Author's Note: This is a story I wrote in little pieces during stages of writer's block as an attempt to get things going again. I don't know how well the characters are in characters (probably not at all), and I don't know if this is in fact interesting as it is in fact a bit slow in the first few chapters. It's also short, but you can tell that—I posted it all at once. Hopefully, it's not too boring. Also, please forgive me if there are any errors regarding tense—I began the story in past tense and switched to present about halfway through, went back and changed everything to present, and tried to make sure it read right. Warnings: Drug and alcohol use and mentioned sexual situations. Donna/Eric, Donna/Hyde (friendship!), a little Hyde/Jackie and Jackie/Fez. March 1980, Spring Break. PS: This -::-::- means 'time lapse' and this -:-:- means PoV change.
SATURDAY
Spring break. A time when people go out, get wild and drunk and do things that they enjoyed but will regret come next Monday.
But not Donna. Donna is sitting on the bus, pretending to read, and wondering if going back to Point Place is a good idea. Her friends are there and the Formans are there, and that means Eric is there, and she isn't really prepared to deal with him.
During the weekends she came home, they were rarely alone. Someone was always in the basement with them and they ate dinner with Red and Kitty. It was only late at night, when they snuck into each other's bedrooms, that they were alone. And during that time, they never spoke. They didn't know what to say. There was a glass wall between them, problems they needed to fix but couldn't verbalise, issues that couldn't be resolved simply because they didn't know exactly what the issue was.
But spring break would be different. Red would be enjoying retirement and everyone else would be working, so for five days, at least for eight hours a day, she'd be alone with him.
The thought makes her sick. It's not that she doesn't want to make up with Eric—she does, more than anything—but she knows what it would take. Accusations and screaming and admittances and tears and maybe some truths that wouldn't be at all to their liking. She knows it would take longer than this week to build up the relationship they'd ignored the past couple months since their love had become sex.
Two hours later, she's getting off the bus, tired of the movement and the people and the heat, and walking slowly outside, careful to take her time, not wanting to see who's waiting to pick her up. But within minutes, the heat makes her feel dizzy and sick, and she pushes her way through the crowds and emerged outside, comfortable in the chilly breeze.
She walks around for a moment, looking for someone familiar, when she catches sight of just the car she's looking for.
The Camino. Mrs. Forman had sent Hyde to pick her up. Donna breaths a sigh of relief. Hyde isn't going to question her about anything. Hyde probably won't talk to her that much. There would be a few more minutes of peace.
She taps on the window and gets in. Hyde doesn't say anything, just nods in acknowledgement and waited for her to adjust her bag on her lap before pulling out. When they are back on the road, he only asks her how school was and she says it's fine and they leave it at that. Neither one is in the mood to talk.
Led Zeppelin is playing in the background but she isn't really paying attention to it. They are fast approaching the Formans' house, and she suddenly wishes that this town is a lot bigger just so she could have a few more moments in Hyde's silent company. But they're there, Mrs. Forman hugging her tightly, Mr. Forman scowling, Eric sitting quietly at the kitchen, looking every bit as unsure as she feels. Sometime during the exchange, Mrs. Forman had asked Hyde to take her bag up to Laurie's room, and he's back, sitting at the table with a beer.
Lunch time, Donna realises. She doesn't feel hungry; in fact, she feels downright nauseous, but it's noon and she's been up since six and hadn't eaten anything but a doughnut. She sits down at the table, giving Eric a small kiss on the cheek, not know what else to do or say to him, and waits as Mrs. Forman sets sandwiches and chips down, talking excitedly all the while.
After a while of this, Hyde decides it's time to go back to work, lest Leo and Fez screw things up badly in his absence. Donna wishes him back—for once, his silence will be welcome and his presence as a buffer helpful. He hasn't once made fun of them since Eric returned, but he hasn't suggested they get back together either, like everyone else had.
When the attention and the questions begin to give her a headache, she excuses herself, claiming drowsiness, and heads up to Laurie's room. There's a little brown bag on the desk and Donna wonders where it came from when the logical conclusion hits. Mrs. Forman had said she cleaned her daughter's room that morning, and the only person that was up here was Hyde.
She supposes he sees more than he let on. She reminds herself to thank him.
After a hot shower, she tries to read, but she's feeling very drowsy and she crawls under the covers, anxious to put off her alone time with Eric.
When she wakes again, dusk is coming through the window, and she stumbles into the bathroom, trying to adjust to the light. Splashing some cold water on her face, she looks at herself in the mirror.
Good God, she looks terrible. There are bags under her eyes and her face is pale and drawn. She leans against the sink with trembling arms. She doesn't want to go downstairs like this. Just then, Mrs. Forman knocks on the door, asking her if she was okay, and Donna quickly crawls back into bed, feigning sleep. Mrs. Forman peeks in the room and apparently decides to let her sleep, for the door shuts quietly a few seconds later.
It's almost eleven when Donna gets up again. She hasn't slept but rather stared at the clock, watching the minutes tick by, but by now, she's feeling a little less nervous and a little more hungry. She wanders downstairs and makes herself a sandwich, sneaking one of Red's beers.
"Oh, hey man." Hyde comes through the glass door and takes one of the beers and sits down next to her.
"Thanks for the stash." She doesn't know what else to say.
"Looked like you needed it."
"I could use some company."
Fifteen minutes later, they are sitting on the couch in the basement, passing a joint back and forth, eating chips and drinking beer. It's comfortable and familiar—Hyde drones on and on about the car that ran on water and his conspiracy theories. For once, she lets him ramble, thankful to avoid speaking herself. When the joint's gone, they sit in silence for a while, staring blankly at the television screen, not registering that it's off.
Finally, coming down some from their high, they head off to bed.
Donna doesn't get up until noon that day. She blasts herself with cold water to wake up and puts on some make-up so she looks alive again, and heads downstairs. Mrs. Forman has made a stew and is ladling it into bowls as she enters the kitchen. Hyde's the only one at the table. She sits down next to him and they're both handed stew and bread. Mrs. Forman asks Donna if she's feeling better, and no one says anything for the longest time afterwards.
Eventually, Donna leaves to take a walk. She ends up outside of Grooves, wondering who's there; she doubts Hyde would leave Leo to run the store again. She peeks in.
Randy.
She had thought Randy had left the store, but obviously that isn't true. She wonders if she should go in and talk to him or if that will be too awkward. It takes only second to decide—she moves away before he sees her. She doesn't have anything to say to him. She had been lonely and he had been the only person she didn't know that well. Hyde's almost a brother, Fez is a best friend. The lines were drawn in the sand, and she had no desire to cross them.
She circles around town for a while. She visits Fez at the salon and Jackie at her new job at the mall. She stops by the radio station and says hello. They put her on the air for a few minutes and ask her if she'd deejay for them on Friday as a guest. Then she gets a soda at the Hub and goes to stare at the faded pot leaf on the water tower.
It occurs to her that she's too detached from Point Place. Everything seems like a distant memory, too many years and too many trials ago that she can't connect. It seems like forever since they painted the leaf, forever since Fez shampooed her hair, since she got her job. It seems like ages since she left, yet it's not even three months. She isn't sure Point Place felt like home anymore.
What does that mean? Madison isn't her home. Point Place isn't her home. Eric isn't home, not now. Should she move to Florida with her dad? Would she be at home with him?
Donna runs into Kelso as she wanders home. He's come back from Chicago for the week so the gang will all be together. She climbs into his convertible. He tries to talk to her but she isn't listening, isn't in the mood to learn about whatever "new" or "awesome" invention he'd come up with, so he tries to grope her instead.
He manages a feel mainly because she isn't paying attention. She's staring out, watching the scenery go by—the Vineyard, Mount Hump, the church—and trying to figure out why it feels like she just stepped into a different person's shoes. It's like she reading a story one minute than playing the character the next. She knows these people, these places, but their meaning is completely different now.
It's past three when Kelso and Donna go down to the basement. Jackie has gotten off her shift and is sitting with Hyde, the tension thick and impenetrable. Donna sits on the lawn chair and stares at the TV, not registering anything.
Dinner comes and goes and Eric never appears. Part of her worries and part of her is relieved. By midnight, she finds herself sitting in the basement, unable to sleep. Hyde comes through the basement door after a while and silently, he walks to his room and comes back, joining her on the couch and rolling a joint. He sparks it, takes a hit, and passes it to her.
After several hits, he says quietly, "Forman's been avoiding you."
"I know."
"You've been avoiding him."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Why is he asking? Does he honestly want to know?
"I have nothing to say to him."
"He has a lot to say to you."
Is he trying to be helpful or is he just too high? Donna passes the joint back to him, eager to change the subject. "Maybe there's nothing he can say to fix it."
"Yeah, there is. You're meant to be together. It's not like..."
She wonders if he was about to say it isn't like him and Jackie. But he doesn't seem to want to finish the sentence and she doesn't want to talk about relationships.
"Are you sleeping tonight, man?"
"Probably not."
"I'm gonna paint the water tower."
"Gonna fix the Fez and Jackie sign?"
Fez had fixed that a couple days after it happened. Hyde had been so pissed that Donna was glad she left the next day.
"Gonna fix the pot leaf. I need some help."
The joint's gone and they sit in silence for a bit until they come off their high enough to function properly, although it doesn't make much difference with them anymore. They tip-toe to the kitchen for some snacks then to the Camino and heads for the water tower. Paint the leaf again—their claim to this town, paint over the letter proclaiming Jackie as Fez's. When they finally returned finish it's almost six, and they stop at a 24-hour diner for breakfast.
-::-::-
It's noon when Donna wakes. They had stumbled in at a quarter past seven, tired and full. She hasn't slept well, but then again, she hasn't slept well since she made the decision to return to her home town for spring break. She should have gotten a ticket to Florida and visited her dad.
Hyde has just woken up too. He's in his robe at the table, eating a sandwich, with no one else in sight. He give her a little grin when she walked in the room, a conspiratorial wink. She pours herself a bowl of cereal and sits down next to him.
"I caught the end of Red's tirade against vandals when I came down." He has a little smirk on his face and she returned it. He loves irritating people and the restrained enthusiasm's contagious.
Hyde leaves for work after that. She stays in the kitchen and, intent on keeping herself busy, washes the dishes. As she's drying the last plate, the door from the living room opens. By habit, she turns.
Eric.
He stares at her for a long moment, eyes wide, before he swallows hard and forces a smile. "Hey. Are you feeling better?"
"Um, yeah."
"So, um, we need to talk."
"I'm really not...not now, Eric."
He takes a step closer to her and reached out, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Her heart speeds up and she melts a little at that simple touch. Forcing herself to be strong (or is it cold?), she says, "Maybe later." She drops the towel and walks out the door. He doesn't try to stop her.
She's standing the front of her old house a second later, staring at the happy couple through the window. It takes a moment to remember she didn't live there anymore and a pang of hurt sounds through her. Before they realise she's staring, she turns sharply and walks away.
It's official then. She has no home.
That night, Hyde joins Donna yet again for another late night circle, complete with peanut butter and a case of beer. That night, the joint doesn't seem to make anything funny, but it does loosen their lips.
"Why didn't you talk to Forman today?"
"I don't have anything to say. He left me. He can't just walk in and out of my life and expect everything to be fine."
A pause. "You don't think you should hear him out?"
Some peanut butter gets stuck in her throat and she washes it down with a long swig of beer. "Would you?"
"He loves you, man."
She doesn't want to talk about Eric, and it's so easy to turn the tables on him. "Jackie loved you."
He freezes. "Whatever."
Tense silence fills the space between them.
He finally speaks, his voice sounding choked up, although she can't tell what from. "I wasn't going to be the guy she wanted me to be."
"She wanted to be loved, Hyde."
"No. She wanted someone to worship her. Like Fez does. And you know what, man? He can have her. She's not worth busting my eardrums over."
His wall's up. For once in their friendship, she wants so badly to break that wall down and commiserate with him. She never cared much about seeing past his Zen, always knowing that deep down he could be nice when the desire struck, but she's wondering how deeply rooted his misery is. He has to feel something—he's only human.
"You're pretty strongly against her dating Fez for someone who doesn't think she's worth it."
Silence.
"You really hurt her—"
"Yeah, 'cause I was just jumping with freaking joy when she just walked away."
There we go, she thinks. A crack in the wall.
"Just like good old Edna." The words are muttered under his breath, derisive and almost inaudible, but she hears them and she can feel his despondency. Tears unexpectedly fill her eyes. They are both mourning, but his heartache runs deeper than hers. Longer. He hadn't seemed that broken up when his mother left, but it had been silly to assume that that hadn't hurt him.
"Why don't you tell her that?"
"Edna?"
"Jackie."
"Tell her what?"
"That she did the same thing to you as your mother did. As her mother did." A part of that rings true—Hyde and Jackie had been abandoned so many times that Jackie should have known better than to walk away like that. Coming back might have eased that, Donna doesn't know, but it didn't change the fact that she left in the first place. A note wasn't the way to breakup with someone. Donna knew that.
"She knows it was her fault."
"It was both your faults." Not like her and Eric. Eric had walked away without even thinking about her.
They've demolished the peanut butter and almost all the beer by then. Hyde's words slur. "At least you're not blaming it entirely on me." He pops open another can and downs it. "I don't need to tell Jackie anything. I'm over whatever disease I had while I was with her, she's over me, and we've made nice, so no one has to worry."
They'd called a very uneasy truce. The burns are kept to a minimum but the tension, as she'd seen yesterday, is impenetrable. And sexual. One day, they're going to rip each other's clothes off. She forces the image out of her head.
"I think you should hear Forman out."
He rarely states his opinions so definitively about his friends' lives. She shouldn't be as surprised as she is.
"He's been panicking ever since he found out you were coming. He wants to explain things to you but he can't do that if you run away."
"I'm not running," she mutters defensively.
"Yeah you are."
Is she?