On the day I moved to Forks, I drove to the airport with the windows rolled down and my laughter-lined mother in the passenger seat. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. My slice of heaven. Her short and mousy brown hair blew around her as she leaned out of Phil's car. Her face, so similar to mine, was smiling in the wind. She was the perfect foil to me, by design. She was erratic, irresponsible and while sometimes I loathed her for it, I loved her. That's how I felt now, leaving my home behind, alone.

She glanced at me now with a faceful of hope and a mischievous sparkle in her childlike eyes. How could I deny her happiness? I asked myself. She deserved, much more so than me, to chase her dreams with her husband Phil. With Phil too, the bills would probably get paid before she let the power shut off, there would be edible food not covered in mould in the fridge, perhaps she'd be able to finally get around to those driving lessons she had shoved onto me instead.

I'd gone over my goodbyes to Phoenix a thousand times. It was here we fled when in the middle of the night my mother could no longer stand to stay in Forks. Charlie wasn't a bad husband. He was a father who tried to do right by my family. But 'right' was never enough for my mother, she wanted 'spontaneous.' I was a baby when she left; and as I grew older my mom regaled me with the tales of how she hitchhiked for days in search of the sun after leaving the near-constant cover of clouds the Olympic Peninsula thrives under. She thought it was inspiring, but it just made me anxious for her safety. Still, Phoenix represented a safe haven for us both. While she wanted to leave it, to be free, I would be happy to curl up here forever. That's what freedom means to me.

Instead, I had chosen to exile myself, foregoing the lively city I loved to watch bustle around me while I curled up with a coffee and a book. Leaving the safe bubble of blistering heat I called home. I wonder if my mother knew the sacrifice I was making today.

When we arrived at the airport we exchanged quick words of goodbye. She was far too excited to go start her new life in Jacksonville, and Phil and I both knew she'd miss her plane if we didn't push her right to the gate. Truthfully, I was far too much in my own head to indulge her need for validation as I have through the years. I knew her promises of always being there for me were false. I was the one who was there for her - and I always would be, whether I liked it or not.

It was a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Until I stepped off the plane, I hadn't really thought about my new life here. Mostly I was just ignoring it in favour of the blissful peace of my book. Now the panic washed over me, as did the rain that was managing a steady but miserable drizzle. I ran for cover and the bright lights of the Port Angeles airport in the dark. As soon as my flats met the slick floor I knew I should have been more careful where I stepped. I braced myself for the fall backwards and was surprised when a rough hand caught me with a grunt. I looked up at Charlie as he steadied me. "Guess it was good I decided to come meet you outta the plane." He gave a small twitch of his mouth that passed for a smile.

Charlie's face was lined like my mother's, but instead of lines wrinkled by laughter and memories he had a thick moustache and frown lines weathered and hard. Time hadn't been as kind to Charlie - we were both worriers. He didn't show his emotion with his whole face like she did, Charlie was more secretive. Where he did show it, was his eyes. Warm and brown and honeyed just like mine, with kind crinkles at the corners, if you knew where to look. That's where he truly smiles.

I shook my head and the surprise of seeing Charlie off my face. "Thanks dad. It's good to see you." He grunted and picked up my small suitcase. I really didn't have a lot of clothes for such a rainy place. "Oh, you really don't have to do that, I got it…" He waved me off and we made our way towards the exit in silence. Whereas mom always needed noise and chatter, Charlie and I were more comfortable in our own thoughts.

We stopped at the parking lot - it wasn't hard to tell which one was Charlie's. "Ah, I forgot that I have to get used to… you know, getting into a cop car." I said, rubbing my arms awkwardly. He laughed. "At least you get to sit in the front." The car door clicked behind him. He cleared his throat as I slid into the front seat beside him.

"So, uh, speaking of cars I was talking with Billy Black, you remember me talking 'bout Billy right?"

"Ummm…"

"He's my fishing buddy, down at La Push."

"Oh right, I remember now."

"Yeah well he's in a wheelchair now and he offered to sell me his truck for cheap. I, uh, I bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." He saw me beginning to sputter in surprise and waved me off. "I know I know, you don't like expensive gifts. But I want you to be happy here and I… don't want a repeat." He squared his jaw, looking straight ahead. I realised then how much it meant to him for me to come here. Far from being a burden to him, he was looking forward to taking care of me. To being present in my life. At least, that's what it seemed like right now.

I swallowed my tears and gulped. "Thanks dad, I… I really appreciate it."

"Well, now, you're welcome." He mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

I watched the rain pour down through the dark windows, imagining the green canopy awaiting me with the light of day. I wondered what it was like, the green. Mom always described it as an alien planet, the trees, their trunks covered with moss, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It sounded beautiful, but cold and wet and… lonely. Alienating.

I fell asleep then, leaning against the cold window. I was exhausted. I expected Charlie to wake me when we got to my new home - instead he carried me inside, shrugged off my wet parka, flats and threw a blanket over me. It might not have been much to anyone else, but to me? It meant the world.