I leaned on the counter at Family Video, my blank notebook laying down in front of me. I'd been there four hours, and my brain felt like mush, unfocused. It had the last four months, and I'd barely written a poem - let alone an entire poem.
Customers had flocked the store during that time, keeping Robin and Steve busy by asking where the latest releases were or if we had some foreign flick. I was busy checking them out, checking for membership, and signing new ones up. But the flow had slowed down, and the last customer hadn't been in for at least half an hour.
Family Video paid minimum wage, nothing exuberant. The money I made the past year as a girl who checked out movies to the townspeople, keeping secret those under eighteen who slipped into the adult section, was enough for first month's rent in Indianapolis, a few more, and some furniture. I could find a job in the city, but there was time for that later. I had to get through this last month first. Though my parents could afford it all for me, they thought it wise I make a living and life of my own.
One more week until spring break. Then, one more month until graduation. That's all I had to get through.
Robin flipped through a magazine she'd found on the parking lot pavement. Steve was slumped at my feet, almost asleep with his head against the shelves of the counter. Less than an hour til close.
I blew a big bubble that made a loud pop. "I don't know about you guys," I said, "but I'm tired of watching Pretty in Pink." Robin had put the VHS in every shift this week on the TV. I practically knew the dialog by heart now.
Robin flopped the magazine down in front of me, covering half my notebook. "It is a modern classic. John Hughes is a genius at showing the current teenage experience. Right, Steve?"
"Right," Steve mumbled.
I honestly thought he'd fallen asleep. I laughed.
"Be as it might," I said, pushing the magazine off my stuff. Robin lifted it when she realized. "The story wears on you a tad bit when you watch it five times in a week." I closed the small notebook and slipped it into the back pocket of my stonewashed jeans.
"I just think someone doesn't have a romantic bone in her body," Robin said teasingly.
I shrugged, stepping towards a stack of tapes and rearranging to keep my hands busy. Romance talk hadn't been my favorite since Patrick ditched me when I ditched the cheer uniform four months ago. Everything after that was a spiral: losing touch with my best friend Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, losing touch with my writing. "I just don't see how someone like Blane would go for Andy. Not in real life. People in different crowds don't stick together."
Robin rolled her eyes. "People fall in love all the time with other people who may not seem like the right fit to outsiders." I wanted to make a joke about the two standing next to me, but I refrained.
"Yeah, Steph," Steve said, groggily standing. "Love concurs all, and all that nonsense." He waved a hand before sliding it through his infamous hair.
"What do you know about love, Harrington?" I asked, hand on my hip.
"A lot, thank you very much."
"Sure does with all the girls he takes out," Robin said jokingly.
Steve waved his hand again, clearly annoyed. "Just-just chill it, alright? Girls are a lot harder than you think." Robin scoffed, crossing her arms. "Well, they're lot harder for me than they used to be. I'm spending my Friday night here, for god's sake. I should be out with someone, anyone."
The two were facing each other, going off on another one of their two-person tangents when the doorbell jingled, signaling another customer. Neither turned, but I did to see Eddie "The Freak" Munson walk in.
I hadn't spoken to him since middle school - elementary maybe. He had gone from a normal, buzzed-cut kid to a long-haired rocker with Dio pasted on the back of his jean jacket. While others took his rock n roll demeanor as scary, I secretly found it intriguing - strictly from a human condition point-of-view, of course. He was the only guy in Hawkins that blasted Metallica from his van speakers and didn't care if anyone turned to scoff. He was different.
"You'll find The One, Steve, don't worry so much," Robin said.
Eddie gave the store a once-over before landing his eyes on me. He grinned the widest smile I'd ever seen, and something about it made my stomach joyfully flip. What the hell, I thought. My mother would lock me away in a tower if she knew I'd had even a single thought about Eddie Munson.
For a moment, his eyes focused on me made it seem like he was going to approach the counter, but he turned abruptly and made his way behind the tall stands and into the horror section.
"Says you," Steve said. "I've taken every eligible girl in town out, and nothing, nada. No match."
"What about the girls who come in giggling for you?" I asked.
"Oh god," Robin exaggerated. "I'm starting to think some of them come from out of town to see this dingus." Girls were always coming in to catch a glimpse of Steve "The Hair" Harrington, and he always made sure to be the one to show them around the Family Video, often neglecting any male customer who actually needed help.
Steve shook his head.
"What about Nancy?" Robin asked.
I watched Eddie slowly move from section to section. He looked thoroughly over a copy in the drama section, a title I couldn't see. He held it up to the light as if inspecting a twenty-dollar bill for authentication, dramatically inspecting the box and making faces as he did. I covered the smile on my face when I realized he'd been watching me too because he smiled and turned slightly towards me.
"Yeah, Nancy," I echoed, not fully listening.
"Oh, real funny, guys," Steve said. "Let's bring that up. Let's bring up the greatest rejection of my life. Me for Jonathan Byers. No wait...Jonathan for me. Whatever way. You get the point."
"I'm just saying, Steve-" Robin began again, but I didn't hear much more.
My attention was fully on Eddie now, and he seemed to enjoy it. He was peeking at me from in between the shelves. I covered my mouth again to keep my laughing at bay. For some reason, his blatant watchful eye was making my body feel warm and giddy.
What was he doing anyways? Ten minutes in the place, and he still hadn't chosen a movie. Most customers were out by then or had asked for help. The urge to walk over to him and offer assistance came to me - a strange pull, I'd call it- but I felt if I did, my words would jumble together and leave me looking like an idiot.
He crouched out of view for a moment. Then he sprang out the side and jumped in between another section of shelving like a deranged bunny. This time, I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Steve and Robin, who apparently hadn't seen what I had, both turned to me.
"I'm glad to see someone gets some enjoyment out of my failing love life," Steve said. "I sure as hell can't say the same."
I took a step next to Steve and put the tape I forgot I'd been holding on the counter next to him. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise," I said. "Just had a thought."
"She's gone mental," Robin said. Her finger made a circling cuckoo motion next to her temple.
Steve sighed, letting out a little frustration. He seemed to relax more into his typical self. He'd been so tense lately, like he needed a good shoulder rub and a tub of ice cream, but I could say the same for me. My love life sucked too.
He checked his watch. "Thirty more minutes, and I can go home and sulk."
"Is that Love Story?" Robin asked excitedly. She picked up the copy of the '70s flick and flipped it over to the back cover. "Oh, I love Love Story."
I looked around for Eddie again, but he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment rushed over me, changing my giddy stomach feeling in a snap. Maybe he'd slipped into the adult section. The thought of him watching that stuff made me gag.
"Love means never having to say you're sorry," Robin quoted.
Steve crossed his arms. "What a load of crock."
I tapped him on the shoulder for moral support. I could hear the door bell jingle again. We three turned to look. But it wasn't a new customer, and I watched Eddie disappear into the darkness without getting the chance to even say hello.
"Was someone in here?" Steve asked.
Over the counter, Robin smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "You could learn to pay a little more attention to people without miniskirts."
"I saw the long hair-" Steve started.
"Eddie Munson," I said.
"That freak?"
"He was looking over in the horror section."
Steve scoffed, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Good place for him," he said.
I ignored his remark and the bickering that had started again between Steve and Robin over the movie in her hand, and I listened to the sound of Eddie's van screech off into the night.