Steady

Uncle and Son

In the evening of the third day of final week, Eddie sits on his cot in front of Wayne, both of them holding a tray with their dinner, courtesy of Hawkins High's cafeteria employees. All the seats around the few tables are occupied, leaving them no choice but to sit there at the risk of staining their thin bedsheets.

Eddie shovels some of the whitish mashed potatoes, grimacing as they drip through the teeth of his fork. They drop back onto the plate, forming a shapeless puddle he doubts is even edible. Instead, he stabs a small piece of beef in its stew and pulls it off with his teeth but struggles to chew through it.

"Fuck, this thing's like rubber," he comments.

"Yeah, I almost only have sauce. Only two pieces of meat."

Using his spoon, he gathers some of the watery potatoes and tries to shove them in his mouth without looking at the texture. They immediately melt onto his tongue, feeling like sand with dirty water. Without any warning, he spits it onto his plate, triggering a fit of laughter from his uncle, who brings his index finger under his nose as his face turns red.

"Sorry, Wayne, it's rude, I know, but it's fucking disgusting!"

"No harm done, kid."

Wayne plays with the consistency of his gooey sauce, watching it filter through his fork like boogers on a tissue.

"After all these years, I thought we hit rock bottom living in that goddamn trailer," he says, shaking his head. "But here we are."

He drops his cutlery onto the plate and smiles at Eddie.

"Hey, son, let's go out tonight. Does McDonald's sound good to you?"

Eddie swallows the beef with difficulty, widening his eyes at his uncle's offer. He washes all of it down with a sip of lukewarm tap water, clicking his tongue.

"For real?" he asks. "But the money?"

"It's on me. We haven't gone out in years. C'mon, let's throw that shit away."

Wayne doesn't need to tell him twice. Eddie jumps onto his feet and slips his vest back on, welcomed by a pat in the back by his uncle. Side by side, they return to the makeshift buffet, heading straight to the trash can in the corner. While they scrape the food off their plates, his eyes meet Linda's as she tilts her hip, pressing a closed fist against it.

Giving her his best smile, she chuckles and whispers to him.

"I'd do it too, it looks horrendous."

"Nothing beats your sandwiches, Linda," Wayne coos in his back. "You put so much love into 'em."

"Oh stop it, you!"

Blushing at his remark, she reaches out to take their plates and trays away. Behind his nephew, he approaches Linda and pecks her on the hand, triggering another chuckle from her. As they pace towards the door, Eddie turns to his uncle, scrunching up his nose.

"Gross."

Wayne drops the car key into his hand without granting him a reaction. They jump into the van, Eddie groaning with joy as he turns on the ignition. He hasn't driven since the night of Chrissy's murder and he doesn't realize how much he's missed it until he drops onto the seat and feels the vibration of the worn-out engine through the key.

He pulls out of the parking lot and heads out of Hawkins, driving a few miles towards Muncie, where the closest McDonald's is. On the way, Wayne's voice cuts through the silence and the excitement of eating a warm meal for once. Not just peanut butter or ham sandwiches and a glass of juice or water. Not just a cold burger and soppy fries brought by Steve, however lovely it was that he bought them for him in the first place.