The Special Two

The drive was a mixture of tearful regrets, self proclaimed hatred, and rage filled accusations at Jacob Black. By the time I arrived at Tampa city limits I was emotionally worn out, physically sleep deprived as I had driven through the entire next day without break, and I arrived at my mother's home at exactly four fifty eight. I drug the two small suitcases I had into the house, used the old key, and crawled up the steps that lead to my old bedroom.

The walls were white. The floor was a cherry colored wood. If you looked to the left of the door, you would notice the large dents in the wall made by angry punches, revealed by the removal of Green Day posters.

There was a small bed that had been stripped of my bedding and replaced with a sunny yellow pattern, a new dresser, mirror, and rug to pull the room together. I shook my head and placed my bags next to the dresser before I changed out of the ridiculous dress I was in and into something I knew my mother would find appropriate.

The old-fashioned white dress rested slightly above my knees with a delicate floral print across the fabric. I took my hair out of the ratted mess it was in and brushed it out, the waves in my hair thickened. I pulled it into a bun that rested on the left side of my head and my bangs hung lightly over my eye. With the lack of time I phased the old makeup off and put a thin black line of eyeliner. I thickened my already dark lashes with mascara and added a light pink lipstick.

I walked down the steps and into my mother's world. I heard her voice in the living room and assumed that she was on the phone. While I made my feet move the short distance my mind battled with the old rebellious part of me. My hair turned from blue to pink and back to the original brown again. Tattoos came and went, the same with their partnered piercing. When the time came to enter the small white living room with a blue couch I was rebel free, and I stood as proudly as I could under the circumstances.

"Yes. Yes. Well that's your problem, obviously," My mother looked up. "Ellen I'm going to have to give you a call back. Clara's in town and she's just arrived. Yes," She sighed, "five on the dot. I know. I know. She always has been. Alright dear. Goodbye."

She clicked end on the phone and set it on the table. "Clara Louise." I watched as she glanced me over. "How have you been?"

I huffed at her careless nature before I took my seat on the opposing blue chair, "How do you think I've been, Mom?" My eyes met their givers and they weren't happy.

"I never meant for you to...”

"Yeah well, I did."

"Your father knew when you were young. He hated what he was, you know, and he wanted to give you a normal life. He blamed himself."

"Don't you dare bring him up." I said in confident voice, "If he were still here he would have wanted you to stand by me when this happened. Not send me home and leave me in the dark about me being a shape shifter."

She plastered on the house-wife smile she wore during school meetings, neighborly get togethers and when she was loosing a fight. "I made the choice that I thought was right."

"Yeah well it was wrong."

"That's one person’s opinion."

"That's the only opinion." I argued, "Or do you discuss all this with your gardening club? Book club? How about that good ol' PTA?" I waited as she remained silent. "Right. So it looks like I'm the only one who actually has to live this topic."

She looked at me with scolding eyes and a hard facial exterior, "You are not the only one who has to live with this." She told me sternly. "I lived with this my whole life, waiting for you to turn into some creature just like your father."

"Dad was not some creature!" I yelled desperately, "He was the reason people in Forks stayed alive! He was a hero!"

"He was a monster." She told me in a polite tone, "But he was the man I loved, so I learned to love that side of him while he was with us. He told me that since we were having a girl she would be normal. We wouldn't have to live with this again, all the nights I stayed up wondering if he was going to make it home. If he was going to live to see you take your first steps, hear your first words," Then, she hit a nerve. "Or to see you go on your first date."

"But then you noticed the mark, and you knew I wasn't going to be the little beauty queen you wanted."

She stayed silent for a moment. "I think it's best for you to go to bed, Clara. We will continue this discussion in the morning."

"I'm not sorry."

"What did you say?"

I looked straight into her eyes, for the first time not apologizing for something that wasn't my fault in her world. "I'm not sorry about who I am. I'm not going to apologize for not running back to you as soon as I got to Forks and I found out that I was what I am. I not going to say I'm sorry for something I think is one of the best things to ever happen to me."

She got up and put her hands on her hips in a very house wife fashion, "And why is that?"

"Because it's one more thing that makes me more like Dad," I said with a smile on my face, "and one thing that makes me less like you."

***

I woke up the next morning as the sun streamed in from the open window and the heat hit my face. I missed this; I just don't miss who I was when I was here.

Well that I was a lie in itself, I suppose. I missed my confidence. I missed my quiet stern nature and the walls that I had built up that blocked me from trusting anyone. But most of all, I missed being naive.

I crawled out of bed and into a freezing shower, I returned in a warm robe and my hair in a glorious towel fashion. I made my bed and cleaned up the water bottle I had brought up the night before.

Today, I decided, I will take time on my appearance. I plugged in the straightener, the curling iron and the blow dryer because I wasn't sure what I planned on doing with my hair today. I reached underneath my bed and removed a section of flooring, grabbed the entire 'inappropriate' make up and placed the floor boards back. The small bag held jungle red lipstick, neon colored eye shadow and eyeliner, and lots of black objects.

Yeah, I was a real rebel.

I put some product in my hair and blow dried the hell out of it, I completely ignored the pounding noises on my door. I pulled half of my hair back sloppily, but in a good kind of way. My hair was in loose curls and that hug just passed my shoulders, so I decided on picking out my outfit for the day.

After the fight last night I was too steamed to sleep, so instead I had unpacked. I put three days worth of fashion choices in the closet and dresser, so I stood in my robe tapping my foot against the cold floor, the feeling of familiarity quickly overtaking me.

Here I was, nearly a year older, and still trying to pick out an outfit to piss my mom off.

I decided on a loose fitting striped black and white shirt paired with a dark washed pair of short shorts. I decided on short boot like black heels and some dangly dark bangle bracelets and a long necklace. In a quick decision I check the weather and decided to bring my black leather jacket, it was supposed to rain. As well as black big sunglasses and a black leather purse.

Did I mention my mother hates black?

I walked over to the mirror and put on my old jungle red lipstick and a smoky eye with plenty of eyeliner, of course it was black.

So that morning I walked down my mother's steps in pride. She was in the kitchen, as usual for this time in the morning, and she watched me with a disapproving look.

"You should wear less black; it doesn't compliment your skin tone or your hair dear." She said it as a compliment, but we both knew how she meant it.

So, being the bitch I felt like being today, I shifted into a paler skin tone and light blonde hair. "Better?" I said with a tilt of my head as I made coffee, she mumbled useless comebacks at my attitude.

I put the coffee in my old coffee thermos and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl before I made my way out of the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?" She put down the newspaper in parental fashion.

I grabbed my car keys, and put them in my purse that also held the lipstick I had on today, a hair brush, my wallet and various pieces of candy. "Out, obviously."

She scoffed at me and was ready to scold but I got to it before she did, "You should really wear less of a parental look, it ruins your careless attitude."

***

Okay, so I know I shouldn't have snapped at my mom like that. In all honesty, I have no idea why I was fighting against her.

I mean, sure, she left me in the dark all these years and when things got tough she sent me about as far away as she could get me. But she was human. Just human. She didn't know anything about who I was, so I would guess that she would be scared. Sandra didn't send me away because she didn't care, she sent me away because she knew that I would have questions that she couldn't answer.

Given, she probably shouldn't have just stopped talking to me. But I sort of stopped talking to her. I sent her graduation invite and two or three more letters but I could have done more.

I stared at the table I was sitting at in Starbucks and aimlessly drew shapes on the table. I knew I had to clear things up with her in order to get my life back to being mine, so I needed to stop fighting her. I can't understand why she made me so mad, why everyone around me was making me so angry. I nearly yelled at the Forever 21 saleswomen because she forgot to take the twenty percent off of my outfit. Something was wrong with me.

The store bell rang as someone entered and I immediately looked up, "Jacob?" I whispered.

My eyes were nearly bugging out of my head as I watched him saunter over to the counter in his kaki shorts and black v-neck. His hair was wind blown and he's eyes looked like they were looking for something. Looking for me.

I got up from the table and walked up to him with a huge grin on my face, "Hey."

He turned around and I nearly flinched back, he was not my boyfriend. Er, soul mate. Imprint. Damn, I mean ex-boyfriend.

"Hello?" The man replied with a questioning glance my way, he was in his early twenties with green eyes and golden blonde hair. About as far away from Jacob as one could possibly get.

I stepped back awkwardly, "Sorry, I thought..." I shook my head, "I thought you were someone else."

The man looked at me once more before returning and ordering his coffee. God, hallucinations, really?

When I got back home Mom was sitting in the kitchen with a box.

"Clara, we need to talk."

I nodded and walked into the kitchen, "You've got your Mom jeans on." I laughed softly and picked at her shirt fabric, "And Dad's shirt."

"Yes, well, you reminded me that I've changed quite a bit." She said and she rested her hand on her make-up free face. I smiled; this was the Mom I remember.

"Your Dad left this box for you, I haven't looked inside." She smiled sadly down at the box, "He said it was just for you. He made it when we found out."

I gave a half smile when she slid the wood box into my hands, "Thank you."

She watched me walk up the stairs and I heard the thunderstorm approaching. I returned to my room and took a quick shower before I changed into sophie shorts and an oversized sweatshirt that I couldn't quite remember purchasing. I assumed it was Seth's, Sam's or one of the other pack members.

My hair was in a messy bun, the storm was coming, and it soon splattered on my window and lit my room. I sat cross legged on my bed and stared at the light wood hand made box. My hand traced the apricot bud that was carved into the center of the warn wood.

My Dad had touched this box, I thought in amazement. It was the last thing that I had of him that I haven't already read a thousand times over or looked at every night since I was nine. That fact alone had me torn between opening it and not. This was something new to remember him by, something he wanted just me to see. But on the other hand this was the last new thing I'll ever get to see. After this he really was gone.

I pushed that to the back of my head, I had to see it. That's why he saved it for me.

"Alright Dad." I whispered, "Help me out here."

I carefully slid the top of the medium box off to reveal aged notes and photos of us, stuff just like the things that I had been reading all my life. I opened one of the notes to see a small sketch of a apricot bud and a wolf, another held an Infinitus sign. All of them were sketches, and all of the photos were of Dad, Mom, the Black's and I.

I carefully placed the sketches and unopened letters in one pile and the photos in another. I found one of Jake and I. He looked around seven which made me five. There was a big oak tree with an aged swing in the background. It was gorgeous. But what caught my attention were both our goofy grins and the sloppy hug that we were both in. I smiled and tucked that photo under my pillow before I continued the excavating the rest of the box.

There were several pressed buds and carved wolf figurines in the box. After I cleared them out, there was a small leather bracelet.

I picked the gift up in my hand and smiled, I read the front of the bracelet, Where ever you go, go with all your heart.

I flipped the bracelet over, and read his inscription on the back. Happy 18th Birthday my Clara. Trust your heart.

I smiled and began reading through the letters. Every one ending with the same message, "Trust your heart." I muttered.

My heart was torn in two and the other half was miles away. My head was all I had left. I sighed and put everything back into the box, carefully I refolded and placed his gifts to me in the box. Lastly, I put the leather bracelet on. I tied the strings together and immediately felt better about deciding to open the box and to come here. I wanted to hear from him again, I missed my Dad a lot.

I crawled under the covers and slid my hands deep into the pockets of the hoodie when I felt a slip of paper.

The lightening struck the house, illuminating the torn and crumpled piece of paper in my hands.

I love you.

His handwriting was hard to mistake for someone else's. I tucked Jacob's note underneath my pillow and couldn't ignore the flush of tears that hit me before I slipped into a frightening slumber.

Jacob Black was everywhere and I couldn't have him.