You arrived at the airport with your mom in the car, windows down. It was twenty-five degrees, the sky endless and blue without a cloud in sight. As you said goodbye to your home, you wore your favorite clothes.

In the northeast was a small town where it was almost always gloomy—more rain than your current city has seen. Your mom had escaped from that dreary place when you were just a few months old. You spent every summer there until you rebelled at fourteen, when your dad took you to a nicer city the last three summers.

Now, you were moving back to your hometown by choice, a decision that didn't come easy since you loathed that place.

You liked your current city—its bright sun, heat, noise, and constant activity.

“Sweetie,” your mom called, and you guessed what she would say. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” she suggested for the thousandth time.

You and your mom looked alike, but she had short hair and laughter lines around her eyes—she smiled often. Looking into her big, innocent eyes made your heart ache. Were you really leaving your sweet, loving, simple mom behind? Sure, someone else would take care of her, ensuring bills were paid, food stocked in the fridge, and gas in the car, but still…

“Say hi to Dad,” your mom surrendered and sighed. “We’re only parting for a little while. Just remember, you can come back anytime… If anything happens, call me, and I’ll come get you.”

Your mom was putting on a brave face, but you sensed she wasn’t being completely honest. She hugged you tightly and kissed you before you went to check in your bags.

So, ahead lay a four-hour flight, a layover, an hour to the port, and finally, an hour's drive to your hometown. Though you enjoyed flying, an hour in the car with Dad didn’t appeal to you.

Dad seemed genuinely happy to have you move in. He’d already registered you at school and promised to find you a car. The issue was neither you nor your dad were chatty, and there wasn't much to discuss. Undoubtedly, he was surprised by your decision to move, as you never hid your hatred for your hometown.

The port greeted you with heavy rain, but you took it as an unavoidable sign; you had already said goodbye to the sun.

Dad picked you up in a patrol car, expected given that he was the police chief in your town. Hence, despite your limited finances, you decided to buy your own car—you didn’t want to roll through town in a squad car. Patrol cars seemed to create traffic jams.

As you descended the plane’s stairs, you slipped and fell right into your father's arms.

“Good to see you, sunshine,” he said, carefully setting you down. “You haven't changed much. How’s Mom?”

What to talk about?

You barely had any luggage—the wardrobe you had for your hometown was insufficient. Your mom and you had bought plenty of warm clothes and spent a lot of money, but obviously not enough.

“I found you a cool car, and the price is right!” Dad announced as you settled into the front seat. “Well, it’s a pickup, a Chevy. Remember Billy Black from La Push?” La Push was a small Native American reservation along the coast. “We fished together last summer,” Dad recalled. “Now he’s in a wheelchair and can’t drive, so he’s selling the pickup cheap.”

That’s why you couldn’t remember him; you’d always managed to block painful and unnecessary memories.

“Well, Billy put a ton of money into the engine, and it runs like clockwork. He got it around 1984. As for the year… well, it’s late fifties to early sixties,” Dad reluctantly admitted.

By your expression, Dad realized those details were what you dreaded. He understood you knew nothing about cars and wouldn’t be able to fix it if something broke down. And you had no money for a mechanic…

“For heaven’s sake, kiddo, the ride is a beast; they don’t make them like this anymore!”

Beast sounded pretty good.

“And actually, I already bought it and was going to give it to you. Welcome home, sweetheart!”

Wow! For free!

“Come on! I want you to like it here!” Dad said, his gaze fixed on the road.