JUNE 2nd
With the release of high school and the ease of summer filtering in like a dream, there were no complaints in the world. Just simplicity.
"Tell me about your mum."
In Tatum's quiet bedroom with no parents nearby, Billy was reclined on the pillows with Tatum resting on his bare chest and smoking a cigarette they'd been sharing.
His brows lifted softly, thinking as he let out a plume of smoke. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything." Tatum kissed his chest lightly before resting her chin down. "Anything. What color was her hair?"
"Blonde," he replied, running a hand through Tatum's hair. "Golden like the sun."
"Was she originally from California?"
"Washington, actually." Billy continued to toy with her hair as he stared up at the ceiling, the soft hum of a record long over still spinning in the background. "She grew up in Seattle but wanted warmer weather. My grandma still lives out there. Dad stopped letting us visit her a long time ago. What about your mom?"
"Born and bred in Chicago." Her eyes had closed in contentment. "It's a wonder Dad managed to get her here to Hawkins."
Billy smiled softly, taking in the details of her face without being caught. "They met at school, right? At Northwestern?"
"Mhm," she hummed, worried that if she nodded he would stop playing with her hair. "They met his junior year and dated through the rest of their degrees. He was a year ahead of her so he got an apartment in the city to be near her. He temped at a publishing firm, which is how he got his first book published. He slipped it on one of their desks while delivering coffee. They fired him, but he got a book deal, so it worked out."
"How long were they married for?"
"They got married in sixty-four, had me in sixty-seven. I was four when she died, so seven years, but they were together for a little over ten. Yours?"
"About ten years. They didn't know each other for long before they got married. If they had waited, it would have been better."
Tatum's eyes fluttered open, his hand ceasing to stroke her hair. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Whatever you're comfortable with."
"I just feel bad if I'm moping about it."
Sitting up as she turned over, she propped herself up on her elbows. "Why?"
Billy's shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. "It's not fair for me to be sad about my mom leaving when she's still alive."
"Billy, your emotions are still valid whether or not you think my situation is worse than yours." She reached up, running a hand along her cheek.
He cupped his hand overs hers, holding it there. "I'm not good with emotions. Not really."
"That's okay, too." Tatum searched his eyes as they finally met hers. "I didn't know that, you know. That she left. You never talk about her."
"It's hard to. And I can't talk to my dad about it. I can't talk to him about anything," he said, letting go of her hand.
"I'm here."
Billy leaned in, kissing her forehead before reclining back again. "Tell me something I don't know about you. That way we're even."
There was so much he didn't know.
She hummed in thought as she rolled over, tucking herself under his arm. "I have a stepbrother."
"I remember you saying that around when we first met. You never talk about him."
"His name's Ben. The difference in age is about what yours and Max is, but he's older."
"I hope he's nicer to you than I am to Max," he quietly said.
If there was anything she wanted her friends to hear, it was things like that, things Billy said when his ego wasn't the size of the moon.
"We were really good friends growing up. He even let me hang out with him and his friends sometimes. We'd go to the pool all the time. He actually taught me how to flip."
Billy grinned lightly. "That's sweet. Is he in England still?"
Tatum laughed a little hesitantly. "Not exactly."
"I take that has to do with the reason you two don't talk?"
"He defected to the Soviet Union a few years ago."
"What?"
"And that's why I don't tell people." She sighed, deciding to light her own cigarette instead of stealing what was left of Billy's. "All the signs were there. He learned Russian as a teenager before he was out of school. He even taught me some. We'd speak in Russian and play spies around the house. Dad thought he wanted to join the Royal Air Force and decode for them or something. We missed all the hints."
Billy's brows lifted. "That's insane. So, he legitimately lives in Russia?"
"Unless he's stationed somewhere else in the Soviet Union." Tatum shrugged. "I haven't the slightest clue. He called a few months back, but all of it was nondescript. It's not like he can say anything genuine."
"Does he get to call often? I wouldn't think they would let him."
"He never calls. That's the thing. He hadn't contacted us in two years, and then he has our phone number here. I don't know how he got it in the first place."
"That's a little unsettling to think about."
Tatum let out a great sigh, burrowing her face against his chest. "That's why I tend not to think about it."
After moment of silence passed, Billy snubbed out the little that was left of his cigarette. "She was my biggest surfing fan. She loved the beach, so she was more than willing to wait and watch. Dad never liked to go with us, so it was always just the two of us. She would carry my surfboard when my arms were too tired. Which was always, because I'd stay out for way too long catching waves I knew I wasn't good enough to ride."
"Do you know where she is?"
Billy lightly kissed the top of Tatum's head. "No. I have no idea."
If I knew her voice, I could find her, she thought.
But that's all it could be. Just a thought. Just an inkling of what could be done if she could ever tell Billy about the mystery of Hawkins.
About the mystery of herself.
And while she promised her friends that she wouldn't date Billy and failed miserably at it, keeping the secrets of herself and her friends was one of the most important parts of her life.
It was an unbreakable vow of trust to one another.
"Would you ever go looking for her?" she asked, the words slipping out without being able to stop them. She blinked mildly, thankful he couldn't see her eyes.
While he wasn't good at getting secrets out of her, he was incredibly tuned in to her emotions and able to sense a change from a mile away, whether or not he was causing it.
Billy sighed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"What about Seattle?"
Stop. Talking.
He laughed to himself, albeit unsettled. "I guess so. I don't think she would have gone back to her parents. My dad knew where they were and how to call them. I'm pretty sure she didn't go there."
"Well, if your dad is like you say, then I wouldn't think that they would have told him anything, even if they knew where she was."
"Where is all of this coming from?" he asked as Tatum sat up, the sheets pulling away as she covered herself. "It's the first time I've talked about her and it sounds like you want me to go after her. I can't. She made her choice to leave."
"I'm sorry." She should have shut up. "I didn't mean to go all out. I can't make my brain stop sometimes. It's just sound and reaction." Tatum reached out, flipping over his medallion necklace so it faced the right way. Something told her that it was what he had left of her. "But I get where you're coming from. Ben left us, too. And for a while I wanted to go after him, to try and bring him back, but after I while it just hurt and I got used to it."
Billy's brows furrowed lightly, absently picking up the medallion between his fingers. "What made you touch this?"
It was his mother's.
"What?"
"What made you turn it?"
Tatum's lips parted lightly, eyes flickering from the necklace to him. "I don't know. It was just flipped the wrong way."
"You know, I always feel like you know more than you're letting on," he said. "Almost always."
"I don't know what you mean."
He lifted up the medallion. "What are you thinking right now about this?"
It was an absolutely guess, but she felt like it was the right answer. "It was your mum's. It's Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers. I think she might've given it to you right before she left."
Billy's brows drew in deep. "That's what I'm talking about. You're the smartest person in the room, even when you try to act like you're not. You just know stuff that other people don't catch on to."
"I'm just observant," she defended.
"Are you sure you're not some kind of clairvoyant?"
Tatum stared at him in thought before letting out a huff. "You sound ridiculous."
Billy nodded lightly, letting the necklace fall back to his chest. "Yeah, I guess I do."
The doorbell rang throughout the house, drawing both of their eyes wide.
"Is someone supposed to come over?"
Tatum checked her watch, the only thing she was genuinely wearing, and shook her head. "No, definitely not. Dad's not supposed to be home for another hour and Elena's in Indianapolis with friends."
"Pretend you're not here."
"Jolene is in the driveway."
"Here." Billy reached over the side of the bed, throwing his t-shirt and pair of her shorts at her.
Tatum let out a yelp as she wiggled into the clothes. "Who the hell is here?" she asked aloud, practically running out her bedroom door. Nearly missing a step at the bottom of the stairs, she swung open the front door with a posed smile. "Max?"
"Hey, Tate," the redhead said from the porch, holding her skateboard under one arm. "Sorry to just show up."
"It's all good," she assured. "What's up?"
"Could you give me a ride to the arcade? I'm meeting up with the guys and Billy was supposed to give me a ride but he hasn't been at the house all day."
Tatum lifted a brow, nodding. "Okay, yeah. Let me go grab my keys." She slid the door shut, squeezing her eyes closed before running back upstairs and bursting into her bedroom. "It's your sister."
"Tate."
"Billy, not now. She's your sister, and she's at my door asking for a ride to the arcade because you flaked."
Billy picked up the alarm clock on her nightstand, groaning at the time. "I totally forgot."
Tatum grabbed her keys from the bureau. "It's all good. I'll drop her off and I'll be right back. Don't leave."
"You're the best. Thank you!"
Tate closed the bedroom door on the way out, jogging back downstairs and almost barreling out the front door. "Ready?"
Surprised by her energy, Max hesitantly nodded, heading to the topless Jeep. "How was work?"
"Eh." Tatum shrugged as she climbed into Jolene and popped the passenger lock for Max. "It was alright. Nothing special, really. You know Timmy Leon?"
Max groaned. "Unfortunately."
"We had to kick him out today. I think he has an obsession with sprinting around the pool and every single guard called him out for it but he kept doing it. We finally just made him leave and told him he could try again in a week. He's a little asshole."
"I really don't want to deal with him in high school."
"I don't want to deal with him ever. He was Elena's least favorite student." Tatum flipped out of the driveway and headed for the arcade, the radio playing low. "He threw a snowball at a kid in class."
"Ugh."
"How's the boyfriend?"
Max shrugged lightly, skateboard tucked between her legs. "We broke up a couple days ago."
"Again?"
"He's an idiot."
Tatum rolled her eyes. "Well I know that. But you're still going to the arcade with them?"
"Well, we got back together last night. He came over and apologized while Billy at the pool."
"Again."
"Tatum, come on. Boys are stupid, but they're nice to look at."
"I completely agree with that." She waved to passing car, spotting Nancy and Jonathan heading home from the internship at the newspaper that they both managed to snag. She slid on a spare pair of sunglasses as they reached a stoplight, the wind that so gracefully billowed her hair ceasing. "Are they really considered break ups at this point if you two keep getting back together?"
Giving another shrug, Max leaned her head back against the seat. "No clue. But I like him a lot, so I can't imagine breaking up with him for real."
"How's Will been taking being the only solo one this summer? With Dustin gone he's just stuck with two couples."
Max's lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Fine, I guess. He always comes with us to the arcade and the quarry."
"Have they run a campaign lately?"
"A what?"
"A Dungeons and Dragons campaign," she said. "Have the played?"
"Uh, I don't think so. Not this summer at least."
"Girls means the destruction of the party!" Tatum said with a joking gasp. "That's it, I'm holding a campaign at my house. You and El are so not invited so they can just be gross boys."
Max shot Tatum a look. "You want to spend time with gross boys?"
"Oh, god no. I'll just swim while they're playing." She groaned, shaking the steering wheel as she drove. "I miss Dustin! That little nerd needs to come back. Steve's losing his mind without him."
"Are you guys still doing Babysitter's Club?"
"It's gone to every other week, and we barely make that work," she told her. "Our work schedules don't sync up very well. It sucks. It's the same with Nance and Jonathan. They're always at the paper. This summer is all screaming kids that I don't want to be around instead of you losers that I would rather spend time with. I'm at the pool every day of the damn week and clean it almost every morning. That's like ten hours straight in a swimsuit. I never wear regular clothes anymore."
Max gave her a hesitant glance as they pulled into the arcade parking lot. "And are those your regular clothes?"
Tatum's brows furrowed. "What?"
The shirt she was wearing most definitely did not fit her, granted it was Billy's.
"You know, I thought that he was being nice because of what happened at Will's house last year, but maybe that's not why."
"Max..."
Max angled in her seat to look at Tatum, unclipping her seatbelt. "He always the nicest when you two were together. And he's never at home, and I'm pretty sure nobody at the high school likes him."
"Max, this is just one of my pajama shirts. I can't sleep in tight shirts or I get uncomfortable in bed."
She held gazes with Tatum for a long minute, only the low hum of Queen interfering. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Hey guys, it's Tatum and Max."
"The boys see us," she told Max, nodding her head toward the arcade. "You're late, aren't you?"
Max hesitantly withdrew her eyes, hopping out the Jeep.
"Are you still coming to the pool tomorrow?"
"Yeah, we all are."
Tatum smiled lightly. "Good. Break all the rules while Billy's on stand. I bet him twenty bucks he couldn't go without yelling at you guys."
Max's brows lifted.
"As a co-worker," Tatum hastily defended. "A work bet."
"Sure. I'll tell them."
Tatum inwardly groaned as Max disappeared into the arcade, feigning a smile as she waved to the boys. "Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled, wheeling out the parking lot and heading home.
The was one too many cars in the driveway when she returned.
Tatum's eyes grew wide as she spotted her father's mustang parked in its typical spot, Jordan nowhere to be seen. "No!" she gasped, hauling ass out of the Jeep and running for the unlocked front door. "Dad?"
"In the library, hun!"
Heading through the foyer off to the east wing of the house, she popped her head into the office that had been entirely decorated since Jordan's return from rehab. "Hey, I didn't think you'd be home so soon."
"Oh," Jordan sighed, lowering his glasses as he looked over the top of his typewriter. "I cut my writing session short at Marty's. I wasn't feeling it. Usually I can spend hours there with the portable, but something was off about to day. I felt like I'd work better in here."
She imagined that if she knew Billy was upstairs, he would've said something by then.
"Working on the new one?"
Jordan hummed agreeably, evaluating the slim stack of pages in the catcher. "Not much of anything yet. I'm halfway through the outline so far."
"Can I read it at dinner?"
"I would love it if you did." Her glanced over her outfit. "What were you out doing?"
"I gave Max a ride to the arcade. I wasn't out for very long."
Jordan nodded, fingers beginning to press out words albeit looking at his daughter. "How was work today?"
"Nothing special," she replied with a shrug. "We kicked a kid out. It's already pretty hot so I'm not looking forward to July."
"At least you don't have to go on stand most of the time," Jordan offered, the click of the typewriter still going. "Just yell at all the kids and make sure your guards aren't having any issues."
Speaking of guards, there was one hiding in her room.
"I'm going to finish reading the pages that Stephen sent over," she told him, motioning a thumb up toward the ceiling. "Has he decided on a name yet? Do you know?"
"I think he's going with 'IT'. A bit dramatic, if you ask me."
Tatum grinned. "As he always is. Holler if you need anything. Thai for dinner, right?"
"I wouldn't miss it," he said, winking before she disappeared down the hall.
Tatum took the stairs two at a time, bursting into her bedroom and swinging the door shut. "Billy?"
The only movement in the room other than the panic of herself was the curtain rustling out from the open windows.
"Billy?"
The closet door squeaked open, Billy hesitantly poking his head out. "Jesus, Tate."
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know he would come home so soon. He was supposed to be at Marty's longer." She cupped his face as he reached her, laughing to herself. "You hid in the closet?"
"I barely had time to get in there," he told her, clothes haphazardly put on - most likely while hiding. "I heard the front door shut and he called your name. As soon as I closed the closet door, he walked in.
Tatum's brows furrowed. "He did?"
"It was weird." He referenced the air vent above the bathroom door. "It sounded like he was replacing it or something. Just moving the grate around before leaving after a couple minutes."
"Oh." She lowered her hands, instead taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "Weird. Yeah, I think he might've mentioned getting replacement grates," she lied smoothly. "I still wish he hadn't come home yet. I was supposed to get another hour with you."
Billy leaned over the edge of the bed, kissing her neck softly. "I know. I wasn't thrilled either. About Max or your dad."
Her hesitant laugh caused him to draw back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I probably should have put my own shirt on before taking her to the arcade." She grimaced. "It was like she knew. I kept telling her no but she definitely did not believe me."
Billy groaned inwardly, throwing himself back on the bed. "Shit. That's not good."
"What do we do about it?"
"I don't know."
Tatum laid back next to him. "They're all coming to the pool tomorrow," she said. "We could try and throw them off. I don't know if she'll tell the boys if she thinks we're seeing each other but we could at least get her off our backs."
"I think you just want an excuse to be mean to me at work." He rolled over to rest his chin on her shoulder.
"Tate! I'm making decaf!" Jordan called from below. "Cuppa?"
"Yes, please!" She sat up, pulling Billy with her. "If he's not in his office you can go down the balcony without him seeing you."
"Climbing the ivy ladder is very Romeo and Juliet."
"Well, we're not dying in the end, so let's move it."
Billy grinned as he stood, pulling her into a kiss before she could open the door to the small balcony. "I'll just hit on the moms at the pool. It'll make the brats so uncomfortable they'll forget all about it."
"You'll make their day." She rested her forearms on the stone ledge as Billy threw a leg over the side and latched onto the thankfully sturdy ivy rungs lining the back of the house. "God do they love to look at you. I don't blame them."
Albeit suspended in the air, Billy pressed his lips to hers before pulling away with a grin. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied, watching as he climbed with strategy down the trellis to the pool deck.
He sent her a lasting wink before running off the back gate and dipping out toward his car.
Tatum shook her head softly, waiting to retreat to her room until he was out of view. She propped open the closet door, retrieving the small ladder she had originally used to put boxes up on the higher shelves she couldn't reach.
She set the ladder up in front of her bathroom door, stepping up to the top before wedging her finger into the side of the air vent cover and popping it off. Peering into the dark space, she reached in to retrieve the small red box that had been stuck inside since she moved to Hawkins.
Tatum slid the lid off, a new photograph placed on top with a small note stuck to the back.
Misha July '64
A soft smile crossed Tatum's look as she drew in the poorly colored photograph of her mother donning a floral dress, posing in Millennium Park in Chicago at the height of a 'flower power' rally.
With the intensity of all they had been through and Jordan's crippling inability to speak to his daughter about her birth mother, it was common over the years for him to give her old photographs that he would find around the house, whether in his office or tucked in places he'd forgotten. Since she was seven there had been an ever-growing box of the pictures that was added on to every few months, allowing them to remember Misha without having to speak about the nature of her exit from the world.
Tatum pressed the lid back onto the box before returning it into the vent and sealing it shut. And although she climbed off of the ladder, she didn't put it away. She took it across the room and nestled it against the wall her bed was pressed up to under another vent that required more effort to open. Taking a handy screwdriver from her nightstand, she scaled the ladder and undid the screw bordering the grate.
Just as dark as the other and even colder, a stack of files bound with a rubber band sat inside in silence.
Tatum pulled out the slim stack, checking the miniscule pencil mark on the top folder that lined up with the rubber band, a security measure she had put in just in case Jordan got a little too curious.
However, the files appeared to be untouched by anyone but herself.
Just as she and Hopper had agreed.
The truth dies, just like the government wants it to.