Loser

Chapter 4

While Richie is looking through rack upon rack of old band t-shirts, Krissy asks Eddie to follow her. Eddie looks over at Richie, fear coursing through his veins, trying to pierce his skin and dance across his expression.

"You don't have to worry. I just want to talk about something and, from the looks of it, it's something you don't want him knowing about yet." Eddie nods and looks at Krissy. She's got a welcoming, warm smile painted on her lips. He starts to follow her, then looks back to where Richie was just standing. He's not there. Eddie looks around, panicking. His eyes fall on the dressing rooms, seeing a familiar pair of chucks behind a door. He sighs a breath of relief and continues looking forward. Krissy leads him to the office, a room that very clearly belongs to a happy pair. Photos of Krissy and someone, who Eddie assumes is Jen, are displayed generously around the office. Some of them have the two holding a dog, one of them eating ice cream. So many activities, immortalized on the pages spread out on the alabaster walls.

"Is this Jen?" Krissy nods. "She's really pretty. She looks like she was drawn by the stars. You both do. You look nice together."

"If that's how you describe a woman you've never met, how the hell do you describe Richie?"

"I've never actually thought about it."

"I'd love to hear it. Are you an artist or a writer?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you an artist or a writer? Those are the only people I've ever heard talk like that."

"I draw. Kind of."

"And by 'kind of', you mean?"

"I haven't seriously drawn for a while. The last time I did, it didn't end very well."

"How so? Please tell me if I'm being pushy. I would just love to get to know more about my cousin's 'boyfriend'." The air quotes around the word "boyfriend" scare Eddie.

"I-why the-?"

"I know you're not actually dating. You're too...starstruck. You treat Richie as though he's off limits. Untouchable. But I've also seen how you look at him. Eyes that only truly see his beauty and potential. Like, you see there's things wrong with him, but you want to help. You see that he can be fixed, and you're willing to figure him out. How long have you known each other?"

"Funny story, actually. We went to elementary school together. I'm a people watcher. Always have been. I know a lot more about him than he does about me. Like, I recognize the look in his eyes whenever someone reaches their hand out, even if it's not directed at him. I remember when he'd come to school with bruises and scrapes and sprains, claiming that he got hurt playing soccer, but I knew he didn't play. I understand the constant looking for reassurance. I knew the reasons for the watercolor massacres portrayed on his skin. He's really quite an outgoing and sincere person, but he's scared. He's afraid that everyone, eventually, will get sick of him, just like his father. He's also a protector. That's why he always had more bruises, cuts, broken bones than his mother. He made sure she never got as hurt as he did."

"You got all of that from just watching?"

"Abused kid recognizes abused kid."

"Did he notice you in elementary?" Eddie shrugs.

"Kind of, but there's no way he could recognize me from then."

"You used to be Eden, didn't you?"

"Like I said, she died."

"And you were born. Richie noticed more about you than you know. He would always come home crying saying that the pretty girl's arms looked just like his. He would ask me how he could protect her. He joked about how she looked a little like a boy, but he didn't care. She could be a boy, and he'd love her just as much. He called her the nicest person he could ever wish for. I think he recognizes you, but can also tell that you're not her. You just wore her as a costume for a little bit. He's trying to get you to tell him without him having to ask about who she actually was. He's not going to push, if you tell him you don't want to talk about it. The boy's got an understanding for boundaries. I'm proud of him." Eddie smiles.