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Tags: Memory Loss, Post-Series, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Diary/Journal, POV First Person, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington-centric / Characters: Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Wayne Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson

May 26, 1995

Henderson decided that he’s taking the summer off. I did have a feeling last night, so the trailer’s all hooked up at least—let’s call it my “Dustintuition.” I’ll pack after dinner and hit the road before breakfast. 

Not to give him too much credit, but it is good timing. I was starting to settle in again, a little too well. I just don’t know why it always blindsides me. It’s so stupidly obvious looking back that I wanted things to be easy, just as easy as everyone says it should be. I was saving up my money for the possibility of a ring. I was imagining her meeting my parents. For god’s sake, I was actually taking her kid out for ice cream. I’ll admit all of this here so I won’t be tempted to admit it to anyone else, because I really don’t think it matters now anyways. Trevor won’t remember who I was. I wasn’t there enough to be anyone but the tee-ball coach. 

I remember handing him his cone. I was making sure he wouldn’t drop it, and Katie hadn’t expected me to look up at her when I did. I understood right away that this isn’t working. Her eyes were so sad they seemed out of place, like they didn’t belong on her face at all. Almost like they were cutting through from the distant past. It should be impossible to forget how that kind of sadness used to be everywhere once, shouldn’t it? But one day, it just wasn’t. People weren’t worried to talk about the easiness of life or what should be anymore. So why do I keep buying it?

I swear I don’t know. I never do.

While I’m at it, I guess I should mention what happened later.

When I was setting up the trailer, Mr. Munson had just come out for a smoke. I’m sure he sits there every night. He’s probably still at the plant. We’ve been neighbors for a few years, but he must work the graveyard shift—I never, ever run into him. Of course I didn’t have my glasses on, so unless I closed one eye and really focused, all I could see was the yellow dot bobbing just out of reach from my porch lights. I thought it was too early in the season for the lightning bugs to be out. Once I realized what I was looking at, or who, he’d been looking for a while. And we didn’t say anything. 

That’s timing for you, you know? Timing is everything. There’s a time for Hawkins and a time to get away, and hell, you can get pretty far! I just don’t know very many people who can stay gone.