A week passes. It's a happy coincidence that I don't feel the time rolling away beneath my fingers. Renee calls periodically, by which I mean once Tuesday morning to ask me if I'd cancelled her yoga membership before leaving Phoenix. We spoke quickly as I sat at the kitchen table, staring determinedly at my plate as Charlie's eyes clung to my phone. He does that frequently; reminisces about his life with Renee a little too obviously. I don't think it's fair for me to say it makes me uncomfortable, but it does.
It's hard to have him ask about my mother, like if she's emailed me recently. It's especially disheartening when he asks about Phil. I know my mother has moved on from her failed marriage, she is dating a new man and speaks with no hint of nostalgia as she discusses those early years of adulthood. I don't know that Charlie has moved on. His life here is established, he has ties to the community and friends who occupy him with senile gossip and enough fishing to grow a pair of gills.
But, in the quiet moments when he is not occupied. When he isn't working or meeting friends or watching a baseball game, he will ask me leading questions. "How's your mother enjoying Jacksonville?" I respond as neutrally as possible, trying to not encourage the conversation.
Over the past week, I'd spent equal time with my new friends as I had with my father. We go out to the diner some nights, other nights we trade off on making dinner. It's nice to have someone else take care of me, even if only by providing me with a burger and steamed carrots.
I receive a grade or two back from my teachers, each time receiving praise and congratulations from them. They tell me I'm bright, gifted. That my academic talents could take me far in life. This is similar to the messages I had received from my teachers in Phoenix. The difference is that Charlie takes me out for ice cream after each signed test, Renee had never seen the marks.
I get a call from Jacob Black on the landline at nearly seven in the evening on Thursday. It's been a long week, exhausting in the best possible way. I'm laying horizontally on the soft couch, a book perched above my nose and the TV announcing the stats of various athletes.
Charlie is the one who rushed up to answer the phone, clicking the remote to mute the television and grumbling about a phone call coming during the game. "Hello," he had said gruffly. A pause which felt significant, so I looked over the back of the couch towards the kitchen. "Oh, hey, yeah." A pointed look in my direction that looked distinctly amused. "She's right here, hold on."
I get up from the couch, folding over a page in my novel. "Is it mom?" I ask as he hands me the phone, palm over the mouthpiece. He shakes his head and motions for me to bring it up to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey!" The enthusiastic voice of Jacob Black.
He had called to ask me about visiting him over the weekend, the rain was supposed to hold off and we could do a little bit of "adventuring" mixed in with some studying. I don't know entirely what this means. The word adventuring feels like a safety hazard when coincided with my lack of coordination. I don't ask for clarification, both because I feel as though I'd overthink his response and talk myself out of the interaction, as well as because I know Jake needs the academic assistance and I don't want to fall through on my side of the bargain because of my fear of physical activity.
I agree to come down to the Rez, we settle on a date and time, and then he chats for a couple more minutes in my ear, a string of jokes causing me to laugh softly into the receiver. The game remaining muted doesn't go unnoticed, and neither does Charlie's head being tilted in my direction. Trying to listen in on my conversation, clearly.
We hang up and I go back to the couch, letting Charlie in on our plans but not repeating Jacob's wording. Adventuring. A true safety hazard if I've ever heard one.
I'm laying in bed Saturday morning, questioning my sanity, when my alarm goes off on my bedside table. I reach over and turn it off. Silence.
The rain had stopped at some point in the night and the silence is therapeutic. It feels as though I can finally hear my own thoughts without the constant intrusion of rain assaulting my window. My heart soars as the prospect of a day without rain, a day where I can sit outside and enjoy the scenery without-
Enjoy the scenery? Is that what I just thought? No, I tell myself, you are just lacking in fresh air and the idea of going outside is appealing. You are not, by any means, a fan of the mossy mess that is Forks. I swallow back the picture that had formed in my mind.
A blanket swept across dry grass, my novel sitting open, the forest beyond me. The forest beyond me…
A snarl and footsteps echo through my head, a prowling animal waiting to maul me. Yeah, not a fan of the scenery.
My dream from earlier in the week continues to plague my mind, regardless of how many times I banish it to the depths of my subconscious. Driving down the highway turns into a game of "try not to look in the forest" because every time I do it's as though I can hear that same beast breathing down my neck. I hadn't told anybody about the dream, everybody gets nightmares. I just can't seem to understand why this one is lingering.
I've had bad dreams before. I've dreamt of sea monsters and evil men and villains from movies. But none of those dreams seemed to exist beyond my sleeping state. I've been hearing that animal breathing seemingly everywhere. I look out my window at the forest bordering Charlie's property and suddenly I'm standing in the midnight forest of my nightmare and can hear Jake calling out to me.
I wonder if perhaps this is a symptom of the town. My mother had run away from this town, seeking a fast, bright lift in sunny Arizona. She had never mentioned dreams that seem to exist outside of your sleeping mind. She had mentioned Charlie's dull routine and the lack of enjoyment she found in the town, never dreams of psychotic animals looking to kill you.
Maybe I'm the one going insane, and this dream is a symptom of that insanity, not a symptom of the town. Is it possible? Sure, I suppose anything is possible. Is it likely? No. I'm just spiralling into a pit of overthinking chaos, and I know it.
Unfortunately, acknowledging that you're overthinking does not stop you from overthinking. So, my thoughts continue to repeat themselves as I dress, as I brush my teeth and pull my hair through with a comb. As I make a pot of coffee and throw two pieces of bread in the toaster. As I layer my toast with jam and cut them into triangles.
My mind is preoccupied with thoughts of my obvious insanity when Charlie steps into the house.
"Bella?" He seems surprised and undoes his gun belt, hanging it up on the hook by the front door. I notice the gun is missing and am silently thankful. I, unlike Phil, am not a fan of guns. He had tried to take me to the range a couple of times, perhaps to attempt to bond with his girlfriend's daughter. The loud noises, alongside the obvious danger of the weapon, were entirely unpleasant.
It seems that those supposed bonding experiences had the opposite effect.
"What are you doing up so early?" He asks me, checking the time on his watch as he unlaces his boots and steps out of them.
"It's only eight-thirty," I tell him, motioning to the hot coffee pot in unspoken encouragement for him to have some. "And I should be asking you that question, I thought you had today off?"
He nods grimly, lips pressed together in distaste. "I thought I had today off, too. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans for me today." I give him a confused look. "Missing hiker," he explains with a heavy sigh.
Charlie helps himself to a cup of coffee, choosing to drink it black as he leans against the countertop. I wince at his choice of coffee. I remember when he was out in the woods the other day, searching for an animal attacking people in the forest. "Did you guys ever catch that animal?" I ask him.
He doesn't require further elaboration and seems to immediately know which animal I am talking about. "No," a groan as he rubs his hand down his face. "We're pretty sure it's a bear from some animal sightings, and the prints we're finding are way too-" He cuts himself off with a raise of his eyebrows and a sip of coffee. "Enough of that talk. Have a nice day with Jake." He leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs.
The drive over to the Rez is anti-climatic. I make a wrong turn at one point and end up on a side street lined with houses, but I backtrack and get onto the highway again.
It's not overly bright outside, but the sun is teasing me with its presence. Occasionally it lights up the road before me, the uncharacteristically dry asphalt bringing a slight smile to my face. I don't spend too long looking to either side of the road, the sight of the forest reminding me both of my nightmare and of Charlie's comment this morning.
A missing hiker and a crazed bear attacking people. I try not to compare that to my dream, to the large beast staring me down, its rage as it went to maul me. I'm sure he must've mentioned the bear before, maybe got the thought into my head, and my brain decided to throw that into my dream.
I had done a fair amount of reading on dream theories two years ago when Renee was involved in a spiritual meditation group. She was more interested in the symbolism of the dreams than I was, but I wanted to relate to her, so I read up on some psychological theories. One of them, perhaps my favourite at the moment, spoke about our brains just throwing out random stimuli in our dreams with seemingly no rhyme or reason.
Our brains have a little storage bin, so to speak, with all the things we've seen and heard and tasted and experienced. When we dream our brains just throw random stimuli into our sleeping state. Random neural firing.
My thoughts carry me all the way to the Black's house. It's been a while since I've been there, but Charlie was kind enough to write out the directions on a sheet of paper for me. His print is a little messy, and for some reason, he writes in all capitals, but it made sense and got me here on time.
I pull my truck into the unpaved driveway and throw it into park. Billy's property line is traced by thick forest, similar to Charlie's. It also holds the same amount of nervous energy that Charlie's border does. I look at the treeline and my brain revisits the awful dream with uncomfortable clarity. I blink a couple times, trying to rid myself of the imagery.
There's a garage down a small hill from where I'm parked, its shape mostly concealed with thick pine trees and rocky terrain leading down to it. I'm sure there must be a kinder way to get up and down from the structure, but I can't see one.
I step out of the truck, schoolbag over my shoulder, and walk up to the front door. Before I get the chance to knock the door is opened. Billy stares up at me with wrinkled eyes, a large grin on his face. "Bella!" I mirror his happy expression. "I'm so glad you're here!"
I don't hear Jake coming until he's standing just over his father's shoulder, somehow moving soundlessly through the house. He's huge, every time I see him his shape takes me by surprise. He's significantly taller than any other boy my age, he must be at least six foot five.
If he notices my appraisal, he doesn't show it, instead waving me to step in as Billy rolls back from the entryway. "Hey, how was the drive over?" Jake asks me conversationally as we sit on the overstuffed couch. I pull my knees up next to me, dropping my bag on the ground beside the couch.
"It was good, I took a wrong turn a little ways up the road, but I got here okay," I tell him. He nods and shifts closer to me, his thigh pressing against my knees. His warmth seeps into my body from that minute point of contact, my body relaxing a little. I hadn't noticed the tightness in my chest until it left.
There is something about Jacob Black that I can't rationally explain. His existence is so bright and awake and calming. It's as if just by sitting near him everything inside of me is lighter, happier. Everything just seems easier when he's near me.
"So, what are we starting with?" I ask him, pulling out a notebook and pencil case from my bag.
"Let's start with anything but schoolwork," he responds lightly. I frown at him, my heart not in the expression. I'd also like to not do schoolwork right now, but realistically it needs to be done.
"We can set a timer, do some work, and then take a break?" I offer.
He nods, leaning closer to me and tapping a long finger on my blank piece of paper. "Algebra," he tells me unhappily. "I'm nearly failing and won't graduate without it."
We spend the next few hours working through several algebraic questions, I write him cheat sheets and questions and lend him copies of my notes that he promises he'll return in time for exams. The time goes by quickly. The sun has reached its peak and began its descent towards the horizon, although it's still fairly bright outside by Forks standards.
Jacob is sitting with his back against the couch, his legs stretched out across the small living room floor. I'm laying on my stomach beside him, and even with my body completely horizontal, he still somehow seems to extend further than I do. I'd never truly considered myself short until I met Jake.
"Are we good to take a break, now?" He asks me, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. I stifle a laugh as he throws three more consecutively. He somehow seems to act in perfect compliance with both his childish and young adult sides. Serious when he needs to be, but never all the time.
"Yeah, we can take a break." I roll over onto my back, stretching my arms into the air and popping my elbows with the motion. "Hear that?" I pop them again for emphasis and he makes a distasteful noise. "I'm an old woman."
He chuckles, "You think that's bad?" I turn my head to look at him at the exact same time that he looks down at me. Our eyes meet, my stomach rolls in on itself, and my throat suddenly goes very dry. I ignore the sensation. "You should hear my joints," another laugh that seems to hint at an inside joke I'm not part of. "The noises they make, now that's cause for concern."
"Do it," I dare him, sitting up and pulling my legs into my chest.
He shakes his head, "No, no. It's hard to do on command, takes lots of patience and practice."
I shoot him a look. "Jacob Black are you being serious, right now? I can crack every joint in my body, it does not take practice or whatever."
He playfully pushes against my shoulder with his large hand, the heat spreading through me quickly. "Yeah, Swan, that's 'cause you're an old woman. I'm in prime physical condition."
"You sure about that?" I ask tauntingly. "I would argue that I could probably beat you in any competition." This earns me a large guffaw as he stares at me incredulously. I maintain a straight face, watching him laugh at my expense. A smile tugs at the insides of my cheeks.
"Bells, honey, you are not faster than I am. Trust me."
I stand, propping my hands up on my hips and staring down at him. He tilts his head upwards, watching me steadily with his dark eyes, a smirk on his full lips. My stomach rolls again, and I clear my throat before speaking. "I am both faster and stronger than you are, Black."
He uses the couch to lift himself up to his feet, and at his full height stares down at me. He is incredibly tall. "You sure about that?" He asks in the same taunting voice I had used. I swallow and he grins, clearly proud of his broad stature. "I thought so."
As it turns out, adventuring is not as dangerous as it sounds. Jacob and I take a walk down to the beach and he shows me the tidepools.
The air is marginally warmer today, perhaps hinting at the onset of spring, and the sun has decided to make a full appearance before setting. It's bright, the white-capped waves reflecting the orange light back into our eyes. Jacob doesn't seem altered by the sun's appearance, perhaps due to his sunny disposition and the constant temperature that he seems to run. I tilt my chin upwards, letting the sun warm the skin on my face.
It barely holds a flame to the sun in Arizona, but it's significantly better than the gloomy days I've experienced thus far. "You like the sun, huh?" Jake asks redundantly, watching me bask in the little warmth provided.
I should feel at least minorly self-conscious knowing that he's watching me mimic a lizard in the sun, but I don't. I nod eagerly, turning to look over at him. "Yeah, I miss it."
He doesn't respond, just makes a noise of agreement, and walks alongside me down the rocky beach. We reach the tidepools, small inlets of water on giant rock forms. He explains the tide to me, but it doesn't entirely make sense. For all my academic achievements, my expertise does not lie in real-world application.
The tidepools are little pockets of life. It's beautiful. Little fish and plants sway in the water as it moves with the breeze. Jacob points out a starfish, and then an eel in another. He seems completely in his element here, standing on a rock he's probably stood on a million times before. He's been living here, in that little red house, the entire time I was in Phoenix.
It's hard to imagine being raised here, in this rainy, gloomy town. But watching Jacob pick up the pink starfish and rattle off an excess of facts and information about it, I can see the benefits. I was raised in strip malls and ballet studios. He was raised running along the beach and making mud pies with the other children.
I'm not sure those experiences cancel out the constant threat of cold rain, but perhaps in his mind, it does. "Would you have liked to live somewhere sunnier?" I ask him, sitting with my legs stretched out before me, my weight shifted back on my elbows. The sun's shallow rays trail up and down my neck, kissing my cheeks. I hope this is enough to counter the pallid complexion I've developed.
He looks over at me from his position above another tide pool, rocking back on his heels as he considers. "No, I like it here." I must make a face because he laughs heartily and rolls his eyes, "Bella, this is my home. This is where my family is, my community. It may not be sunny, but does the sun matter if there's nobody to enjoy it with?" He's still laughing at my expression, so I try to school it into something neutral. I'm not sure it works but he stops laughing and looks back down at the water, not saying anything else.
I consider his words, the existential value of them. Nobody to enjoy it with, I repeat back to myself. I had Renee. We would spend time together when she wasn't working or at a class or club. We would watch movies and she'd gossip about the people at work or at her newest club. Phil could also be added to the list, not long after he and Renee started dating, he'd been added to our duo. We would all watch movies, all hang out, and all go to the beach. But even that was rare.
I try to not think about that anymore, the kernel of wisdom Jake provided me with turning sour very quickly. I rotate my head back up to the sun, closing my eyes.
"You made any new friends?" He asks me suddenly, and when I open my eyes, he's watching me steadily. Something in the sureness of his expression, the casual confidence in his demeanour, it clutches at my chest. Taking a deep breath requires conscience effort.
"I have," I say and am immediately rewarded with a dazzling smile. "It's nice to have people to talk to." His smile dims momentarily, and I worry I've said the wrong thing, but just as quickly he's back to his previous magnitude. So quickly, in fact, I wonder if I'd made it up in my head.
"That's good." We lapse into a beat of silence before he quickly stands and reaches down to me with a large, warm palm. I place my hand in it and he gently pulls me up from my perch on the rock. His skin is hot, burning into me and magnifying the effects of the sun.
I'm standing up, but he doesn't release me. "You sure-"
He cuts me off with an echoing laugh. "Yes, I'm positive I don't have a fever." I smirk at him as he drops my hand, the lack of warmth leaving my bones susceptible to the chill of the air.