A Morning Girl
Chapter One
From the moment I was brought into this world, my life was never what one would consider to be particularly "normal," and this could be for a good number of reasons.
I was born in Forks, Washington, but was raised in Scottsdale, Arizona after my parents divorced. I was six-years-old at the time and never really understood the situation at that time. As I grew older, it became all the more clear what these unsaid reasons were: although my parents never discussed it, the rest of the town certainly did. I didn't understand the strange looks and whispers when I was younger, but the more I thought about it as I grew up, the more obvious it all became. Before I was born, my parents had been in what seemed to be a happy marriage, but something must have happened. My dad is the Chief of Police and he's always busy with his work, leaving Mom alone a good portion of the time. His absence must have been some contributing factor to my mother's subsequent actions. When she was pregnant, Dad was overjoyed, and maybe it would have been the best thing that could have happened to their marriage.
That is, if I hadn't been born with darker skin, black hair, and brown eyes. For the record, both Mom and Dad are Caucasian.
I have to give my Dad a lot of respect for staying with us as long as he did. Even though it was very obvious that I was not his biological daughter, he never once treated me as such. Maybe this was the reason why I could not understand the divorce right away. Sure, both of my parents were Caucasian, and sure, I had darker skin and hair than the both of them, but they were still my parents. It never occurred to me for a second that some completely stranger was my father, or that Mom got lonely one evening and paid a visit to some handsome young Indian man in La Push. My dad was my dad. He was always good to me, he did everything for me, and even though he and Mom must have argued every single day and night over her poor choices, I know he really did try to make things work. Their decision to divorce, and my mom's decision to take me away from Forks and move to Scottsdale, was one of the hardest times in my life.
Divorce is never easy on anybody, especially a confused six-year-old.
The hardest part was Mom's decision to date again. There were many boyfriends over the years, but I think I might have scared them off. It was hard for me to accept someone into my life who was not my father, and I didn't keep that a secret. But when Mom decided to re-marry, it was surprisingly easier to deal with than I would have expected. She shacked up with some young baseball player who seemed more comfortable treating me like a little sister instead of a daughter. Maybe that was what made it easy for me. He never really expected me to call him my dad, and never seemed all that offended or bothered when I didn't. He was a good man, and Mom was happy with him, and even though life was overall pleasant, I couldn't help but miss my father every day for the next twelve years.
The greatest part about graduating High School and applying for college was the fact that you could apply virtually anywhere you wanted, like Washington. Although I loved Arizona, I loved my father more, and phone calls and birthday cards over the years were simply not enough. There was a good art college near Forks, Washington. I applied there in a heartbeat, I made arrangements to stay with my father, and by the end of the summer, Mom was driving me to the airport with all of my belongings.
We didn't say a word on the ride there. I knew she didn't like this decision at all, and I really didn't know what to say. I made it clear that I missed my father and wanted him back, but I tried to reassure her that I wasn't moving so far away because I didn't want to be with her. She always nodded, she always said she understood, but I doubt that she ever totally meant it. Instead of small talk, the drive to the airport consisted almost entirely of me staring out of the car window. Arizona was always a beautiful state. I always loved the blue, cloudless skies and the warm, sunny days. Hell, I even loved the crazy lightning storms we would get from time to time. I knew this was going to be the last time I would be accustomed to such beautiful weather and awesome storms. I remembered Forks being a very cold, wet, and cloudy place, but I couldn't remember if that was entirely unpleasant or not.
The car rolled to a stop. I turned my head and saw my mother looking back at me. She forced a smile on her face, but I could see the pain in her eyes. She must have realized this, for she lowered her head and stepped out of the car. I opened the door and the two of us began to unload the trunk of the car. Mom grabbed a very heavy suitcase and pulled it away from the car. I slung asmaller shoulder bag over my right shoulder and carried a bright pink parka in my other arm. Needless to say, the parka looked very out of place in a desert.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
I'm not going to lie: I would have preferred more silence rather than hearing that question for the upteenth time. She had only asked it nearly every day since I decided to move out.
"Yeah. It's been awhile since I've been to Forks... should be nice to go there again for school." was my usual response.
"Valerie..." I looked up and saw Mom approaching me. "...Look... it's not that I don't want you to go and be happy, it's just..." she sighed and began to stroke my long hair. "...It's just... I'm really, really going to miss you..."
Her voice was cracking. It didn't take long for her to start crying. I sighed and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She returned the hug and tried to hold back a few more sobs. No matter how irritating I found her disapproval of my decision to move, I never enjoy seeing my mother upset. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled back after a few long minutes.
"I'll call you every day." I promised. "I'll tell you everything that's going on. And I'll think about you all the time."
She sniffled and nodded, wiping away a few more tears. Then she patted me on the arm. "Well then, you better get going. Don't want to be late for your plane..."
"Alright..." I responded, then gave her another hug. "I love you, Mom... I'll miss you."
The wait to board the airplane was uncomfortably long, but the flight itself seemed to last for ages. Worst of all, I absolutely could not stand the turbulence. Every single time the plane dropped I nearly entered a panic attack. One moment I would be delightfully engaged in the latest Deadpool comic, and then the next second I would feel the plane drop about twenty-feet or so. Before you knew it, I was yelping, grabbing onto the arm of the nearest stranger, and waiting my death. Needless to say, the men sitting near me were not amused, and were certainly not looking forward to the rest of this flight. I made a point not to be too bothersome when we went without turbulence. By keeping myself amused with my collection of graphic novels, I kept myself from being a nuisance. Throughout the flight I went through several stories about Batman, The Watchmen, Iron Man, and The Crow. When I finished them, sometimes I would start all over again. After all, the flight from Scottsdale to Forks wasn't short. But as entertaining as stories about superheroes and vigilantes were, I was more enthusiastic about getting this flight over with.
And before I knew it, my had plane landed in Washington, and I found myself looking for a father I hadn't seen in thirteen years.
And I was ignorant enough to believe that things could only go right from here...
