Different alcoholic beverages are passed around in a frenzy. The aroma of booze and fried food is potent, though their food hadn't been catered to them quite yet. For now, they drank on empty stomachs, which of course resulted in near instant tipsiness. Jaime realized she had never gotten drunk with any of the others before, and she vocalized that thought. They all laughed as they realized this, then Richie says he got drunk with Eddie on the night of his seventeenth birthday. Eddie flushes and tells him to shut up. Richie claims Eddie began roaming the streets, slurring along to Cyndi Lauper, and Richie (who is currently near tears explaining this) could only find him because of how loud he was. Everyone laughs at the mental image (except Eddie, whom is fuming like a child.)
The waitress returns with platters upon platters of fried Chinese food and noodles. Before she leaves, she pours each of the seven a shot of some fire-colored alcohol that Jaime knows she's never had. They cheers, glasses clinking together, and down their shots instantly.
Richie takes note of the ring on Eddie's finger and says, "so, wait, Eddie, you got married?"
"Yeah, why's it so fucking funny, dickwad?" Eddie fires back.
"What, to like, a woman?"
Eddie points his chopstick at the other man. "Fuck you, bro."
Richie cackles. "Fuck you!" Jaime would tell him to quiet down had she not been giggling so much.
"So what about you, trashmouth? You married?" Bill asks. The table erupts in amused chaos.
"There's no way Richie's married!" Beverly insists loudly.
Jaime swallows a bite of her wonton. "I barely lasted three years with the guy!"
Everyone laughs, but Richie scowls at her. "Fuck you, too, Jay! I did get married!"
"Richie, I don't believe it." Beverly says, shaking her head as she stuffs a piece of broccoli in her mouth.
Richie looks to Eddie, face now fallen in offense. "You didn't know I got married?"
Eddie shakes his head incredulously. "No."
"No, well, me and your mom are very, very happy together."
Bill snorts beer everywhere, some emitting onto Jaime's heather grey t-shirt. She swats at him playfully.
"No, no, sometimes she'll put her arm around me and," Richie proceeds to do a surprisingly impressive Jabba the Hutt impression.
"We get it. My mom is a great big fat person! Hilarious! Hysterical!" Eddie retorts.
"Okay, let's talk about the elephant not in the room. Ben..." He gestures across the table to Ben. "The fuck, man?"
Ben sets his glass down with a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay, obviously I lost a few pounds."
"No shit you lost a few pounds!" He says.
"You look great." Jaime tells him.
"Not just great, like, hot." Richie says. "You're like, every Brazilian soccer player wrapped up into one person."
"Leave him alone." Beverly says teasingly, but the warning is clear. "You're embarassing him." Richie drops it there.
"So, Jay," Mike starts, smiling when she visibly shrinks away. "I was listening to the radio the other day--"
"Your first mistake." She interrupts, giggling.
"--and I heard your name... you produce music? Like, for a living?"
She toys with the wrapper around her beer bottle. "I suppose I do."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
Jaime scowls at Richie as Bill pipes up, "What kind of music do you produce?"
"Oh, just alternative rock. Indie stuff. Nothing terribly exciting. No avant-garde experimental shit."
"Do you write songs for people? Like, a ghost-writer?" Beverly asks, visibly intrigued. She'd always been a huge music fan, Jaime remembers now.
She inhales deeply. All eyes are on her, but these are her friends, she remembers. Their stares are comforting, lacking judgement. "You guys know that Britney Spears song called Circus?"
Richie blows beer out of his nostrils. "You kinky bitch!" Laughter ensues.
"Wow, Jay, I didn't... take you for the exhibitionist type." Ben says between laughs. She cracks a sheepish smile.
"I didn't expect her label to want it to be a fucking single! Imagine my surprise when I turned on the radio and heard my own horny symphony."
"Please, someone, put that on Jay's fucking tombstone." Richie says.
When the laughter dies down again, Jaime turns to Mike. "Anyway, is Stan coming?"
Her question gave the entire group pause. She could just hear everyone's thoughts; "Oh, right, Stan the Man. Forgot about the lad." Jaime had felt the same only a few minutes earlier. She had known someone was missing. Someone that she had shared a milkshake with after returning from New York in the summer of '89. Someone who had truly never wronged her.
"No, no." Richie says before Mike can even open his mouth. "Stanley Urine is a fucking pussy. He's not gonna show."
Jaime throws a balled up napkin at him. He dodges it smoothly. "Says you!"
"Was I not the one to basically perform surgery on Ben after Bowers cut him up? That's right!" Eddie exclaims.
"Bowers..." Jaime mumbles suddenly. Victor's former best friend, and the reason she had been ostracized from Bill, Stan, Richie, and Eddie in elementary school. She had enabled them to be bullied by her older brother and his pack of goons for years, unable to do anything. Victor ignored her at the time, hosting some superiority complex that caused him to follow imaginary rules such as, 'I Will Not Show Any Affection Or Compassion To My Younger Sibling' and Jaime's personal favorite, 'I Will Turn The Other Cheek When My Supposed Best Friend Attempts To Sexually Abuse My Little Sister In Broad Daylight'. But she was over it. Probably. Can you get over something you just remembered thirty seconds ago?
"Speaking of that, how's Victor?" Bill asks politely, as if by obligation. Or just sheer desire to shift the subject.
Jaime smiles at the mention of her older brother. "Vic's good. I'm happy to inform that I cleaned him up that summer, and he has not bullied a single person since. As far as my knowledge goes at least. Oh, his daughter, my niece, got suspended from school for slapping a girl who was making fun of her. So, not sure how to speak for his offspring. But he himself is great."
"Wait," Beverly says. "Wasn't he like, kinda horrible? Am I forgetting something?"
"That's an understatement."
Jaime was getting really exhausted of scowling at Richie. "He was, but he redeemed himself after you left. We all went to a movie and he paid. It was nice." A fond smile cracks over her face as she stares at the white tablecloth covered in crumbs.
"That was, you know, kinda nice of him." Eddie murmurs.
"You patched me up that one day, Eds." His head snaps towards Jaime's direction. "You and Rich found me." She chuckles nervously and runs a hand through her brown locks. "I was almost a goner, there."
"When Bowers..." Eddie nods to himself, while a disgruntled look crosses Richie's face. "Yeah, I guess I did! See, I'm obviously the doctor of the Losers."
"Please tell me you ended up becoming a doctor, Eds." Beverly shifts the topic, much to Jaime's fortune. The two girls share a silent nod, one that speaks a thousand words.
"No, actually, I uh... I ended up becoming a risk analyst." He replies, fumbling a napkin in his hands.
"Oh yeah, that sounds really interesting! What does that entail?" Richie leans closer to him like a curious child.
"Yeah, so, like, I work for a big insurance firm and..."
Richie proceeds to throw his head back and snore.
"Fuck you!" Eddie shouts, for probably the seventh time that evening.
"Was this job invented before fun?"
"Oh, that's not funny at all." He turns to a chuckling Ben and cries, "What the fuck are you laughing at?!"
"So what did you become then, Rich?" Jaime asks. They lock eyes, and Richie grins cockily.
"A comedian, duh. What else would become of me?"
"Ah." She bobs her head. "So, what method of suicide do those that attend your shows end up using?"
They all chorus in some form of 'oooooo'. Richie rolls his eyes as he takes a drink, "Yeah, yeah. I had it coming. But you're one to talk, Ms. Circus Stripper."
"Alright, alright." Beverly raises her bottle of beer. "I propose a toast. To the losers."
The other six raise their respective glasses and clink them together once more. Casual conversation befalls the seven, with no trace of silence anywhere. They had an endless amount of things to discuss; memories, things that occurred in the last 27 years, and even simple interests. Jaime was more than joyed to converse with her former best friends about even the most pointless things, because it was so reminiscent to her childhood. Being in the underground clubhouse that Ben had built, taking turns on the hammock, talking about whatever crossed their minds and making a full-on discussion out of stupid shit. At some point, upon seeing a spider on the ground (that Stan ended up crushing), Jaime had asked if spiders felt pain or had proper feelings. This resulted in Bill going off on a tangent about something he had learned in fourth grade, with the other seven occasionally piping up a joke or a question. Harmless, uneventful moments like that ended up being the fondest of Jaime's memories.
Stomach jam-packed with greasy food and alcohol, Jaime leans back in her chair. From across the table, Richie and Eddie engage in an intense arm-wrestle. She suppresses a burp and looks over to Mike, who, despite the smile on his face, has his head bowed as he picks at the remaining food on his plate.
"Hey," Jaime starts, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, "you overwhelmed?"
Mike glances at her before averting his gaze back down. "I guess you could say that."
Jaime sensed more, could see something moving behind his deep eyes, a beast of something unknown gnawing at the gates. The idea caused that prickling, sinking fear to return to her for the second time that day. With a quick shake of her head, the fear is gone and replaced with confusion. She decides she hasn't had enough to drink and proceeds to pour herself another shot.
After slamming the glass back down on the table, she turns to Mike once more. "Hey, do you remember making me those cookies on my fifteenth? The ones you claimed were your grandmas secret recipe?"
"Yeah, of course." Mike says instantly.
"Yeah, you still got that recipe lying around anywhere?"
Mike chuckles at her statement and shakes his head as he pats his mouth with a napkin. "Sorry to say, she insisted it be buried with her." When she juts her lower lip out in a pout, Mike continues, "But between you and me, I think it was just the recipe on the back of Nestle chocolate chips."
Her eyes widen. "The audacity!" Jaime's eyes scan the room once more, observing the laughing people around her, each absorbed in conversation with whoever is fortunate enough to be sitting next to them. "You know, it's weird. I guess I thought these memories were gone for good."
"What do you mean?" Mike asks before she has the time to digest what she had said. Shit. She'd always been a blabbermouth drunk, vocalizing whatever happened to cross her mind.
"Well," she starts, clearing her throat because there's no going back now, "I had... sort of, a car accident when I was twenty-five." Unbeknownst to her, all of the losers had quieted upon hearing the term 'car accident'. "I suffered some pretty shitty head trauma, was on bedrest for a few months. The doctors... told me my memory would come back eventually. It could be the following day or twenty years later. I began remembering everything... up until I tried recalling my childhood. I had to ask Victor about so much, but he claimed he had blocked it all out. Said it was bad memories. He told me..." She shifts, furrowing her brows. "He told me not to come back here. To Derry. But, you know, that was like, fifteen years ago. Our dad was still alive then. He probably just didn't want me to try to find him."
Jaime's vision is wobbly, but she's still sober enough to see the hard stares of her friends. Unreadable expressions. It's as if she can hear the wheels turning in their heads as they process her words and apply it to their own knowledge. She distantly feels Bill place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it feels like too much.
"But it's strange," she rushes on before anyone can open their mouth, "it's all coming back to me now. Not all, it's very choppy, and the timeline is askew. But I'm remembering more and more. I suppose because I'm here, in Derry, with you guys."
"Yeah," Ben pipes up, "it's weird, right now, that we're all here, our memories are coming back faster and faster."
"When Mike called me I threw up." Richie blurts out, drawing all eyes to him. "Isn't that weird? Like, I got nervous, I got sick, and then I threw up. But I feel fine now! I feel very relieved to... be here, with you guys." Jaime attempts to meet his eye, but she's sure his eyes skip right over her, as if she wasn't there. As if she was a ghost.
"When Mike called me, I crashed my car." Eddie says, tone casual but face knitted together in anxiety.
"Man, I hear you. My heart was literally pounding out of my chest." Says Ben.
"I thought I was having a low blood sugar attack." Says Jaime.
"I thought I was the only one." Beverly says.
"It was like pure f-f-f-f-f-" Bill attempts. His face grows increasingly frustrated as he struggles to say the word.
"Fear. It's fear, what you felt." Mike looks guilty, almost, as if he had been caught in a terrible lie.
"Why'd we all f-f-f-f-feel like that, Mike?" He asks him. "You remember something we don't, don't you?"
Mike inhales deeply, as if mentally preparing himself. Jaime feels herself slowly begin to sober up, the adrenaline in her replacing the effects of the alcohol. She glances with wide eyes at Bill, who mirrors her expression.
"Something happens to you, when you leave this town. The farther away, the hazier it all gets. But me, I never left. So yeah," his gaze returns to Bill, "I remember. I remember all of it."
Something did happen that summer, Jaime realizes. Something more than just the wrath of Henry Bowers. Something sinister, lurking in the shadows of my bedroom, residing in a house of dust and debris--
"Neibolt." She states plainly, zoning out. Eddie audibly gulps.
"Pennywise." Beverly says as well, appearing just as disgruntled.
"The fucking clown." Eddie begins rummaging in his jacket pockets, for what can only be assumed as his inhaler. Everyone leans back, faces pale, almost green. Goosebumps prickle Jaime's arms. She habitually rubs her hands over them, as if doing so would take away her fear entirely.
"Mike." Bill demands through grit teeth. "You said you wanted our help with something, what was it?"
"There's an echo, here in Derry. Every twenty-seven years, it bounces back."
She automatically looks to Richie, who is avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone by having a staring contest with the dirty plate in front of him on the table. Eddie demands Mike to elaborate, which he does.
"Listen. We-- we thought we stopped it. We thought it was done for." He pulls a notebook seemingly out of nowhere and begins flipping through it. He places it on the table, just in view of Jaime, Bill, and Beverly. Jaime hasn't a choice but to read the notes and newspaper cutouts in the notebook, all reporting recent deaths in Derry. She draws a hand to her mouth and gasps.
"Mike." Richie warns, glancing at Jaime's sickened look.
Mike continues explaining, but it falls on deaf ears for her. The noise is tuned out as she reads the words on the papers again, again, again. Insurmountable dread tugs at her, begging her to leave right then and there. But morbid curiosity keeps her grounded, staring at the police photos of barely intact bodies. Dismembered, disembodied. Children and adults alike.
Everyone begins talking over each other, some people proclaiming they need to get home, some begging Mike to go on. Ben raises his voice and tells everyone to settle down, to let Mike continue.
"The echo," Mike says wearily, "we might've changed it, just like It changed us, but we didn't stop It, because it just bounced back. We made an oath." He rakes his eyes through each adult. Suddenly, Jaime can see it again, Bill in front of her with a discarded piece of glass. The metallic scent of blood. Her left hand in Richie's, her right in Bill's. Her palm throbs feverishly with the memory. She looks down. When did the scar return?
"That's why I brought you back. That's why you're here. To finish It for good."
"...Well, that shit got dark fast." Richie mutters after a moment of loud silence.
One by one, the group begins taking a fortune cookie from the large bowl in the middle, minus Jaime. She can barely continue stomaching the remaining food in her system, let alone add to it.
Eddie scoffs. "My fortune cookie just says, 'could.'"
"They don't know how to do fortune cookies here, mine just says 'guess'." Richie says.
Bill stands, the chair under him squeaking against the floor. "You mind throwing that over here?" He lousily clears a space for them on the table. Everyone places their fortunes on the table, little slips of paper with one singular word in bold font.
"Guess not could it cut." Bill frowns.
"It's a message." Says Mike. Everyone stands, if not to get a better look, then to be able to escape easily if something were to happen.
Bill frantically rearranges the fortunes while everyone looks on in fear. Possible sentences are blurted out left and right.
"When it says it, does it mean It?" Eddie asks.
"Yes." Jaime chokes out, her throat thick with acid. "Jesus, Mike, this is why you wanted a family reunion?"
"Let him explain!" Ben repeats.
"Why the fuck did you call us? And where the fuck is my inhaler?"
"Beverly." Bill says. The speech dies down once again as six pairs of eyes land on the woman. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, smudging the mascara around her eyes. Wordlessly, she places the fortune on the table. Bill uses it once more to arrange the sentence...
"Guess Stanley could not cut it."
"Oh my God, why does it say Stanley?" Eddie asks. "Someone fucking answer me!"
"Is he okay? Is Stan okay?" Asks Jaime, to no one in particular. The moment she finishes talking, the table rumbles. Almost as if an earthquake had struck Maine, the table legs bounce against the floor. The remaining fortune cookies in the blue bowl start trembling against one another, like hatching eggs. One tosses out of the bowl and breaks. A small insect arm reaches out. Collectively, everyone backs away.
"What the fuck is that, man?"
The cookie continues cracking until a large fly-like creature emerges, only with the face of a newborn baby. It cries and flutters its wings. Jaime is so occupied watching it, she hardly notices the cookie breaking in front of her until the severed, bloody toe is inching towards her in a style vaguely reminiscent to that of a caterpillar. She yelps and backs away into the large fishtank. One after another, the cookies break, revealing horrific things inside. A tiny bat flies around the losers, squeaking. The table shakes vigorously as the fortune cookie bowl overflows with a tar-black substance. Jaime feels faint; the aroma of peanuts and various circus food swarms her. Distantly, almost only in her head, she hears the music of funhouses and rickety rides.
Something out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She turns around to see blackened skulls floating in the fishtank.
Get out get out get out get out
"It's not real! It's not real!" Mike chants and picks up a chair, which he then uses to smash the table. Plates and glasses crack with each hit, causing Jaime to jolt. She shields her eyes and doesn't open them until she hears the soft voice of the waitress asking if everything is alright.
"Yeah," Richie pants with an innocent smile, "and could we get the check?"
Jaime rushes forward and grabs her purse from the chair she had been seated at. "I am getting out of here."
"I second that." Eddie says, to which everyone nods. The six walk away while Mike lingers back to pay. The rest of the restaurant is full of blissful chatter, as if they didn't even hear what had just unfolded in the back room. They worm through the tables to get to the lobby, where they await Mike's presence.
"I'm worried about Stan." Jaime says, sniffing her runny nose. "Was that just a trick?"
"That's what Pennywise does, right? He fucks with us. So Stan is probably fine." Eddie says to her, though he shares her skeptical look. Mike emerges from the back, jamming his wallet in his pocket.
"Hey, Mike, do you have Stan's number?" Beverly asks softly.
"Yeah, I'll give it to you."
They go to leave, Jaime's hand on the door, when a tiny voice halts her.
"Hey Richie!" Says the small boy, garnering the attention of said man. "The fun is just beginning, right?"
Everyone shrinks away. Jaime presses a hand to her forehead. "Please, please, please give me a break."
"You think this is some sort of game, huh?" Richie spits. He grabs the child by his arm. "Well, fuck you! Alright, fuck you! I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!"
"Rich, stop!" Jaime pleads, simply because Richie getting arrested would really put a damper on their plans.
The little boy, who had stayed expressionless, simply stares at him. "The fun's just beginning. The line from your show, dude. I'm a fan!"
"Are those your parents?" Richie sheepishly points to two adults behind him. "Do you want a picture?"
"I think I'm good..."
Jaime takes this moment to open the door, the cool night air greeting her. The losers begin piling out.
"Jesus, Rich, you don't know a line from your own show?" Ben says.
"I don't write my own material." He shrugs.
"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" Eddie yells.
They disperse in the parking lot, taking in the crisp air. For once, Derry wasn't too humid. Jaime knows it used to be so oppressive, the damp hot air. The sweat on her hairline as she rode her bike alongside Richie, racing him to Bill's house. Mike gives Beverly Stan's number, so Jaime makes a beeline there. She stands next to the woman, secretly admiring the fruity scent of her perfume.
"Hi, Mrs. Uris." Beverly greets the woman who picks up the phone. "I apologize for calling, but I'm an old friend of your husbands."
A strangled, choked noise comes from the other line, which Jaime instantly realizes is crying. Her heart sinks again and she backs away, her eyes plastered to Beverly's face, which struggles to remain calm. "He... uh, he passed..."
"When did it happen?"
"Yesterday. It was horrible, the way he died. His wrists..." She cries. "The bathtub." Beverly and Patricia Uris say in unison. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
"I'm very sorry." Beverly hangs up immediately. She lights a cigarette between her lips and offers one to Jaime. She takes it, despite having quit smoking twenty years ago. The nicotine does nothing for her nerves. Tears silently roll down her cheeks, smudging the makeup around them. Beverly rubs her shoulder gently.
"I know you and him were close."
"Were we?" Jaime snaps. "I just remembered he existed a fucking hour ago."
"Jaime, we all did." Beverly says calmly, a cool contrast from Jaime's upset demeanor. "That doesn't change the fact that we grew up with him. Childhood is the most influential, monumental time of everyone's lives. Of course he means the world to us, and you, still after all these years, despite us forgetting him and each other."
She blinks rapidly, willing away the tears. In her mind's eye, Stan was smiling at her, a ring of chocolate milkshake around his mouth. He was calling her, making sure she was alright while staying at her mothers for damn near a month. And she was making him laugh when he'd be stressed about the Bar-Mitzvah, by saying stupid things and mocking the birds in his bird book. She never would experience the man he grew up to be, the man that could only be more intelligent and reliable than the child he was.
"Pennywise knew before we did." Eddie mumbles in disbelief. Jaime, having forgotten he was there, looks up at him and offers a solemn nod. From across the parking lot, Mike and Richie argue loudly, which prompts Jaime to slowly walk over there.
"I got a plan, let's get out of here before this ends worse than one of Bill's books. Who's with me?"
"Richie, we made a promise."
"Then let's unmake the promise!"
"Other people are going to die." Ben points out.
Richie throws his hands up in exasperation. "Other people die everyday, man! I just remembered I grew up here like two hours ago, so, I'm fucking leaving. Fuck this." He begins walking towards his vehicle. Mike sighs. Jaime feels his pleading stare on her, silently telling her to make an effort to stop him. Eddie's already joined him, on the way to his own car.
"Rich, wait." She drops the butt of her cigarette to the ground and jogs up to meet him. He turns around at the sound of her voice, though he only looks as exhausted as Jaime feels. "Richie, come on. Think about this. We did something all those years ago, didn't we? We stopped Its cycle. Maybe we can do that again, but for good--"
"Are you even listening to yourself right now, Jay?" He asks incredulously, brows furrowed. "What makes you think we're capable?"
"We're older now! We know better! We can... we can..."
"Jay, no. I won't fucking do this again. Because the last twenty-seven years of my life have been pretty fucking peachy and I'm not about to ruin that."
She aggressively wipes away the tears on her face. The news of It, the loss of Stan, along with the retaliation from Richie is all too much. A debilitating frustration befalls her. Richie stares at her, expression hard and unmoving. Her tears did nothing to his stubbornness. "But It will keep happening, Richie. It's taking fucking kids."
The blue moonlight illuminates his crestfallen face. As quick as it came, it goes and is replaced with annoyance. "So now you're not scared anymore? Earlier you looked pretty fucking ready to hightail back to wherever you rest your pretty little head at night."
Jaime glares at him. "I am, Richie. I am ready to go back home. My ghost of a house is far more appealing than this shit. But I promised. And honestly, now that the time has come, I think my entire life up until now has been preparing for this moment. But if that's not how you feel, I won't stop you from leaving. But we promised," she coughs lightly, a result of the previous cigarette, "and you held my hand when we promised. And then you kissed me, and I knew, from that point on, that you would always stick with me when it came to the horrors of this fucking town."
Richie is silent for a moment, but Jaime knows she doesn't have him. He looks guilty, like a dog who tore a couch cushion. He's unable to tear his eyes away from Jaime's glazed ones. A car engine hums. Ben and Beverly go back to the townhouse they'd all be staying at for that night.
"I'm sorry, Jay. You're just asking too much of me. I can't, I can't do it again. I know you understand."
He doesn't let her speak another word before he gets in his car and drives off, but Jaime has nothing else to say. She hugs her arms close to herself and walks back over to the remaining two; Mike and Bill.
"Bill... Jaime." Mike looks between them both. "Please, guys, I'm begging you. Please listen to me."
"You didn't tell us It was back because you knew we wouldn't come and you were right. Jesus, Mike, what can we do?"
"Yeah, Mike, what could you say that would make any difference?" Bill adds on. "Everyone left."
Mike holds his notebook out. "Let me show you guys something. One thing, and if you guys wanna leave, you can leave. Just let me show you this first. Please."
Jaime and Bill share a skeptical look. Bill raises his brow, and Jaime nods once. "For Stan." She agrees. He studies her a moment longer then turns to Mike.
"Okay."
A/N: the dinner scene was such a pain to write. but i knew it was really important so yep almost 5000 words later here we are. the police are gonna come bust my doors down for illegally streaming Chap2 but maybe that's how i wanna be arrested. anyway hope you enjoyed!!