Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

XLVI: Mother

moth·er

noun

a woman in relation to her child or children

Emilia sat on the chair in her small house, back then it felt like a home; the warm scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air and made Emilia feel as though there was nothing wrong in her perfect family. The size of her house didn't matter, it didn't matter that the sides of the trailer were beginning to mould, or that the handle of the front door didn't work when her dad had kicked it in a few weeks ago. Emilia didn't know why it happened, and she didn't question it either. Her feet dangled but didn't touch the floor, she was hardly even eight years old, and she was ecstatic to learn that she was pulled out of a day at school to spend with her mother.

"These look perfect, Emilia, honey," her mother stood up with a piping hot pan full with cookies that still sizzled and were baked to a perfect golden colour.

Emilia grinned a toothy grin, eyes wide as she silently asked for one.

"We'll let them cool. In five minutes, we can dip them in milk." Her mother placed the pan on the elements of the stove and opened the fridge to prepare the milk. Two plastic cups that they had gotten from the thrift store, bright coloured -one of them was melted slightly, and it was Emilia's favourite- were being filled with milk when the front door jostled. It took only two or three seconds for her father to open the door, but in that three seconds, Emilia's mother had put the milk away and walked to the opening of the kitchen, where she could intercept William.

"What are you doing home?" Arlene asked.

Her husband scowled, "I should ask you the same thing. Taking your kid out of school? Skipping work while I slave away to pay the mortgage?"

"And yet you're home before noon," she retorted, tiger-vicious with words that dripped like honey.

"Baking cookies? That's productive. That'll get the kid a job in the future."

"She's our child, don't forget that." Even though she could have been snarling at him, she was so placid, calm like an untouched lake. It was her husband who was dropping pebbles in, waiting to see her reaction.

"Right," he nodded, large head bobs. He pointed between Emilia and Arlene, moving his hand back and forth. "I don't want to see this again."

"You will not tell me how to raise my child," she threw his words back at him, if he didn't want to have her, then he had no say in how she was raised.

"Make up your mind, Arlene," William growled, pushing passed her and opening the fridge the grab a beer. Arlene slammed the door shut, preventing him to start drinking at noon. He towered over her, and used this as an intimidation tactic. "Get out of the way, Arlene. This is my house."

"Emilia, honey," Arlene didn't take her eyes off of her husband, "Go to Judy's, just like I taught you."

"Two houses down, towards the forest," Emilia mumbled the directions.

"Good girl. I love you, Emilia."

Emilia never knew what happened after she left.

Jonathan's distinct voice brought Emilia out of the distant memory, bringing her vacant stare back to a focus. In his hands was a map, markings made on it in Sharpie. Nancy was on one side of Jonathan, Emilia on the other. Like a trio of kids out looking for fantasy and monsters, they huddled behind some large gravestone, the name faded and almost impossible to read now. With wide brown eyes, Jonathan looked at her, head cocked to the side. Nancy glanced up from the map as well, watching Emilia, as though both of them were waiting for her to answer.