At first, it's barely noticeable. Richie is late here and there, he skips out on a few plans with no explanation other than he was "busy", whatever that means. Well. Barely noticeable to everyone who isn't Eddie. But then he stops giving an explanation at all. Stops calling to say he'll be late. It's like he suddenly has a separate life, one that doesn't include the losers, one that doesn't include Eddie, and it's — it's unfair, because he should at least have until the end of summer. He should at least have until Richie is gone for him to be gone.
Maybe it'll be easier this way. Maybe Richie is trying to soften the blow by leaving gradually instead of all at once. Or maybe he's already so sick of them, so eager for a new life, that he's started already, right here in Derry.
"That's crap and you know it," Bev tells him when he expresses these concerns — briefly, she doesn't need to know all the angsty details. Although Eddie gets the feeling she already knows what's going through his head.
"But what if —"
"But nothing," she insists. "He loves us. He loves you. You know that. He's probably just... busy, I dunno." she shrugs.
Eddie slumps back against the tree he's sitting under. Bev is laying on a picnic blanket nearby with a stack of magazines, flicking through them with little interest. The others have all left for dinner already, save for Richie who hadn't shown to begin with, and Eddie decided he wanted to prolong going home as long as possible; sensing he wanted some company, Bev stayed too. So here they sit, limbs heavy in the late summer heat, listening to the cicadas in the trees.
"He's never been too busy for us before," Eddie says quietly.
Bev sighs and gets up, dropping her magazine, and plants herself down next to Eddie. He's hugging his knees, resting his chin atop them and looking absolutely miserable.
"You mean he's never been too busy for you before," she says.
Eddie doesn't answer. He doesn't have to.
The grass is warm and tickles their toes when the wind blows. Bev lets the silence continue for a moment, watching a deer in the distance as it noses around some flowers.
"I just wanted the summer," Eddie says. "If I have to say goodbye to him at the end of it... the least he could do is let me have it. The least he could do is fucking tell me where he's going. If I hadn't seen that stupid letter I wouldn't even know — what, was he just gonna leave without ever saying a thing? Pack his bags and disappear forever?"
He picks up an acorn and chucks it as hard as he can.
Bev doesn't really know what to say. It is weird that Richie hasn't said anything, that he keeps disappearing in the afternoons and not saying why. She doesn't blame Eddie for being upset.
"I'm sorry," she says earnestly. "He's just... being a dumb boy. My magazine says they're not worth it." She grins and bumps Eddie's shoulder, but he barely manages a smile.
"Nothin' new there," he says with a kind of resigned sigh. Then adds, "I'm gonna miss you."
"I know," Bev says, putting a hand on his knee. Eddie lets his head drop to her shoulder. In moments like this, without the others around, it's easy to allow themselves to be more affectionate. It's not that the others aren't — they've all cuddled before. But they don't find the need to bicker for fun the way they do as a larger group. Eddie loves it.
"Just... not in the same way you'll miss Richie." she says.
Eddie closes his eyes. "I don't know what you mean."
YOU ARE READING
greetings from stardust
RomanceA few days ago just an ounce of Richie's attention was almost too much to bear. Now, he feels engulfed in it - hot tickling flames that spread from his chest to his fingers when their wrists touch between the seats of the car. It hurts when Richie l...
