We landed in Seattle, the airport wasn't very crowed, and smelt of fast food, the small airport matched the small airplane we flew on. I looked over at my brothers, the twins, Dimitri and Vladimir, there handsome faces contoured into a look of disgust. Then I looked to my father, Lucius, he was smiling brightly, his bright blue eyes scanning his surroundings, his smile never faded. It was hard to comprehend a reason to why we would leave our home in Texas. I was born and raised in Waxahachie, Texas and I truly loved my hometown. My friends and family all there, and the heritage in the town was remarkable. To leave my old Victorian home was unbearable to do, being raised in the same house for seventeen years, to know every crack in a wall, which steps squeaked when you stepped on them. To think that your childhood home was gone and that some other family was living in it, and that they would soon find out the wonderful quirks the house had.
As I stared at my surroundings, my brothers pulled me along, they both took my hands in there own, and the three of walked toward our father as he stood smiling by our car. The three of us looked at each other, our father was never this cheerful. We shrugged it off and continued onward toward our Father. He was cheerful through the entire car ride to Forks. Forks; a tiny town I'm positive no one has heard about. I had been to Forks once when I was thirteen, with my mother, we were visiting my Grandfather whom I only met that one time. He was dying of prostate cancer, and that's when I found out were my mother was born, and the reason why she had left. I guess being stuck in a small town with her family wasn't good enough for her, and she wanted a real life, career and wanted her children to be born in an environment with more people and a classier lifestyle. She got her wish. My was father the head of his own Hospital in Texas, and a well known surgeon fell in love with my mother, and conceived us. They were married for twenty years when my mother died suddenly on my eighteenth birthday, only a year ago. So I guess moving to forks was my fathers way of grieving since he really didn't cry at the funeral.
The hour drive to Forks, in my opinion, murderous, my father sang along to the old seventies rock classics as loud as he could, while my brothers each read the same book. I sat in silence listening to my Ipod. Trying to focus on Richard Marx and not my fathers horrid singing, I was unable to do so, since I was right next to him the passenger seat. I looked over at him giving him a look that begged him to stop, he smiled and lowered the music and reduced to humming along. I smiled back at him, solitude was near as I closed my eyes and listened to my music.
I felt a hand on my knee, I looked up to my father he was looking intently at me, the car was stopped at a red light. "Ty, I hope you enjoy this town, I know your mother did." He said as the car moved again, "Look that the...