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How long have I been kidding myself? I've asked that question for years. Over all this time, I wore that mask of a big, tough, cop. No one could touch me. Things tended to get rough, even for a small town. When you're near the wilderness, you've got to be ready. That was what toughened me up. I'd wanted to be in law enforcement when I heard bumps in the night as a little boy. I wanted to fight the shadows back.
My position was lower than I'd wanted due to lack of a college education, but then again, what could you do? Life was life, and Mom and Dad needed me. I just wish Renée could have understood that, but I can't complain. She chose her path, and I chose mine. Nah, that's too sentimental, and utterly ridiculous. There's more to it than that. I'm not the type to say that she broke my heart, but I can admit (at least to myself) that her leaving me was worse than any injury I'd sustained in my life.
Then again, that secret still gnaws at me. I feel like a criminal for keeping it from her. Ironic, isn't it? Yet, at the same time, I don't want to tell her. There are times where I've called Renée, and hung up the phone as soon as I heard it ringing on the other end. God, it feels so wrong to hold it away from her that she has a granddaughter, but it feels completely right at the same time! That child…That little baby I held in my arms…That's not her anymore…I don't know what the hell she is, but how on earth could she have grown that fast? Whether she is affectionate to me or not is starting not to matter that much anymore. She was powerful when she was lying in that little bundle, and now…I don't want to think about it.
I wish that my little girl would realize how much I need her now. I don't see her very often. I used to a lot, but it seems like she's slipping more and more away from me. She cares more about her spouse than her old man. I had acted in reverse, and my marriage is gone. Then again, I shouldn't be comparing. We're two different people with two entirely different situations. She loves that child of hers as well, if not more. I'll always be proud of her for that, but it sometimes worries me. I can't even look into those eyes, my eyes, when I'm in the same room with that…that…Can I even call her a person?
I don't think my daughter will ever get it. She believes that I have it made with Sue. I have told her more than once that the situation is far more complicated than that, but she never listens. Sue and I never did find our place as a romantic couple. We tried, but it just didn't work out. It felt wrong, anyway, considering the fact that I was once good friends with her husband. We worked better together as friends. We still do today. She's a widow. I'm divorced. Our children have since moved out. It's much easier to just sit and talk over black coffee about once was to make the day brighter. It's nice to think about the Sun poking out between the clouds in an area such as Forks. At other times, however, it's easier to just accept the garish reality for what it is. It's not much, but we get by. She was able to see behind my mask because she wore one too, and still does now.
Sometimes we'd talk about Billy. She says he doesn't even mention me at all anymore. I'd always ask what I did, and she would reply, "Absolutely nothing." The reply was neither accusing of Billy, nor comforting to me. It was cold, hard fact. I always had a feeling that I was missing a large piece of the information, but even though the urge to investigate was prevalent in me, I would never press it further. She'd occasionally add to that about how Billy's boy was rarely ever seen around anymore. Whenever she told me this, however, she seemed more inclined to spit. I reckoned that Sue only talked about him because she knew that I was fond of the boy.
I had good reason, or at least I thought I did. I'm wondering if Jacob was considering skipping town, or if it's something else. If it's the second thing, I don't want to know. To be quite honest, a cantankerous man such as me is getting tired of these damn kids hiding what is going on. For such a small town, it's so cold. It wasn't always that way. It used to be much warmer. It almost always rained in the Forks I remembered, but I never let it get to me. Back then, there always were good friends, good beer, fish in the stream, and a brown-haired daughter that always watched me catch the big one.
Now, it's changing. We're all getting on in our years, it seems. I'm getting grayer and grayer. Some of the guys I'd known have passed away. That's part of life. The beer isn't worth drinking anymore when there's nothing to celebrate. The fish are healthy, and Sue does come along with me when I go on a trip, but it's just not the same as taking Bella with me. Sue knows that, but she never talks to me about it because I never say anything.
It's funny; the sons and daughters I see the most of are from different people.
Ben and Angie invited me to their wedding in Chicago, and later, their children's birthday parties. They left town a long time ago to start their own lives as workers for a large corporation based there. I jokingly told them that if any problem should arise, they could always call me. Granted, they call me now for just chatting purposes.
Lauren still sends me postcards from New York City, and at times returns home to visit her family. I'd catch her on the road, or at a restaurant, and we'd talk. She's clearly enjoying her career at a fashion designing company there. After having a hell of a time trying to find work as a model, she deserves it. She's still submitting ideas in order to move up, and become a designer herself. She hasn't made the break yet, but she's learned quite a lot. I never understood why Bella didn't like the girl; she's devoted to what she does.
Mike and Jessica married not too long ago. They had been highly selective about where they wanted to work. Each wanted a job that included travel in order to meet new people, and the ability to still live with one another. They now live in San Diego, and work as "today's answer to traveling salespeople." I think that's what Jessica told me, at least. Ah well, how the hell would I know? Whenever either has an opportunity to visit back home, he or she tries to drop by here, and have a chat (although I think Mike tends to come more for Sue's food, not that I blame him).
It infuriates me, however, that while my own biological daughter lives in the EXACT SAME TOWN as me, she can't even bother to drop by. I'd had to bandage my knuckles, and sweep up the broken glass from the bathroom mirror. I'd also had to buy a few new coffee cups and dishes, as well as a few picture frames. I'm acting like a five-year-old. This isn't healthy. I'm not taking pills or seeing the damn shrink. Why the hell should I when I know what I need?
I've tried calling that house. She sometimes answers, and our conversations are short. She always sounds so happy, and I try my best to sound the same way. Whenever I ask her if I can see her, she always pulls out an excuse. It's different words every time, but I know what she really means. She doesn't have time in her life for me anymore. The times that my son-in-law answers are the most miserable. The conversations are even shorter, and less emotional. I ask him how he's doing, he always says he's fine. I ask him about the family, he says it's all fine once more. I ask him about his little girl, and he says she's doing well. I ask him about my own little one, and he replies that she is safe in his hands. I thank him for his time, and hang up. Sue was with me on one of those occasions. She shook her head and sighed before walking away to dump out what was left of her coffee, although it was still warm. Moments ago, she had clenched the cup tightly.
These are all ramblings of an old man. I guess I've just outgrown the times. That doesn't serve me any consolation. What does, however, is the fact that I still have people like Sue to stay by my side. I'm not the most outgoing person, but that doesn't mean I don't want companionship. It seems that the person I've wanted that the most out of has let me down. I should have realized it when I overheard Bella referring to me as Charlie, rather than "my dad" once before. She wanted her independence, and I gave her too much. That little girl that I loved and held in my arms…She's gone from me.
Bella…Bells…Sweetheart…Please come home.