Richie's tour ended up being so successful in California that they decided to extend the dates across the USA, hitting a different state roughly each fortnight. Eddie had decided to come with him, relishing the opportunity to travel, but he also had a few coincidental trips planned.
As they landed in Atlanta, Georgia, their stomachs flipped. They had called up and been invited to stay with Patricia Uris, Stanley's widow. They had never met in person before, and both Richie and Eddie were unsure how comfortable the union would be.
Patricia's home, what had been Stanley's home, was beautiful. There was a tree to the side of the house. A bird feeder hung from one of the lower branches. A goldfinch pecked at the seeds inside.
Eddie stopped short by the mailbox. He felt as though the place were shielded by an impenetrable glass dome that he could not walk through.
'Everything okay, Eds?' Richie asked, halfway down the garden path.
Eddie inhaled, emotional. 'Yeah, I'm fine. It's just,' he didn't finish. What he wanted to say was: I feel like he's here.
Richie walked back to Eddie and put a hand on his shoulder. 'I know,' he said.
Patricia Uris opened her front door, 'Are you coming in?' she asked, smiling brightly.
The men walked swiftly up towards her.
'Hi, Patty,' Richie greeted, and immediately threw his arms around her.
She made a noise of surprise, but let her hands rub up and down Richie's shoulder blades. 'It's very nice to meet you too, Richie.'
Richie let go and she opened her arms to Eddie. He put his arms around her gingerly, almost disbelieving that she was a real person in flesh and blood. He'd heard her voice, read her letters, but that was so different to seeing the rosiness in her cheeks, the roots coming through her dyed hair, the icing sugar dusted on the front of her apron.
'I hope you're hungry,' she said, ushering them inside. 'I'm sorry. Time ran away with me a little and I wasn't able to make as much food as I wanted.'
Richie gawped at the spread on the table. It was ridiculous. It could have fed a dozen people or more. 'Fucking hell.'
Patty scolded, 'Language.'
'Are we expecting company?' Eddie asked.
'Oh don't be silly. I just expected it might have been a while since you had a hearty home-cooked meal.'
'This looks incredible,' Richie gushed. 'You really didn't have to.'
They sat down and ate. Patricia Uris was a delight. She was talkative and no-nonsense, motherly in a caring, generous way. She seemed genuinely interested in Richie and Eddie, now knowing how important they had been to her husband. She liked to talk about Stan too, she seemed comfortable doing so, asking questions about what he had been like as a boy, wanting them to recount stories.
She gave them a tour of her home. There were photographs of Stan everywhere, gradually ageing through the years. He looked so happy. Eddie picked up their wedding photographs.
'How long were you married?' he asked quietly.
Patty started to wander back downstairs. 'Oh gosh. About thirteen years.'
Richie whistled as he followed her, 'Lucky lady.'
She smiled softly, 'I am.'
Eddie put the picture back in its place on the dresser. He turned to look behind him, saw the bathroom, saw the bathtub. He shuddered. He couldn't fathom how Patricia was able to walk into that room every day, knowing that it was the place that her husband died.
Eddie went downstairs. 'Patty, can I ask you something?'
'Well sure,' she said, going to the kitchen to make a round of tea that nobody had asked for.
'Why did you stay here?' he asked softly. 'I mean, after he passed.'
Patricia hummed sadly. 'I get asked that a lot. I suppose it's hard to explain unless you've lost somebody so close to you, but I think you get tied to where they were last.' She sniffed, stirring milk and sugar. 'And even though it ended sadly,' she breathed raggedly, 'we had a lot of happy memories in this house.'
Richie came up behind Eddie and rested his chin on Eddie's head. 'I'm sure you did.'
Patty gestured, 'When I see the kitchen counters, I think of how we argued over what colour granite we wanted. When I see the lounge walls, I remember the day that we painted them.' She looked out of the window. 'See that tree? We planted it together as a sapling and watched it grow. He loved to watch the birds on that feeder. We'd sit outside for hours.'
'He always liked birds,' Eddie said, remembering how he'd carry binoculars out to the quarry, stuff a pocket guide to birds in his jean shorts.
'I mean, isn't that why you came?' Patty asked. 'Because you thought you might feel some kind of connection to him by being here?' She smiled, not expecting them to answer. 'I'm sure you do.'
'We do,' Eddie acknowledged.
Patricia sat down in her armchair. 'Tomorrow you can go up to the cemetery, if you like.'
Richie clenched his jaw and sat down on the sofa. Eddie sat beside him and gently patted his thigh.
'Thank you, Patty,' Eddie said.
Patty smiled, 'Drink your tea.'
---
Richie and Eddie walked solemnly up to the gravesite. Richie's hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Eddie kept fiddling with his jacket, zipping and unzipping, unsure whether he was warm or cold. After some searching, they located Stanley Uris.
Richie exhaled heavily. 'This is weird,' he said quietly.
Eddie took his hand, 'I know.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock to place on the grave. It was one of the few Jewish traditions which Stan had always liked; to leave stones instead of flowers. Stones don't disappear.
Richie took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Eddie stroked his shoulder and kissed his cheek, 'I'll give you a minute, okay?'
Richie nodded, and Eddie wandered away. He stared at the words carved into the headstone. It felt wrong to see the name. So definite, so final.
'Hi, Stan,' he said. 'So, I'm here in Georgia touring my show, if you can believe. Turns out some people do laugh at my jokes,' he chuckled. 'And I'm here with Eddie, but I figure if anyone could have expected that, then it would be you. You always had us sussed.' He pouted. 'We live in a house in LA. Eddie keeps it so clean it feels like a hotel sometimes, except he doesn't leave chocolates on the pillow.'
Richie felt Stan's presence, like he was standing beside him, listening.
Richie went on, 'We get to see Bill pretty often. He and his wife Audra spend a lot of time in California because she's an actress and he's whipped. She's beautiful, Stan, and really kind. I think you would have liked her.'
Eddie looked at Richie from afar. He was running his mouth off, just like when he and Stan used to talk as kids. Some things didn't change.
Richie bit his lip. 'I like your wife, too, even though she keeps telling me off for cursing. She,' he breathed, 'God, you can tell she just loves you so fucking much. I'm glad that you had that while you did. She said she always disapproved of you reading Bill's books. I've told her to read the latest one. He didn't fuck up the ending this time.'
Richie could see Eddie meandering through the grass out of the corner of his eye. He was reading the names on the other headstones absentmindedly.
Richie clenched his jaw. 'Ben and Bev are happy. They keep getting more dogs and naming them after the New Kids on the Block. They're such fucking losers. Mike's actually in Australia at the moment. Once he left Derry he decided he wanted to see the whole world. One extreme to the other, you know.'
He looked over at Eddie in the distance. They caught eyes and Eddie smiled at him. Richie waved him back over.
As Eddie walked, he said, 'I'm really happy Stan. I wish you could see it. I wish you were here.'
'Hey,' Eddie greeted.
'Hey,' Richie said. 'Do you want to?' he offered.
Eddie nodded. 'Yeah. Thanks, Rich.'
Richie walked away. He didn't go far, just out of earshot. He chose a patch of grass and lay down, staring up at the clouds.
'Hey, Stan,' Eddie said, zipping up his jacket again. 'It's been a long time. California's not that close to Georgia. So, I thought that Richie's tour was a good opportunity to come visit.' He pressed his lips together. 'I don't know when I'll next be able to get over here, so I wanted to say a few things now.'
Eddie felt like he could see him, like Stan was there, leaning on the headstone, with his arms folded, blonde hair rippling in the wind.
Eddie sniffed. 'When we were kids, you were the only one who I opened up to about me and Richie. It might not have been a huge moment for you, but it was for me. And I know that Richie talked to you too. You were the first friend who really knew who I was, who we were.'
Richie spotted shapes in the clouds. He let the sun shine down on him, let the wind chill the skin on his face. He looked over at Eddie and wondered what he was saying.
Eddie lowered his voice. 'So, I think it's only fair that you're the first friend who gets to know this.' He exhaled heavily. 'After the tour, when we get home, I'm gonna ask Richie to marry me.' He smiled. 'And I really hope he says yes.'
Eddie imagined that Stan would roll his eyes at this last comment. Of course he'll say yes.
'Thanks, Stan,' Eddie said. 'For everything.'
Richie ambled back over to Eddie. He kissed his forehead. Eddie craned to kiss his lips.
'Ready to watch my show?' Richie asked, as they started to walk away.
Eddie groaned, 'I've seen it like twenty times already.'
'I still see you laughing,' Richie prodded him.
'That's delirium,' Eddie corrected.
'You better be nice, or I'll drag you onstage again.' Richie warned.
'Oh, God, please don't,' Eddie begged. 'No spotlights either.'
'Definitely can't promise that,' Richie shook his head.
'You're the worst,' Eddie said.
'You love me, Spaghetti,' Richie teased.
'I do,' Eddie said, smiling knowingly to himself. 'I really do.'