My mother had lived in Forks long before I had, and it wasn't something she took pride in. Every time the town was brought up she got a mean look in her eye and listed off all its awful qualities, not that I blame her. She hated her time in that town, where everybody knew each other and it rained constantly. Renee hates the rain, which explains her move to Arizona so soon after her divorce.
I take after her in that sense, the whole not liking the rain bit. Every time it rains my mood seems to tumble down a steep hill. It's not that I hate Forks, not like my mom at least, but it was always gloomy to me. Maybe it was her disposition running off on me, a gene embedded in my DNA only waiting until adolescence to begin acting up. As a kid, I loved visiting Charlie. He'd take me on hikes in the wet forest and shake tree branches over my head. Water would drop on me like rain, and I'd scream and run out from underneath its path. "It's the forest saying hello," he'd explain before shaking another. Once I'd outgrown being a kid, Forks lost its appeal. Charlie worked often and fished even more, his idea of a good time was visiting the same diner every night and eating the same thing for every meal.
I remember spending time in the fishing boat with him and his friend Harry, wishing desperately for the sun to peek out or my mom to call and insist I go back to Phoenix immediately. Then, when I refused to go out fishing, I was left ashore with some of the kids from the reservation. That wasn't too bad, but even then, I never really fit in. I was an unhappy teenager and all they wanted to do was have a good time. They'd go to the stores or go swimming in the cold ocean, and I always trailed behind. Watching from afar and wishing for the time to go by quicker.
It wasn't my first choice to move to Forks, and it wasn't my second choice either. But when Renee looked so excited telling me about Phil's transfer to Florida, I couldn't help but assure her that I wanted her to move with him. I thought maybe I could stay in Phoenix, finish my last few years of school, and then go off to college. Phil, her boyfriend, wasn't a huge fan of that idea, which means mom wasn't either. And that was never really an option either, I couldn't stand living in my moms' house without her. I'd miss her too much.
So, with a plane ticket in my back pocket and a duffel bag with the few clothes that would stand the cold weather of coastal Washington, I set off to live with Charlie.
Mom cries the entire car ride to the airport, Phil occasionally rubbing her shoulder and handing her a tissue as he drives. "Bella, I can't imagine you living so far away from me," she weeps into a balled-up tissue. She turns around to place a hand on my knee and squeeze, giving me a tearful smile. "What would I do without you?"
"Travel?" I offer, which results in a single tear rolling down Renee's round cheek. "Mom, I'm joking! I'll miss you too." She turns back around, legs pulled up to her chest as the barren landscape gives way to the on-ramp of the highway. We all sit in silence, looking out our respective windows.
I don't like the idea of leaving my mother alone. I can't imagine her moving to a new place, an unfamiliar place, without me to make sure she pays her phone bill and takes her credit card when she goes out. What if she forgets her address? Or accidentally loses her phone on the bus and can't call for help?
There are too many things that can go wrong. But she has Phil now. And he's a good guy, different from Charlie in so many ways that it surprises me they were ever together, ever married. Phil is kind, responsible, and loves my mom almost as much as I do. He'll make sure she isn't late for work and will always move the laundry into the dryer before they get all mildewed. There's nothing else for me to worry about.
The airport is large, but I know it well and Phil guides us up to the lobby where we all need to go our separate ways. Mom gives me another big hug, her fingers clutching the flannel of my jacket. "Bella, you don't have to do this," she says into my shoulder.
I hug her back, wishing I didn't have to let go. "I know mom, but I want to." She sniffles and releases me.
"You've never been a good liar," she chastises tearfully, "you get that from me."
Phil laughs and says something I don't hear. She gives a small laugh in response. I'm glad she'll have him. My plane boards soon, a gentle reminder from the intercom, so I give my mom one last kiss on the cheek and hurry off, so I don't miss my flight.
The entire walk down the main lobby feels like torture, a fire burning in the pit of my stomach that screams at me to turn around and hug her one last time. But I can't turn around, I need to be strong. So, I keep walking and turn the corner, even as tears sting the back of my eyes, and my feet drag against the floor in protest.
My plane lands uneventfully, the woman that was sitting next to me asks if I have a ride to wherever I'm going and I tell her I do, my dad is picking me up. It's weird to think that Charlie is picking me up from the airport and that this time he won't have to drop me off here in two weeks. This time I'm here to stay.
I meet him outside of the main doors, leaning against the police cruiser and still in uniform. He straightens when he sees me walk out and gives me a kind smile from beneath his moustache. He's never been one for words, I guess I get that from him. He pulls me in for an awkward one-arm hug and then takes my duffel bag and tosses it in the trunk. "How was the flight?" He asks once we're in the car. "Turbulence?"
"No, it was okay." He nods at this and pulls out of the laneway and onto the main road.
It's a forty-minute drive back to Forks from the airport, and for once I don't totally mind it. Charlie is different from Renee, he doesn't feel the need to constantly check in on me, ask me questions, fill the silence. So, we sit, the radio playing 80s music quietly in the background.
Everything out the window is a bright green, damp with rain. Moss seems to grow out of every available corner here, the rocks and trees covered in it. My phone buzzes and I flip it over to see a text from mom. Love u txt when landed
I respond quickly and then turn the phone back over. "Renee?" Charlie asks, looking down at my overturned phone. I nod. "She's always been a worrier," he says with a hint of nostalgia. We lapse into another silence and this time it lasts until we pull into the driveway of the house.
It's a two-story, at the end of a residential street right next to the forest we used to hike in during the summer. The porch is rickety now, white paint chipped from years of neglect. Almost everything is unchanged from the outside, the swing hanging from the front tree and the yellow curtains hanging in the kitchen window. Moms' yellow curtains. There are little touches of her everywhere.
Charlie takes my bag inside for me and I take an extra moment to appraise my new home. This is where I live now. This won't change. This won't change. I repeat it like a mantra as I walk up the porch steps and into the house.
To the left is the living room, old brown sofa and lazy boy recliner soft with overuse, a mantle over the wood fireplace cluttered with picture frames. To the right is the small kitchen, the cabinets a pale yellow to match the curtains, the breakfast table pushed against the far wall with three mixed chairs sitting around it. There are still dishes on the counter.
"Now," says Charlie. "We've got a sick call today, but if you want me to-"
"No, Dad," he doesn't like me calling him Charlie. "That's fine, you go back to work." The Forks Police Service is seriously low on cops, they can't afford to also have their Chief take the night off.
"Are you sure, Bells? I wouldn't want you to feel that I'm leaving you alone on your first day…" He trails off with a look of concern, but his feet are angled towards the door. As nice as it would be to have him here, even just to eat dinner together and then immediately separate, I know he feels a moral obligation to go to work. I can't blame him for it, either. Work has been his wife and family since mom left.
"Yeah, it's fine. I'll see you later?" He nods quickly, assuring me he'll be back before midnight. I promise him dinner for once he's back, I know he's awful in the kitchen. He leaves with an awkward wave and I lock the door behind him. One of us will need to learn to communicate a little better or this living situation will get uncomfortable fast.
My first point of business is bringing my bag upstairs and unpacking it. My room is the same as it's been for the past seventeen years, the violet painted walls, the wooden desk, even the mobile I had over my crib is still hanging in the corner. My crib has since been switched out for a bed, but the padded rocking chair still sits in the corner from the glory days of my parents' marriage- the first year after my birth.
I put all my clothes away into dresser drawers, the few articles that need to be hung up are in the closet. There's still a lot of space left, not much of my Arizona clothing would fit the cold, wet weather of Forks. Some would see this as a good thing, a chance to go out and buy new clothing. I am not one of those people.
I take out my toiletries, setting them up on my dresser for easy access when I need to use the shared washroom between Charlie and me. I didn't bring many mementos from home, just a picture of my mom and me at her yoga class, she quit the day after the picture was taken, and a few books. Some Jane Austen and a few poetry anthologies that I've since battered with notes and dog ears. I stack them on my nightstand. And just like that, my entire life has been unpacked in less than an hour.
There isn't much left for me to do tonight, I don't start school until the day after tomorrow, so I spend the evening watching TV and making myself dinner. I head to bed before Charlie's home, so I leave a note for him on the kitchen table that there's pasta in the fridge.
It's weird sleeping somewhere that has so many memories. Memories of me wishing I could go home to mom, memories of me colouring at my desk, playing music too loud and pretending I couldn't hear Charlie asking if I wanted to go fishing with him and Harry again today. And I know I'll make new memories here, I know I'll fall asleep here every night for the next few years and eventually, this won't be my childhood bed, it'll just be mine. But until I get to that point, every time I put my head down on this pillow and pull the lace sheet up over my shoulders, I'll always think of my summers hating it here and how I can't wish to go back home anymore.