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chapter eighteen dig dug
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Bob Newby never loved Emilia Davis, not really. Not the way he loves Joyce Byers, the way he's loved her since high school. Whatever love there might have been, it wasn't real. None of it was.
Maybe, there might have been nights where he did feel something. Feel the warmth and the racing of his heart strong enough for him to think he loved her. Where he could feel the spark in his fingers whenever he touched her, the sparks when he kissed her. But God, if there ever was one, may He forgive Bob Newby for feeling like an outsider in his own marriage. May He forgive him for ever wondering if his wife had poisoned his drink, if she ever reached into the strings of his heart, tying them to hers because she knows his heart lies in the arms of Joyce Byers. Forever and always.
But then came his firstborn. Who seemingly came from stardust. A daughter he believed had the entire universe in her eyes. The greatest gift Emila Davis has ever given him. And Bob knew, as her tiny fist grabbed onto his finger, he'd do anything for her.
"So, why'd you leave?"
The daughter's grown now, and Bob Newby feels as if he's lived dozens of lives since the first time he's laid eyes on her. But still, after all these years, he still believes Ruth carries the universe and every mystery in her eyes.
Bob looks away from the stack of puzzles he's set on the table for Will Byers. He glances at his daughter, who keeps her gaze down at her notebook, pretending to look busy, but really doodling the moon and the sun on the corner of her page. Rue had asked so casually as if this question had not been a burden in her heart ever since he stepped out that door.
"I had to." The father answers.
His daughter frowns, "You could've taken me with you." She finally looks up at him. "You should have."
