Construction Of Love

3. New Beginnings?

I heaved a full suitcase onto my barren mattress. Today was the day. I was moving to my grandparents. Mom gave me a month to pack up and clear my room. I had gotten rid of over of half my things just so that I could take Jonathans stuff with me. Packing my stuff into a suitcase usually was exciting as it meant going out camping or a small road trip. This time it was different. My bedroom somehow looked messier with nothing in it. Having nothing to the distract from the stains on the wall that had always been there or the carpet with a which had the shape of an iron melted into it.  As I assessed the room, trying to note its every detail as this would be my last time here. 

I carried my suitcase out of my room and through the front the house to Moms car. She wasn't the most helpful person to assist me with moving but it was better then doing it all myself. My suitcase fit in between to large boxes. All my belongings fit in the back of a moms small beat up van. I slammed the trunk shut and sat down in the passengers seat. 

"Alright here we go", Mom said as she put the keys in the ignition. Those were the only words spoken for the entire drive. We were heading to Port Hardy, where grandma and grandpa had decided to settle down for who the hell knows why. There was nothing there, it was the same as Forks. Not only was it a twelve hour drive from where I lived but it also involved a ferry ride. This was the obvious reason as to why I hadn't seen them in so long. I was looking forward to this move slightly and that was because I would be back in Canada. I was born and spent my childhood in Vancouver, British Columbia until mom had lost her job and decided to move us state side.

We had crossed the border painlessly and made it across the ferry without a problem. We were on the last trek of out journey, an almost six hour drive across the island. As we made our way through the island my excitement for being back in Canada faded. I knew it was exactly like Washington but I was holding on to a bit of hope that it would be different. Things in my life were going to be the same, my existence was going to be living constantly in a miserable hovel. My thoughts repeated in my head like a broken record, worry and the realization that the rest of my existence was going to be miserable suffering built in my heart, making it sink. I closed my eyes, letting myself thing. My internal monologue was my therapist. The only way for things to make sense. 

I opened my eyes to orange street lights penetrating my vision. I looked around quickly examining my surroundings to figure whereabouts we were. There were walls of thick green trees covering either side of the road. It seemed like the only destination ahead of us were more trees at the end of the highway. I had fallen asleep and we still hadn't made it anywhere notable. 

It wasn't for another hour that I finally saw it. A giant sign was placed on the right hand side of the highway "Welcome to Port Hardy" it read. I sighed. Finally. My back was sitting and my butt was sore from sitting so long in one spot. It was about ten more minutes before we reached the actual town. It was small. The only lights illuminating it were a couple of street lights, none which went down any residential roads. Mom made her way through the town as if she knew exactly where to go, she didn't, there were just so few roads that it made navigating simple. After what seemed to have only been three minutes we pulled into the drive way of what seemed to be a mansion, it seemed to be painted an off white with cobblestone like features. Maybe it just seemed special after seeing nothing of substance for hours on end. 

I got out of the car and made my way to the back of the van, I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it up the driveway to the front door. The door looked brand new and it pained me to knock it. As my knuckles hit the door I hoped that I hadn't scratched the paint. Not even a few seconds passed before the large white door swung open, letting the light flow past me and into the dark street behind me.

"Drew!", my small grandma jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh dear how have you been? I haven't seen you in so long. I can't believe what happened to Jonathan. Please tell me you brought old pictures of him? I wish you two had come and visited me before. Have you been eating well?". My grandma continued to belt out more and more questions, not even pausing to let me answer any of them.