go west ( reddie )

chapter six

"Okay, okay it's ringing," says Richie, flapping a hand at Eddie to quiet him. They're crammed together in a phone booth outside their motel in Kansas City and the stars are coming out. Eddie is wearing a faux-suede, fringed cowboy vest that he's pretty sure is made for children, but Richie got it for him at some tacky wild west store on the highway and ripped the tags out before he could check. Richie has a sheriff's badge, bought at the same store, pinned to the front pocket of his red and yellow bowling shirt, and a marker pen in his mouth that he's been using to circle rude words in the phone book. They're calling Bill. They're calling Derry.

"Trashmouth," Bill answers, gravely.

"Big Bill," says Richie, with as much gravity as he can manage with a pen in his mouth. He spits it out. Eddie makes a face. "Is everyone with you?"

"How's the road?" Stan asks, slightly muffled, answering the question.

"We picked the worst and most boring way to cross the country," says Eddie, heart in his throat. He's missed them all. Richie smells like drugstore shampoo and a whole month of sunshine. There's a drawing of a turtle on the glass door, next to a phone number.

"We kind of love it though," says Richie, nudging Eddie in the side. "How's Derry?"

"Not dead yet," says Bill. "Despite our best efforts."

"Ben's been on a crime spree," says Mike, laughter in his voice. "He and Bill have been tagging billboards with poetry."

"Without me?" squeaks Richie, outraged. "Without Eds ?"

"Why'd you say my name like that? What fuck does that mean?"

"You're our resident criminal," explains Bill. "Because of that time you totalled the drug store."

"Okay, but-"

"And because of that time you stole my heart," says Richie, winsomely, fluttering his eyelashes.

"Whatever," mutters Eddie. "I hope you guys are being careful."

They talk about what they've been doing, the best and worst parts of home towns and road trips. Bill's mum has started painting again, watercolour landscapes with tiny soft-bristled brushes, children in raincoats and boots. Mike is in a surprisingly vicious war with the town librarian, because they're considering reclassifying their collection and as far as Mike's concerned, "LCC has no place in a public library". No one's seen Eddie's mum in weeks. Stan says he'll check up on her, even though she hates him. Richie touches the back of Eddie's hand. Eddie kicks gently at Richie's sneaker.

And then, twenty minutes in, an excited announcement by Stan. Mike has decided to go to college after all, and they'll both go with Bill when he moves to New York. Eddie can't speak. He really will be the only one left, then, he thinks.

"That's fucking awesome," says Richie, breaking through it all. "Congratulations, Mikey."

"Yeah," says Eddie, faintly, too late. "Yeah, that's really great."

There's not much more to say after that. They devolve into sentiment, sarcastic and earnest all at once. We love you we miss you kiss Eddie's mum for me goodbye farewell good luck. They hang up. Richie picks up his pen and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Eddie steps out of the booth and a breeze picks up his hair and he tilts his face to the dark sky. Richie follows him, slings an arm around his waist. His eyes are wet and his lower lip is shaking a little. He buries his face in Eddie's shoulder as they cross the gravel, back to their room. Eddie thinks of the moon and lets it happen.

"I miss them," Richie says, when they're inside. Eddie pulls on a piece of his hair, one messy curl, lets it spring back into place. He wants to touch his face, his tears, just swipe his fingers under his glasses, collect the wet that's sticking all his lower lashes together. He flicks his sheriff's badge with a fingernail instead.