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Al shifted in his prison-issue sneakers, scuffing the edge of his shoe through the dirt and dust at his feet. The bag on his shoulder felt light, which had been a blessing during his trudge from the bus stop to the trailer park. He hadn’t been able to hitch a ride from anyone, and if he was honest, he hadn’t even tried. Even people he’d passed on his walk through the trailer park had given him a wide berth.
He’d knocked on a door, and a lady with greying hair had answered. She’d looked him up and down, but had been nice enough to answer his questions. Yes, she’d answered gruffly, cigarette burning down to the filter between two fingers, weathered with age. Wayne Munson did still live here. Yes, the town was an absolute shit show, a small canyon splitting it straight open, right through the park.
He’d nodded his thanks, gripping the piece of paper she’d scribbled directions on in his hand as if his life depended on it.
And now he was here. Stood at his big brother’s front door once more, though this time the trailer was shiny and new, the white paint not yet yellowing and peeling with age, the frosted glass clean and smooth, not a chip to be seen.
He rapped on the glass, each knock ringing out hollowly.
The door cracked open, and a wizened face peered out suspiciously, before Wayne’s eyes widened and he allowed it to swing open.
“Al?” came that familiar voice, and he swallowed hard.
“Hey, Wayne,” he replied sheepishly, his voice coming out all kinds of odd, before he was pulled in for a tight hug, his feet fighting to keep him balanced as he got caught off guard.
“Didn’t know you were comin’ out today,” Wayne said, his voice soft.
“Well, either way, here I am,” he laughed, breathlessly as his brother squeezed him tight, before releasing him with a pat on the shoulder. His worn blue flannel was slipping off one shoulder, open over a grey t-shirt. His dark-wash jeans were familiar, but he wasn’t surprised. Wayne’s style hadn’t changed in over a decade before Al was locked up, there was no way it was gonna have changed in the last couple years.
“Come on in,” he told him, motioning, and for a second Al was nervous. As if reading his thoughts, Wayne gave him a sympathetic look. “Eddie’s out, but I’ll call around and see if I can find him.”
Al stepped into the trailer, taking in the mismatch of furniture, some old and some new. A new couch, an old bureau desk, a wall of mugs hanging up that Wayne had started collecting eons ago. Yeah, it was a little weird. But when he was a kid, Eddie had absolutely loved picking out a new mug for him at every possible occasion, and he’d especially loved seeing them hung up in pride of place. Al’s eyes lingered over the Garfield mug he distinctly remembered Eddie trying to wrap one year.
“He’ll know what it is, kid. You get him a coffee cup every damn year, don’t have to go to all that trouble.”
Eddie had looked up, eyes glittering under his dark mop of hair, a crooked grin on his face as the roll of tape made ungodly screeching noises. “Unwrapping it is the best part! Come on, what am I meant to do? Give him some stupid unwrapped mug as a gift?”
Wayne noticed him looking as he shut the door behind them.
“Still got that collection, huh?” he asked, fondly, and Wayne shrugged.
“Old trailer was destroyed in that earthquake, but we managed to save some things. Kind of a good thing if you ask me, ‘cause…” he paused, looking up at the wall, sighing. “Well. I don’t know how much you heard.”
Al’s throat tightened. He’d heard…things. About the earthquake in Hawkins. About that poor girl. His cellmates had watched him carefully when someone mentioned Eddie Munson .
He’d wondered if his name had been there in all of that. If the fact he was sat in jail would have anything to do with the fact they were so casually plastering murderer next to his son’s name. His son, who was always a little more sensitive than the other kids. He wondered if they knew that the kid they were accusing of those terrible things was the same kid who used to fish drowning bugs out of the river with a “ There you go, buddy.” Who had picked his momma weeds and presented them to her in an ungainly bouquet of yellow and white.
His son wasn’t a violent killer. He just had a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He realized he’d been standing silently in Wayne’s living room for a very, very long time. He shifted his weight to his other foot.
“I…tried calling. The line was just dead,” he said, quietly, remembering how numb he’d felt hearing that static, stood in the phone cubicle and used up his one phone call each week for two months.
Wayne nodded, a look of guilt crossing his face. “We had a lot to get sorted out, what with all the…the damage. I’m sorry, I didn’t even…” he scrubbed a hand over his face, trailing off, and Al got the idea that the damage wasn’t just damage to the trailer. “I’m sorry.”
Al’s heart twisted. “You’ve been looking out for my boy, Wayne. You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about.”
-
They settled down on the couch as Wayne filled him in, about how Eddie got framed by some sicko. He wasn’t heavy on the detail, but Al got the jist of things. How Eddie was innocent from the start. How he got hurt, spent some time in the hospital. It sounded like one hell of a tall tale, some band of kids who believed his innocence kept him out of trouble until the government waded in and figured the whole thing out. Waved the whole thing away in some sort of apology for turning their backs on the fact that some basketball player spouting off about demonic possession clearly had a couple of screws loose. The earthquake, apparently just bad timing, and how Eddie got injured real bad trying to keep the kids safe.
Wayne told him to get in the shower while he called around, and Al found himself standing under the scalding hot water for near half an hour, scrubbing off the walk and the bus journey and the years of not getting enough time to get really, truly clean. He half expected someone to come in and tell him to get his ass moving, but it never came. Instead, he poured shampoo into his hands, some name-brand in a yellow bottle that he didn’t recognize. Since when did any of them use fancy-looking shampoo and conditioner?
Jesus. He’d missed out on so much. He’d missed his kid getting put in hospital. Wayne had told him how it had been touch and go for a while. Part of him, some little voice in the back of his head, was…well. Glad . He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle seeing his boy laid out like that, machines attached to him as he fought for his life. It was wrong, he would’ve wanted to be there for his kid, but he wondered if he’d looked how she had. Lying motionless in a hospital gown, struggling to breathe, each gasp sounding like it might be the last.
She hadn’t wanted Eddie to come to the hospital. Didn’t want him to remember his mother like that, painfully thin and clutching to life. She wanted him to remember her . The way she was before cancer got its sick fucking claws into her.
The life of the party. The first person to get up and dance, even if it was just around the kitchen while music played softly from the radio.
He hadn’t quite understood it. Why she wanted to keep him away. Then, when he went inside, he got it. He hadn’t let Eddie visit, keeping him at arm's length. He didn’t want his boy to see him in such a sorry state.
They’d moved out west from the mountains to join Wayne in Indiana before she got sick, when Eddie was in the last years of elementary school. New jobs, a fresh start. Admittedly, Al had never been squeaky clean, but for a moment there it seemed like he’d be able to pay off his debts like everyone else. Get the ball rolling and build a life for his son and the love of his life. They’d struggled to make ends meet their whole lives, even before Eddie came along.
But, and there was always a but…having a kid was expensive. Getting sick was expensive. Funerals were expensive, and the debt piled up again. He’d promised her he’d make it work, that he’d stay out of trouble. Wayne promised her he’d always be there for her Eddie. She was one of them, and Wayne had loved her too. As a sister, as the mother of his nephew.
At least one of them had kept their promise.
He shut the water off, drying himself with a towel, and rubbing it over his short hair. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wondered what he’d look like if he grew it out again. She’d always liked how his hair looked when he let it grow past his ears, though it never curled like hers and Eddie’s did.
Wayne had dug out some of his old clothes. Most of them were in storage…somewhere. He’d think about that later. For now, he was changing into jeans and a t-shirt he hadn’t seen in years, instead of the uniform he’d put on every damn day. He’d waited years for it, but it just felt odd. Like he was dressing up as somebody else.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Wayne was still on the phone in the living room, and Al stared at his bare feet on the soft cream carpet, digging his toes in to feel how thick it was.
“Yeah, I tried there first…” Wayne spoke into the phone, his back turned to him. He leaned against the half-wall between the living room and the kitchenette, phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. “Yeah, he mentioned he’ll be over on Friday. It’s not a problem, those kids are always welcome. Well, thanks anyway, Claudia. Yeah, of course. If you see him, tell him to head on back. Thank you. Bye.”
“No luck?” he asked, trying not to sound disappointed. Wayne turned and shook his head.
‘
“Nah. But don’t pay it no mind, he’ll be back before too late. Out with his buddy, Steve. They’ll be right on home soon enough.” He set the phone down, before taking a seat on the couch. “Steve damn near lives here nowadays. Would you believe, your boy is best friends with Rich Harrington’s kid?”
Al’s eyebrows shot up as he settled down on the opposite side of the couch. “Rich Harrington? Asshole Rich Harrington?”
Everyone in Hawkins was familiar with Rich Harrington. Swanning around in his fancy cars when it suited him, talking big talk about his houses out in the middle of nowhere. ‘Course, when he lived out in the farmland, it was different to hillbillies like the Munson family. For him, it was classy. Just was. Giving his family space to breathe, giving him space to drive his cars. For them, it was taking opportunities from their kids, raising children out in the wilderness away from the real world
He used to show up at the garage Al worked at, looking down his nose at his overalls covered in grease and grime, always putting the keys on the desk instead of in his outstretched hand, and taking them back with a handkerchief when the job was done.
Wayne snorted. “The very same. He’s barely ever around anymore, thank fuck.”
Al studied him carefully. “And you’re alright with having his kid over here all the time?”
His older brother shrugged, looking off into the distance a little. “Steve…is a good kid. I mean, he looks like his daddy, but that's where the resemblance ends.” He continued to speak, but paused first as if choosing his words carefully. “He and Eddie…well, Eddie’s fierce protective over him, and Steve helped him out of that mess with the police. Damn near saved his life, if truth be told.”
Al nodded, taking it in. He thought about the pristine little kid shadowing his father, so different from the grubby little boy Eddie had been with his scraped-up knees and mop of curly hair.
“All I’m saying,” Wayne continued, “Is you wanna play nice with Steve. Kid’s done a lot for this family. Helped sort through the goddamn rubble that earthquake made of our trailer, helped move us into here,” he gestured to the trailer. “‘Least I can do is let him stay here a few days a week, instead of that big empty house his parents call a home.”
“Yeah. I get it.” He wasn’t quite sure he did.
He looked around the room. From here he noticed how much bigger it was than the old trailer, but it was definitely nothing compared to the Harrington’s place, though he’d never been inside it.
As they waited, Wayne had explained how the government shoved a check their way. Not enough for a house, but enough for something to replace what they’d had and then some. Wayne had his own room here, and mentioned how he’d given Eddie the single bedroom in the old trailer.
“Gave me a better chance of getting to keep him around,” he noted, “Social Services suits are pricks, but they were right about that. He was growin' up, needed his own space.” He’d moved on swiftly after that, not even giving Al a moment to say anything, or to thank him.
He got a little tour of the modest-sized room Wayne had for himself now, with brand-new furniture. It was tidy but lived in, and his mugs continued into this room, some of his favorites sitting on a shelf. There were pictures on the walls and on every surface. Pictures they’d taken when Eddie was born, a couple of Wayne holding Eddie when he was tiny. A few from when they were kids, Wayne towered over him, ten years older, and stuck with a little boy who was just thrilled to be in the presence of his big brother.
Wayne paused in the hallway. He gestured to the closed door at the end of the hall. “That there’s Eddie’s room. I’d show you in, but…well.” He shrugged. “Both of us might get a bit of a scare, you know how boys are. I’ll let him clean it up a little if he decides to show you around. Besides. He’s wary of anyone going near his stuff.”
Al huffed a laugh, following Wayne back to the kitchenette. “Oh, I know he’d be fixin’ to bite my head off if I messed with anything.” He took a beer Wayne offered him, watching the foam settle from the top of the bottle. “He still painting those little figurine thingies?”
“Whenever he can get his hands on them.”
“God. I never could figure out why that boy was interested in things like that. Dragons, and so forth.”
Wayne was quiet, sipping his beer thoughtfully. “Prob’ly ‘cause his momma read him those books when he was little. You know, The Hobbit. All those Tolkien books. Boy can get through those in no time, but you can’t set him down to do his English homework. He’s like you that way, like his momma in others.”
His heart tugged at his chest, but he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant and failing. “Never was good in school. Glad you made Eddie stick at it, though.”
“Well, he might not be going to college but at least he’s the first Munson man to graduate high school. I mean, eventually.” He set his beer down, turning back to the fridge. A stack of photographs was haphazardly stuck to the front with a magnet in the shape of California. He rifled through them, brow furrowing. “Still need to get these framed, but…here.”
He held out a photograph to Al, who took it hesitantly. It felt wrong, somehow. Like he was part of an achievement that wasn’t his.
He put his bottle down to hold it with both hands, careful not to touch the glossy surface. Didn’t want his fingerprints on it.
His boy smiled up at him, adorned in cap and gown, his face marred along his jaw with a scar that looked like it hurt. He’d grown up in the past few years, his hair longer and his jaw a little sharper, but it was Eddie. His Eddie, with his momma’s hair and eyes, clutching a diploma he damn well earned.
Tears pricked at his eyes, and he cursed himself. Wayne clapped him on the back, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“He did so good without me.” It wasn’t a jealous statement, by any means. Simply a comment, though he felt some insecurity creeping in, same as he had when he’d picked Eddie up from a stay at Wayne’s when he was a kid. When he saw how happy he was just existing with his uncle. That lingering feeling of maybe he’s better off without me. That urge to run , to get the hell out before you ruin him anymore.
It was like Wayne sensed it, the grip on his shoulder tightening as Al’s breathing became tight.
“None of that,” he said firmly, in the same way he had when they’d stood outside the delivery room together, when Al was twenty years old and terrified of the tiny thing that was fast asleep in his mother’s arms in the next room. “Your kid learned a little something about not running when things get too hard. Might be time for you to follow his lead.”
He looked at his brother’s face, at the deep frown lines and the crow's feet around his eyes, and nodded.
The familiar rumble of a van pulling up outside caught their attention, and Al realized he was out of time to run. Wayne stepped away from him, peeking out of the blinds. Al squinted out into the trailer park. Dusk had fallen around the trailer, and the doors to his old Chevy van were opening up, a young man with hair down to the nape of his neck stepped down to the ground, white polo shirt and spotless Levis completely out of place in Forest Hill. He laughed, throwing his head back, and then Al caught sight of him. Eddie, rounding the bonnet from the driver's seat and bounding towards the trailer.
He grabbed his beer from the counter, taking a long sip, cold beer rushing down his throat as the front door opened with a jolt.
“She’s making that noise again, Wayne! I’m telling you, she’s beginning to turn- ”
Eddie stopped a couple of paces into the trailer, stock still. His face was a picture of surprise as they stared at each other, their gazes meeting for the first time in years. Eddie glanced at his uncle, and back again.
The front door closed behind Eddie’s friend, who looked between them, a little bewildered. He stood, shoulders squared and defensive, an arm's reach away.
“We’ve got a visitor,” Wayne supplied, matter-of-factly. “Tried to get ahold of you, but you’re harder to find than a goddamn needle in a haystack sometimes, boy.”
The tension dissipated, and they all relaxed almost at once.
Al swallowed hard. “Son.”
Eddie blinked, setting his jaw. “Dad.”
He could’ve sworn Eddie wasn’t so tall before he went away, but here he was. Damn near six feet tall, hair past his shoulders. The scar on his face looked a little less harsh in the soft lamplight, and his black t-shirt, cropped to his navel and rolling under where it was cut, showed off a scar on his side almost defiantly. His black jeans were fitted around slim legs, and when he looked back at his face his eyes were wide. Al couldn’t bear it.
“C’mere, kid,” he murmured, and his son was stepping forward, and he was wrapping his arms around him for the first time in too long. Eddie went slack in his arms, breath coming out ragged.
“I didn’t know you were getting out.”
“‘s what I said,” Wayne remarked. “He didn’t have our new number.”
“Oh, shit, ” Eddie cursed, taking a step back. “Of course you didn’t. Fuck. Dad, I’m sorry.”
Al waved it off. “It’s all good. I hear you’ve had plenty of other shit on your plate. I should be the one apologizing, I mean…” he shook his head, unable to express the tidal wave of emotion coursing through him.
“How ‘bout we call it even?” Eddie suggested, trying to smile. His voice trembled, betraying him.
He let out a shaky laugh. “I mean, don’t think it’s anywhere close but…sure.” His eyes shifted back to the other young man, who stood by the door, looking reluctantly like he thought he should be heading out. “You gonna introduce me to your friend?”
Eddie stumbled. “I, uh. Yeah.” He turned gesturing for his friend to step closer “This is Steve.”
Steve stepped forward, awkwardly, and Eddie placed his hand on his lower back, meeting his eye purposefully. “Steve, this is my dad, Al.”
He wasn’t expecting the kid to put his hand out, but he shook it anyway. Steve nodded, politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Al crooked a smile. “Not sure anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
Eddie snorted, and Steve fixed him with a look that he met daringly, his eyes glinting. It was easy to see why Eddie liked him. There was something of Richard Harrington in his face, in his straight nose and square jaw, but his eyes were warm as he shook his head at the improper behavior.
“You boys eat yet?” Wayne asked casually, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple more beers.
“Not yet,” Eddie told him, taking a bottle off him and raising it to his mouth.
“Don’t you dare open that with your teeth!” Steve exclaimed, dropping his polite tone.
Eddie let the bottle down, defensively. “I wasn’t gonna! Reach me that opener, will you?”
“Well,” Wayne continued, “We haven’t got anything in, I was thinking of grabbing a couple pizzas, if that sounds good.”
Eddie scoffed as Steve opened his beer for him, and then one for himself. “When have I ever turned down pizza?”
Wayne raised an eyebrow. “The day has yet to be seen.”
-
They found themselves sitting around the wooden table, and the pizza was damn near the best thing he’d ever tasted. The boys had gone out for it, with Wayne giving Eddie strict instructions to not let Steve pay for it, so he’d bought them more beers instead.
They hadn’t bothered with plates, and Eddie sat opposite him, frowning as he wiped his hands with a paper towel. He could be head to toe in mud, and he’d still be wiping his hands dry. He leant into Steve’s space, a couple of beers in, but Steve didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, listening to the conversation. It ranged from him Wayne’s childhood, to the stupid things Eddie did as a little kid, the scrappy little thing he’d been. Steve sat, a smile on his lips as his eyes flickered between the three of them. Al wondered if he was marking the differences and similarities between them, their lips and the creases below their eyes. The way Eddie fiddled with his rings while Wayne toyed with a beer bottle cap, flipping it between his fingers.
They avoided the subject of prison. That would come later, and he could tell Eddie was itching to ask. He wondered what he’d told Steve, this kid who was over at their place all the time, who didn’t flinch away when Eddie flung his arm around him like it was the easiest thing in the world, and smiled fondly through Eddie’s stories.
“I’ll take a look at the van in the morning,” he found himself saying, stretching his arms up behind his head and leaning back in his seat. “Old girl hasn’t given up on me yet, I’ll be damned if we’re gonna let her go. Then, come Monday I’ll head to the shop. Have a word with Dave, see if he’ll think about having me back.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Wayne drawled, looking up from his beer.
Al shrugged. “Worth a shot.” He looked across the table and caught Steve looking at him, curiously, before the kid looked away quickly. He smiled. “You wondering what I did?”
Steve looked panicked. “No. No, I, uh- ”
He yawned. “‘s okay, kid. I helped some guys steal a few cars. Had a bit of time under my belt already from when I was younger, before this one.” He nodded towards Eddie, who barely looked phased. “They didn’t take too kindly to me getting caught doing it again. Didn’t do it because I liked it though.”
“I know,” he replied, softly.
“Told you,” Eddie grinned, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s. Al raised his eyebrows, and he conceded. “It, uh. Came in handy.”
He looked at his son, pointedly, and Eddie sighed.
“I…hotwired an RV.”
Wayne groaned. “If anyone asks, I didn’t hear any of this.”
“Hey, Steve’s the one who drove it off the lot!”
It was Steve’s turn to groan, and he put his head in his hands.
“Oh, come on ,” Eddie reasoned, “We only did it because we had to! And those people got their RV back and then some. Steve’s not exactly a hardened criminal because we needed a ride.”
“I think I’m going to bed,” Wayne announced, rising from the table. He collected their empties. “Eddie, I suggest you do the same and let your dad get some rest. Al, you don’t mind the pull-out couch, do you?”
He smiled, for what felt like the millionth time that day. It felt good. “Sounds fine to me.”
The boys stood up, stretching out their limbs. As Steve reached his arms above his head, Al caught sight of a scar on his side. Ugly and gnarled, matching Eddie’s. He tugged his polo shirt down over it, and Eddie pushed him ahead of him gently by the small of his back, and Steve went easily.
“Night Wayne, night dad,” he yawned, as they headed for his bedroom.
Al watched as they opened the door, catching Steve’s laughter as Eddie shoved him through the doorway. He turned and met his brother’s eye. Wayne looked at him intently, as if daring him to say something, but he just shook his head.
His kid had turned out okay.