Forks – Not Just A Utensil

By Rolin

A/U

Standard Disclaimer = The great Stephanie Meyer created all things Twilight, I am just playing because darn it – its a long time until the DVD is released.

Prologue

I don't remember all of it exactly, my time in Forks, pre-divorce, pre-mom and Bella on the run, jumping from one hot sunny destination to the other with no explanation except clouds and cold made my mother sad. In fact, I only have one fragmented memory that could be summed up in five objects:

Yellow paint - my last memory was my mother and I standing in our small dark kitchen, while the rain drummed on the ceiling above us, painting the cabinets to surprise daddy for his birthday. I was maybe four, but it stuck in my head because I was dripping in sticky paint, having accidentally stepped in the paint bucket causing me to fall butt first into the paint tray, the cabinets looked like crap and yet I was beyond excited to show my daddy his birthday surprise.

White towel – I don't remember exactly how it happened, but my father had appeared at the doorway of our kitchen, silently holding a white kitchen towel to his neck. To be honest, sometimes when I think of that towel it wasn't white, it was red and the air smelled like an old penny.

Car keys – There were car keys on a tacky green rabbit's foot that my father always carried in his back pocket. That day, the day of the remarkable five objects, he had pulled them from his sheriff's uniform and tossed them to my mother. He had said to her, in an odd, undaddy like voice, "Renee, plan b." He might have yelled, I don't remember exactly because my eyes had been so fixated on that rabbit's foot sailing across the kitchen into my mother's yellow streaked hands. I remember thinking how sad it was that daddy's prized lucky charm was going to get paint on it. I wondered if it would ever look the same.

Hello Kitty Pink Suitcase – I don't think I ever saw this suitcase before that day, but like magic my mother had yanked it out of the hall closet, almost panicky, and handed, no pushed it at me. I didn't know why, but at that moment I didn't care. I loved Hello Kitty.

Mystery Neighbor – Okay, maybe a neighbor isn't exactly an object, but I remember standing at the car, where mother had instructed me to go, with my new prized Hello Kitty suitcase, listening to her cry my father's name in the house when a man had come out of the woods, seemingly out of thin air. I don't remember a face, or a car he might have drove up in, but I remember the stranger with the white hands had opened the car door and lifted me in the back. Without a word, he had hoisted the Hello Kitty suitcase next to me before buckling me into my seatbelt.

He had told me, solemnly "You will be good for your mom."

Silly question. "Yep."

He had put his freakishly icy cold hands on my head, and I remember flinching internally, there were just no words on how cold his hands were.

"You did not cause this Bella, you should not ever feel obliged to fix it. Remember that, if nothing else."

I had no idea what he had meant, so I nodded.

Then my mother hand came out of the house, ran out of the house, with her own suitcase and the man with the pale hands shut my door. Mom started the car and I turned to my side window to wave anxiously to my daddy, because that's what we did when we left.

He usually was at the window to wave back but today, in this memory, he did not.

Only the man waved, the man with the freakishly cold hands.