The Bath || Stenbrough

1985

When I was told I need an artifact of my past, I knew it needed to be something of importance.  Bill decided to go on a search for his bike, leaving me in our motel room we returned to after out time in the clubhouse.  Now I sit on our shared bed, thinking hard about what I should choose. It can't just be any object. I know Bill's bike, Silver, meant a whole lot to him as a kid. 

I try to think of something that meant a lot to me, but the only thing that's ever been worth anything to me is Bill Denbrough.

I don't think sacrificing the man would be an option though, so I stare at the wall some more. That is until a sudden knock on the door makes me jump. 

"Bill?" I ask hopefully, only to be shut down by a 'no.'

"My apologies, but it's just cleaning services. May I enter?" A polite voice asks apologeticly.

"Oh yes, c-come in." I scramble out of bed, opening the door.

A tall lady with strawberry blonde hair and a maids dress stands in front of me. Her polite smile causes me to smile as well.

a/n: do not make uwu maids dress cat boy jokes i swear this was the 80s 💀

Her nametag reads 'Isabella.'

"I didn't know you were still in here, I know the other man in this room was out." Isabella explains. "I'll leave if you like, unless you want to get breakfast while I dust."

"That's okay." I reply. 

She smiles. "Does that pretty face have a name?"

"I-...Stanley Uris?" I blush awkwardly at her semi-flirtatious comment.

"Oh gosh, I bet your not an asshole." She blurts, lowering her voice slightly. "Gay's never are."

I stand speechless.

"I'm sorry...it's just nice to loosen up at work without being shunned." Isabella begins talking much faster, in a less professional manner. "I-...My spouse told me about you, sorry I probably should've started with that."

"Izzy, right?" I ask chuckling.

"Izzy." She grins, shaking my hand. 

"Well Izzy, I'm a bit preoccupied right now." I say politely. "I should probably get back."

"Yeah..." Izzy's grin fades slightly. "I'll leave you be. Farewell, fellow homo." 

I let out a slight chuckle, sitting back down as she leaves.  I think back to a time when I was younger, living here in Derry.  When I was young, I was big on reading. I didn't read tales of pirates and princesses like the other kids though, I was more into nonfiction, especially about animals. My favorite type of animal has been birds ever I was in kindergarten. I loved the way they flew, and the noises they make. I still do. I've read many, many books about these feathered animals in my lifespan, but one in particular had always stood out to me. 

Birds of North America by Yasmin Peters 

I first read the lengthy book when I was 9 years old. I've read it 14 times in all. I mainly love it because of the pictures, my favorite being a photograph of a beautiful white dove perched on a woman's finger. 

That book....I need to get it. 

I crawl out of bed, switching my t-shirt (which reveals my scarred up arms,) for one of Bill's cable knit sweaters. I write a note telling Bill where I've gone before walking down the carpeted hallway of the inn, smiling at Tiffany on the way out. Bill's car still sits in the parking lot, waiting to be driven. I open the door, laying one hand overtop the steering wheel and the other adjusting my seatbelt. I press a foot down on the pedal and begin driving to the library, where I assume the book is. Since Mike lives there I'm already familiar with where it is, so I get there in about 7 minutes. When I enter the dusty building Mike is sat at the front desk, reading through an incredibly thick book.

"Hello." I mumble after a good minute of awkwardly standing there.

"Oh hi, Stan!" Mike waves enthusiastically as he sets his book on the table. "What's up?"

"I wanted to check out a book." I answer earnestly, only to earn a laugh in reply. "No seriously."

Mikes playful grin fades. "Um...any book in mind?"

"Do you have 'Birds of North America' by Yasmin Peters?" I ask.

"Most likely." He takes a large sip of coffee. "Look in the P's."

I walk over to the extensive section of books Mike points at, looking for the label marked 'P.' I skim through for the PE's, finding only 3 books. One about trucks, one about some sort of fantasy adventure, and one about World War I. I sigh, and return to Mike's desk.

"Is there any other place it could be?" I ask him.

"I don't know Stan, sorry." Mike kindly smiles. "Last time I checked it hadn't been checked out in several years."

"Okay." I breathe deeply. "Keep an eye out for it?"

"Of course." He agrees as I turn towards the door. "Goodbye, Stan the man."

"Bye Mike." I head out the door and back into Bill's car, driving to the pawn shop. I assume the book would be there, since often objects from 10-60 years ago can be found there. Whether that be book or something else. When I enter the shop, Bill is surprisingly there stuttering like crazy as he talks to an elderly man at his desk. He turns around joyfully after handing the man a stack  of money, clearly shocked to see me.

"Oh hi, Stan." He smiles, pointing to a silver bike up against the window. "Look what I found."

"Silver!" I exclaim helping him to carry the bike outside. "That's great Bill."

"What are you doing here, sweetheart?" He asks, lowering his voice.

"Looking for a book." Bill's eyebrows furrow. "You know, for an artifact."

"Ohhh, well I'm gonna go...test this out." He grins, patting my back. "Bye best bro."

I roll my eyes at his 'straight man' impression before reentering the shop.

"Hello." I greet the man.

"What now?" He groans, setting down a magazine that was in his hands.

"Do you have any books here?" I try to stay in my usual polite tone whilst speaking to the rude man.

"Only a few." He points leisurely to a small stack of books.

a/n: did i use that word right lmao

I look through them, mostly finding ones about politics. 

"Do you know if you a book titled 'Birds of North America?'" I turn back to the grumpy man.

"Kid just got it a week ago." He replies before reopening his magazine.

"Oh." I mumble, my gaze turning to the floor.

The man sighs. "What's so important about this book anyway?"

"I just.....really need it." I emphasize my words in hopes that somehow the thick book will appear out of thin air.

"Welp seems that kid beat you to it." He shrugs, pointing to curly haired blonde boy reading the book outside. He smiles as he flips the pages, reminding me much of my younger self. I sprint outside, greeting the boy politely. 

"Hello." I smile my best 'good-with-kids' smile. "Watcha reading?"

"Um...a book about birds???" The boy, who I now recognize as the one from the restaurant, replies confused.

"Mind if I take a look?" 

He hands the book to me, allowing me to quickly skim through the glossary. I flip to the page about doves, smiling at the nostalgia of the photo.

"Can I have my book back...?" The kid questions.

I just need the page.

Desperate times....

I rip the page out, before setting the book down on the next to the kid. "What the heck!!" He yells as I run away back to the car.

Call for desperate measures.