No Surrender | Eddie Munson

Chapter Three: Hurry

CHAPTER THREE: HURRY

HAZY SHADE OF WINTER - THE BANGLES

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again

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Lonnie's neighbourhood is nice, a little too nice for a guy like him. It's only when we approach the bungalow that we see the peeling paint and splintered porch. Even from the other side of the door I catch the familiar stench of beer and cigarettes.

I let Jonathan go first. Peering through the square window set into the door, he strikes it with his palm in two harsh knocks. "Hello?"

MTV blasts over us and he shouts again, banging on the door even louder in an effort to drown it out. Finally, a brunette appears in front of us. "Can I help you?" she snaps, chewing her gum in a way that can only be described as aggressive.

"Yeah, is Lonnie around?"

"Yeah, he's out back. What do you want?"

He's through the door before he even starts to respond, "To look around. I'll be fast."

Muttering a quick apology, I follow after him. The lights are on despite the sun and the smell only grows worse the further I go. It isn't exactly a shock to me. Aside from a slight wrinkling of my nose, I continue. "Will?" I call, leaning into a dark bedroom. Nothing.

Jonathan knocks on a closed door. "Will? Will, you here? Will!" Before I can react, a man comes stumbling into the narrow corridor, pinning him to the wall by his collar. "Get off!" he spits, shoving him away.

Lonnie breaks into a drunken grin, wrinkles rippling the grey stubble around his mouth. "Damn, you've gotten stronger."

"Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?"

I ignore the way she looks at us, awkwardly scratching my jaw as I try to stick to the shadows. The air is thick and complex, fizzing with anger and regret. Nobody else seems to notice. Lonnie gestures to his son and says, "Jonathan, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Jonathan - my oldest. And this is his... girlfriend?"

He seems hopeful but we both quickly shut him down. "Friend."

Shrugging, he pulls the boy into a hug. "Come here."

"Get off me, Man."

They disappear into the back to talk, leaving me alone in the house. Sighing, I take a seat on the sofa. The latest infomercial cuts off, replaced by a stern-looking man framed by headlines. He rattles off something about the senate but I can't be bothered to listen. The tension in my chest is gone now, it has been ever since we left Hawkins. It's almost a relief to be rid of it.

The springs beneath me creak as Cynthia slumps onto the stained cushions. "You sure you're just friends? He's a good looking one."

"Yes. Very sure."

There is a pause and she turns, eyes narrowing as she examines my appearance with unsettling scrutiny. "Say, do I know you from somewhere? You look real familiar. Where you from?"

Hesitating, I awkwardly reply, "All over. I mean, I spent a year here when I was younger but I'm from- Uh, I'm from..." I find myself gesturing, as if trying to call the name back from the depths of my memories. It doesn't come.

"You lived down here, right? I swear I've seen you before. Didn't your mom work at that salon in Noblesville? Ruth, was it?"

"That's Mom."