Lib

Naturally I found myself gravitating towards the pregnancy and well-baby section in the library. I surreptitiously skimmed through What to Expect When You're Expecting a few times while shelving and looked through the Central Indiana directory for clinics. Found a few, too.

But it was hard. I loved Eddie and I could see a future with him, that was certain. I just wasn't sure if we knew each other well enough yet to consider a family. I still had things I wanted to do, like travel, and I knew Eddie probably had a few goals as well that might not mesh with parenthood.

Mom was a big support. "It's not easy. You and Just were planned. I wanted children, and your father . . . well, he wanted a green card. We worked it out and when the time came for him to go home to Holland, he did."

I sighed. "Not quite the same thing."

"No, but I DO understand about difficult decisions," Mom pointed out. "You're not alone."

"I know, I just—I don't want to choose," I admitted. "To have to make a choice."

"You may not have to," Mom reminded me. "But in the event you do, we're all here for you."

And that I did appreciate.

Ms Longstreet the head librarian had helped me apply for a full-time position back in August, and Hawkins City Hall finally called to let me know I'd been hired. This was great news since that meant I'd be getting benefits as well as a full-time position starting in January.

We celebrated with a brisket and some summer peach pie for dessert, and then Eddie took me to the movies. We settled in on a horrible one called 'Challenge of the Ninja' that was so badly dubbed we kept laughing. Eventually we gave up on the film and walked out, holding hands. Or mittens anyway.

Eddie and I walked the perimeter of the town square, feeling the chill and crunching the last of the autumn leaves underfoot.

"So, I've been thinking about our um, situation," he told me. "Kind of a lot."

"Yeah?" I encouraged him.

"Yeah. And what I think is . . . I love you, and us, and I want . . . to get married."

Stunned, I looked at him. "You do?"

He gazed at me, and I could see all the emotions in his expression: love, fear, hope and tension. Those brown eyes of his never could hide his feelings. "Yeah."

It was easy to slip my arms around him and hug him tightly. "Me too," I assured him. "But NOT before we know. I'm not going to marry you just to save face or anything."

Eddie laughed. "Man, you drive a hard bargain, Ms Haberstein, but okay. Not before we know. But after, right?"

"After," I agreed. "If we both agree, then yes. Tentatively."

He broke into a huge grin, dropping kisses all across my face before murmuring in my ear, "God, thank you for saying yes! Really didn't wanna fuck that up!"

"Well, you're still going to have to do it officially at some point," I pointed out. "On one knee, ring, fancy speech . . ."

Eddie snickered. "You first, babe."

"Ha! Fine! When you least expect it . . ." I threatened and hugged him again. We headed back just as the first flakes started to fall and I felt giddy, curling up with him that night as the snow piled up all over Hawkins and vicinity.

Eddie

Now that I had Lib's agreement on getting hitched, I felt a lot better about the future. We might have a baby or we might not, but at least we had each other in a more formal commitment sometime down the road.

A year ago, I'd be freaking out. The whole insane idea of being a husband and dad would have had me shaking my head and nopeing the fuck out, not my bag, no way in hell.

Not. Dad. Material.

Barely boyfriend. Material. If we're honest. I have no illusions about my status. I'm not Harrington, with money and charm to throw around, and most of Hawkins already has an opinion about my future prospects. I'm working on changing that, but some people aren't gonna be swayed, like the clerk at the pet store, who followed me and Just up and down the aisles muttering about shoplifters.

"What's her problem?" Just asked me at the time.

"Me," I told him.

Just made it a point to count out all the money out loud when we paid for the turtle food. "There, so you know we're not stealing," he told her with a frown. "We didn't steal last time, and we aren't going to steal next time either."

"I never said you did, young man," the old lady snapped at him, but I could see how red her face was.

"You follow us. Only us out of everybody in the store," Just reminded her. "That's how you say it without words."

I remember high-fiving him outside the store for that.

Anyway, my point is that since last year, I've . . . changed. A lot more than I realized. Most of it good, like having a family and good food, but also in that I had . . . stability. That's the damned word. Stability. I knew what I was doing today, and what I'd be doing tomorrow. I wasn't worrying about having our power cut off, or running out of gas, or scrounging with expired cans of chili.

Never going back to that. No way. There was a time in my life when besides Wayne, the most important thing in my life was my guitar.

Sounds pathetic when I say it now, but it's true. I couldn't see myself making it to thirty or beyond. People like me—the ones on the edge of society—we get slammed early in life. Arrested or addicted or abused. All the ones that start with the letter A, right? We're completely expendable. Low value.

But not now, baby. And you know what? I like the change. I'm good at taking care of things, from chickens to septic tanks to waffles. Misty was teaching me some simple weaving, and I was showing Just how to play guitar. Sometimes Wayne hosted his poker buddies down in his basement room and all of it was good.

I bought a ring. Made a down payment on it anyway. It's not like I have credit or anything, but the little jewelry store over by the Melvald's is run by a friend of Mrs. Byers, and when I mentioned to her I was looking for a ring, she took me next door on her lunch break and introduced me to Simon Berg.

He was old. Older than Wayne. When He shook my hand, I realized he . . . had a line of numbers tattooed on the inside of his forearm.

"So, a ring! Mazel tov," he rumbled at me, and I blushed.

"Thank you," I mumbled. "I don't have a lot, but I do have a steady job, and I'm over twenty-one so I can sign for myself," I told him.

"That's good. Is this for an engagement?"

I looked at Mrs. Byers, who was giving me a smile. "Yes, but you can't tell anyone yet, okay? It's not, like, official."

Something flickered in her gaze, and she looked like she understood a lot more than I'd actually said. "Ah. Gotcha," she agreed.

Mr. Berg nodded. "All right then. We have some solitaires . . ."

In the end I was so glad she was there, helping me. I didn't know anything about cut or clarity or any of that shit, but Mrs. Byers and Mr. Berg had a great time sort of bargaining-haggling until we ended up agreeing on a half carat diamond in a gold band for about eight hundred. I put down two hundred and walked out, feeling kind of giddy.

So this is what leveling up felt like in real life.