Work Text:
May 3rd, 1981
Five year olds are difficult. If Marge had only learned one thing throughout motherhood, it was that. Richie was only two months into being five and she can’t help but wait for the day he turns six. Everyone had warned her about the ‘terrible twos’ but two-year-old Richie was the sweetest boy ever. Turns out, his terrible twos became the ferocious fives.
A deep sigh of exhaustion leaves Marge’s mouth. Her eyes drifted over to the clock, reading ‘12:14 AM’. It was a Sunday, which meant that lunch was still being prepared, on account of the morning service the Tozier’s attended every week. Heat rushes to Marge’s cheeks as she remembers Richie’s little… scene. See, one thing about Richie is that he hates being separated from his mom. It used to not be as big of a problem but now that Richie is about to enter Kindergarten in a couple months, Wentworth and Marge agreed to start letting little Richie go back with the children’s service instead of sitting with them. This was the end of the world, at least according to Richie. The young boy kicked and screamed as soon as he realized his parents weren’t there. He even bit Patty Stanton, for crying out loud!
Looking down at the plate in her hand, she can’t even begin to imagine how school is gonna look in the fall. Marge starts plating lunch. Spaghetti and meat sauce. Simple, she knows, which is why she made some homemade garlic bread to go with it. She hums as she puts the food on each plate, Richie’s plate being a lot smaller compared to her and her husband’s, of course. Grabbing the pitcher full of lemonade from the fridge, she calls for Wentworth and Richie to let them know it’s finally lunch.
A blur rushes past her feet, making her stumble a bit as Wentworth comes up from behind to steady her, placing a kiss on her cheek. The blur was, of course, Richie. He was always bouncing all over the house, which exhausted Marge when staying at home with him. The boy found his way to his chair and immediately stood up on it, leaning over to give Marge a wet kiss on the cheek Wentworth didn’t peck. No matter how tired he makes her, she can’t help but find it all worth it for her sweet boy.
Once the family all sat down and prayed, they began to eat. Richie was flinging the sauce practically everywhere except for inside his mouth. A laugh escapes Wentworth’s lips as he exclaims, “Blimey, Maggie! Looks like our boy is a killer wolf! Let’s make sure to feed him before he decides we are his next dinner.” Marge can’t help but laugh at Wentworth’s really awful Australian accent as Richie responds with what he thought a wolf growl was, which apparently included spit coming out of his mouth. Quickly, Marge grabs a napkin and begins to wipe away all the spit and sauce all over his face. The wolf moment quickly went away and Richie filled the quiet not long after.
“I wanna show him my wolf.” Marge curls an eyebrow at the strange sentence before Wentworth helps his son out, “Tell mama about your imaginary friend.”
Richie’s eyes light up before turning his attention to his mom. He is so excited that his words all come out jumbled, his mind running faster than his mouth. With a hand on his shoulder, Marge tells the boy to take a deep breath and to start from the beginning. After a very exaggerated breath, Richie explains.
“We met last week. He loves my voices, Mama!” Richie’s ‘voices’ was simply him imitating other people he had heard before. Whether it was his parents or someone on the television, he loved to mimic. A smile appeared on Marge’s face as her boy continued. “He’s a knight and he teached me to be one, too!” Wentworth corrected Richie’s grammar and the boy ignored his father as he continued on. He talked about the adventures the two knights had, a slight pang at the knight mention, but she didn’t think much of it. Until…
“Best part, we share names!”
Marge’s heart froze for a second when her son said that. She slowly put her fork down while Wentworth looked over at his wife. He knew about Rich Santos, the namesake for her son. One thing that Marge had loved about Wentworth was just how understanding he was, how he may not fully get everything she went through, he did know how much Rich meant to her. He even was the one to suggest naming their son after him. In this moment, deep down, Marge knows that her son had to be talking about Rich, someone who she hadn’t told him about yet.
Richie didn’t notice the tone shift in the air as he continued on, “Mama, my friend told me that he thinks you’re pretty. I told him you’re daddy’s wife, but he said he knew already. Rich is funny.” Marge looks down at her boy as he starts a new topic to himself and can’t help but feel tears rush to her eyes. She lost her Rich all those years ago, however, it seems he hasn’t left after all. If what they say is true, that no one ever truly dies in Derry, then she hopes Rich can take good care of her Richie.