Chapter Text
I'm not quite sure where the visual came from, but I can see the potent image of the sun drying up like a shriveled husk.
Perhaps it was the fatigue clinging to my brain like fog on a mirror, making the day pass by in a blur of packing and driving until the pristine gates of the airport greeted the windows as the car pulls into the bustling parking lot of the Pheonix airport. Although the flawless white of the building seemed only superficial as I knew what awaited me when the plane would land.
Part of me was surprised that the car wasn't being weighed down by the luggage in the back, it wasn't as if I was someone to hoard a lot of belongings but to pack your entire life made even books and newly bought winter clothes feel as if it took up the entire car worth of space.
I wasn't the type to enjoy taking up space, perhaps that was another reason I was about to be shipped off to the awaiting hell.
Looking at the front seat, I see Phil-- my stepfather and cradle robbed victim, although I couldn't quite blame him for marrying my mother despite the age gap between them leaving enough room for you to play catch with. It was almost laughable when you considered the dynamic would lend to the idea that he was older than her, the way he constantly had to remind her of upcoming events in a way that made her tease him about being a stuck-up old man.
Renee was a liberated woman that had clung to her taste of adventure almost as long as she's been born, if my grandparents exasperated stories were anything to go off of, her soul was almost as untamed as her unruly light brown locks; kept short and wavy as she always forgot to properly take care of anything longer than her slightly tanned shoulders.
My mom was my best friend, I'd follow her anywhere, even if it was to the rainy town of Forks.
"Oh, I don't know what I'll do without you!" She wailed with faux theatrics, although there was truth to her words, "Is it too late to change my mind? I don't want my baby to leave me!"
Despite the small laugh I let out, I couldn't quite get it to reach my chocolate eyes; ringed with dark circles that was evident of my late night packing, the only reason I wasn't sharing my backseat space with even more bags is the fact I'd stayed up late sorting everything until I could squeeze it into whatever meager suitcases we had around the house-- you would've thought being the daughter of a woman who adored travel would own bigger suitcases, right?
Part of that thought made me pause, my mind flashing to the much larger suitcases waiting at home, although they weren't for me. Something about imagining our house empty made a dull ache appear in my chest, the entire reason I had decided to take the load off their shoulders was because Phil travels for his baseball, attending minor league training and competition.
I didn't want to anchor them down, to make a burden of myself.
"Sweetheart, you know it's for the best...'' Phil spoke up, his tone was much softer than my mother's own, although there was a slight gravel to her voice there was something warm, like the sun beating down onto a field until all the sunflowers faced the direction of her rays.
"Really mom, it's okay." What a lie, "I want to go, I promise."
Promises like that use to mean something, I was never a good liar but perhaps if I spat out the same lie over and over eventually it'd seep into the crevices of my brain until I believed it for myself- although currently the promise on my tongue felt more like a death sentence than anything else. I looked down at my pale white hands, unbecoming of an Arizona girl but perhaps my lack of pigment was fate's way of showing my cuffed hands that were tied to the sunless spot of Forks.
My white, lacy tank top exposed my shoulders to the beating sun as I stepped out the car and let my feet touch the pavement. For a moment I simply basked in the heat caressing my skin as it might be the last for a long while.
Phil hopped out the car next, his flawless white jersey seemingly the same eggshell white as the airplane, I almost laugh at the sheer irony of it, although the stripes of tear-blue running down the back of it like a waterfall until it forms out the letters of his minor league baseball team strains it into a small, fake smile.
It was time to say goodbye, to my mom, my life and the bright sun.
The plane ride passed in a heady blur; the tiredness seemed to go bone deep but no matter what I couldn't fall asleep. I actually didn't mind the hours on the plane, left to my thoughts and my books was a treat as my mother adored company, a stark contrast to my preferred solitude.
It was the sight that greeted me when I stepped off the plane, it felt as all the sunlight had slipped from my fingers as I was greeted by the padder of rain surrounding Port Angeles, almost like Forks had spread the rot of miserable weather all the way to the city.
I was suddenly hit by a wave of nervousness, although Charlie had been cordial about the situation, even pleased that I'd be occupying my old room, this would be the first time in far too long I'd be with him with any sort of air of permanence. I hadn't made an effort to visit him much over the years after I heard about the difficulties between him and mom, and it made me feel almost guilty for spending time with him, like I was betraying her.
When I stumbled a bit on the stairs, my legs feeling like they'd locked under my distress; but a pair of hands steadied me, I had already recognized his footsteps enough to not didn't flinch when I looked up and saw the aged face of my father.
"Hey there, Bells, it's good to see you.'' He cleared his throat-- his voice a slightly gravelly murmur that came from deep within his chest, "How have you been, and how is Renee?"
He straightened me up with his surprisingly strong arms, although his large hands lingered on my upper biceps in a way that was almost desperate, like he didn't want to let go just yet.
Neither of us were quite chatty people, acting more subdued in a way that almost slipped under the radar; that seemed to be a problem that had lent to the split between him and mom, she preferred large, showy gestures as opposed to the subtle lingering presence that he seemed to offer.
"I've been fine, dad.'' I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face, however uncomfortable calling someone who was practically a stranger by that title made me feel, it wasn't like I called Phil dad either, "Mom is doing well."
He pulled away from me and for a moment that familiar tingle of anxiety crept up my spine, had I done something wrong already?
Suddenly he hefted up my luggage, it wasn't particularly heavy but clearly his years as a cop had kept him in good physical condition despite the small amount of weight added over the years making him softer around the edges.
That plunge lifted into something more akin to surprise, I hadn't asked him to do that but yet he'd done it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I opened and closed my mouth for a moment before shaking my head and just picking up my lighter luggage.
My belongings fit in the cramped space of the police cruiser, some of them needed to rest in the backseat which removed the option of hiding in there, I was never good at confrontation.
Slotting myself into the front passenger seat and glancing around, I'm once again reminded of the reason I was stressing about buying myself a car-- the police cruiser was far from a indiscreet car and nothing tended to slow down traffic like the glowing lights of a police car, everyone was always on their best behavior around town.
I remembered what my mom told me, that mistakes spread around like wildfire in Forks.
I always had trouble fitting in with the other kids at my now old school, I'd mostly alienated myself from my peers after many failed social interactions with the kids my age; hence why my more successful interactions came from talking to older people and even some of the teachers, it was peculiar, but I'd never quite figured out why but the last thing I needed was to become the new well of gossip for the townsfolk.
"Your hair is long." Charlie blurted out, still staring ahead at the road as he grumbled out, "Did you grow it out?"
I blinked for a moment, he seemed almost nervous but it was hard to tell over his gruff demeanor that acted as a sort of shield to his thoughts. That was one way I was similar to my father, although my hair was also another.
"I cut it last time I saw you, remember?'' I shook my long, thick brown locks slightly, the scent of strawberries wafting up to my nose with the motion.
I always enjoyed keeping my hair long even with the maintenance it took, the cocoa hair spilling over my shoulders feeling almost like a comforting shield against the rest of the world and it seemed to be a feature that marked me as my fathers daughter, his own hair matching the pigment although he kept it choppy and short.
"Must've grown out again,'' He clears his throat awkwardly as he pointedly avoided eye contact, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he slowed down at the red light, "I can book you in for a haircut, if that's what you want Bells."
For a moment, I was slightly taken aback for a moment at his suggestion as I'd always been told he'd lacked any sort of thoughtfulness but that was a surprisingly apt gesture of.. care.
I waved my pale hand in the air, "I don't need one right now, and I wouldn't want to spend that much since I'm saving for a car."
His lips tugged into a frown for a moment, the shape of his mustache also moving in the motion of confused and I wonder what he's thinking, it isn't new information that I was seeking a car of my own so I was briefly stumped on what he seemed so baffled about.
"..Speaking of which," He started again, "I've found a good car for you."
It didn't escape my notice he'd specified that it was 'good for you' and not simply 'good', but the only hint of my suspicion was the way my lips pressed together in contemplation, "..What kind of car is it?"
"Well it's a truck, a Chevy actually."
My father usually was a vague person, opting to show more than to tell but something about his cautious tone rang as suspicious to me-- I let him go on, hoping my silence would be enough to get him to babble long enough to spill what the catch was.
"You remember Billy Black from down in La Push?" The memory was fuzzy, perhaps it was the fatigue clinging to me but all I could remember about the small Indian Reservation was grey sand and the smell of fish.
"No." "He used to go fishing with us in the summer,"
Ah that explained it, I often tried to push away painful things from my memory.
"Well, he's in a wheelchair now." He spoke almost carefully, and for a moment I thought I saw a hint of pain in those pooling brown depth of his eyes as his hands clenched against the steering wheel- but almost as fast as it appeared it vanished and he continued, "So he can't drive anymore, offered to sell it to me real cheap because his boy is working on his own engine."
"What year is it?"
The air was already awkward, but it became impossibly thicker as I asked the question, I could only assume was what he didn't want me to ask judging by the way his eye narrowed in a small wince. I was always a curious person, I didn't like when things hid from me.
"He bought it 'round about 1984."
"Did he buy it new?"
Another beat of thick silence.
Charlie winced again, he knew that I wasn't going to stop needling him about this so he decided to just relent, dropping the vague charade and speaking more upfront, "No, it was made around about the sixties, or the fifties at the earliest-- but he's worked well on the engine, running smooth as silk now."
For various reasons I was doubtful, Charlie was known to avoid eye contact but the way he was staring at the road ahead like he thought it was going to open up and swallow the police cruiser lent to the idea that he knew exactly how he sounded.
Unfortunately there was one point that I couldn't compromise on, one of the only few reasons I was even entertaining this idea in the first place, "How cheap is cheap?"
For the first time since the engine started his irises actually darted towards me, his eyebrows turned up slightly and he had an almost hopeful look to his eyes although it came along with his almost default wariness as he carefully watched my expression; "Well honey, I've been thinking of getting you a homecoming present to uh, hopefully make 'ya happier here and I've decided to.. buy it for you."
Even though I knew that chasing the endeavor of happiness in Forks would be impossible, I couldn't help but feel strangely touched by his offer-- although stressing about finances wasn't a new feeling for me, I wasn't sure how i'd manage to pull of affording something like a car and I knew walking two miles to school in this weather wasn't an option.
But along with the feathery feeling of relief came the dip of guilt deep within my stomach.
"That's.. really nice, dad, thank you." I started carefully, the contrasting emotions swirling sickeningly in my stomach as I considered my next words, pulling my pale lip under my teeth, "But you didn't have to do that, really."
He cleared his throat and one hand left the steering wheel to rub at the back of his neck, he was clearly a bit flustered by my appreciation but chose not to comment on it, "You're welcome Bells, besides, it's my job."
His job, it was his job to take care of it.
The outline of the city faded away into the grassy trees of the outskirts of Forks, mud and moss merging together in a haze of damp fog that seemed to enclose the over the small town like a foggy class cage; trapping the people here within the expanding branches of the hanging canopy trees until all they could see was the green that filtered through.
It was an alien planet, almost as alien as his words.
His house was the classical suburban house albeit a little rundown, white wooden planks and a porch with chipping wood around the edges- I'd seen the pictures of this house from the early days of my parents' marriage (not that there was late days) and it seemed to be a perfect capsule of that, unchanging in a way that must've been intentional.
I never enjoyed change as I preferred things to stay familiar, however something about seeing the meticulously kept un-changing house made something uneasy well up in me, as if he'd never had let go of the past memories.
He'd offered me dinner, but I declined it, my stomach was empty but tight as I stepped forward, perhaps I was simply over-tired, but it felt as if my new reality had finally set in.
Charlie let me go upstairs without much fight, I think he sensed the weight that settled onto my shoulders the moment the door had shut behind me, we seemed to share the attribute of preferring solitude-- a far cry from my mom's almost constant need for company.
My room was painted a dusty purple with fairy lights strung up along the base of the ceiling, the room was pretty sparse in terms of decorations but there were plenty of furniture pieces sprinkled across the room; most notably was a familiar rocking chair tucked into the corner, my old stuffed dog was rested on the light blue cushion.
The bear had tattered honey fur and black bead eyes slightly covered by the mattered fur, stitches run across the body of the bear and I briefly find myself scratching at a small white scar on my finger, gained from tediously trying to sew up the torn bear with my chubby little kid fingers.
In the isolation of my room, surrounded by a museum of my childhood, I finally find the tears welling up.
Snort starts to leak out my nose as tears flow freely down my cheeks which are tinted red from both the sobbing and humiliation, I was far to old to be crying in my room like this. I found myself with the urge to curl up on the rocking chair, the stuffed bear screaming to be held and to be comforted.
My sock feet padded silently towards the bed that felt like it was growing larger and larger with each step, almost like the capsulated past of the room had shrunk me back down into a little girl.
I used my hands to push myself up onto my bed, letting the quilt wrap around me like a protective shield as I press my face into the pillow; sniffling as tears fell as hard as the rain pattering against the window; for a moment, I couldn't miss the sun as the bright rays would only highlight the embarrassment that's sticking in my chest over my visual misery.
I didn't sleep much that night.
Maybe it's the looming threat of school hanging over my head that keeps my doe, chocolate eyes open until the morning lightens the horizon, I didn't have the best experiences in school growing up.
The images of kids curious and judgmental looks flash through my mind, when I was younger I remember various kids at school comparing me to the teachers or their parents, sneering at the thought that I somehow thought I was better than them. The teachers cooed and pinched my cheeks as they told me how mature I was, thinking I was nothing more than a small child trying to wear their parents shoes.
It was that thought that kept my shoulders slightly slumped as I got up in the morning, my limbs felt stiff as I walked towards the bathroom that I unfortunately would have to share with Charlie, although I had my privacy as I could still hear him snoring loudly in the confined space of his own room.
My shower was quick and lukewarm, although my numb skin barely registered the feeling of the spray dripping down my body as I stared off into the distance, dreading the coming day ahead as I finally stepped out and dried myself with the ratty purple towel that was designated for me.
My hair was a simple affair, brushed through and pushed out my face with whatever headband or hairclip I had available to me, it wasn't that I was judgmental to the girls who spent hours meticulously fixing their hair and appearance, their dedication was just like my laughably long reading list, although expressed in a different capacity.
I didn't have the energy to spend on something as minor as my appearance when I had much higher priorities on my list, one of which was heading downstairs and cooking breakfast.
Charlie was still asleep so I had to keep my venture quiet, my cooking skills weren't extraordinary by any means and I winced at the idea of how sick my father was about to become of pasta and potato products-- the eggs sizzled quietly in the pan as I added some butter, laying the bacon strips onto the hot surface and letting the oils mingle.
It was a simple dish but effective, I'd spend my weekends meal prepping to make it easier on me during the week despite the blander flavor created from the microwave, I hoped he wouldn't mind.
The sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs caught my attention as I flipped over the eggs, although it was only us in the house I recognized his footsteps almost immediately; careful and surprisingly light, although that probably came from being a police officer, but still carrying the weight of a man with softer edges.
"Bells?" His already gruff voice almost came out as a groan as the morning affected him with squinted eyes and gravelly throats, "Mrnin' honee..."
I slipped the spatula under the eggs and placed them on the waiting plate before setting it in front of him, his bleary dark brown eyes staring at it for a moment before looking back up to me, "You didn't have to do this."
Sitting down with my own plate, albeit a lot more meager in amount of food than his, I let the scrape of utensils fill the silence in the air until his low voice piped up again.
"Not that I don't appreciate it, but I could'a done it for you.." He rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned down to shove a mix of eggs and bacon into his mouth, a little residue sticking to his moustache, "I'm not the best cook in the world, but I can still make a mean steak."
I shrugged my shoulder, not doubting he was probably just trying to be nice to ease me back into life in Forks, the slight bloodshot look to my eyes and dark circles probably giving away my nightly misery.
"S'fine dad, I promise." I mumble back to him as I slowly chew through my own breakfast, I wasn't particularly hungry as anxiety kept me full like hollow air, "Sorry if it's.. bland, I'll go shopping next weekend.'
He frowned for a moment, the hand rubbing against his neck slowing as it fell back onto the table, his finger flexing slightly as if he was thinking deeply about something. His next words were calculated, but I caught the slight hint of worry coating his throaty voice as he glanced up at me; his head still slightly bowed towards his plate.
"Do you, uh, like cooking?'' He questioned with a small frown, his eyes darting back and forth from his plate to my face as if he was almost scared of making contact with my dark eyes.
I thought over his question as I idly scraped around the food on my plate, I had always done most of the cooking at home after the first fire alarm incident from my mother's own hazardous attempt at meals, although I was more worried about her hurting herself than the quality of the meals. I didn't particularly enjoy cooking, but it was something that was necessary.
"It's alright, I guess." I shrug my pale shoulder once again, my long-sleeved black shirt fit snugly enough that it didn't jostle with the movement.
He seemed almost displeased with that answer, his frown only becoming more prominent as his thick eyebrows knitted together, his eyes squinting in the way they always do when he's trying to piece something together. He stares at me for a long moment before his gaze shifts away once more.
For a moment I expect another bout of tense silence, as if we were nothing more than two strangers sitting together but I'm pulled out my thoughts by his next sentence, "Did you cook a lot back in Pheonix?"
I was momentarily confused by his direct question, although my parents marriage was short I was certain he'd tasted my mom's abominations whenever she tried her hand at making a meal. I put down my and knife on my plate as I got ready to take them up to the sink, "I mean, yeah?"
"Didn't Renee ever cook for you?"
"..No, of course not."
Although the slight squint to his eyes relaxed, seemingly like he solved whatever puzzle was plaguing his mind, his eyebrows remained furrowed against his forehead as his lips toyed into the ghost of a frown, ever as non-expressive as the chief of police was.
He looked like he wanted to say more much to my own dismay, but the sound of a car pulling into our driveway filled the heavy silence in the room and I glanced out the window, an older black car pulling into the driveway with the sound of something heavy attached to it; it was slightly obscured by the view of the window but I could see the hint of a red trunk.
Charlie's attention is easily stolen away as his head also turns to look out the window, I push myself up with a groan of the old wooden chair underneath me but he beats me to it, "That's just Billy, he'll be here to drop off your new ride n' bring some beer for the game."
I sweep up both mine and his plate with a flourish as I step over to the sink, placing it onto the side as he gets up to go answer the door, jogging over to it eagerly as he steps outside onto the cold, wet pavement of our driveway.
Albeit a little more timidly, I follow behind him and slip on my green flannel to fight back against the biting chill of the early morning air.
My eyes roamed over the red Chevy, it was a hulk of slightly rusted metal that seemed almost impenetrable, a hulking mastiff of a vehicle that you'd see almost unscathed at the scene of a crime. It was far from the most luxurious vehicle around, but I couldn't help but feel the over-consuming gratitude and almost giddy sparkle in my chest as I looked on at it.
"Ah, Isabella?" The slightly hoarse voice that called out to me had a hint of an accent to it, I turned my head and saw an older man in a wheelchair; he had long black hair that spilt down his shoulders in a perfectly straight wave, his skin was a lovely flushed brown and his eyes were a warm pecan color accented with smile marks.
I'm glad that I had decided to slip on my boots before going outside as puddles splash under my feet, I approach Billy with a small smile and peer down at him, despite his older age he had a sort of youthful twinkle to his eye as his lips spread into a smile.
"Ah, just Bella.'' I corrected with a small smile of my own, letting him give me an appraising glance-over gauging how much I'd grown and changed over the years I'd been missing from Forks, "You look good."
"Well, I'm still kickin'." He huffs out with another warm smile, he leaned back in his wheelchair and glanced up at Charlie; who was holding the cans of beer in his arms like a swaddled baby, "Glad you finally showed up, old man over here hasn't been able to shut up about it since you rang."
A red tint spread over Charlie's cheeks as her jaw flexed slightly, his hand twitched slightly but remained braced against the beer cans as he shook his head slightly, "..Thanks, Bill."
"Just keeping it real." He threw me a conspiratorial wink as another hearty laugh left his chest, he glanced back at the old black car with a flick of his head, "Somebody else here who's been clawin' at the chance to talk to 'cha."
A tall, lanky boy produced himself from the back of the car; he had a young baby-like face with bright brown eyes and gleeful grin on his lips. His hair was as long and straight as his fathers although it had a more warm brown tone than the stark black of Billy's, I recognized him almost immediately as his face hadn't grown much from the little boy I once knew.
"Jacob!" I patter forwards and quickly embrace him. his deceptively strong arms wrap about my waist and lift me up until he can spin me around, his carefree laughter ringing pleasantly in my ears.
"Bella! you're finally here!" He cheered excitedly, setting me down with a almost puppy-like bounce to his movement, I faintly heard Billy's laughter behind me but all I could focus on was the boy in front of me as he ruffled my own long brown locks, "Looks like someone is trying to upstage me!"
I let loose a gentle laugh, shimmying slightly to escape his hold as I look him up and down theatrically, "I would say I hardly recognize you, but you still have that same baby face you always did." I reach up and pinch his cheek gently, almost like a mother fussing over a baby.
He chuckles despite his cheeks warming slightly under my fingertips, I glanced to the side and watched as Billy wheeled towards Charlie, the beer cans placed on the ground as he threw his fists up in a mock wrestling position. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I saw him throwing air punches, playful threats spilling from their lips; the fact they'd both lowered their voice into something more masculine not escaping my notice.
My attention was drawn back by Jacob tugging on my hand, his palm was big and warm but also bared some calluses on his palms, no doubt from working on engines and such.
"Come-on, I'll want to show you the engine on this." He slapped the hood of the truck lightly and tugged me over to hunch with him, looking over the mess of wires and engines hidden under the red trunk, "Dad n' I fixed it up real good, especially when Charlie told us it was for you."
Although I had a basic grasp of cars, the technical blew directly over my head as he started pointing out certain aspects of the engine and it's inner workings, I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't understand what he was saying so I just smiled and nodded my head and listened to him in the same manner a mother would listen to her child's new hyper fixation on dinosaurs.
I was just grateful that I had my very own vehicle to go to school, it didn't matter to me that it wasn't the flashiest or the most luxurious as the drive over here gave me a peek into most people's garages and driveways and it didn't seem like most people owned Ferraris or Mercedes, which weren't uncommon signs to see in the parking lot of my old school.
The thought of them fixing it up for me once they heard I was coming over made my heart warm in my chest, I tried to remind myself that it was most likely because Charlie was offering to buy it, but I couldn't help the flush of emotions swirling in my stomach.
As Jacob chattered, soaking up my attention like a dog looking for treats- I wondered if perhaps life in the rainy town of Forks wouldn't be completely miserable.