MELANCHOLY [S.T. B. Hargrove]

12

"We were supposed to stay friends," Joyce whispers after a few minutes. "We've known each other since high school. I didn't want someone coming into me and my sons' lives and turning around what good things we had going."

Gently, I run my hand over Joyce's hair.

"He was there for me. He was my safe place to hide and cry. The first one I wanted to share any big news with.." she continues, her voice breaking. "And I.. I fell. Gosh, I fell so hard."

She still had the blanket over her, but I was covering her just as much. She was nearly in my lap.

"I relied on him. I trusted him. And I trusted him with my sons. That's.. that's why I felt okay to let him in on this other world happening. I wanted Will to have someone to trust. Someone to take the load off Jonathan.

I feel a bubble build up in my own throat like I wanted to cry all of a sudden.

"I trusted him enough to let him in on this. It's all my fault he's-"

"No!" I gasp, finally seeing where she was going with it. "Joyce, you can't think like that."

A sob breaks from her lips and she hides her face in my collarbone. My heart races and a pain hits my stomach at the guilt she was going through.

"I should've never told him. I shouldn't have let him in. Bob is dead because of me," Joyce cries.

I pull back from the hold and cup Joyce's face in my hands. "No.. No, he's not."

Joyce's eyes close and she whimpers, trying not to cry too loud.

"Bob wanted a part of this because he wanted to be there for you and your sons. He was doing it because he cared."

I brush her tears away with my thumb.

"It still has Will," she whispers. "It's not done. I just.. I wish it would take me instead."

I pull Joyce into a full hug. Her hands weakly grab at my shirt and she resumes crying on my shoulder. Billy's shirt was baggy, so she had fistfuls of the material in her hands.

I rock her back and forth, rub her back, and do anything I can to show her she's not alone. My eyes burn from unshed tears just because of how sad this whole situation was.

Will was still in bad shape. He still had that thing inside of him. it had to end. Will had to come back.

"Hey," I whisper, leaning back to grab Joyce's face again. "Will is gonna be just fine, all right?"

Joyce shakes her head like she didn't believe it.

"We're gonna figure something out. We're gonna get that thing out of Will. We're gonna kick this thing straight in it's slimy culo."

"But, Bob-"

"Bob went out fighting for Will's safety. Don't we owe it to him to do the same thing? To not let him die with no purpose?"

I hated how the situation made me think about the gang I was in. My tears start to roll down my cheeks.

"Joyce, you're so strong. You're an amazing mother. Bob knew that. And Will.. Will needs you right now. Jonathan can't carry this on his own."

Joyce takes a deep breath- the first one since Bob's death.

"You've just got to hold on and fight a little longer," I promise. "You're not alone. We all have your back."

Joyce nods and rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes to rid the tears. I stand up and hold my hand out to her with a hopeful face. A gentle cry escapes my lips and I smile as Joyce takes my hand and stands.

When we walk into the kitchen together, still holding hands, the others were gathered around a table talking about the ordeal. Maybe arguing was a better word. Some wanted to wait for a higher militia force. Others wanted to kill the thing themselves.

"They're right," Joyce speaks up.

Hopper looks at us. He gives me a grateful nod and steps to Joyce.

"We have to kill it," Joyce says. "I.. I want to kill it."