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You could not think of a better way to spend a summer than with Eddie Munson. The bonfire talks, the late-night listening sessions and movie marathons. He showed you every scar he had accumulated, pale skin even paler where monsters had sunk into flesh. You grew tanner under the Indiana sun, war torn freckles dotting faces and wrinkles settling into the corners of your eyes as you squinted during lakeside rendezvous.
Eddie would whip his wet hair at you, like an excitable dog, as you cut sandwiches on the diagonal and plated lukewarm slices of seedless watermelon.
It was easy, spending every waking moment with him. At one time, you’d thought you’d never get another one with him. So, you savor every second he has now. Scars and all. And it had started out friendly enough.
Simple acquaintances turned soldiers turned something else. It was hard to remember when sleepovers turned into stolen glances, when glances turned into actions. Somewhere between burnt marshmallow smiles and silent comforts after nightmares he had made a move. Really, you both did. Desperate for something more than friendly touches you kissed beneath thin bedsheets, legs tangled and teeth knocking as you fought smiles and demons together.
Then, another shift.
As June turned to July, which then turned to August, Eddie grew cold with the weather. As you layered on heavy cardigans, he shrugged you away.
The once inviting smiles were reserved, there was a distance even as you huddled so close together. He did his best to hide it, still scratching nails against your scalp and pressing kisses wherever he could. But the nightmares were becoming more frequent, and he hid them – something he’d never done before. He found excuses, reasons to keep you at arm’s length. It was a challenge, with your lives so closely intertwined now, but he still managed to go days now without you.
All at once, you’d had enough.
“C’mon, Eds. The cold shoulder, it’s a dirty trick.”
He shrugs, occupying himself with scrubbing the last bit of food from the sink full of dishes.
“Is it-is it me? Did I do or say something? Are you, like, tired of me?”
“No! God, never. I could never be tired of you. Don’t even begin to think like that.”
“Then what’s going on? And none of that ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ shit.”
He heaved a heavy sigh, hand working at the flesh of his face. He looked exhausted, something he had attributed to the shift to autumn when you asked if he was getting enough sleep – not really an answer kind of answer.
“I just-” He hesitated, watching you fiddle with the frayed edge of his bedsheet. He thought of the countless nights you had tangled your legs in them, limbs thrashing as you recoiled from wiggling fingers digging at your sides. He thought of your neck, arched for his viewing pleasure as he pressed sloppy, open mouth kisses and blew cold air over wet skin, cackling at your echoing shrieks. “I know this won’t last.”
Your brow furrowed further, mouth falling into a deeper frown, and Eddie scrambled to piece together every waking nightmare he had hid from you.
“I made peace with the fact that you aren’t mine past August. That one day you’ll meet a guy worthy of everything you are, and I’ll just be some fun summer fling you had that led to that moment. I’ll only ever be a prefix to something better. And I’m okay with that as long as you end up happy.” He said, easy. Like he was reciting every word from practiced memory.
There wasn’t a sadness, either. There was a finality. Eddie Munson would never be someone’s first or final choice. To everyone in his life, he’s the kid that got dumped on their doorstep. Or who fell into an interdimensional hole with them. Or was forever stuck in their remedial math class.
Destined to live and die in Hawkins, Indiana.
“I mean, shit. I go back to high school this month. Dustin will probably graduate before I do. How pathetic can you get?”
But that’s not the Eddie you had met this summer.
Eddie is torn jeans and the same beat-up pair of trainers, He is cigarette smoke on a cold lakeside evening and the store brand coffee his uncle brews extra strong, always sipped from a different mug. He is every comfort you have ever felt, wrapped up in a single entity of warmth and flushed skin. His freckles are your faraway stars, and you are so grateful that you do not need a telescope to admire each one.
He is here. Right here. And sometimes you have to grab a fistful of his shirt or hook a finger into the chain of his jeans just to be sure. You weren’t used to beautiful things turning into constants. And Eddie Munson was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
He’d been the one to offer to hot wire your car in the rain, when you had no one to call. He’d used a portion of his earnings buying the name brand cat food for the strays that liked your trailer the best, hating that you looked so sad when you couldn’t shell together the money on your own.
“Eds, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Okay, harsh-”
“You think I’m not in this for the long run? Like I don’t fall asleep thinking about what our life is going to be like, what our kids will look like? This isn’t some summer fling. This is it, babe. There’s nothing better out there.”
Now, it was Eddie’s turn to look completely baffled. He falls into the bed next to you, mattress bouncing and sheets crinkling further. He eyes his room, the mess he lives in filled with smoke faded posters and wallpaper and wonders: someone’s choosing this?
Then, you. He’d been to hell and back with you and you’d still found some way to throw in a cringey one liner between swinging bats and reloading pistols. You’d laid shoulder to shoulder with him in that rickety boat and made him not forget what was happening but find some peace in it if it led you your hair falling beside his, fingers entangled. He’d be hunted ten times over if this was his ending, he decided.
“Kids, huh?”
“Oh, shut up. I change my mind.”
“No! No take backs, babe. I want little Eddie Jr. by next fall!” And he’s pushing you into the mattress, feeling dumb not for failing history again but for ever thinking of you as just another person that would leave him. Sure, he didn’t have the best track record in that category, but as he felt you completely give yourself up to his ministrations, he thought that maybe his luck was finally taking a turn.
And, if you really pressed him on the matter, he thought August was a lovely name for a little girl.