COMING SOON

Steve was left in the wake of an empty wasteland. Atleast, that’s what you and Steve’s use-to-be-shared home felt like. He was left with a single note from you laying on the kitchen counter.

Dear Steve,

I don’t know how to go about this but I’m going to stay with Nancy and Jonathan for a couple of days. I need to figure some things out. I feel lost in this relationship, so lost.

I love you so much, more than words can say. I just need time to think.

He knew this was coming, but he told himself he was thinking too far into things. That you wouldn’t actually leave him. That you would just talk it out. He didn’t know when you were going to be back or if you’re ever going to come back. He hoped you would.

The two of you had a fight two days before you left. Your first real fight. It was big and explosive and spilling out, soaking in every crack, with the both of you not knowing how to clean it up. You both said some things, things you both wish you could take back. Insecurities and misunderstandings seeping out with nowhere to go.

You were staying with Nancy and Jonathan until you figured out an actual gameplan. You still didn’t know what you were doing. You packed up what clothes and other personal belongings you could fit in a dusty duffel bag that used to be stuffed in the far back of your shared closet. It had been taunting you for weeks. You would see it every time you searched for clothes, its black-and-white striped pattern and lumpy shape waiting for you to grab it and do what you’ve been contemplating.

You didn’t want to leave. It was thought over in your mind daily. When you woke up and before you drifted off to sleep- with Steve sleeping soundly next to you- the thought plagued your mind. The anxiety wasn’t letting up but neither was the wide open space that was hollowing out your heart. The fight was your switch.

But you loved him.

Correction: you love him. 

But he was hurting you, and you don’t even know if he knew the pain he was causing. You were constantly doubting his intention, his reasoning. If he even knew his intentions. If he even knew that he was slowly carving out a void in your body, a heavy heart plummeting deeper and deeper inside.

It started a couple months ago.

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Two Months Ago

You were standing in the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get extra close to the mirror, attempting to perfect your mascara.

You and Steve’s five-year high school reunion was tonight. Part of you wanted your former classmates to think you had a “glow up” but another part told yourself you didn’t need their approval nor opinions. Your long-term boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was the only validation you needed. 

What more could a girl ask for when you had someone like him, loving you for everything that you are, throughout the ups and downs?

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though. You were nervous. You weren’t exactly the talk-of-the-town in high school. You thought of yourself as a background character, while everyone else was the main one in their story. You didn’t know where you fit in life.

Maybe it was the teenage angst flowing through your body at the time, but the insecurities still appear now and then when you run into old classmates at the grocery store- the ones who still live in Hawkins. You weren’t one of the lucky ones to make their great escape from the small town, but being with Steve made up for it.

You were both in this together.

As you were giving yourself one last swipe of mascara and a pat of tissue on your lips to tame your cherry red lipstick, Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he says, placing his chin on your right shoulder.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror, a shy smile appearing on your face. The only way to describe Steve’s expression was pure love. 

You’ve never been looked at by someone the way Steve looks at you. At that moment, you couldn’t deny his love for you. You were his everything.

“You almost ready yet, honey,” Steve asked, his eyes attached to you in the mirror.

You reached behind his head, raking your fingers through his hair, smiling. Steve closed his eyes softly, a soft hum releasing from his lips at the feeling.

“I’m ready.”

Steve, arms still wrapped around your waist, turned you around to face him. He planted a kiss to your cherry lips, soliciting an annoyed, but loving, whine from you.

“Steve,” you pout, “I just put that on.”

You looked at him, a giggle escaping your lips, as you saw his stained with the same cherry-color.

“You look pretty,” you giggled.

Steve glanced behind you at the mirror to see the masterpiece left on his lips, puckering his lips to humor you. You gently attempted to wipe the excess off with the leftover tissue you previously used, amused by his appearance.

He stood back a few steps, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your beauty. Your face immediately got hot, feeling like you’re under a microscope.

“What,” you questioned, not able to make eye contact.

“I just can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Okay, you cornball, we got somewhere to be,” rolling your eyes, trying to laugh off his compliment.

You were never good at taking compliments. Your body always had an immediate reaction, especially with Steve. He just had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world worth his time but you had a way of responding to his loving comments with humor, trying to take away the seriousness.

Making your way out of the house, Steve locked the front door, the two of you settling into his maroon beemer. You took a deep breath as he pulled out of his parking space, making the short distance trip to Hawkins High School.

Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the front entrance. Looking around the lot, you observed the dozen other cars present.

Your nerves got the best of you at the sight, realizing that you’re going to be seen by classmates who never gave you the time of day.

You grabbed at the visor above you, looking through the tiny mirror hastily inspecting all the possible flaws you could find on your face.

“Maybe the lipstick was too much,” you said, biting at your bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching with shame.

Steve gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You look perfect, honey. None of these people have anything on you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful woman by my side.”

You gave him a chaste peck on the lips, not wanting to smudge your lipstick and make more of a mess.

“I love you,” you said, pulling back from his lips, resisting the urge to further it into more.

“I love you more, honey.”

You and Steve exited his car, making your way to the front doors of the high school. The hallway was sprinkled with bright, white fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The entrance of the gym was covered with black and gold balloons framing the doorway, with a big banner hanging above:

WELCOME CLASS OF 1985

Steve took hold of your hand, squeezing it once, then guiding you inside the gaudy decorated gym.

White lights scattered the ceilings, gold tinsel and garland were arranged on tables decorated with frilly centerpieces mixed with food and refreshments. A DJ was set up at the back of the gym facing the entrance- some random, old faculty member who was most likely trained to use the equipment that afternoon. The sound of “Out of Touch” by Hall and Oates echoes throughout, transitioning to “Take On Me” by a-ha. You quickly realized the setlist was old hits from 1985.

You giggled to yourself, the whole thing being extremely cheesy, easing your anxiety.

Steve perked up at the sound of “Take On Me.” You quickly remember how much he overplayed this song, still listening to it now and then on a mixtape you made for him of his favorite songs. He still loves to tell you that it’s his favorite gift he has ever gotten. You tell him he’s exaggerating every time.

Another table was set up to the left of the entrance with dozens of nametags scattered across. Each one had an old yearbook from ‘85 next to the name and you wonder if you look any different from your teenage self. Could you have changed that much?

Obviously you were going to be a little different from when you were a teenager but is it in a bad way? You didn’t really remember what you looked like then. You kind of blocked off the entire memory of high school on purpose, forgetting yourself along the way. 

You found your name tag, staring at your picture incredulously. You grabbed it quickly, not wanting Steve to see it, slightly embarrassed. It sat in your palm, wrinkling.

You spotted Steve’s name tag. Evidence of the legendary “King Steve” was staring right back at you and you began to wonder how you managed to catch his attention. You never really talked to each other in school besides the occasional class discussion in the classes you shared. 

Steve didn’t ask you out until 3 years ago, when you became a regular at Family Video. You made a New Year’s resolution to yourself that year to watch at least one movie you have never seen a week, thus making your weekly appearances catch Steve’s eye.

He remembered you from school, of course, but ever since he fell from grace and realized he really did peak in high school, he was different, changed. 

The casual (and a little awkward) flirting eventually transitioned into him asking you out on a date to daily phone calls and seeing each other almost everyday to eventually being the only person he had eyes for. 

Grabbing his nametag, you promptly removed the paper backing and stuck it onto the right side of his chest, giving it gentle pat.

“You were so cute in school,” a soft smile gracing your lips as you stared at the 5-year old picture. 

“Were?”

You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes, smirking.

“You’re handsome now.”

A blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, trying to bite back a smile.

“You flatter me. Where’s yours?”

You groaned, opening your palm where the treacherous nametag laid.

“I’ve always hated this picture. I forgot it was picture day that day so I wasn’t fixed up for it. I almost skipped out on it but I know my mom would have flipped if she didn’t get any senior photos,” you said, grimacing at 17-year old you. 

You were so naive then. You wonder what changed or if you’re still the same you. 

Steve looked at the picture like it was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. He took it between his fingers, really staring at it as if he'd discovered the most valuable gemstone in the world. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, what are you talking about? My girl was stunning then,” he said as he slowly looked up from the picture to your face, “and even more now.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the name tag from his hand and plastered it to your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, reaching for your left hand, his thumb smoothing the back of it up and down.

You examined the small details of the decorations around you, wondering how long it took everyone to put it together, and if your old history, Mrs. Click, was the one who pitched the idea to make it such an eyesore.

Distracted by your microscopic examination of a singular flickering light hanging from a string of fairy lights, you didn’t notice two former classmates approaching you and Steve. You felt his hand leave yours, making you look towards the new arrivals. You recognized the couple- you’re assuming- as Todd Michaels and Laurie Sullivan. You never had any classes with Todd but he was a part of the basketball team with Steve. And Laurie…

Laurie was one of Steve’s ex-girlfriends. Or flings? 

You never really knew what their title was. But you do know they were together for a couple of months in high school. Steve had a reputation of getting around. That was King Steve. But you had the real Steve. The Steve who loved you.

You watched as Steve gave the two quick side hugs, making small talk. Steve’s interest in the conversation seemed little to none, only wanting to be respectful. Laurie then acknowledged you, turning the conversation over. You suddenly felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you, not really preparing for a lot of social interaction. It was Steve’s idea to come to the reunion at first. You were reluctant but wanted to make him happy. 

Laurie began to ask simple questions, wanting to know how life has been for the past five years, what jobs we have, what Hawkins is like, etc..

“How long have you two been together? I don’t recall you guys really interacting with each other in school,” Laurie questioned. Her tone seemed off, degrading, demeaning- like the idea of Steve being with you was an unfathomable concept. She played it off as an innocent question, a sly smirk gracing her face that was caked with too much setting powder. 

Steve butt in fast.

“We met when I used to work at the Family Video in town,” he looked down towards you, a smile slowly appearing as he recalled the fond memory. He always said that he fell in love with you at first sight.

You liked to tell him it’s impossible for him to have done that since it wouldn’t have technically been at first sight. You had known each other since middle school.

He liked to tease that was when he really saw you. In your own light. He was “stunned by your beauty” he says. Whatever that meant..

Steve gave a quick rundown of your “meet-cute.” Laurie then asked the one question that could make or break a couple.

“So, do you two have any kids yet? Me and Todd are planning kid number two but wanted to wait another year until Max is a bit older.”

Todd didn’t seem interested in the topic, almost like it was a touchy subject for him, too. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad for a guy who was such a major douchebag in school.

Your heart started beating rapidly. You and Steve have mentioned the possibility of kids. He’s always made it clear he wanted a big family. You would like one or two, but maybe not six, like he’s mentioned before. You told him three is your max. Steve says he’s okay with any amount, as long as he gets to have them with you. But the idea is still scary. You’ve always worried that you wouldn’t do a good job as a mother. What if you’re not cut out for it? What if the stress gets to you? What if Steve suddenly changes his mind about wanting kids? What if you change your mind about wanting kids?

The list went on and on in your head.

Steve felt your hand gripping his tighter, a cue that you didn’t know how to interject into the conversation.

“We want kids, for sure. In the future, maybe,” Steve replied, squeezing your hand back- a way for him to tell you that it’s okay.

Laurie’s face morphed into shock.

“Wait, you don’t have any already?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. It’s just the two of us for now.”

Steve looked like he was slowly checking out of the conversation. Ways to make his great escape from the couple and make your rounds around the gym scattered through his head. But you didn’t see that. You started zoning out, letting him take control of the conversation. These were people you never spoke to in school and they never spoke to you. You were on the opposite side of the popularity spectrum. You don’t even know if they remember you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You heard a sly giggle escape Laurie’s mouth. It made  you look towards her, your focus now on lock. You could hear Todd say something under his breath, though you’re not able to clearly make out what it was. He looks annoyed at Laurie. 

“Oh, I just assumed that you’ve already had a baby because, I mean,” she paused, trying to bite back a smirk but failing. You saw her eyes looking you up and down, but not in a good way. She’s looking at you like you’re a foreign specimen.

“Laurie,” you heard Todd grumble beside her, a way for him to tell her to stop before she started something.

“I just assumed you’ve already carried a baby.” Laurie turned her focus away from you towards Todd and Steve, talking as if you weren’t there anymore, “She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.”

Your blood ran cold. Heart stilling for just a second.

Of course you’re not the same weight as you were when you were 17 but you didn’t think you changed that much.

Steve interjected, though your focus was on the back wall behind the couple, not paying attention to Steve’s affect or the fact that he was barely listening to what Laurie was saying. Your eyes glazed over with Laurie’s words bouncing off of your ears.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you guys. We’ll see you around.”

Your ears perked up at Steve’s comment.

Yeah, yeah.

The word hammered into your brain.

Yeah

Your ears started ringing. Your insecurities getting the best of you. You’ve always felt a little subconscious about your physical appearance, constantly having to tell yourself that bodies are always changing. But that never helped calm the nagging voice in your head that despite it all, Steve might not want you anymore one day.

Yeah, sure, you could also tell yourself you should never care what a man thinks about you, but it’s Steve, your Steve. If there’s anyone out there that you cared what they think about you, it’s him. So the idea of him agreeing with Laurie Sullivan, a girl who he used to date. A girl he used to be attracted to. A girl he could still be attracted to. The thought made you nauseous.

Lost in thought, you blindly followed Steve’s lead hand-in-hand as he walked towards a table with drinks and snacks. He grabbed two cups, filling them with some kind of punch. He tried to hand a drink towards you but your mind was elsewhere. Your face was stoic, eyes glazed over. He took notice quickly.

 “Hey, are you okay,” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He bent down slightly so the two of you were face-to-face, catching your eyes.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, giving him a quick but small smile.

“Yes,” grabbing the drink from his hand, “I’m okay. Just distracted by all of the decorations.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, like he didn’t fully believe you, but nevertheless he didn’t press on.

The rest of the night went by in a haze, quickly dissociating the rest of the event. Steve made small talk with former classmates and friends, while you nodded your head to pretend like you were paying attention to what was said. Simple yes’s and no’s were all that would come out of you, too distracted with your own thoughts. Every now and then, Steve would make quick glances at you, worry slowly etching his face. You’re more quiet than usual. He thought to himself that it might just be your nerves getting to you. You were never the best at large events. It took time for you to come out of your shell with him before fully expressing how loud your laugh can be and how wide your smile is.

You were quiet the entire drive back home, Steve’s right hand resting on your thigh, making small circles with his thumb. The ride was short, but every now and then he would look over at you. You were staring at the window, trying to distract yourself from your mind with the bland scenery of Hawkins.

Once settled inside the house, you kicked off your heels by the front door, walking towards the bathroom. Steve grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

He softly brushed a few strands of hair out of face, cradling your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? You got quiet on me back there.”

You hesitated for a second, deciding between telling him the truth or stuffing it into the back of your mind, not wanting to confront him and start an issue. You and Steve rarely actually fought. You would bicker back and forth sometimes about minuscule things like who’s turn it is to wash the dishes or his bad habit of hogging the covers at night. But never an actual fight. That’s why you loved him so much. He made everything feel so easy. He made it seem so easy for him to love you.

Deep down, you were battling with yourself. 

You decided to leave it alone.

“I’m fine. It was just a lot of socializing. I think my social battery died fast,” you said, giving him a fake smile, hoping it seemed genuine enough for him not to press on. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, wash all this makeup off, okay?”

“Want me to join you,” Steve asks, his eyebrows quirking up, smirking.

You replied a little too quickly, almost showing your reserve.

“No! I mean, I need to shave my legs and you know how small the shower is with two people in there. I’ll be quick, promise.”

His cheeky face slowly dropped, confusion at your demeanor.

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be here when you get out.”

You did not take a quick shower. It almost felt cliché, like some teen high school movie where the female main character sits at the bottom of the bathtub, letting the shower rain over her. But that’s exactly what you were doing. It was better than standing up and having a full view of your body.

She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.

Yeah.

It felt like nails in your head. You tried to rationalize Steve’s response. Maybe he misheard her? No, the shrill of her voice was pretty clear, even through the sound of “Careless Whisper” piercing and echoing throughout the gym. Maybe he didn’t care about your weight? Still, it didn’t need to be pointed out and agreed on. You felt shameful, like you were back in middle school getting picked on.

You didn’t know how long you were in there. You usually took long showers anyway, so it gave you a good excuse.

You quickly got changed, having brought a pair of pajamas in the bathroom with you.

Steve was already settled into bed when you emerged from the bathroom, watching a rerun of Family Matters. He turned his head towards you, patting your spot on the bed beckoning you over. You laid on the bed, trying to quickly go to sleep, hoping you wake up realizing it was all just a nightmare. That nothing that happened tonight actually happened. Steve cuddled up behind you, his arm draping over your body, pulling you close to his chest. This was how the two of you usually ended up. But this time, having him touching your body, your stomach, it made your stomach churn, your heart race. You hoped he didn’t notice. But another part hoped he did. 

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

The following weeks didn’t help settle your doubts, it only made them worse. You began to question things you hadn’t before, things catching your attention that you’ve never noticed until now. Things part of you wished you stayed oblivious to. An angry ball of jealousy building up inside of you.

You were the art teacher at Hawkins Middle School, so you had many students who were a part of the little league baseball team that Steve coached for. The field was set outside of the school, giving you ample opportunity to watch their games after work.

However, you began to notice things. Flirting.

The constant flirting.

Not done by Steve directly, of course. By the mothers. But the fact that he wouldn’t stop them made it worse. He’s allowing it. Each game you’ve gone to for the past month, you’ve had to listen to what they say about him. What they say about you. How they talk to him, and he lets them. You don’t know how much longer you could swallow the lump that grew in your throat each time.

But every time you tried to hold your tears back in front of him, you ended up spilling them in the bathroom at home. You’ve resorted to crying in the shower, hoping the sound of the water muffles you. There has only been one time that you think Steve heard you.

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Letting the shower fall over your back, crouched down in the bottom of the bath tub. The sound of sniffling and subtle sobs were interrupted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door. It slowly creaked open, Steve peaking his head through the crack.

“Honey, are you okay? I thought I heard crying,” concern lacing his voice.

You sniffled, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused, contemplating telling the truth and dealing with the confrontation, even if it confirmed your doubts.

“Yes, Steve, I’m okay. I-,” you stutter, “I promise.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be here when you’re done. I love you.”

He waited for your response.

“I love you, too,” you sniffled.

Steve closed the door, leaving you to let the tears that were building up escape your eyes.

Steve was confused. He knew you were crying. He heard you, he just didn’t know why. You weren’t talking to him. 

He felt like he was missing something. What weren’t you telling him?

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That was two weeks ago.

After a grueling day of class and putting up the rest of the clay creations on a rack to dry that your students have been working on for two weeks now, you took a peek out of one of your classroom windows. You had a perfect view of the baseball field, seeing Steve round up the kids in the dugout and parents slowly gathering into the stands.

A smile slowly graced your face, forgetting for a second. You’ve been slowly trying to get yourself to get over what’s happened, playing it off that it isn’t that big of a deal.

Laurie.

The moms.

It’s fine, you tell yourself.

You can get over it.

You can totally get over it.

Maybe if you kept telling yourself that, you eventually would.

You grabbed your bag from your desk, locking up your classroom. You began making the short trek to the baseball field, catching the sun slowly beginning to set. It was spring but Indiana weather made it seem like it was still the edge of winter. A crisp breeze sprayed your hair to the side, your fingers quickly reaching up to tame it. You would have brought a thicker sweater if you knew it was going to be so windy, but nevertheless bundled up with what you had.

You reached the gates of the field, eyeing for a spot in the stands. Spotting a free row at the top of the bleachers, you made your way up the metal steps. You were at the seats closer to the dugout, giving you a good view of Steve.

He was in his usual baby blue coaching uniform, giving a motivational pep talk to the boys. As the boys took their positions, Steve and another coach stood outside of the dugout, making sure the kids were in their correct spots.

Steve was glancing around the stands, almost like he was looking for someone specific.

When he spotted you, a wide grin grew on his face, giving you a quick wink. You gave him a quick wave, before his attention moved back to the game.

As the game progresses, your attention began to be skewed by the comments being made by a few women sitting below you.

“I love Timmy but I can’t help but find some of these games to be so boring. The only thing keeping me entertained is Coach Steve over there.”

“Oh, yes, I know right! He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

“You think he’s single?”

“There’s no way! Someone as good looking as him?”

“I don’t see a ring on his finger, so he can’t be that committed.”

“Isn’t he dating the middle school art teacher? What’s her name…”

“Is he?! I mean I’m sure he’s a nice guy but is he that nice?”

“Seems like charity work to me. Maybe they’re just really close friends.”

The ladies began snickering, trying to muffle their obnoxious laughter at their poor taste in jokes. It’s clear they didn’t see you, or else they wouldn’t be so blatant about their opinion of you. If Laurie Sullivvan’s comment didn’t make you feel like an eyesore, the women sitting before you made sure to.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want them to make you feel like this. Steve is with you. He loves you. 

Right?

You shook your head, trying to shake the negative thoughts flying through your mind, doubt that was building up inside you, adding to the doubt that’s been slowly making your brain their home. The lump in your throat was slowly growing bigger and bigger, wanting to make its escape. You told yourself you’re lucky it was spring. You could blame your watery, red eyes on allergies.

By the end of the game, all the parents and family members began gathering out of their seats, making their way to the field to find their kids. You waited a bit until the main crowd had left their seats, using the time to collect yourself before you met up with Steve.

Making your way down the steps, you reached the gate entry by the dugout. Before you made your way onto the field, you spotted Steve talking to one of the moms. One of the moms who had a lot of opinions about you just a couple of hours ago.

This was the usual routine, though you’ve started to believe the moms have been taking turns to talk to him after the Friday night games.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in a tight knot at the sight of the woman obviously flirting with Steve. You couldn’t quite hear every word they were saying, only glimpses.

The woman wasn’t ugly. You had to admit to yourself that she was awfully pretty. Maybe too pretty. Her skin was sunkissed perfectly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like she came off of the cover of Vogue.

Steve was smiling, laughing off whatever the mother was saying. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he’s enjoying it or if he was just trying to appease her. Either way, the thought made  you sick.

That is, until the woman reached up and slowly rubbed up and down Steve’s upper arm. But it didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before the loud creak of the gate door you began to lean on- your ears buzzing- sounded off. The two quickly looked towards you, Steve’s face lighting up. The woman dropped her hand, staring daggers as Steve walked towards you.

“Hi, honey.”

Steve approached you with open arms, pulling you into a suffocating hug. He pulled back just enough to see your face, not able to help the smile creeping up despite what you had to witness seconds before.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

The woman was still standing near, flicking her eyes back and forth between you and Steve. You couldn’t seem to decipher her face but you assumed she wasn’t pleased.

Your eyes flicked towards her, clearing your throat before turning back to Steve. Your smile never quite reached your eyes. You hoped he noticed.

You also hoped he didn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” feigning excitement, “you guys did really good! It was such a close game.”

The woman next to you rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and walked away.

Steve paid no mind to it. His focus was on you.

Your focus was on the dirt, the edges of your sneakers stained red from it.

You looked back up at him, faking a tight-lipped smile.

“You ready to head home? I was thinking we do takeout tonight if that’s okay with you, honey.”

“Takeout sounds good.”

“Lemme go grab my stuff and I’ll meet you in the car.”

You and Steve always carpool to work together. It only makes sense since you both work at the same school.

Steve got the coaching job (and sex-ed teaching job) a year after you started working at the middle school. It came at a surprise for the both of you, but it also seemed fitting. Steve has always been so good with kids and it was evident by his relationship with the younger half of the group, especially Dustin.

As soon as Steve turned around, your smile dropped. You walked towards his car in the staff parking lot, fiddling with your fingers. It’s always been an anxious tic of yours, but it’s better than you biting your nails so far down, your skin begins to bleed. Steve helped you fight that habit, forcing you to put bandaids on all ten of your fingers so you can’t chew on them when your anxiety spikes.

However, you couldn’t stop the repetitive voices in your mind telling you he deserved better. Someone prettier, someone more outgoing, someone who could bring him the ultimate happiness. Someone others wouldn’t doubt that he could really want to be with.

I mean, there has to be something wrong with me if there are so many people who don’t see me as good enough for him.

You’ve always felt a little insecure about yourself, you think. The “normal” amount of insecure that people felt. But you were starting to feel it in heavier doses now. You felt like you were going insane. Were the moms always like this with him? Have you just been missing it, not thinking to notice it? Why wouldn’t he tell them he has you? Does he even mention you? Does he mention you to anyone?

You didn’t notice your fingers starting to bleed as you started to chew on the nails, on the skin around them. You looked up to Steve’s voice approaching you.

“Sorry I took so lo- honey, your fingers.”

You removed your pointer finger from your mouth, looking down at the red, torn up mess you made, your hands slightly trembling- though it could be from both the anxiety blooming through you and the pain you were now starting to feel in the aftermath. 

“Shit,” you muttered

“Baby, I thought you stopped doing this months ago,” Steve said softly, taking hold of your shaking hand. 

“I didn’t even realize. I-,” you paused, watching him as he grabs a rag from his duffle bag, wrapping it around your fingers, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve just had a weird day.”

“We can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Steve grabbed the sides of your head before planting a kiss to the top of it. He grabbed your good hand, leading you to his car.

The drive home was silent. Your drives home have been silent a lot lately, especially after the baseball games. You didn’t know if Steve had noticed this change. If he has, he hasn’t bothered to bring it up.

Entering the house, Steve made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pack of bandaids and ointment. Walking back out, he gestured to you to come towards him in the kitchen, sitting at a small dining table only fit for two.

He slowly began to put healing ointment on your chewed-on fingers. Your eyes stayed focused on his gentle movements, too anxious to look up at him. You didn’t want to deal with the confrontation. The confrontation that he’s going to ask about when you started back up on the bad habit. You didn’t want to admit that it started after the class reunion incident.

The Laurie incident.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You felt like a little kid, letting others’ actions hurt you as much as they did.

The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes but to you, it feels like hours. The awkward air, the obvious tension, words left unsaid.

“So,” Steve started, “are you going to let me know when you started doing this again or?”

You doubt he meant it to sound condescending, but you felt like you were a little girl who just got caught sneaking into your mom’s makeup.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before opening and closing your mouth, your brain telling you to speak and your anxiety shutting you up. You tried again.

“She was flirting with you,” you muttered under your breath, voice barely above a whisper. You refused to look at Steve, maintaining eye contact with your hand as it’s being held in his, pausing his movement and setting down the ointment onto the table with his other.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded confused, like he didn’t know who “she” was or what you were talking about in general.

You exhaled through your nose, closing your eyes for a second and slowly removing your hand from his. You laid your hands in your lap, your good hand slowly being picked at by your bad hand, the greasy ointment transferring in process. Steve’s eyes locked on your hands.

“Nothing, nevermind.” You sounded defeated. It felt pointless. It was just jealousy speaking. Right?

You got up from the chair, making your way to the bedroom.

“Wait,” Steve said getting up from the chair, “honey, I’m just confused.”

You paused by the doorway.

“Confused by what?”

 “You just said ‘she was flirting with you’? Who are you talking about?”

You turned around to face him, still keeping your distance. A look of pure confusion was etched on Steve’s face. You didn’t know whether to be more upset about the actual situation or the fact that he was acting clueless about it. It was so obvious what that mother’s intentions were. You’re not dumb.

“That woman. At the game. She was flirting with you,” you spoke in broken sentences, hoping to make your point clear and maybe jog his memory of the incident that happened not even an hour ago.

“What woma-,” Steve’s face morphed like he finally understood what you meant, “oh, honey.”

He was smiling.

Why was he smiling? Did he think this was amusing to you? You hadn’t gotten the joke yet.

“Baby, she was harmless,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “we were talking about how good her kid is getting at pitching. You know Michael. He’s in your art class right?”

“She was rubbing your arm, Steve,” your voice evident with annoyance. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t see what was wrong.

“She was just being friendly, okay? You know how the moms are, honey. I can’t be rude to them.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his words.

You know how the moms are, honey.

What is that supposed to mean?

“No, Steve, I actually don’t know ‘how the moms are’,” you made air quotes with your fingers before crossing your arms, “enlighten me.”

Steve’s feet shifted, standing up straight, clearing his throat.

“They’re just…like that, you know?”

He’s clearly dodging the question. You’re staring daggers at him.

Steve sighed  hard, rubbing a hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands.

“Okay, yes, they can get flirty sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything, honey. I’m not doing anything back.”

You could feel heat rising inside of you, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“You’re not really stopping them, either, Steve. All I’m getting from this is that this isn’t a new thing and you’re just letting these random women flirt with you, and you what? Expect me to tolerate that? Because you can’t ‘be rude to them’, is that it?”

You could hear your voice rising, your patience wearing so thin, you could feel it cracking.

Steve looked like a child being scolded. You felt like a mother scolding her child. It shouldn’t feel like this.

The fact that he was well aware of this behavior and he wouldn’t stop it, angered you more. It felt like he wanted the attention, like he craved it. Your mind went directly to how he was when he was in high school, receiving attention from girls left and right. Did he want to go back to that? Did he miss the attention? Is your’s not enough for him anymore?

The only sound you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You refused to look at Steve, your head hanging low.. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Your voice was shaking. You had to force the words out. Your eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to pity you, you just wanted him to listen.

Steve was shocked at your words. His eyes looked bugged out. He could hear your voice shaking, your chest unevenly moving up and down.

“Baby, what are you talking about? What is going on?”

Steve took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Am I not good enough for you, Steve?” You looked up at him, your lips turned downward, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re in pain.

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me,” Steve stutters, “I don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I feel like I’m dating King Steve.”

That nickname leaving your lips stopped Steve in his tracks. You continued.

“I’m having to hear and watch these women throw themselves at you and you don’t do anything about it. You just-,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “you let them. You’re not setting any boundaries despite being with me.” You pointed towards yourself.

“You’re with me,” your lips trembling, a tear falling down your cheek. “It doesn’t feel like I fully have you. It feels like I’m having to compete for you and prove that I’m even worthy of your time. That it’s a shock that you would want to be with me. In here, I have you, I have you all to myself. But out there,” you pointed outwards, “I feel like I have to share you.”

Steve looked shattered. He was at a loss for words, feeling like no matter what he could say, it wouldn’t fix the pain that he caused.

He took a step forward, arms reaching out for you. 

“Honey, I-I love you,” his voice cracking.

You wiped the tears falling down your cheeks, hands shaking.

“Do you?”

Steve was taken aback by your question, his feet glued to the floor. He couldn’t believe you would question that, question something that he was so sure of himself. It felt like the floor was falling apart underneath him, crumbling to the ground.

“Of course I do,” he gasped, breathless. He could see your body softly shaking, quiet hiccups and sobs coursing through you. 

“Am I not pretty to you anymore? Or was I ever? I just- I feel like I’m competing with women who are on a different level than me, Steve. I’m not them, I-I’m average and you can do so much better than average.” You start rambling on, Steve trying to butt in between your short pauses, taking a few steps closer to you, but not wanting to go over a boundary you have clearly placed between you.

“Baby-”

“-I mean, I supposedly also gained a noticeable amount of weight that I had to hear stupid Laurie Sullivan point out-”

“Baby, can you please just let me-”

“-and you had to agree with her!”

Steve’s mouth was agape, shock written all over his face. Your breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down rapidly like you just finished running a marathon. Your face was soaked with tears, red and blotchy. But you were angry. You were so incredibly angry. 

Angry about Laurie, angry about it ruining that night, angry that it cut you so deep, you began to watch what you ate. You were also angry about those mothers flirting with Steve so callously, even though they knew he was with you. However, you were really angry at Steve. Angry that he just let them. He let them, and expected you to tolerate it.

The house was silent. The only noise that could be heard were your own heartbeat and a neighbor’s dog barking outside. You didn’t want to speak first. You were so tired of speaking first. You let everything out of you, all of the thoughts that have been brewing and marinating inside of you. You felt like a deflated balloon and you didn’t know how to get the air back in. It felt suffocating.

But deep down inside, Steve genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. He would have never pointed out your weight like that. Hell, he would never point out anyone’s flaws, and definitely not yours. He thought you were flawless. He was rummaging his brain to recall the events of that night to see if he could remember exactly the conversation between him and Laurie.

You broke eye contact with Steve, looking at your feet, defeated. You took a shaky deep breath.

“I’m going to go to bed, Steve,” you sighed, wanting this to be done with for now. You began to turn around until you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You refused to look at him. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your face.

“Wait, please, I don’t want you going to bed upset. Especially because of me.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” you said quietly, though you knew you were lying to him.

Steve always had Saturday morning practice with the kids. You decided then and there, you were going to pack a small bag and stay at Nancy and Jonathan’s for a couple of days after he left- just enough time to cool down and collect your thoughts and maybe, just maybe,  figure out what’s going to happen with your relationship. The thought made you nauseous but you knew it was needed. This would be the first time in two years that you and Steve would spend apart. You’ve been attached to the hip ever since he asked if you’d like to live together.

He let go of your arm, watching as you went inside the bedroom. He stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank wall. As the night went on and the sound of crickets chirping and the neighbor’s dog still barking, Steve headed for bed himself. He walked into the dark room, seeing your figure curled into bed. He stood in the doorway admiring you. But as quick as his admiration came, so did the feeling of his now heavy heart. 

Steve tucked in next to you, wanting to reach out to bring you closer to him, but knowing he should give you some space. He watched as your chest rose with each breath you took, before falling asleep himself. You were awake, though, hoping he didn’t notice. You could feel his eyes in the back of your head, could feel his self-conscious movements.

When the sun rose, you could feel Steve slowly getting out of bed. Every morning, he would reach over and kiss you on top of your head. You felt his lips meet your temple, your eyes squeezing shut, pretending to be asleep. He stayed there for a few seconds longer than usual, like he sensed what was to come, almost savoring the moment. 

His presence emanated through the house as he got ready- the shower running, his clothes rustling as he put them on, his steps throughout the house that you could recognize as his without seeing him, the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of a spoon as he stirred the cup of coffee (a splash of heavy cream with 4 packets of sugar, he liked it sweet), and finally, the front door closing with a lock and the sound of the gravel driveway crunching as he pulled away.

That was your cue. You walked to the phone hanging off of the kitchen wall, dialing Nancy’s home phone, hoping at least her or Jonathan were home to pick up.

“Please pick up, pick up-,” you muttered to yourself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked, and the sound of Nancy’s voice rang through.

“Hello?”

A sigh left your mouth, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Nance, hey, I have a favor to ask.”

You gave Nancy a quick rundown over what has happened the past two months, tears welling up in your eyes too fast before you could hold them back. The memories still fresh and vivid, emotions you’ve had to settle within you instead of blowing up like a timebomb waiting to detonate.

But of course, Nancy was your best friend, so obviously she understood. She would do anything for you and vice versa. 

The sound of a car running and door closing sounded off not even 15 minutes later. You opened the front door to see Nancy. Your bottom lip began to quiver, immediately bursting into tears. Nancy wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Does he know,” Nancy asked, pulling back to look at you.

“I wrote him a note. He’ll see it when he gets back from practice. I didn’t want to mess up his morning with the kids,” you say, voice shaky with tears.

You grabbed the black and white striped lumpy duffle bag that’s been taunting you for weeks. You turned over your shoulder to look back at the empty home, not knowing if you were going to come back, the thought scaring you. You locked the door behind you, settling into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. You watched you and Steve’s shared home get smaller and smaller into the background as the car drove farther and farther away from it. You feel like a piece of your heart was welded into every inch of that home, the empty void inside of you growing bigger.