alone. This made my insides squirm uncomfortably, but I was dedicated to making this job work. This job meant I could sustain a life of my choosing, and right now, that was more important to me than anything.

In the late afternoon, just as things were beginning to wind down, the front door tinkled, announcing a customer's arrival. I looked up, and was mildly mortified to realize that it was Alice, daughter of the woman I had run into twice now.

"Alice!" John said, in his usual, slightly-too-loud-but-happy tone of his.

"What can I do for you today? Another camping trip coming up?"

The woman nearly danced to the display behind which John and I were standing.

"Getting warmer every day! Almost time for it!" she said brightly, "but no, I'm actually here for Bella." She turned to me and winked when she said my name. A thrill went through me, I wasn't entirely sure that it was just embarrassment.

"Don't you go taking my finest employee away from me now, Cullen." John said grinning, and quietly made himself busy in the back office to give us some privacy.

"How are you?" Alice asked kindly, as soon as John had left. The question took me aback, this was not at all what I had expected Alice to open with.

"You do remember me, don't you? From yesterday?" Alice asked. I nodded quickly.

"Yeah, I'm good, thanks." I said, a bit more curt than I would have preferred. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. Alice smiled knowingly, as if supernaturally sensing my discomfort.

"I wanted to invite you to dinner, to apologize for yesterday." Alice said, she was gently rocking back and forth across the balls of her feet, looking as if she was trying to contain a great deal of excitement.

"Oh you don't—" I began but Alice cut me off before I could get much further.

"Its with my family, at our house." She said quickly.

I struggled to find my next words. Did she just invite me over for dinner, with her family?

"You're new here, I figured you might not know many folks in town yet." I felt strangely defensive when she said that, I didn't quite yet understand why.

"I know Arthur Nylund" I blurted out, before I realized what I was saying. Alice smiled and nodded, letting my awkward outburst slide without incident.

"So, are you in? For dinner?" Alice looked hopeful, I felt a strong urge to say yes, as to not disappoint her. I pulled at my sleeve, I had made a choice to keep my priorities above everyone else's, I wasn't living my life to please other people, I wanted to do things because I wanted them, not because I was trying please someone else. Still looking down at my wrist, I forced myself to consider whether or not I wanted to go.

"That sounds great" it was out before I knew what I was saying. I looked back up at Alice, and she was beaming even brighter than I thought possible. She literally jumped (a frustratingly graceful hop) with excitement when I said yes.

"Yay!" She squealed. "Okay! I'll come by and pick you up at 7!" I gaped at her.

"Tonight?!" She was already turning to make her way out of the store. "You don't even know where I live!" I called, but she was already out the door. I took a deep steadying breath, feeling as if I had just agreed to more than family dinner.

"Sounds like you've got a fun night planned." I jumped, John was standing in the doorway in the office, clearly having overheard our very brief conversation. I cleared my throat and began to arrange the loose papers near the register.

"Um, yeah." I suddenly wanted very much for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I'm sure if I had been looking in a mirror, my deeply blushing face would have stared back at me. John chuckled but mercifully didn't press the issue any further.

The last of my shift passed far too quickly for my rapidly mounting anxiety. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the driveway, behind the wheel of Charlie's truck (mine, I had to keep reminding myself). I rested my head against the steering wheel and groaned. Ideally, I would have a couple of nights to psych myself up for this dinner. I knew nothing about Alice and her family other than I hip checked her mom into the sidewalk just two days ago. It took a couple of minutes to gather myself, but I eventually made it inside, changed into the only other outfit I had brought with me. I made a mental note to make sure to pick up some extra clothes with my first paycheck.

I was standing in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of water, when Alice's insistent knock sounded at the door. I closed my eyes and gathered myself before answering the door. Alice stood on the porch, basking in the last few moments of daylight. She already had her arm outstretched, and as soon as I stepped across the threshold, she had my hand locked in hers and was pulling me out the door, chattering excitedly. I didn't catch much of what she was saying. She pulled me to the passenger side of an overly clean and glossy car, and a part of my brain registered that it must have been expensive, but I didn't have enough knowledge of cars to know for certain.

The stereo flashed and began to play as Alice started the car, briefly interrupting her lengthy monologue that I realized I hadn't actually heard a single word of. The music filtered into my brain as I relaxed into the ridiculously comfortable passenger seat.

"You're gonna love them, Bella." Alice said brightly, turning to glance at me as we pulled out on to the main road. Her actual words began to filter into her brain.

"Hmm?" I said intelligently. Good one, Bella. Alice winked at me knowingly.

"My family, they're going to love you." She repeated, I was relieved that she didn't seem the least bit bothered by my spacey behavior.

"Is this Rynn?" I asked, gesturing at the stereo.

"It is! You know her?" I nodded and Alice surreptitiously turned the volume up a few levels. I felt the a subwoofer begin to buzz slightly from the trunk. I tried not to imagine how expensive this whole setup might be.

The rest of the ride felt slightly less uncomfortable as we settled into a kind of silence, listening to a couple tracks on Alice's playlist. I had almost calmed my nerves down by the time we pulled off the main road and onto a rougher gravel road flanked by massive tall Douglas firs.

Alice turned the music down as a large, modern looking structure came into view. I gasped, it was stunning. A delicate blend of classic victorian and post modern glass and steel. It look as if this modern, geometric structure had physically grown from the dark gingerbread home. It was a bouquet of sharp edges and curved glass, tastefully paired with intimate touches of a more classic beauty. The front yard was bare, save for a few massive fir trees that looked as if they'd been there long before the house was built.

"Its beautiful," I said quietly, unaware that I was speaking aloud.

"Esme designed it. She's an architect." Alice said, pulling to a stop outside a massive looking garage. I tried not to imagine how many cars might fit inside a garage like that.

"She's really talented." I said, getting out of the car. As we climbed the half dozen porch steps to the front door, my heart began to thud uncomfortably as I ascended each step. Partially from the exertion, but I mostly because I did not know what to expect on the other side of that door.

Before Alice could even put her hand on the door handle, the door swung open to reveal Esme standing in the foyer, a hand towel thrown over her shoulder, looking slightly mussed, but in the most impossibly delicate way.

"Bella!" Esme said warmly, and before I could object I was being pulled into a warm hug. I coughed and tried not to move until it was over.

"Thank you so much for coming, we're so happy to have you." Esme pulled away and took a short step back, positively beaming. Is everyone this fucking happy?

Alice swept passed Esme into the rest of the house and disappeared, shouting unintelligibly at someone inside. Esme turned back again, a slightly mischievous tone in her voice.

"Come on inside, dear, we don't bite." Esme said with a wink. I did my best to unclench my jaw and breathe as I closed the distance across the porch, and was promptly ushered inside.


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