Chapter 4: California Dreaming
"All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray
I've been for a walk
On a winter's day"
Flashback, 1982
POV: Winter Reid
My head bounces against the window in the back seat. The sunlight plays hide and seek in between tree branches as we drive along a mountain road. My forehead pushes against the cool glass and I watch as the terrain around us changes.
My family is driving the long stretch between California and Indiana in our station wagon. The car is moving slowly and pulls my dad's Camaro, which is stuffed with whatever possessions we could fit in it.
It is an unusually quiet ride.
My mom sits in the passenger seat with her bare feet on the dash and holds a map open across her lap. My dad drives with his fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the rhythm of Rosanna by TOTO.
There is an air of hope that floats through the car. It seeps in through the vents and exists in a comfortable silence between us. I worry that the minute someone speaks out loud, it will somehow shatter the dream and bring us crashing back to reality. So, we sit in silence, each of us holding onto the suspended belief that where we are headed will be a wonderful new adventure for us; that things can and will be different there.
We left California under duress, with two months of rent unpaid to our landlord and our family dog, Tarzan, left tied to the neighbors porch. I cried as my dad hauled him across the street by his collar right about dawn the morning we left. He whimpered from the porch, pulling and tugging against the leash that kept him attached to the post. He was mangy and wiry, but he always climbed into my bed during thunderstorms and hid under the covers by my feet.
"We don't need another mouth to feed." My dad had grumbled, walking right past me and ignoring my cries.
My mom sat on our porch swing with her head hung down and her eyes staring at her hands in her lap. I could see her rubbing the tan line on her left ring finger. The simple gold band and diamond that had sat there was pawned the month prior to pay off a foolish sports bet my dad had made. It still wasn't enough, so we were running away from those people, too.
I took one last pass through our home, which looked ransacked by thieves who didn't have enough space in their getaway vehicle to take everything. Family photos still sat on the credenza and dirty plates were left abandoned in the sink. My mom grabbed her favorite painting from the wall, a landscape portrait of a California beach.
She had painted it herself. We would often escape to the shore. My mom sketched on a blanket and watched as I played tag with the rolling foam and screeched with laughter.
My dad was almost finished packing when she walked out with the picture of the blue cove and white, sandy beach from my childhood. He never cared for it and shook his head at it clutched in her hands.
"It's just one thing..." My mom had tried to protest, her fingers curling tightly around the gold frame. My dad yanked it away from her and threw it onto the curb, saying it would take up too much space. He still managed to find room to fit his television set and all of his various tools that he kept methodically in our garage.
My mom looked down at the cracked canvas that lay broken in two on the sidewalk. I watched as she stared at it, the California dream that she had latched onto when she was 17 was now discarded like trash along the curb. She steeled herself away from the painting and wordlessly climbed into the front seat of the car. Her apathetic face peered out of the window and she didn't utter a single word as we crossed the state line.
We had only been in Indiana for one month when the hope that we had each found during that tranquil road trip completely died.
We were staying at my mom's parents house in Indianapolis. They had moved to the city from Hawkins after my mom ran away to California without so much as a goodbye. She didn't look back as she sped out of the state with a newborn daughter and her high school sweetheart.
My grandparents stayed in Hawkins for about a year afterwards. Finally, they could no longer stand the whispers from strangers on the street. They couldn't stand how dinner invitations from their once tight knit group of friends kept getting lost in the mail, or how my grandpa's coworkers regarded him with pity every time he entered a room. A small town isn't the kindest place for anyone who deviates from the norm. The same culture that forced my mother to run away also forced my grandparents to pack up and leave.
Their new home sat on a large lot in a nice neighborhood. It had an above ground swimming pool and a tire swing in the front yard. It was peaceful there for the briefest moment, until my parents' fighting and my dad's sporadic disappearances caused my grandpa to kick us all out.
We packed up again, this time leaving even more belongings behind. My grandma stood barefoot in the driveway and begged my mom to leave me with them. My mom clutched my hand in hers and looked down at me helplessly. I knew that I was her only raft in the tumultuous sea that was her life, so I pulled her hand in front of my chest and stepped behind her. I watched out of the back windshield of our car as my grandparents' house grew smaller and smaller.
With almost no money left, the closest town that my parents knew of was Hawkins. We pulled into Forest Hills Trailer Park in the middle of the night; my mom scooped me up in her arms and placed me gently on a small bed in the second bedroom. She snuggled in next to me, wrapping me tightly in her arms, and began cooing her favorite lullaby.
Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way
I wake up in the morning on a bare mattress. It squeaks beneath my movement gently as I blink my eyes into the unfamiliar space. The room is small, the shelves are bare, and the tiny window reminds me of a square in the wall of a jail cell. My bare feet brush over carpet and tiptoes across cold floor as I walk down the length of the trailer.
In the front room, a kitchen counter with cabinets hanging above it divides the space in between the kitchen and living room. The kitchen is small and modest, with a tiny island and a small dining table with three chairs. I look back over my shoulder into the hallway which showcases three doors that lead into different rooms. One to the master bedroom, one to the tiny bathroom, and one to the back of the trailer, my new bedroom. I squeeze my palms tightly around my elbows, I don't like how dark it is in here.
My parents don't seem to be awake so I step outside onto the front porch. The sun beams down brightly, a stark contrast to the gloomy interior. I notice there aren't any oak trees here to provide shade. There's a lot of dirt, and the Indiana wind blows it up in small puffs. It reminds me of miniature sandstorms.
Outside of the trailer across from mine, there is a boy sitting on an overturned milk crate with a stick in one hand and a pocket knife in the other. He has buzzed hair and is whittling a stick into a spear. His pocket knife slowly and methodically shaves the tip into a point, his tongue pokes out in between his teeth in concentration. I stare at him and, as if he can sense me, his head jerks up. I freeze on the corner of my front porch. I worry he is going to start yelling at me, he seems tough and irritable.
I take a small step backwards, he drops the stick to the dirt next to him.
He stands up quickly and I hesitate one more small step backwards.
The boy's face breaks into a wide grin and he begins to wave one hand enthusiastically. I freeze in confusion as he bounces on his toes, his smile brightens across his face.
I turn around quickly and run inside of the trailer. Crouching low, I move to the window and slowly peek my head up until I catch a glimpse of him again. The boy is still standing outside and stares at the trailer that I disappeared into. His face falls and he kicks a rock by his foot. I suddenly feel bad for running away from him.
My family continues to settle in with unusual harmony for almost two weeks before an argument brews in the small kitchen. My dad had taken to disappearing again, and my mom was hopeless, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come back and hoping he would return with a new job and not another maxed out bar tab.
She was back in her hometown, the one place she swore she would never return to, only now she wasn't in her large childhood home, she was someplace worse. My mom stayed inside of the trailer most days because she was terrified to go down Main Street and run into someone from high school.
The cramped trailer meant my parents didn't have many places to get away from each other, so the screaming started again. My dad kicked it off one afternoon by throwing cardboard boxes around our new home. My mom stood in the living room and tried to catch, dodge, and collect our scattered belongings. I could hear them from the back bedroom, and made the quick decision to climb out of the window in my new room, knowing better than to walk past my dad when he's on a rampage.
I drop out of my window and walk past my trailer. I think about heading towards the woods, but it seems dark and isolated.
Instead, I spot a rusted swing set and move in that direction. I take a seat on one swing and begin to gently push myself. My toes drag forward and back through the weeds.
I fish into the pocket of my sweatshirt for a bag of candy my grandma had bought me before we left her house. I had been holding onto it for almost a month. I think most kids would've ripped it opened and ate the entire bag, but I wanted to save it and try to extend the happiness it gave me.
The bag rattles in my hand and I start to carefully open it when a voice calls out from behind me.
"Is that the candy from ET?"
I jump, nearly dropping the bag. I throw a startled glance over my shoulder.
Standing behind me is the boy from earlier, my neighbor. He is carrying the sharp stick and wears an army green shirt with cut-off sleeves. I stare at him blankly. He smiles, throws his makeshift spear to the ground, and moves to sit on the swing next to mine. I scooch away, but the swing rocks me back toward him. I stare at him with wide eyes, hoping that if I don't make any sudden movements he might leave me alone.
"Y'know-" the boy sticks two fingers out at me and I flinch backwards. "Eeeeee Teeeee. Phoooone. Hoooome".
My eyes cross. I stare at the fingertips this weird boy has pushed into my face. His smile falters, and his hand drops to his lap.
"I don't know what that means." I say softly, looking down at my Keds. I had drawn stars in marker on the toes of them, a cluster of three on the left and five on the right. The imbalance of it quietly hits me, and I make a mental note to add two more stars to my left shoe later.
"What?! It's like the best movie ever," the boy yells.
I jump at the volume of his voice. He is grinning widely now, and I notice that his teeth are perfectly white and straight. My own are crowded and jagged, and soon my parents will be arguing over whether to waste the money on braces.
"You haven't seen it?" the boy asks.
I shake my head slowly, my parents never take me to the movies.
"Oh it's the coolest!" His smile is so wide and a row of dimples pushes out across his cheeks. "Okay, listen, hear me out. So, there's this ship from outer space that parks in the forest and these tiny weird alien dudes walk out, but then they get scared and jump back in their ship and fly away, but they leave behind one of the alien dudes-"
I nod my head slowly. I am stunned by his easy confidence and at how quickly words tumble out of his mouth. I wonder how he doesn't choke on his tongue.
"Then there's this kid, Elliot, and he throws a baseball into a shed and the alien throws it back and he screams. But then he takes this candy-" His finger flies out and pokes the bag in my lap. I clutch it defensively. "And he leaves a trail, like breadcrumbs, but better! And then the alien, he waddles and follows it. He walks like this!" The boy suddenly pushes off of the swing and falls to his knees. He begins sliding on his knees through the grass, wobbling slightly, and looks over at me. "He's super short and wrinkly. And bald!"
I giggle at the ridiculous scene in front of me. He turns and catches the sight of my laugh. Feeling validated, he launches back into the plot of the movie.
"So the alien starts copying the kid who found him and they have this like mental connection, and oh, yeah, Elliot has a sister and a brother, too. There's this scene where Elliot calls his brother penis breath-"
A loud laugh bursts out from my throat and the boy seems surprised by the sound.
He grins widely and moves closer towards me, still kneeling.
"So, they have to hide ET, that's the name of the alien, and they dress it up and go trick or treating. I don't really remember what happens after that, but at the end, Elliot is racing on his bike away from these super bad guys and ET uses his mind powers to make the bike fly! It flies. In the air!"
I'm fully invested now, and I can't help but smile.
He lets out a deep sigh, "Then ET goes back with his alien family and his heart glows in his chest, and Elliot is sad but then a rainbow shoots across the sky - like everything is going to be okay."
He sits on his knees in front of my sneakers and throws both hands out in a ta da motion.
"Wow", I say. "That sounds badass."
His grin shines out from his face. On first glance, he looks intimidating, but his brilliant, goofy smile melts whatever preconceived notion I had of him, and I feel myself beginning to trust him implicitly.
He sticks out a hand softly, "I'm Eddie Munson."
I wrapped my hand around his and shake it slowly, "Winter."
"What?" He tilts his head.
I point to my chest, "My name is Winter."
"Woah! That's a cool name!"
I smile with my lips pushed together tightly. He stands up and sits on the swing next to me.
"So, now that I've told you the entire plot of Steven Spielberg's new movie, can I have some of those?" He points again at the candy.
I narrow my eyes, "Hmmm... I don't think you've earned them yet. For all I know, you could've made up every detail in that story you just told, even the penis-breath part."
He laughs out loud, "I'm not that clever, trust me."
I rip open the bag and pour the orange, yellow, and brown candies into my palm. I dump them in my mouth and chew. The peanut butter melts on my tongue.
"Come on!" He pleads. "I'd sell my soul for those, my uncle never lets me buy candy." He kicks a clump of weeds with the heel of his black boots.
"Okay, deal." I say, offering the open bag of Reese's Pieces to him. He looks confused for a moment. "I, Winter Reid, accept the purchase of your soul, Eddie Munson."
He doesn't react for a second, but then breaks into a smile.
"Right on!" He tips the bag into his mouth, causing some of the pieces to cascade and fall to the dirt below us. I stare down at the wasted ones, a little annoyed but mostly in awe of this kid's total and utter carelessness. I care far too much so I find him kind of refreshing.
I giggle and watch as he munches on the candy. He turns and looks a little embarrassed.
He passes the bag back to me, "Sorry."
I dig my hand in and took a few more for myself. I am giggling more now, thoroughly amused by him, "Sorry for what?"
"My uncle says sometimes I come on too strong, like a wild bull let out of a gate at the rodeo." My eyebrows raise at his metaphor. "You're just the first kid I've seen here - well, the first I've seen since this older kid, Billy Stimms, left to live with his aunt in Michigan two years ago. I guess I got too excited," he smiles sheepishly. "Did you just move in?"
I nod and look back to the trailer that is my new home; it is small and damp and dark.
Eddie Munson seems to recognize my expression. He leans over and puts his face in front of mine.
"It's not that bad here, y'know?" He says. "I run around all the time, the woods over there are cool to explore, and there's always funny people here, doing weird stuff. You can hang out with me! We'll be the kings of the trailer park. Or queens? King and queen?"
"Kings of the trailer park," I repeat. "That sounds nice."
I look at him and can tell that my loneliness matches his exactly.
He grins widely, "So where did you come from, Winter?"
My name sounds sweeter on his lips.
"California. My mom is from here and we had to move back because my dad lost his job, so my mom thought maybe we could stay with my grandparents but... that didn't last." The truth flows out easily as I sit next to this boy and I'm surprised that I don't feel embarrassed sharing any of this with him.
"California? That's where Elliot is from! Have you ever seen a spaceship?" He asks.
I laugh at his question. We take turns passing the bag of Reese's pieces and Eddie gives me a brief overview of life in Hawkins until the sun begins to set.
My dad walks out onto the porch and yells, "Winter! Get your scrawny ass in here. You need to help your mother with dinner!"
I stand up obediently and hand what was left of the bag to Eddie. He looks up in surprise and takes it appreciatively. He smiles down at the candy. I start walking towards my trailer and hear him call out from behind me.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" He sounds apprehensive, as if he's waiting for me to scoff and ignore him.
I turn around and yell back, "Sure, why not?"
I smile at him fully without hiding my crooked teeth and he grins back widely. I run to my front door; the boy's charming face is seared into my brain.
Author's Note:
I imagine Winter found the dog as a stray in her neighborhood and then named it after the movie that came out in 1981. She probably kept it in her family's basement and fed it table scraps... then snuck it up to live in her room without telling her parents. Tarzan was a companion to her and they would often take long walks through their neighborhood to avoid confrontations at home. Just another piece of her childhood that she had to leave behind in California :(
great quote from Tarzan (1981): I don't dislike men. I envy them. I envy your freedom. I resent not having the same.
yeah, that pretty much sums up the gender envy I have watching Stranger Things or any other male centric coming of age 80s film :)
links for this chapter:
2002 Reese's Pieces ET Commercial watch?v=ikDt8gxWnSs
California Dreamin' – The Mamas & The Papas on the Ed Sullivan Show watch?v=tNlwimUxUME (Michelle Phillips eating a banana is so iconic)