It was five o'clock on a Friday evening at Spin City Records and Max was thinking about sex. Specifically sex with Mike. Her boyfriend. Mike, her boyfriend. It still felt wild to say even three weeks later. They hadn't done it yet, and she was pretty sure wanted to, but she would have to wait a little bit longer. It was the last day before the Memorial Day long weekend and Mike had had to leave immediately after school with Nancy since they were visiting their grandparents in Cleveland.
Max was feeling extra pathetic that she missed him already, but ever since their post-pool escapades the week prior she was like an addict—every time they were in the same room together she was all over him. She didn't know what came over her, she just needed to have him right away.
She continued the monotonous task of pricing records while her thoughts drifted back to when they'd crossed paths in the school library yesterday.
The bell signalling the end of first period had just rung and Max pushed against the crowd, deciding she was going to go out of her way and walk through the library because she knew Mike cut through there after Algebra on his way to English Lit.
The bus for school had been late that morning so she hadn't gotten a chance to see him before class, and she'd found herself completely unable to concentrate on her bio quiz.
She smiled to herself when she remembered how Mike had reassured her that next year when Nancy was gone and he'd have the car he'd pick her up every day, even though it was pretty far out of his way. Goodbye slow, noisy, bumpy school bus that always somehow smells like feet and Cheetos dust.
Max pushed through the swinging doors and entered the muffled quiet of the library. She looked around, raising her eyebrows when she saw that the elderly librarian had her nose buried in what Max was pretty sure was a steamy romance novel, judging by the bosomy woman being thrown over the shoulder of a surprisingly buff werewolf on the cover.
A few other students were passing through and a handful of others were seated at the tables, hunched over and silently working on homework or studying. Then the doors at the opposite end of the room swung open and Mike walked through, backpack hanging from one shoulder while he scrutinized a piece of paper in his hand. Max felt her stomach flip at the sight of him. He's literally just wearing shorts and a Pink Floyd sweatshirt and you're falling to your knees? Get a fucking grip, the voice in her head scolded. Max didn't care. She glanced over at the dimly lit corner of the Reference section and a crazy impulse came over her that she just decided to go with. She stalked towards Mike determinedly and grabbed his elbow.
He flinched at the unexpected contact, his hand flying to his chest. "Jesus, Max," he breathed. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry," she smirked as she dragged him behind her, weaving through the stacks until they reached the last aisle which appeared to house the car manuals.
Mike furrowed his brow as he glanced around at the shelves. "What are you-"
"Shh, Wheeler," Max chastised, "this is a library." She reached the back wall and turned around, pulling him towards her by his belt loops and leaning up to kiss him. He seemed to hesitate for exactly two seconds before giving in and kissing her back fervently, his math quiz fluttering to the ground as his hands came to rest on either side of her neck. She sucked on his bottom lip and pulled him closer, one hand grabbing at the collar of his sweatshirt and the other sneaking under the fabric and up his back, her nails gently scraping over his skin.
Mike wrapped a hand around her ponytail and yanked it back firmly, his mouth immediately zeroing in on the exposed skin of her neck. Max swallowed a whimper, her pulse fluttering beneath his tongue as desire spread through her, and she felt weak in his arms as he backed her into the shelves, pinning her there with his body. God, she loved that he was tall—it made her feel delicate in a feminine way, which would normally make her roll her eyes, but it just really turned her on so she didn't bother to analyze it any further.
He shoved his leg between her thighs and planted his hands on the shelves behind her before leaning in next to her ear. "Is this what you wanted, Max?" Mike asked in a low voice that made her shiver. "You're so horny you couldn't even wait until after school?"
Max nodded her head and clung to him as he reached between them to undo her denim shorts, and then he slid his hand down under her panties, raising his eyebrows when he felt how wet she already was.
Her head fell back against the spines of the books as she thrust herself against Mike's hand, teeth grinding together in a struggle to remain silent. His fingers slid messily through her folds, briefly circling her opening before slipping easily inside. The bell signalling the start of the next period rang but neither of them made any kind of move to stop—this was so worth being late. Max breathed rapidly through her nose while he watched her through hooded eyes. It was so, so much better than when she did it to herself.
Mike had always been a quick learner, and with Max's insatiable lust for him they'd already had a lot of practice, and now he knew exactly how to touch her. He was honestly getting a little smug about it, but she couldn't find it in herself to be annoyed. He set a steady rhythm with his fingers and Max felt her eyes rolling back in her head, and then when he curled them slightly forward there was no chance of stopping the high-pitched moan that escaped her mouth.
Mike chuckled and covered her mouth with his free hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb as he continued pumping his fingers into her. "Shh," he whispered, his voice rough next to her ear. "This is a library, Mayfield."
"Earth to Max?"
"Huh?" Max forcibly pulled herself from her daydream, looking up and meeting the concerned look on Wayne's face.
"You've priced that same album like five times now…" he said, nodding at the record in her hand. She glanced down at the collage of identical orange stickers stacked on top of each other.
"Sorry," she let out an awkward laugh, "I guess I was distracted." Jesus, apparently she was an addict because she and Mike hadn't even been apart for more than a few hours and she was already having withdrawals.
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you go take your break?"
"Yeah, okay," Max nodded, knowing what she really needed was a cold shower. She filed away the record she was holding and walked towards him to leave the pricing gun on the counter.
He cleared his throat before she could turn away. "So uh, how's the boy?"
"The boy?" Max eyed him incredulously. "Wayne, you know his name is Mike. He's literally here all the time."
"Hm," Wayne grunted, seemingly unaccepting of that detail. "He treat you good?"
Max felt her cheeks turning red and she suddenly wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She'd been pretty sure Wayne had had his suspicions about her and Mike for a while, but they were confirmed when he'd popped into the store unexpectedly on Wednesday evening and caught Mike sliding his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. The two of them had jumped apart immediately and they all pretended like nothing had happened, but she still couldn't look Wayne in the eyes for the rest of the shift. And now it seemed he was trying to give her some kind of parental talk? Kill me now.
"'Cause if he's not you let me know and I'll teach him a lesson," Wayne continued, pretending he was sorting through the stack of new flyers.
"Teach him a lesson?" Max laughed. "Okay, Vito Corleone. What are you gonna do, put him in the trunk of your car? Drive him out to the docks?"
Wayne chuckled but then shook his head sternly. "I'm serious, kiddo. If he does anything-"
"Wayne. He's good to me, I promise," she said firmly. "And if he wasn't, you know I'd kick his ass harder than you would." Before Wayne could object, the bell above the door jingled and they turned to look at the new customer.
"Dustin?"
"Max?" Dustin glanced around the store in surprise. "You work here?"
"Um, yeah, for a few months now," Max replied.
"You know him?" Wayne asked.
"Yeah, he's a… friend," she said, unsure if she could still call Dustin that after everything that had happened. Wayne raised an eyebrow. "He's just a friend."
"You said that about the other one and look how that turned out," he pointed out. Max pursed her lips and gave him the finger.
"Me and Max?" Dustin threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Oh no, sir. As much as I'm sure she would love to get a piece of this, I am in a loving and committed relationship with one Suzanne Bingham. In fact, I'm currently in search of a copy of the 1974 studio version of Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for our one-year anniversary, because last summer-"
"Okay," Max cut him off before he could launch into the oft-told tale of their magical science camp romance. "Well I was about to go on my break but… do you wanna come hang out for ten minutes and then we can search through the Musicals section for your housecoat thingy?"
Dustin rolled his eyes. "It's Dreamcoat, but alright."
Max led him through the store and out into the back alley, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down when she was hit with the cool evening air. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket and reflexively held it out, offering one to Dustin.
"Um, no thank you," he said, a look of disgust on his face. "Smoking's really bad for you."
"Yeah I know," she grumbled, shoving the pack back into her pocket without taking one. Dustin took a seat on the milk crate and she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms behind her, tilting her head to the side to look at him. "Still singing Suzie to sleep, Dustybun?"
"Haha," he replied sarcastically. "Sometimes." Max chuckled and looked up at the clouds gathering in the sky, hoping she wouldn't get caught in the rain on the way home.
"So, you and Mike?" he asked after a few seconds.
Max nodded, unable to suppress the grin that was tugging at the corners of her lips. "Me and Mike."
Dustin picked up an oval-shaped rock from the ground and weighed it in his hand. "You haven't killed each other yet, so I presume things are going well?"
"I mean he's still a pain in the ass but, yeah. Things are really good," she replied, watching as Dustin tossed the rock toward an empty paint can that was sitting next to the dumpster, missing it by a few feet.
"Well that's good," he nodded. "It would be a shame if our whole group fell apart for nothing."
Max winced. "I hate how that all went down."
"How did it even happen?" he asked, looking up at her. "I mean I know what Mike told us, that he was in a bad place after El and you guys just started spending all your time together…"
She shrugged, thinking back to the early days of their tentative friendship. "He was… annoyingly persistent in hanging out with me, and I guess I got used to having him around and then I realized he's kind of great."
Dustin nodded understandingly. "Mike and his hero complex."
"I know, right?" Max exclaimed, sliding down the wall into a squat and resting her elbows on her knees. "He gets so offended when I bring that up but-"
"Oh, he definitely has one," Dustin chuckled, shaking his head. "Always the paladin."
She took a deep breath. "Honestly- and don't tell him this because he doesn't need a bigger ego, but he kind of did save me." Dustin raised his eyebrows skeptically. "He was just there for me, and he was a good listener and it really helped me to talk about all my… shit." She huffed out a laugh. "And like, he's such a nerd that he's influenced me into doing my homework all the time and now my grades are so good the teachers think I'm involved in some elaborate cheating scheme," she said, exhaling sharply through her nose. "I dunno, before I was just trying to get from one day to the next, but now I'm like… living again?"
"Wow, dude," Dustin said, shaking his head. "You've got it bad."
"What? No!" Max furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose. "Not worse than you and Suzie."
His jaw dropped and he pointed his finger at her. "You just did his face!"
"What?"
"Mike's disgusted face, you just looked exactly like him!" Dustin guffawed.
"No I didn't!" she protested, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest.
"You're doing it right now!"
Max deliberately relaxed her face and shot Dustin a murderous look as he continued to fall apart laughing. "Shut up," she grumbled, kicking gravel at his colourful sneakers.
"Do you think you could ever be friends with Lucas again?" he asked after his laughter died down. Max chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn't really feel mad at Lucas anymore. She didn't really feel anything except sad that he and Mike still weren't speaking.
"I hope so. He said some shitty things to me, but then again so did I… I dunno, if he can get over it then I don't see why not. We had a lot of fun, we just didn't work out as a couple." She picked up a rock from the ground and threw it, hearing a satisfying clink when it landed in the paint can. "I really do wish he and Mike would make up though."
"Me too," Dustin sighed. "It's not just you, by the way. They have some… unresolved issues from before. Some things they always butted heads about."
Max chuckled. "They are both stubborn as hell. Now they won't even be in the same room together."
He nodded slowly, a smile spreading over his face after a few seconds. "Unless they had no choice…"
She looked over at him sharply. "Uh oh. Are you scheming?"
"Maybe…" Dustin said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Max shook her head and laughed. "Leave me out of it. I am done with that whole… triangle situation." She checked her watch and saw that her break was pretty much over. "Okay," she said, holding out a hand to help Dustin up, "let's go get Suzie her Amazing Tie-Dyed Dreamcoat."
"You know that it's technicolour," Dustin grumbled, adjusting his hat as he followed her back inside.
With Mike out of town, Max had made plans to spend the weekend with Rachel, and one of the things on her to-do list was introducing her friend to the wonderful world of horror movies, which surprisingly didn't bother her, considering everything that had happened over the past two years. Something about knowing it was all just props and makeup was strangely comforting.
They hadn't actually seen each other outside of school since their pool break-in as Rachel had been busy with her extracurriculars and studying, and Max had been busy with work and hooking up with Mike, and she found she was actually missing some girl talk.
Rachel parked her convertible outside of Family Video, and the girls were making their way toward the door when Rachel gasped and grabbed Max's forearm, yanking her forcibly to the side.
"Oh my god!" she whispered, ducking behind a Teen Wolf poster in the window.
"What?" Max peeked around the poster in confusion for a second before Rachel tugged her back down into a crouch.
"Steve. Harrington," she enunciated slowly.
Max rolled her eyes and straightened up. "Oh."
"Oh?" Rachel widened her eyes. "He's so fucking dreamy."
"Meh."
She gave Max an unimpressed look and poked her in the shoulder. "Oh come on, I know your type is more 'emaciated young Mick Jagger slash Victorian ghost boy', but you can't deny he's objectively a hottie."
Max shrugged and turned back towards the door. "Can we just go inside?" she asked as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.
"No wait-" Rachel tried to stop her but Max was already walking into the store, giving Robin a wave when she spotted her behind the counter before beelining for the horror section in the back.
"Well, well, well." Max nearly jumped out of her skin when Steve popped out from behind a cardboard cutout of Sylvester Stallone as Rocky. "If it isn't Max Mayfield."
"Hey, Steve," Max said as she swerved around him and resumed her course.
Steve jogged ahead to cut her off and leaned against the shelves, blocking her path. He tilted his head to the side and smirked down at her. "A little birdy told me you caused quite the shitstorm in your little friend group."
She rolled her eyes. "Does the little birdy have underdeveloped teeth and a stupid curly mullet that I'm going to shave off in his sleep?"
"Don't get mad at Henderson for giving me the juicy Hawkins High gossip," he said, wagging his finger. "I need to stay in the loop."
"Why?" Max crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be out sowing your wild oats and making friends your own age?"
A stricken look crossed Steve's face as he opened and closed his mouth in shock. "I- I will not be interrogated in my place of work!" he exclaimed indignantly. Then his gaze went behind Max's shoulder to Rachel, and as if a switch had been flipped he ran a hand through his hair and a disarmingly charming grin spread over his face. "What are you ladies looking for this fine afternoon?" he asked suavely.
"Max is gonna make me watch one of her freaky horror movies," Rachel replied in a breathy voice, flipping her hair over her shoulder and sticking her hand out. "Hi, I'm Rachel."
"Steve," he said, shaking her hand.
Rachel giggled. "I know."
Max rolled her eyes and began perusing the horror movies while Rachel turned on all her charms and began flirting like her life depended on it. She grabbed copies of The Evil Dead and Nightmare On Elm Street and shoved them into Rachel's hands before continuing to browse.
"Oh, I don't know about this one, Max," Rachel said, looking down at Freddy Kreuger's blade hand on the cover. "It might be too scary." She looked up at Steve and batted her eyelashes. "If only there were a man around whose shoulder I could hide in…"
"Jesus Christ," Max muttered under her breath, glancing up at the nauseating pair. "She's sixteen, Steve."
Steve jerked his hand from where it had been resting on the shelf in order to box Rachel in with his arm. "Ah, um…" he stammered as he ran a hand through his hair and then glanced towards the back of the store as if he'd heard something. "What was that, Rob? Be right there!" he called out, earning a confused eyebrow raise from Robin who had been sorting through the returns bin.
"Sorry ladies, Robin'll help you at the cash when you're ready, I gotta go handle… something in the back," he clumsily explained as he started backing away. "Good seeing you Max, and uh, nice meeting you Raquel."
"It's Rachel!" Rachel called out defeatedly, shoulders slumping as Steve practically ran away. She whirled around and punched Max weakly in the arm. "What the fuck, dude? I was in!"
Max chuckled and shook her head, adding Poltergeist to the stack in Rachel's hands before flicking her lightly between the eyebrows. "Thou shalt not be jailbait, Rach."
A few hours later they were in Rachel's smoke-filled room seated cross-legged on the floor while a Blondie album played from the stereo. Rachel had been trying to teach Max how to play chess, but Max had little interest in tedious games of strategy, and the bong they were passing back and forth had not been helping. Diana was curled up on her lap, snoring lightly while Max ran her fingers through the soft white fur.
"Nope, you can't make that move," Rachel said, moving Max's horse-shaped piece back to where it had been.
"What?" Max threw her head back in exasperation. "Why?"
"Because the knight can only move like this," Rachel explained patiently, moving the piece in an "L" shape.
"This game is dumb," Max grumbled, crossing her arms and pouting like a child.
Rachel snorted as she studied the board. "Yeah okay, it's only existed since the 15th century and is considered a game for intellectuals and brilliant strategic thinkers. Sorry babe, chess is fucking cool." She moved a piece and leaned back, a smug grin appearing on her face. "Checkmate."
Max stared down at the bored uncomprehendingly. "I'm not gonna even pretend I know what just happened," she sighed. "Pass the glass." Rachel picked up the bong that was sitting next to her and held it out to Max along with the lighter. She lowered her mouth to the opening of the bong and flicked the lighter on, causing Diana to give an unimpressed chirp and jump off her lap.
"So," Rachel said as she gathered her chess pieces and dropped them into a velvet bag, "how are things going with tall, dark and nerdy?"
Max exhaled a smoke cloud and rolled her eyes. "They're good."
"Mhmm…" Rachel shifted so she was laying on her stomach and propped her chin up in her hands. "And?"
"And what?" Max asked, sprawling out on her side and raising an eyebrow.
"C'mon, give me the juicy details," Rachel begged. "I'm dying for some. Lord knows I've been going through a dry spell," she added with a sigh.
"What about Phil?"
She shrugged. "Meh, we weren't feeling the chemistry this time around. Now if only someone hadn't ruined my chances with Steve Harrington…"
Max laughed and took another bong hit. "Well, I'm pretty sure he's still in love with Mike's sister anyway."
"What about that senior girl he's always hanging out with? The one who also works at the video store."
"Ah, I get the feeling that he's not exactly her type, if you know what I mean," Max said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
"Ohh," Rachel nodded slowly as comprehension dawned on her face. Then her gaze zeroed back in on Max. "Anyway, stop changing the subject and tell me what Mike's dick looks like."
Max dropped her head to the carpet and groaned. "Oh my god, I am not telling you about that."
"Aha!" Rachel exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. "So you have seen it."
"Okay, okay, yes," Max conceded, rolling onto her back and staring at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the colours blurring like a kaleidoscope in her drug-addled mind. "We've been like… rounding the bases but-"
"You're ready for a grand slam?"
"Rach," Max groaned, covering her face in embarrassment, "but yes," she mumbled into her hands.
"Oh my god!" Rachel squealed, throwing a furry purple pillow at Max. She grabbed it and pressed it to her face until she couldn't breathe, and then she slid it under her head, cheeks still warm from being put on the spot like this. "Does he make you…" Rachel trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Oh, yeah."
Rachel smirked. "Alright, Wheeler. See, the nerdy boys are always surprisingly proficient at getting you there." She reached for the bong and took a hit. "They're so like, analytical about it," she said as she exhaled.
"Uh huh," Max nodded as she thought back to the other day when she'd been sprawled out on the Wheeler's basement floor while Mike endeavoured to find out how many times he could make her come before Nancy got home from the school newspaper. It turned out it was three.
Rachel rolled over to the mini fridge next to the TV and grabbed two Diet Pepsi's, tossing one to Max before cracking her own open. "So," she said, taking a sip, "why haven't you done the deed yet?"
Max took a long gulp of her soda and savoured the feeling of the cold, sweet liquid in her uncomfortably dry mouth. "I dunno, we've always been kinda rushed or like, expecting his parents or sister to come home at any second," she shrugged. "I feel like it's supposed to be this big perfect moment, right?"
Rachel wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't have to be."
"Well, what was your first time like?"
"Oh," she took another bong hit and blew the smoke out the side of her mouth, "well I'd just turned fourteen."
Max raised her eyebrows in shock. She hadn't even kissed a boy until she was fourteen. "Jesus, Rach, that's pretty young."
"Probably," Rachel shrugged. "Anyway, my mom's best friend's father had just died and they were sitting shiva at their house, which is basically the Jew version of a wake but it lasts seven days and friends and family filter in and out and spend hours there. The only other kid there my age was her son, Elliott, who I kind of grew up around and knew from synagogue. We got bored of sitting around and listening to the grown-ups talk so we went down to his basement to watch tv and then we got bored of that… and then one thing led to another and we were doing it on the floor under the pool table," she explained matter of factly, taking another sip of her drink.
"It was… fast. But nice? I'm glad it was with someone I'd known my whole life and I didn't do it with some random older guy who was taking advantage of me, you know?"
Max blinked. "You lost your virginity on the basement floor during a funeral, while your parents were upstairs?"
"Okay," Rachel held a finger up and tucked her legs under her so she was sitting on her knees. "First of all, I hate the term 'lost' when referring to virginity. I didn't lose anything, I didn't feel like I gave some huge, special part of me away to this boy, you know? Like I'm not a different person than I was before I let some coin-collecting little dweeb stick it in me," she exclaimed, gesticulating wildly with her hands. "And like, what is virginity anyway? It's so arbitrary. Like, are lesbians who never have a penis inside them virgins forever? No. It's Freudian fucking bullshit."
Rachel took a deep breath to calm herself followed by another hit of her bong. "Sorry," she exhaled, waving the smoke away. "I got carried away there. My mom is a diehard second-wave feminist who worships at the altar of Gloria Steinem, so she's been passing down her book club books to me since I got my first period."
"Hey, I'm loving this," Max said, raising her hands. "You know I'm not about gender norms."
"That's my girl," Rachel smiled. "Now, do you have condoms?"
Max felt herself blushing again. "Um, no."
"I got you," Rachel said. She set the bong down on the chessboard and walked over to her dresser, rifling around in the top drawer and producing an unopened pack of Trojans. She tossed it to Max who inspected the box, reading the guarantees of reduction of risk of pregnancy and diseases. She gulped, thinking about the size of Mike's dick. Would it hurt? She didn't even like using tampons if she didn't have to.
"You know how to use them?"
Max nodded. "We did the banana thing in health class last term."
"Perfect." Rachel clapped her hands together. "Now let me tell you all about how the hymen is essentially a myth."
Max left the Switzer's house on Sunday afternoon with a backpack full of condoms and way more detailed knowledge about sex positions than she ever really wanted.
Once she got home she was relieved to see that her mother was out, likely covering someone's shift at the grocery store. She felt the familiar itch of nicotine withdrawal gnawing at her so she took a seat on the front steps and pulled out her lighter and cigarettes, realizing when she flipped it open that she'd been on the same pack for almost two weeks now.
She'd definitely been smoking them less, finding that she didn't need them to take the edge off as much as she used to. Now that she thought about it, everything had been on the upswing for her lately—her grades were improving, her nightmares had almost stopped, and her anxiety was manageable for the most part. And her relationship with Mike was better than she could have hoped for.
They didn't go on dates or anything like that, that's not something Max ever really wanted to do. She shuddered thinking of the few times Lucas had convinced her to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant, awkwardly staring at each other from across the table and making small talk while she wished they could just be at home watching tv or something. No, this felt like it did when she and Mike were just friends, but also like so much more.
Max held the lighter up to the end of her cigarette and flicked the wheel a few times, frowning when it produced nothing but useless sparks. The same thing happened when she cupped her hand around it to shield it from the breeze. She held it up to her ear and gave it a shake, hearing silence instead of the usual swishing of lighter fluid. Swallowing hard, she stared down at the worn-out blue Bic in her palm. Billy's lighter was officially dead. It felt significant, like it was the end of something. There was a finality to it. The lighter is done so you throw it away.
Should I throw it away? she wondered as she turned it over in her palm, picking at the remains of the skull sticker that had been on the back. It didn't feel right to just toss it in the kitchen trashcan to be carried away by the garbage truck on Thursday. But keeping it felt kind of weird too.
Then she thought of something Ms. Kelley had suggested a few weeks ago in her counselling session—that Max should try writing a letter to Billy articulating her feelings of guilt and all the things she wished she could have said to him before he died. Max hadn't felt ready to confront all those feelings head-on at the time, but now…
Her unlit cigarette fell to the ground as she stood abruptly and made her way into the trailer. She grabbed a pen and a random notebook from her school backpack, tearing out a page before taking a seat at the small kitchen table. She put her headphones on her ears and pressed play, taking a few deep breaths as Kate Bush's soothing voice washed over her. Then she picked up her pen and started to write.
Dear Billy…
Mike radioed her on Monday afternoon as soon as he got home, and when she asked if he could drive her to the Roane Hill Cemetery he'd faltered for a second but quickly agreed. He knew she wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked as he pulled the station wagon up to the row she knew was closest to Billy's grave.
Max shook her head. "No, you can wait here. I think I need to do this alone." Mike nodded and pulled her towards him, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I'm proud of you," he murmured, and Max felt her heart give that familiar flutter. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against his neck, taking comfort in his familiar smell. She could do this. She wasn't alone. If dealing with her trauma over Billy completely made her fall apart then at least she knew Mike would be there to pick up the pieces.
The brown envelope crinkled in her pocket as she got out of the car and headed down the worn-out path in the grass, trying to ignore the endless rows of headstones in her periphery. She looked up at the sky instead. It was a nice evening—the sun was still bright as it made its way toward the horizon, a few clouds dotting the otherwise blue sky.
She knew she was getting close and started peering at the unfamiliar names on the gravestones. And then there it was. A basic stone marker with his full name and the dates of his birth and death chiselled neatly in three rows, and then at the bottom, "Gone but not forgotten". She knew his body wasn't actually underneath her feet. The charred remains that the government had left behind as part of the coverup had been cremated, and Neil had taken the urn with him when he left.
Max took a deep, shuddering inhale and tightened her jacket around herself, feeling a little cold of a sudden despite the warmth of the sun beating down on her face. She sat down on the grass and crossed her legs, pulling the envelope out of her pocket and taking out the piece of paper, smoothing out the creases.
Her hands were shaking and she willed herself to calm down, sliding her headphones over her ears and pressing play on the Rolling Stones tape she'd taken from the box of Billy's things last summer—the one he'd so often played when he'd begrudgingly driven her around town in his Camero. She fast-forwarded until she heard the opening chords of "Wild Horses", and then she looked back down at the paper in her hands.
"Dear Billy," she started, her voice small and weak as she tripped over the words. "I don't even know if you can hear this..." Max continued to read the words she had written yesterday, telling Billy about what happened with their parents after he died, how difficult life got for her, and finally, her guilt over not being able to save him in Starcourt, how haunted she still is by that moment.
She sniffled and wiped at the tears that were rolling down her cheeks with the heel of her hand. It felt… freeing to say these things out loud. She'd already confessed a lot of it to Mike, that night in the arcade parking lot, but being able to apologize directly to Billy was having a more profound effect on her than she'd expected.
Max bit down on her trembling bottom lip and started to slide the letter back into the envelope, but all of a sudden it felt like her music was barely audible. She frowned and fiddled with the volume knob but nothing happened.
And then it was like the sun had disappeared and darkness set in within seconds. The hairs on Max's arms stood up as she looked up at the sky in confusion, and then she heard something that made it feel like an ice-cold knife stabbed her in the chest.
The clock chimes were back, louder than they'd ever been.
The world turned an ominous red as she scrambled to her feet and looked around, throat constricting as panic set in. She wasn't in the cemetery anymore, at least not the one she'd been in before. Everything around her was decayed and overgrown with vines, the trees bare and the grass dead and crunchy beneath her feet.
"Max." She gasped when she looked up in front of her and saw Billy. But it wasn't Billy, not one she'd ever known. This was some twisted approximation of him walking towards her, talking to her in a low, sinister voice, accusing her of terrible things, things that cut deep into her heart and confirmed the worst things she'd always thought about herself.
"No, that- that's not true," she pleaded with the vision in front of her. But it continued, promising her the sweet release of death, something that she'd only considered on her very darkest nights following Starcourt; something that she hadn't thought about for months now.
She didn't want to die, she was finally happy, she was finally starting to move on. Pure despair ran through her as she stumbled backwards and fell, and when she looked up it wasn't Billy anymore, but some ugly, inhuman monster. It was horrible, worse than the Mindflayer. She wanted to scream but she felt paralyzed, like something was holding her down.
But then she heard it, barely audible over the persistent clock chimes and the pounding of her heart—the gentle strum of the guitar and the crooning voice of Mick Jagger, muffled as though someone was holding their hands over her ears. Max whipped her head behind her, searching for the source of the music, and that's when she realized she could move her arms and legs again.
Without looking back at the monster stalking towards her, she scrambled to her feet, sprinting as fast as she could towards the sound. Her lungs were burning, pure adrenaline propelling her forward as she leapt over the gnarled roots tangled on the ground, reaching out for her ankles. She ignored the demonic voice that now felt like it was inside of her head, focusing all her mental energy on the music, on the twang of the guitar riff and the emotion in the vocals, and then she saw something appear in front of her.
A door.
Her legs felt like they were going to give out but she pushed through the pain, wrenching open the door and throwing herself through it before slamming it shut.
But something stopped her. A violent force was hurling itself against the door like a battering ram, trying to break its way through, rattling the doorframe and straining the rusted hinges.
"No!" Max shouted hoarsely, throwing her body against the door in a desperate attempt to close it. "Leave me alone!" The force was unrelenting, and she didn't think she could possibly hold it back for much longer.
She slammed her back against the door and squeezed her eyes closed, trying again to focus on the fading music, on the memories that it brought back. She thought of Billy, of the few good times they'd had together. That one day when he caved and let her drive his car for ten minutes in the parking lot. The music got a little clearer, and she wracked her brain for more happy memories.
"Please, Billy," Max whispered as tears streamed down her face, "please let me go." She dug her heels into the dirt, bracing herself as the monster kept trying to force its way in. The rotting wood of the door started splintering under the persistent stress.
Max took deep, gasping breaths and thought of the euphoric feeling of landing a new skateboard trick; and then of Rachel, the pure, feminine joy of laughing about boys and drinking wine and dancing around her room; and of Wayne, with his hearty laugh and his almost fatherly concern for her well-being; and of her mom, curling up on the sofa together and watching Three's Company while she braided Max's hair.
But mostly she thought of Mike. Of messy hair and full lips and brown eyes that looked at her like she was something special. Of lying on their backs in the woods, marijuana smoke curling towards the sky; of waking up in his bed after the party, the smell of fabric softener surrounding her; of ecstasy coursing through her veins in a nightclub and sitting on his shoulders and feeling young and alive and free; of lungs burning and feet pounding pavement as they ran from the cops, from the security guard at the pool, from demogorgons and the Mindflayer.
The more she thought about these memories the louder the music got and the easier it became to hold the door closed against the vicious and unyielding force.
She leaned her head back and remembered her heart bursting with joy when he called her his girlfriend for the first time. That all-encompassing feeling of calm and safety that came from the steady sound of his heartbeat under her ear. She felt it deep down in her bone marrow—the way he cared for her and supported her. And she could see it so clearly, the life they could have together, the future that awaited them if she could just close this fucking door.
And just like that, she realized there was no longer anything pounding at the door. There wasn't a door at all.
Her eyes flew open and she looked around, and all she saw was the quiet, peaceful cemetery. She was still cross-legged on the grass, Billy's letter crumpled in her clenched fists. She took quick, shaky breaths as she wiped at her face, eyes darting around to make sure this wasn't another hallucination while "Sister Morphine" played loudly through her headphones.
Max stood on unsteady legs, her heart still beating erratically against her ribcage as she dusted off her pants. She wasn't sure if that had been an intense panic attack or some kind of Upside Down bullshit, but whatever it was felt like it was over now. Permanently.
She gazed solemnly down at Billy's grave and ruminated again on their complicated relationship as the song came to an end. Then she carefully refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope before placing it in front of the headstone, resting the empty blue lighter on top, almost like an offering.
"Goodbye, Billy," Max whispered, blinking as fresh tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
She turned and made her way back down the path to the main road without looking back, taking off her headphones and resting them around her neck, letting the tranquil sounds of twittering birds and the leaves rustling in the wind roll over her.
The front of the station wagon came into view, and then she saw Mike leaning against the car, feet crossed as he stared unfocused at the ground. Something warm and fuzzy bloomed inside her at the sight of him, chasing away the lingering feelings of anxiety and unease. Max started walking faster toward him, and he straightened up when he saw her approaching.
She came to a stop in front of him and he cupped her face, eyebrows knitting together in concern as he took in her tear-stained face and swollen eyes. He swiped his thumbs gently over her cheeks, a questioning look on his face as if asking if she was okay. Max nodded and let herself collapse into him, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he pressed his face into the top of her head. She knew he wouldn't need her to speak the words aloud to understand her. He never did.
Max closed her eyes and tried to commit this moment, this feeling to memory. Of what it was like to finally have a safe place to land.