I sat in my assigned seat and put my parka under it. Thankfully, it was right next to the window, so during the next four hours I could stare out the window, watch the clouds as we pass over them, and let my own thoughts and emotions absorb me.
It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane on a transfer flight to Port Angeles, and then yet another hour back down to Forks with Charlie. I was already familiar with the flights and time it took to get there. In fact, I knew the place all too well; I spent a month every summer with him in this cold, remote town and its gloomy, grim overcast until I was fourteen. I knew that it is one of the rainiest places in the United States of America. I knew that in addition to the rain, the foliage also engulfed the town, providing abundant, constant shade from any sunlight that shone through. It was all so different from the Phoenix I loved and grew up in: the warmth, the earthy brown hues of valleys in juxtaposition with the bright blue sky all across the horizon. Forks was so different: so damp and dreary and desolate. I detested Forks. I never liked it; at fourteen, I finally put my foot down. Since then, for the past three years, every summer Charlie vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. Now I find myself going back to Forks back to Charlie.
I thought about Charlie for awhile. He had been genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time since my mom escaped with me a few months after I was born. He'd even gotten me registered for a high school and was going to help me get a car when I arrived. To tell the truth though, it'd be a much more exciting for me if I'd really known Charlie. We never became close to each other: we don't have anything in common, we never bonded, we never shared much quality time together, and when we did, it usually entailed awkward silences and small talk. We weren't talkative or expressive people, and there wasn't much to talk about. I figured if I spent time with him, maybe we'd develop a bond. On the other hand, on every vacation I've spent with Charlie, nothing ever really happened.
After two uneventful flights, I finally got my luggage and left the airport. When I looked outside, it was raining in Port Angeles. I sighed at the unavoidable; I'd already let the sun embrace me one last time. I lugged my suitcase wistfully and left the airport, looking for Charlie and the cruiser. When I spotted him, I walked towards him. He gave me an awkward, one-armed hug and then offered to load my luggage in the car.
"It's good to see you, Janey," he said with a grunt as he put the bag down in the trunk. He was wearing his police uniform. My father, Charlie Swan, was the Chief of Police in this small, isolated town of Forks, and has been ever since he moved here.
I smiled at him politely. "It's good to see you too, Dad."