Chapter Text
Even though he insisted it’s fine, you still need to swallow back the guilt when you dial the long-distance number into the cordless phone on Eddie’s nightstand. He insisted you call her, and he insisted you do it in the privacy of his room where you can speak freely.
Your right hand keeps finding itself running along the bristly hairs on the top of your head. It soothes your nerves as the fingers on your other hand push the buttons on the plastic receiver. You can hear Eddie on the other side of the door, he’s still looking for things to “spruce up” before his friends finally make their arrival. Should be any time now, the stress that has been radiating off of him has started to itch at the back of your mind. It makes you want to run, and that’s exactly why you’re sitting on the edge of his bed with the phone in your hand.
It rings once, twice, three times. You count the rings, knowing you’ll let it go to seven before hanging up. It doesn’t come to that, though, and you hear a click on the line after the fourth ring.
“Hello.” Him. It’s his voice. You close your eyes and draw in a breath, careful not to let him hear it over the line.
“Hi Dad. How are you?” You keep your voice steady. Your body is braced for the impact of the unknown. You haven’t spoken to him since that evening on the front porch of the old house where you screamed words that could never be taken back.
His exhale feels like a release of your own breath, “Hi, Sweetie. I’m good. Looking for your mother?”
You bite your tongue, and say, “Yes, sure. I wanted to call and tell her where I’m staying. You too. Let you both know I’m doing ok.”
“I’m glad for that. Let me find her.”
You can hear the sound of the television in the background while your father’s footsteps move further away from where he left the phone to rest. You haven’t been to the new place and can only imagine what it looks like. You think she’s probably in bed. She’s always been a midday napper, and that was even more true the deeper she fell into the narcotic hole.
Your ear is drawn to a different noise, a closer one. The sound of loud voices from down the hallway. They’re here. You close your eyes again and focus on the sounds on the phone over the sounds in the apartment. Butterflies beat wings in your belly. You wonder what would happen if you just left the phone on the bed and headed out the window on the other side of the room. Climb down the fire steps and walk out onto the street. Can’t be worse than this.
“Hello?” Your mother’s voice has sleep in it.
“Hi Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, Honey, I miss you so much,” her voice is steady, and you’re grateful for that, “I’ve been calling, but I keep getting the machine. We want you to come out and visit soon.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t have the money right no-”
she cuts you off before you can finish, “-we can help you get a plane ticket. Pay for half maybe.”
“Yeah, ok. Maybe for Thanksgiving or Christmas.” It’s not exactly a lie, but you have no intention of prioritizing a trip out of state when you can’t even afford a car payment. Especially not while you’re crashing in the spare bedroom of your - not boyfriend, what even is he - employer.
You’re trying to tune out the sound of a booming male voice as it makes its way down the hallway, barely muffled by the door of Eddie’s bedroom, “this the bathroom? I gotta take a leak, she wouldn’t let me stop even after I finished that Big Gulp in central PA.”
“Who is that,” of course she can hear the sound of Eddie’s friend, Steve you assume, “you got a boy over there?”
“No, it’s just a friend of a friend. I’m staying with them for a little while. That’s actually why I was calling, I wanted you to have the number, so you knew how to get a hold of me.”
“Oh? What friend? Is it Rose or-”
“You don’t know them, but we work together. It’s been a good deal for me, and it’s better than staying in the house with everyone gone this summer.”
The silence on the phone line stretches like a rubberband. It’s always this way, you can’t tell her the truth, because she is incapable of helping. There is love between you and your family, but they haven’t been home for a long time.
“Ok. Give me the number, Honey. I’ll put it on the fridge. Please, take care of yourself. You know you can always come out here if you need to.”
“Yeah, I know,” you don’t know that, but continue, “thanks, Mom.”
The rest of the phone call is full of small talk. Chit chat about your dad’s job and your Uncle Nate. They moved out to the mountains of New York to be closer to your mom’s family. To fix the cracks in the foundation of their marriage after the years of your dad’s infidelity. They moved out there to get your mom away from her pill pushing doctor - and they failed there - New York has plenty of prescription pads just waiting to be filled out.
She’s telling you about the current length of your Aunt Deanna’s nails - too long, you’re sure - when you hear the not-so-quiet sound of a woman’s voice say your name. You hear words, but not sentences. Young. Dangerous. Stalker. Using you.
“I told her, if she wants to save up for that vacation to Florida, she needs to get her own manicure set for home. Those shops are too expensive, and she looks ridiculous anyway.”
“Uh huh,” you absentmindedly agree while you strain to hear what’s happening in the other room. Eddie’s voice, too low to make out what he’s saying through the door, sounds firm. Defensive.
“Can you imagine? $40 to look like a street walker. She’s 53 for crying out loud.” Your mom is really getting cranked up. Her words are starting to slip, and the neck of your shirt begins to feel too tight. You run a finger along the neckline to pull it away from your skin while ignoring the slight slur coming through the sound of your mother’s conversation.
“Yeah, well, she’s always had her own style,” you say absentmindedly. The sounds of murmured voices in the other room and your mother’s ever growing louder words get lost in the whoosh of air throbbing in your ears.
You stand up and move to the window, to allow fresh air to expand in your lungs. “Hey, mom,” you interrupt the rant you’re sure she’s currently running away with, “I gotta go. I’m sorry. There’s someone ringing in on the other line. I love you, I promise I’ll call you soon.”
You climb out onto the fire escape without bothering to hang the phone back up onto its base, sure that you’ll suffocate if you don’t get out of this room. How did it get so small? The cool metal on your bare feet in tandem with the warm summer sun warming your face effectively calms your breathing, the threat of the ring of darkness at the corner of your vision narrowing is beat back. You pull your knees together and wrap your arms around them, making yourself a small and tight ball, as firm as a boulder.
It’s easy to imagine climbing down the stairs and walking the miles to your house, the tender soles of your feet slapping against the sunbaked concrete sidewalk. You have shoes at home. And your bed. And your clothes. And your journals. All of the things that make your only home. You swallow back the wetness at your lash line at the thought, your only home isn’t safe anymore.
Your only home isn’t safe - and it never was. Nowhere is, and never has been. Not even that house with the pool in the back on the other side of town where you spent your formative years. Because didn’t that home crumble under the pressures of life, leaving you standing in the middle of the street watching the back of your parents’ car driving away from you?
Your own fingernails are digging into your hands hard enough to bring you back to yourself. You push it all down deep and to the back. You put it back in the corner. You shake your head and slowly make your way back into Eddie’s bedroom. You close the window behind you and pick up the phone receiver to put it back on its base. You gently wipe under your eyes to ensure no moisture remains, and you open the door of the bedroom to meet the people in Eddie’s living room.
—
“... starving, since Nance wouldn’t stop for a snack break,” that male voice that isn’t Eddie’s is saying as you close the door behind you. You can see the back of Eddie’s head. He’s sitting just inside the living room on one of the kitchen chairs with a clear view of the hallway to his side. He turns his head at the click of the latch. His features soften at the sight of you.
“Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the bladder and appetite of a pregnant woman, Steve,” a female voice echoes down the hallway. You can hear the frown in her words.
You see Eddie turn and begin to rise and wave your hand at him in a sit motion. With every step of your feet, the new voices get louder. You swallow hard, pushing down the butterflies that have started to flit up your throat. You run your finger along the neckline of your shirt again for better airflow as you step out of the hallway and into the open space of the kitchen and living room.
A man and a woman, roughly the same age as Eddie, are sitting opposite him on the couch. Steve and Nancy, you remind yourself, suddenly unsure that those names are correct. A hand, warm and firm, is against the small of your back to gently guide you to the seat next to Eddie’s.
“Hey, there she is,” Eddie’s saying. It’s introductions all around, and you breathe a small sigh of relief to hear that you remembered the names correctly. You’re glad you didn't put your contacts in this morning. Their facial features are pleasantly blurred so you can’t read their reaction to your presence.
“So, as the resident townie, what’s the best spot for lunch around here?” Steve asks as soon as the introductory small talk dies down. He’s sitting back on the couch he’s sharing with Nancy, his left ankle resting on the knee of his right. His arms are spread across the back of the sofa. His body language reads, open - friendly - accepting. Nancy’s, though…
“I know a spot - “Eddie starts, attempting to answer Steve’s question. You realize the pause must have been too long, “ - a little deli on the corner.” You nod your head in agreement. You try for a smile, but it feels like invisible strings are tugging at the corners of your mouth with no success.
“Are there veggie options?” Nancy asks. She’s looking past Eddie to you as everyone in the room stands in silent agreement with the presented plan of lunch. “I mean, I could do tuna too. Pescatarian,” she tells you, pointing to her chest. She rolls her eyes when she sees the roll of Steve’s eyes.
“Uh,” you clear the feathery wings from your throat and say, “yeah. She’s got tuna and a halfway decent veggie sandwich. But there’s a better spot,” you look from the corner of your eye looking for the reassuring frame of Eddie, “well, better for vegetarians. Homemade hummus and baba ganoush.”
“Ooohh,” Nancy takes a couple of steps closer to you, and her features come into frame, “lead the way. Ignore Steve. He gripes, but he told me my mushroom and nut loaf is better than his wife’s meatloaf.”
Eddie’s giggle rises behind you. Nancy’s turned both of you to face the door of the apartment with her harm hooked into yours, letting Eddie and Steve follow behind. You try to imagine it as a friendly gesture, and not a vice grip trapping you close to this new person that doesn’t even know your last name. And didn’t you hear some of the things she said about you while you were still on the phone, or did you just imagine that?
You stay arm in arm down the stairs, and when you pass by the back entrance of the record shop, Nancy stands on her tiptoes to look into the porthole window. Eddie sidles up next to you, and Steve bookends your foursome on the other side of Nancy to peer in above her head.
“Oh wow, that’s the shop?” Steve asks, his breath disrupting the curls on top of Nancy’s head.
“Yeah, it’s coming along, should be ready to open soon,” Eddie puts an arm around your waist and squeezes the soft flesh of your side. From this angle you can see the row of Eddie’s guitars you hung the other day with the Warlock in the center.
“Show us around when we get back from lunch,” Nancy says as she wheels you around. Eddie’s grip on you slips, and you find yourself making your way out into daylight.
It’s a pretty day, and you’re focusing on the sidewalk in front of you. Each step sends vibrations from the bottom of your feet up your legs and to your center. Step. Step. Step. You think about pulling your arm free from Nancy. You think she must have excellent intuition, that arm around yours is the only thing keeping you from turning heel and bolting in the opposite direction.
Eddie and Steve are several steps behind you, but you can hear their low murmured voices. It’s the sound of old friends. Steady and calm. It makes you smile for him, glad for Eddie to have these two here to be with him. You wonder what he’ll look like to you through the lens of these relationships. You wonder what you’re doing here with them right now.
The Zephyr entrance is just around the next corner, you can see Eli behind the counter inside. This town is full of your own old friends and acquaintances, so why do you feel so out of place here?
You find yourself finally able to work your arm out of Nancy’s when you take the steps up to the entrance, leaving her and the guys a step behind you. The familiar jingle of the bell and the smell of bread in the oven is like a hug. Eli smiles and waves, he’s wiping his hands on the towel hanging out of the front pocket of his apron while he walks to the front of the cafe.
“Long time no see,” he tells you, wrapping you in a one-armed embrace. He nods and waves a hand at the rest of the group. “Table for 4?”
You nod in answer and follow him to a table in the corner. You can see the amphitheater out the window where you’re seated, a nice distraction for you when the conversation turns to stories you don’t know. From here you can see the building where Rose’s apartment is located, and you think about stopping over there after lunch. She’s been scarce, passing time with that new guy.
“Oh, Robbie would love this place,” Steve says as he takes a seat. You’re left to wonder who Robbie is, suddenly finding yourself annoyed at Eddie’s lack of disclosure about this part of his life. “Nance, we have to get her out here next time.”
“Well, yeah. She was pissed she couldn’t come this time, but it was so short notice…” Nancy leaves her sentence unfinished, and you wonder what she’s implying.
That’s how it goes. Nancy and Steve communicating with Eddie in a secret coded language you don’t understand. You’re glad for the view of the amphitheater. You smile every so often. You order for the table. It’s easy to pass this lunch by, knowing that as soon as it’s over you’re going to walk away from this situation.
You don’t know what Steve said when Eddie put his foot on top of yours, but you know it must be something that should have been a red flag for you. You ignore it, and look at the crows on the sidewalk, picking at the fries left by someone exiting one of the bars late last night. You just let their conversation pass through you, smiling and nodding when it seems appropriate, ignoring the way that Eddie’s eyes search your face. You shouldn’t be here.
“I’m sorry, I need to run to the bathroom,” you tell the table. The plates have been cleared by Eli at this point. You interrupted something that Eddie was saying, something about open mic night. You stand up and walk away to the sounds of ascent, permission to leave the table and void your bladder.
You walk down the hallway and find Eli at the back door with a cigarette dangling from his fingers. You step out the door to join him.
“Hey, I’m taking off. Can you let my friends know I’m not feeling well?” You ask him as you light your own smoke. Flies are buzzing around your head on the way over to the open lidded dumpster. Sweet and sour food rot aroma fills your nostrils.
“Mmm,” he nods and turns his head to look at you, “you look a little peaky. Not too bad, though. You ok? Need anything?”
“No, I just need to get the fuck out of here, ya know?”