Chapter 13: Friday I'm In Love
disclaimer: this chapter contains a scene with mature content. chapter has been edited down from original length due to maturity guidelines, but you may read this chapter in its entirety on Wattpad. scenes below contain descriptions of kissing and touching.
"I don't care if Monday's black
Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack
Thursday, never looking back
It's Friday, I'm in love"
Friday. January 10th, 1986.
POV: Eddie Munson
I left Winter near the threshold of the gymnasium. I should've gone inside and watched her, ready to pull the fire alarm if she started to look uncomfortable or if one of the basketball jocks tried to get handsy. But, I'm not exactly welcome in your typical All-American, apple pie, sports ball environment. Nah, I would only distract her. And tonight isn't about me. I could tell she needed this.
Why? Who knows, man? But she was more determined than I had ever seen her. And she can take care of herself. I'll still sit outside in my van and wait for the game to finish, though, just in case.
I turn around and walk back through the parking lot, throwing my keys up into the air, watching them spin, and catching them again. My shoulder collides hard with some lanky kid in a letterman's jacket. It has the letter B on it instead of an H for Hawkins. He's clearly from out of town.
"Woah, man." I stagger back and put my hands up defensively.
"Watch where you're going freak," he sneers at me.
He has his arm slung around a teenage girl. My eyes drift over to hers and I give her a small smile. She looks at me up, and down; a small sparkle flashes in her eyes.
I've been called a freak most of my life. The word has lost all meaning to me now. What hasn't lost its effect, though, is that every time a jock or a yuppie tries to insult me, their girlfriend stands behind them, undressing me with her eyes. They think I'll be different from whatever Chad or Brad or Thad they walk down the hallway with. They want a troublemaker. And, hey, I'm more than happy to oblige.
I stare at the girl and she stares at me. Suddenly, a hand flies out and collides with my shoulder. I look down at where the kid's palm landed and then slowly back up at him. My head tilts and my eyes squint; did he just try to push me?
I take one step forward, peering down at him. The kid gulps and his hand tightens around the girl.
"Are you alright, man?" I ask him slowly. His head leans back; the girl is trying to wiggle away from his tight grasp. "You should be awfully careful shoving people in dark... desolate parking lots. You never know what kind of people are just lurking around, looking for a fight." My hand rolls, gesturing vaguely to the empty space around us.
My voice is low and theatrical. I find making this poor jock tremble very amusing. Although, I would never actually throw a punch at him. I'm a nonviolent guy, really. But if people make assumptions about me and I decide to lean into it a little, just to make them sweat, who could blame me?
My mouth turns up into a quick smile and the kid looks even more frightened by this.
"Let the girl go, man," I say firmly.
His petrified eyes never leave my own but his death grip around her shoulder suddenly releases. The girl quickly shakes her arm, rubbing at her shoulder, and takes a large step away from him. I hate to make her man look weak in front of her, but she deserves better anyways.
My head slowly tilts toward her and she's staring at me, the sparkle in her eye now a flicker of lust. I chuckle lightly and lean backwards. I exhale slowly and stare at the kid who is waiting for my next move.
I throw one arm out to the side in a wide gesture. He jumps and utters a small eep. His eyes are shut tight, bracing for impact. I look at the girl, and bow slightly, politely stepping aside to move out of her way.
"Enjoy the game," I say to her, pursing my lips into a small smile.
The girl flutters her eyelashes as she struts past me. I turn and clasp my hands around my back, watching her walk away. I turn back to the kid, who is still standing with his eyes clenched shut and his face scrunched up in anticipation. I snap lightly in front of his face.
The kid opens one eye quickly, surprised I haven't clocked him in the jaw. I swing my arm to the side again, motioning him to go ahead. He starts moving slowly sideways with his jaw trembling. I watch him with pity and shake my head. He's almost past me when I lean forward at him in one quick movement, causing him to jump and run ahead to catch up to the girl. I laugh lightly to myself.
The girl casts a longing glance over her shoulder. I give her a wide smile and a small two-fingered wave goodbye. The kid tries to settle an arm over her shoulder again, but she shoves him away, crosses her arms tightly, and speed-walks through the main entrance.
I shrug my shoulders and turn around. I toss my keys into the air again and catch them easily as I walk toward my van.
I approach my beat-up Ford van and tap affectionately on the hood. Winter calls this my serial killer mobile. I call her my noble steed. Or sometimes Debbie Harry, since in my wildest fantasies, I'd drive her all night long. I pull open the driver's door and it creaks loudly. The gunk Winter smeared around the door handle earlier is still sticky around its edges. I chuckle lightly to myself, okay, I did deserve that, well played.
I settle into the driver's seat and look toward the gymnasium. Lights shine from the windows and I can hear the dull roar of the crowd. I can picture Winter in there, her bright eyes carefully scanning the space for the closest emergency exit. I wonder how she's doing.
It's not typical of her to go this far outside of her comfort zone. But, she's shifted ever since her old man died. That first month after his death was scary. Winter moved like a ghost, and her mom was even more shelled out.
Winter would float around their small trailer, trying to clean up the mess her dad left behind. She didn't want to talk to me about it, she didn't want to scream or cry... she just floated. I slept on their couch on and off, trying to make sure she actually slept and ate.
Winter broke down only once after that first day when she screamed and smashed their television set behind my trailer. It was the day after Valentine's and she was tossing books out of the small bookshelf in the corner. She had decided it needed to be reorganized by size instead of alphabetically, which she had done the day before. The funeral preparations had all been made and her mom was sleeping in her bedroom with the aid of prescription medication, so there wasn't anything left for Winter to fuss over. I had tried to get her to go to the movies to watch The Breakfast Club. But, even Molly Ringwald couldn't coax her to leave the trailer.
I sat in the armchair and caught books as they flew out. A dictionary almost collided with my head and I got down on her level, grabbing both of her hands.
"I don't think you need to do this right now," I said cautiously.
She furrowed her eyebrows at me. My hands held hers softly, my thumbs brushed the back of her palms. She stared at me for a second longer, and then roughly pulled her hands away.
She tossed Pride & Prejudice over her shoulder and I caught it before it hit my chest.
I threw Jane Austen on the ground. "Okay, this madness has gone far enough."
I began stuffing books back on the shelves. Winter reached over and pulled them out. We continued like this, stuffing and unstuffing the bookshelf like two children for a few minutes.
She turned to me with anger. "Eddie, stop."
I ignored her and kept pushing books back in, upside down and sideways. I moved faster and used both of my hands.
She sat back watching me. Her eyes darted back and forth, helplessly watching the mess I was making.
"Eddie, please."
I shook my head and didn't look at her, completely focused on putting everything back.
"STOP!" She yelled.
I dropped a book, startled, and slowly looked over to her. Her head was pointed down toward her lap, her hair created a curtain and covered her face. Her shoulders were shaking, droplets fell to her blue jeans.
"Oh... shit. I'm sorry." I moved closer to her and pushed her hair back so it fell behind her shoulder. My hand lingered on her upper back. I could see now she was weeping quietly.
"Winnie..."
She wouldn't look at me. Her hands clutched a paperback copy of a Stephen King novel.
"Winter. I'm sorry," I sputtered, not sure what to do. "Maybe you need to go lie down, okay? Let's get you to your bedroom." My hands lightly squeezed her shoulders, trying to steer her gently away from the bookshelf.
She shook her head violently, still looking down at the copy of Cujo in her hands.
Finally, she spoke in a small voice, "I don't know what else to do."
"What?" I leaned forward.
Her head lifted a little and she looked around at the piles of books, and then at the ones on the shelves that I had haphazardly put away.
"He's just gone," she said. "It isn't fair. That he's just gone."
She stared ahead, vacantly, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
"It's okay," I offered. She didn't need to feel any guilt over her father's death.
"There were so many times that I wished he would just walk out, wished he would leave us. But not like this."
Her voice didn't sound so distant or broken anymore, she was beginning to sound angry.
I kept one hand on her shoulder blade and my hand moved in small circles on her upper back. It felt like the contact was more for me than for her. I was terrified that somehow she would slip away, right in front of me, into whatever sea of grief she was feeling. I needed to hold onto her, to stay with her.
"He's just gone," she repeated. "Isn't that selfish?"
She turned to face me, her eyes were glossy with tears.
"How dare he? No note, no goodbye. After everything, what? He just gets to leave? He just... disappeared. What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Winter... there's nothing you can do. It's not up to you to fix this." My words fell softly upon her uninterested ears.
"She should've left him. We should've left him. We let him terrorize us." Her voice caught and a broken sob pushed out from her throat. "And then he just gets to leave. And we have to stay here. In the place that he put us. And, what? We're supposed to feel happy? Relieved? Free? It's not fair."
She had every reason to be angry. I wished I could take her pain away. I wished it would be as easy as throwing dirt on his casket and never looking back, but the bastard had left his imprint behind.
"I need an answer. I need him to give me an answer, for... for all of it." Her chest rose with angry sobs and her hands twisted the book in her lap. "He doesn't get to disappear. It's not fair-"
I pulled her toward me quickly, my arm wrapped around her shoulders and my face buried in her hair. She leaned against my chest and her body began to shake with sobs. I felt hot tears prick my eyes, my hand covered my mouth as I held her, trying not to make a sound.
There had been so many times before when Winter had climbed through my bedroom window with her hair knotted and her eyes red. She would crawl in my bed and I wouldn't ask any questions, but maybe I should have. Maybe once I hit my growth spurt I should've marched over to her trailer and pushed her old man down on the ground, threatening him to leave Winter and her mom alone. But the truth, the agonizing and depressing truth, was that I was just as helpless as she was. I hated that feeling, that I was powerless to stop it. I hated that all I could do was let her climb under my duvet and read her Tolkein, trying to usher her into sweet dreams instead of nightmares. What good did that do?
Her breathing slowed but I still clutched her to my chest. One of her hands wrapped lightly around my bicep.
Winter spoke softly, "It's not your fault, either, you know that, right?"
A strangled chuckle fell out of my mouth and I sniffed back the tears I had been quietly releasing. It's like she knew exactly what I had been thinking.
"We're just kids," she whispered. Her words floated into the air and I held her tighter.
We were just kids. We shouldn't be carrying the weight of any of this, especially not Winter, who even in that moment worried about my feelings before her own.
"It wasn't your fault," I whispered. "None of it."
"I know that... deep down," Winter said softly, her voice was crackled and shaky. "It was hard to live with him, but I didn't expect it to be harder to live without him."
Winter was used to surviving. She built her whole world around anticipating her father's moods. She could analyze the smallest change in his tone or notice the slightest tug of his mouth. She learned how to live with chaos, how to contain it, and how to prepare for it. She expended so much energy just trying to stay above the waves that now that the sea was finally calm, her exhausted body threatened to sink down to the ocean floor.
"It's okay to rest," I said. "You won't fall apart if you stop moving. And even if you do, I'll be here."
She leant back from my chest and sat up. My hands drifted from her back and settled on her elbows, still keeping her close to me.
She sniffed and wiped her hands across both eyes, clearing away the stream of tears. She looked at the mess around us, at the library that had been turned upside down and its contents spilled across the floor.
"Mrs. Kelley wants me to start meeting with her at school," she said suddenly, glancing at me. "It might be a good idea?"
I nodded in response.
"I don't want you to worry about me, Eddie," she added softly; her eyes moved to the puddle of her tears that stained my shirt above my heart.
"Too bad, kid," I responded, shrugging slowly. "We worry about each other, it's just what we do."
"I think I'll leave this mess," she said. Her foot lightly pushed a stack of books, causing it to wobble.
I raised my eyebrows at her with concern. Winter hates disorganization. Sometimes, when she's hanging out in my room and I'm practicing a guitar solo with my eyes shut tight and my brain scanning the notes in my head, I'll sense her moving around my space. My eyes jolt open to catch her straightening my room, making my bed, and collecting dirty mugs off of my bedside table. She always freezes, caught red-handed, and bolts to the kitchen to try and scrub the dishes clean before I yank them away from her and set them back to where I had abandoned them.
She stared at the mess around us.
"It's an external representation of my psyche," she said, and I let out a surprised laugh. She glanced at me; the tip of her nose was red and her eyes were clear.
"Read this one to me?" She pushed the copy of Cujo against my chest and I took it from her, reading the cover, and then glancing back at her.
"This..." I held up the book and pointed at the cover. "Will make you feel better?"
She turned, facing me now instead of the bookshelf, and settled her legs into a criss-crossed position.
"Yes."
"The story about the sweet, cuddly dog who gets bit by a rabid bat and goes on a murderous rampage?" I asked her again, leaning forward incredulously.
"Yes, I find it comforting."
She shrugged her shoulders and leaned forward on her elbows. She looked like an excited child, ready for a bedtime story. I shook my head at her, but I felt relief wash over me.
She was okay, she would be okay. I opened to the first chapter and began to read out loud.
Eventually, she got better, and now she even seems like she's flourishing.
She's always had a unique way of trusting other people, implicitly. She warmed to me almost immediately, even though I was a scrawny trailer park kid who talked too loud and far too often. At school, too, she floats through the day, taking every moment in stride and never dwelling when the girls in class cast downward glances at her tattered jeans or scuffed shoes.
It's as if nothing really touches her, like she exists inside of a bubble. Like the bubble the good witch floats inside of in the Wizard of Oz. It keeps her safe, happy, innocent. She probably needed that bubble when she was a kid, something to help keep her daydreams and reality separate.
In the past year, Winter has had more space to breathe.
She still has her mom to worry about, but she walks with her head held higher, her steps lighter. I think the bubble is getting thinner and she's starting to open up to others. She's always been vulnerable with me because I understand her, but other people aren't as kind as she believes. I can't tell her this, but I worry she'll put herself in situations hoping for the best only to be completely and totally let down.
But... I'm not going to be the one to burst her bubble. If she wants to go shake pom-poms at a basketball game, who am I to stop her? I'll still keep a close watch, though.
There's no doubt that tonight she certainly looked the part of the spunky cheerleader. I almost didn't recognize her when she stood on my porch. Her usually mousy hair was pulled back, allowing you to look fully into her kind face. Although, she didn't look kind as I stood there like an idiot, half-dressed and totally clueless. She looked pissed. And disappointed. The latter was far worse. I rub my fingertips across my forehead now, wincing in regret at how dumb I acted.
She had every right to yell at me on the drive over here, although I've never been on the receiving end of that level of anger from her before. It was scary... but impressive.
Earlier, I watched from my living room window as Winter walked outside of her trailer carrying a load of laundry. She was smiling to herself, wearing faded Wranglers and a red sweater. She walked by my place and I could hear her humming Holding Out for a Hero, she didn't see me, but I watched as she lightly twirled and skipped without a care in the world. It was nice to see her unburdened for a moment, save for the basket of her mother's laundry perched on her hip.
As far as I'm concerned, she deserves to be happy more than anyone else in the world.
She always puts up with my shit and never complains. I shouldn't have even invited Patti over tonight. It's Friday night. Friday night during basketball season is basically church at the high school. With Bruce Springsteen taking the place of evangelist hymns.
But, still, I called Patti and she arrived not that long after in her Camaro. I smoked in my room and we listened to music. I glanced at the clock around 5:30 and knew Winter would be there soon, knocking on my front door and smiling brightly at me.
We laid on my floor. Patti had her back against my bed and my head rested in her lap. She gently set a cigarette between my lips and I took a slow pull, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers settled into my curls and her nails scratched lightly across my scalp.
Patti was a nice girl that I met at a Corroded Coffin gig. Contrary to popular belief, I don't ever bring groupies back to my place after our shows. Not that we actually have any groupies, unless you count the three old drunk veterans that sit at the bar and complain that music sounded better back in their day. Sure, I'll usually settle on some pretty young thing in the crowd, making eye contact with them as my fingers glide against the wires of my guitar, teasing notes into the air, but that's just good fan service. I'm not actually one for big afterparties. I love music, I love writing and playing, but I'm just a dumb teenager, not Steven Tyler.
Patti found me as we were loading up equipment into the back of my van after the show. I set down the last amp and pulled a pack of cigarettes from my back pocket. Before I could set one in between my lips, a slight hand from the dark plucked it from my grasp. A girl walked towards the open van and sat down between the doors, settling gently onto the carpeted floor. She crossed two long legs clad in black leather shorts and ripped tights; her Doc Martens boots dangled slowly. She leaned back on one hand; the other held the cigarette in front of her face, inspecting it carefully. She slowly gazed up at me through thick lashes.
"These things will kill you," the girl said simply.
I was intrigued, so I moved closer, setting my forearm against the top of the van and looking down at her.
"In my experience, plenty more than that could kill you. Besides, our days are finite anyways... might as well enjoy them." I smiled and sat down beside her in the back of the van.
She looked at the cigarette, then back at me. Slowly, she raised one hand to my chin and brushed a thumb across my bottom lip. She brought the cigarette back to my lips and I opened my mouth, grabbing it with my teeth.
Her red lips pulled back in a smirk. "I'll let you keep this one."
She stood up to walk away and my hand reached lightly for her wrist. My thumb brushed across her skin and felt her pulse throb slowly.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Patti," she said simply.
"Eddie," I said, putting one hand against my chest.
I saw her once more after that and then we were in my bedroom. She had picked up an AC/DC cassette and pushed it into my stereo. "Fly on the Wall" shrieked into the small room.
Patti was nice and uncomplicated. She seemed to like me simply because I was in a band and had a shaggy metal haircut. She didn't care to analyze me or change me, and I honestly didn't care that much to learn her last name. That sounds harsh, but neither of us were interested in a complicated or soul-crushing romance with each other. She's one of the few girls I've ever invited back to my trailer, and I knew it was because she wouldn't ask too many questions or want to get too close to me. She just wanted what was on the surface, and that much I was able to provide.
The song ended and faded into the opening chords of "Shake Your Foundations".
The cigarette sat in between my lips and the smoke rolled upwards. Patti set her hands on either side of my skull, lightly picking up my head and moving it off of her lap. I sat up with a grunt, annoyed to have been disturbed from my comfortable position.
"Put the cigarette out, Eddie," Patti said simply. She sat on her knees, facing me now. I obliged and reached up to my bedside table. I stubbed it out into the glass ashtray.
Slowly, her knees slid apart and she widened her hips. Leaning forward, she placed one knee on either side of me, straddling my lap. My hands rested on her lower back. She placed one hand on the side of my neck; the other pushed my chin upwards. Her lips pressed down hard onto mine.
My hands felt the end of her shirt and ducked underneath it. Slowly, my fingers crept up her back, tracing her spine and pressing my fingertips into her smooth skin. Her hand that held onto my throat slid around to the nape of my neck and buried fingers into my curls, pulling tightly.
Our heads rolled left to right; our lips opened, closed, and met again in a yearning rhythm. My hands slid up further, and I felt the bare skin of her upper back. I pulled away and smiled at her. She leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly against mine, and then dragged them along my jaw, kissed my earlobe, and dipped her head to my neck. I felt her pelvis grind and drag against my lap. She began circling her tongue along my clavicle and sucking at the same spot. My eyes dragged to the right and landed on the small clock by my bed.
5:50 pm.
Shit, I thought. The girl above me moved her fingers deeper into my scalp, her teeth lightly scratched the skin around my tattoo.
My hands slid down her back and lightly squeezed her hips, signaling for her to stop.
Her head pulled back, her red lips parted in a questioning look.
"I've got somewhere to be right around now..." I hesitated. She didn't move. "I promised a friend I'd give them a ride into town, it's important."
She looked around the room, glanced at the door, and then back to me.
She shrugged, "I don't see your friend."
I smiled and squeezed her hips again.
"They'll be here soon, okay?" I tried to lift her off of my lap, but the hand that was still plunged into my hair pulled my head backwards. My head jerked back, colliding with the mattress behind me.
"Soon is long enough," she said seductively. I glanced at the clock and then back to Patti.
I really should be responsible, I should ask her to go so Winter won't be late tonight, I thought.
Patti sensed my hesitation. She grabbed the wrist of my left hand that was set on her hip and dragged it under her shirt, around to her stomach. She pressed my palm firmly against her abdomen. Her eyes never left mine as she guided my hand along the smooth skin underneath her shirt.
She cocked her head and smiled at me, wickedly. My right hand that was still on her waist snaked around her lower back. With one swift motion, I pulled her off of my lap.
"Get on the bed," I said.
I pulled her upwards and kissed her firmly. My mattress squeaked as she slid under the sheet.
I flexed my fingers and began slowly sliding my rings off, letting them clatter and fall into a pile. The clock blinked 5:55 pm.
We're a little pressed for time, but I can make it count.
I settled onto the mattress alongside her and our mouths pressed together in a dazed passion. My tongue traced her neck, licking down to her chest. A soft moan rippled from Patti's throat as my calloused hands, coarse from years of guitar playing, slid across her soft skin, sandpaper against silk.
I pushed up on my hands and met her eyes.
"Are you comfortable with this?" I asked her.
"Absolutely," Patti replied and I grinned devilishly, leaning down and pushing my lips against hers.
I pulled her bottom lip between my teeth and then released it.
Suddenly, a small commotion sounded from the hallway. My head turned towards the door. Patti grabbed my chin roughly and forced my gaze back to her. The silver chain Winter had bought me for Christmas dangled from my neck. I pulled it over my head quickly and tossed it on the nightstand, something about having it on while making out with Patti felt wrong.
Patti wiggled impatiently beneath me. Her foot traced the back of my calf and her leg raised against my hip.
I heard a louder noise now, a bang. My head jerked up.
6:00 pm the clock warned me.
I let out a heavy sigh and landed on my back next to Patti. I sat up and put out one hand to her, signaling to wait. Two sharp slaps sounded against my bedroom door.
"Is that your friend?" She asked acridly.
I listened closely for more noise, but heard nothing. I angrily ran a hand through my tangled hair and looked over to Patti, giving her a small, apologetic smile. She huffed and avoided my gaze, staring with annoyance at the ceiling.
I rolled off of the bed and slapped my hand against the stereo, cutting off AC/DC. I grabbed a blanket that was crumpled on the floor and wrapped it hurriedly around my waist.
I pulled my bedroom door open forcefully.
A girl fell forwards into my bare chest and my hand moved to catch her. Her palm settled against the skin over my heart, and I felt my pulse quicken. She looked up at me with round eyes and a rounded mouth. I stared at Winter for a long moment until her eyebrows rose and she pushed away from me hurriedly, not wanting our skin to be touching any longer.
I remember this scene from earlier tonight as I sit here in my van. I lean back in my seat and let out a frustrated sigh.
"Not one of your finest moments," I grumble out loud to myself.
It's hard having a girl best friend. I do my best to protect her from guys like me, but sometimes, I act like a guy like me. I can't help being a teenage boy. We had successfully avoided an awkward encounter like the one earlier thus far in our friendship, but it was bound to happen someday.
I can't shake the look Winter gave me in the hallway of my trailer. I had known the plan to take her to the game. She reminded me for the fiftieth time this morning, and I promised I wouldn't forget. I even knew, in the back of my head, that she would come knocking as Patti and I tussled in my bed. I didn't stop though. Poor impulse control, I guess.
But, I didn't have to act like such a dick when I opened the door to find Winter standing there, in her cheer uniform, looking up at me with a mix of discomfort and disappointment.
I made her feel bad. My hand slaps the steering wheel, suddenly. I made her feel bad. It was written all over her face. I know in that moment she felt awkward and insignificant, and I stood there, sputtering, angry she had interrupted Patti and I.
That's why I need to stay here and wait. She already forgave me, I think, when I followed her to the entrance to the gym. But I still can't have her mad at me. No, I will sit here and wait. Soon, she'll run across the parking lot back to my van, hop inside, and spill all of the details of her evening. She will be happy and she will forget all about my stupid teen boy antics.
A smaller part of me also hopes she won't have made enough of an impression tonight to catch a ride home with one of the cheerleaders, or, even worse, a jock.
A thought creeps into my brain, I hope she doesn't forget about me.
I'm surprised by the insecurity the thought brings and I shake it away.
No, she wouldn't. Right?
We were kings of the trailer park, that shit runs deep. I look again at the bright lights and hear a loud buzzer. The dull roars turn into wild screams.
The insecurity persists. She's on the inside now, you're still on the outside.
My hand anxiously taps on the wheel as I stare at the gymnasium, waiting for the game to finally end.
Author's note:
Chapter has been edited due to maturity guidelines for this website! If you'd like to read the slightly longer, more mature version... search my fic on wattpad using my username or the story title, go to the chapter titled "Friday I'm In Love", & enjoy!
I'm not able to link the story directly here, but just type in wattpad . com followed by a slash / then past this code 1254217708-hazy-shade-of-winter-eddie-munson-chapter-13 and you will be redirected to the correct chapter
Thank you for reading!