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Marge Truman had not been Marge Truman for a long time.
The summer of ‘62 was hard. It started with Rich's funeral.
Marge isn't sure how many times she cried the week leading up to the funeral but it was enough to leave her red-eyed and tired when she went on the podium to deliver her eulogy. She tried so hard not to look at the Santos’ as she spoke for fear that her voice would crack and her eyes would fill with tears for the millionth time that week.
It didn't seem to matter though, her eyes strayed and Marge found herself looking at Will Hanlon. He was sitting front row, dressed in a charming suit with Ronnie and Lilly at his sides. He didn't look too well either, but he still looked strong.
Grief is such an odd thing.
Marge and Will weren't even that close before. He was some new kid from who-knows where and she was a former Pattycake. They didn't have anything in common. They shouldn't have had anything in common.
But they did. They had Rich Santos.
If there was any person on earth who knew what Marge was feeling right now it would be Will Hanlon.
The both of them had clutched Rich's dead body, covered in soot and ash. The both of them had held Rich’s cold hands and the both of them had cried together.
Grief was odd. But it seemed to enjoy company.
The next crack was Ronnie.
Ronnie was leaving with her dad at the end of the summer. It was too dangerous to stay, she had said.
That bit of news had put Lilly in a sour mood for days. Marge took it a lot better though.
That's not to say she wasn't upset– she did her brooding in her own time, away from the group where she couldn't spoil the mood– but Marge understood why Lilly was taking it so hard. They might be best friends again but Marge will never truly understand what Lilly went through that night at the Capitol, not the way Ronnie seems to understand anyway.
By the end of summer, Ronnie Grogan had left Derry. She promised to write but Marge never got any letters in the mail.
She only had Will and Lilly by the time high-school rolled around. The three of them had their fun doing normal, goofy teenager things. They went to football games, carnivals– carefully avoiding any clowns, of course– and even went to prom together. Well, Lilly and Marge went together, Will had scored a date with a pretty girl called Jessica Smiths.
Time trudged on and by the time high-school ended Marge had managed to perfect her British Guy act, make Honor Roll and get a full ride scholarship to a college of her choosing– But between her and God the first thing on that list was the only thing that mattered.
Lilly left to go to some fancy out-of-state university. Good for her, Marge thought, If anyone deserved to escape Derry it was Lilly Bainbridge. She would meet new people, nice people– nothing like the cruel souls that lived in this town– and she would thrive. She might even run into Ronnie again.
One night she found herself at the Standpipe, a worn eye-patch in her hands. Marge stopped needing to dress and clean her eye a few months after Rich’s funeral but she still kept that eye-patch. She might not have a knight anymore but she wasn't sure if she wanted to stop being a pirate yet.
“You okay?”
Marge nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice– It was a good thing she recognized that voice. She quickly wiped away the tears that stained her face.
“All good, Will.” Marge smiled, “What about you? Here to look at the stars again?”
Will didn't have his telescope with him but who knows, maybe he has super-sight that lets him see all those planets right here from good ol’ Derry, Maine. Marge wouldn't judge him if he did.
“No. Not really. I just wanted to think for a bit.” Will said. Marge just nodded and patted the space next to her.
Marge waited. Will said nothing.
She looked at the stars and let herself think too. She thought of Rich and Ronnie. People who left Derry but never quite left her mind. Lilly was going to be on that list soon.
“Are you gonna leave?” Her voice was quiet but she knew Will heard her.
“I’m not sure.” Will answered honestly. Marge isn't sure what to feel about that honesty. “It sounds nice though, right? leaving Derry after everything.”
Marge just nods. It did sound nice. But leaving Derry meant leaving Rich Santos and Marge wasn't sure if she was ready for that just yet.
Will decided to stay but they didn't end up at the same college.
Marge isn't quite sure if he even went to college, he could have enlisted in the army like his dad did. But wherever he was, Marge hoped that he would still be able to study his stars and his sciences.
They all seemed to grow apart that summer before college. Marge would be lying if she said her heart didn't break all over again when that happened, but there was nothing she could do.
So, she let them leave. She let them leave like she let Rich and Ronnie leave and she would regret that for the rest of her life.
College was…something, for a lack of a better word.
People partied and people drank. They did drugs and got awful tattoos that they would surely regret in the morning. Marge didn't do any of those things– she already survived an interdimensional, time-travelling space clown, she wasn't going to add a coke overdose onto her resume of Hard Life Things She Faced, thank you very much.
She didn't have a lot of friends in college. Sure, she had the occasional group of people who would laugh at her dramatic voices and grin at the jokes she made but none of those people felt like her people, y'know?
Then on a nice, cool autumn evening Marge Truman ran into a brilliant man. Wentworth Tozier.
Marge had initially felt bile rise up throat when she heard that name. Tozier. That's the name the clown had called her. Margaret Tozier.
This Wentworth Tozier was her supposed partner for a group project. He was all charm and shiny teeth. He was the reason that clown wanted to kill Marge Truman. He was going to be her husband.
The man either didn't notice how the world slipped out from under Marge at that moment or he just simply didn't care because all he did was offer a nice and simple, ”Call me Went” and pulled up a chair for her so that they could begin working.
Despite her hesitance in the beginning, Marge found herself growing fond of this strange man. Went was studying to be a dentist, she learned later on and he absolutely lost it whenever she did her weird voices around him. Marge didn't even know a person could laugh that much– definitely not for one of her jokes anyway.
She taught him her British Guy Act and he gave her a new future.
Marge isn't sure when Marge Truman started slowly disappearing. She was no longer Marge now–no, now, she went by Maggie.
It was a bittersweet goodbye to be honest.
Marge Truman had a lot of grief in her heart, she had a lot of heartache. But Marge Truman also carried the memories of Lilly Bainbridge, Ronnie Grogan, Will Hanlon and Rich Santos.
Marge didn't want to leave Rich, she wasn't ready. Maybe that was the problem.
Marge Truman would probably never be ready to let go of Rich Santos.
Marge was not ready but maybe Maggie was.
Time trudged on again and Maggie Tozier was the happiest she had ever been.
She held little Richie in her arms and could only beam with pride. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice whispered to her, telling her that the clown's words became true. Maggie didn't dwell too much on that voice. The clown was dead. She was not. She had won. Everything would be fine.
and it was, for a time at least.
Richie was a loud kid, always jumping from corner to corner and babbling whatever came to mind. He had large buck teeth and Maggie’s awful eyesight. It was alright though, she didn't love him any less for it. She's not sure anything could ever make her love him less. Richie for all his loudness and rambunctious nature was still her sweet boy at the end of the day. He was the boy who mimicked her old funny animated voices and wore glasses that were a tad too big on him. Richie was her carbon copy. He was all the things she never liked about herself, only he made them look so wonderful.
Richie found friends as well, a grumpy little boy called Stanley Uris. Maggie's heart almost stopped when she heard that name.
The boy looked so much like Teddy Uris that Maggie was sure she would burst into tears just at the sight of that boy. But to her credit, she didn't cry. She just watched.
She watched the two boys and silently mourned for Teddy. Maggie didn't know him that well, she didn't know him the way Lilly and Ronnie knew him either but she mourned all the same.
Teddy Uris, Phil and Suzie Malkin, all three dead now but their ghosts still caught up with her.
It felt like God was truly punishing her when another ghost popped up.
Turns out Will married that girl from prom, Jessica Smiths, and the two of them were living their best lives or rather the three of them.
Mike Hanlon looked like a sweet boy. He had his father's sweet smile that's for sure. Maggie never properly met him. Richie had mentioned him once in passing.
“He doesn't go to our school, I think– I'm not really sure.” Richie told her at breakfast through a mouthful of pancakes, “He has this cool dog though! Y’think–”
Marge dutifully cut him off and gestured for the boy to finish chewing first.
Richie swallowed. “Y’think he would let me pet it?”
“If you ask nicely, I'm sure he would.”
Richie never did get to pet that dog. Henry Bowers apparently poisoned the poor thing a week later. Maggie's hate for the Bowers family grew a little bigger that day.
Afterwards, Maggie made sure to smile at Mike Hanlon whenever she saw him in town. He smiled back.
One day Maggie saw him walking through the town with his father by his side. She still smiled, albeit a bit more timidly this time. Mike smiled back. Will smiled harder and even waved. to her.
Maggie felt more like Marge Truman that day. It was a nice feeling.
It didn't last long.
Will and Jessica Hanlon were dead. They died in a house fire. Marge was invited to the funeral.
Leroy had sent her the invitation. There was no name from the sender but she knew. Who else could've sent the letter?
She decided to go, she owed it to the small fragment of Marge Truman that was still in her. She owed it to Ronnie, Lilly and Rich to go. Maggie had not been Marge Truman for a long time but for one day– this day– she was willing to be that girl one last time.
Marge made a promise to herself. This time she wouldn't cry. She would be brave this time, she would keep her eyes dry and she would stand strong for Will Hanlon just like how he stood strong for all of them at another funeral.
It was a small funeral. Leroy and Charlotte stood at the front with what Marge assumed were Jessica's parents. The Hanlons were well loved, they must have been with the way every guest had tears in their eyes. Every guest but Marge. It might’ve looked odd to anyone else– insensitive even– but she knew that Leroy wouldn't take offence. Leroy would know why Marge had to stay strong.
Then she saw him.
Little Mike Hanlon was dressed in a charming black suit, he sat at the front and clutched his grandmother's hand tightly. She had forgotten about him. The boy would be an orphan now, she realized now. He would be an orphan with no one but his grandparents to care for him. Marge noted how small he looked in comparison to his grandfather. He was scared, he must have been, but he still held himself with strength like his grandfather.
Her thoughts ran back to Richie. Richie who was at home now, probably watching cartoons or reading a comic-book none the wiser to all the horrors in the word. Suddenly her eyes felt wet, Marge couldn't be strong this time.
Marge lets the tears flow and hopes Will can forgive her for breaking her promise.
When she gets home that night she calls Richie down and just holds him. If he's surprised he has the decency not to comment and instead just hugs her back.
“Richie, I need you to do a favor for me.” Marge is impressed that her voice doesn't crack. Richie pulls back slightly and narrows his eyes.
“Depends on what it is, Ma.”
“The Hanlon kid,” Marge began, “If you ever run into him in town or anything, just– just be nice to him, yeah?”
Richie must think that it's a doable favor because he just nods and pulls her back into another hug. Marge gripped him a little tighter and let herself think.
All of them had left her now. Rich, Ronnie, Lilly and now Will.
They all left Derry and they wouldn't be coming back.
Marge Truman could never leave Derry, not if it meant leaving all of them.