daybreak (twilight reimagined)

Into The Wilderness

         I had convinced myself that leaving Arizona would be good for me, and to be fair, I would've had to leave my home regardless of what I had chosen to make of it- but it rested easier in the pit of my stomach to tell myself, "This will be fine. This is a new chapter." But looking back on my empty home as I closed the door one last time, this forced optimism was difficult to reconcile.

    My mom took my hand and squeezed it, giving me one of those trademark "Cheer up, Buttercup" smiles, though I could tell that her stomach was probably just as knotted as mine was right then, if not even more. Beyond summer camp, this was the first time I had truly left home- and this time, there would be no "Welcome Home!" party waiting for me at the end of the summer. In fact, there would be no coming home now, period. The house was sold, all of our possessions were packed, and now my mom and her boyfriend would drive me to the airport, wave goodbye, and then begin the long drive from Phoenix, Arizona to Jacksonville, Florida, where they would start a new life... without me.

    No, I wasn't bitter about it. Frankly, I had never quite gotten on with my soon-to-be stepdad, Phil. He was suffocatingly masculine and macho, and he had strong and unsolicited opinions about any breakage from gender norms. I had been able to hold my tongue on such matters long enough for the past few years, but his presence had made me long for the memory of my real father, Charlie. He was soft and quiet, from what I could recall, and he always remembered to send me birthday cards and Christmas wishes. Part of me wished that he and my mother had stayed together as a family, but I understand why they couldn't- they were unhappy, and it would only get worse if they stayed together. So here I was, about to leave for Forks, Washington- which seemed like the edge of civilization as I thought about it now. Whereas Phoenix was hot and dry, Forks was cold and wet, when Phoenix was sunny, Forks was perpetually overcast. And when Phoenix held most of my childhood, Forks held an echo of a family which I could barely remember.

    Phil honked his horn from the pickup truck. "Are we going or not?" He yelled out to us, an edge of annoyance in his voice. Phil was perpetually annoyed, a quality I wasn't going to miss. My mom smiled sweetly at him and gave her "In a moment, sweetie." With a gentle firmness. I was going to miss my mom, her quirks and qualms. She had only been nineteen years old when I was born, and though she wouldn't have admitted it to me, I knew that I had interrupted her plans for herself. She hadn't meant to get pregnant, and didn't really want to get married- and she certainly didn't want to stay in Forks. A part of me felt like maybe by leaving her now, I would be freeing her- but I spoke off the thought before it could develop too far. I knew she loved me, and that's all I needed to know.

    "Are you sure you're ready for this? It's not too late to say no, Bella." My mom asked me, with another squeeze of my hand. With a heavy heart, I smiled back at her. "Of course. I wouldn't go this far just to turn back, y'know." And she just smiled back at me, sadly this time, and walked to the passenger seat of the truck. This was it. The end of my life in Phoenix, the beginning of God Knows What.

-
    The plane ride was fine, though granted, I slept through most of it. I had always joked to my friends in passing that I could sleep through anything, anywhere. This departure probably would have been harder had I still had many friends in Phoenix, but our group had been increasingly thinned out over the past few years, between military families being restationed and friends transfering to different schools, and it had then left me with a few friends who frankly had not seemed too deeply affected by me moving away- but that was just as well, I wouldn't have to mourn the loss of them too deeply.

    The seat next to me had been fortuitously empty, as I could safely place my little cactus down next to me. My mother, ever the sentimental parent, had insisted on pulling over and buying me "a piece of Phoenix" to take to Washington with me. It was a sweet gesture, to be sure, and I love plants. I was never really a "people person," but I loved nature. Anything green- cacti, ferns, trees, rushing river water- was sure to ensnare me. For that reason, my heart had skipped a beat as we circled the Seattle airport, and I drank in the lush, green forests that the Pacific Northwest was famous for. I was never very superstitious, but looking down at the old growth trees that had been here longer than any European explorer, it was not difficult to believe in faeries and monsters that might live in these ancient, time-worn forests.