what should never be [s.h.]

36. look out for gorbachev

{ July 1, 1985 }

Trying to find a pair of missing binoculars on a Sunday morning was no small feat. Townes did find them though, after an hour of quiet searching. Janet, one of the most observant people Townes knew, lounged on the couch in the living room, sipping on a nearly-boiling cup of coffee.

"What are you looking for?" Janet asked over the sound of Jeopardy! and Townes rummaging through the hall closet. Huffing out a sigh, Townes looked at the disarray she made in the hallway.

"Found it!" Townes yanked a black raincoat off the hanger and walked into the living room. "It's supposed to rain tonight, right?"

"You're not going to clean the mess you made in the hallway?" Janet quirked an eyebrow up at her eldest daughter.

Dropping the raincoat on the carpet, Townes retreated back to the hallway and pushed the mess back into the closet. Placing one foot on the wall in the narrow hallway, Townes pushed on the closet door until it clicked shut.

"Do you know where Dad's stuff is? He asked to bring some of it over."

Janet hummed into her coffee cup, "Check the cellar."

Walking past the television set, Townes dropped her bag and coat onto the couch next to the back door. Despite July being the one of the hottest months in Indiana, the mornings were still rather brisk. Townes trudged across the backyard, kicking open one of the cellar doors with her foot.

Townes wouldn't say that last year's incident with Dustin's cellar traumatized her, but she did feel goosebumps erupt on the back of her neck. If she listened close enough too, Townes could hear the snarls of the Demo-dogs in the back of her head.

Clutching the railing in her hand, Townes warily stepped down the stairs to the middle of the cellar to pull on the light string. She had always complained about how impractical it was, but no one in the Garder family was electronically inclined enough to install a light switch. Yanking on the string, the light bulb swayed around the cellar.

Townes looked around the cellar shelves, smirking when she noticed the box labeled MALCOLM'S BULLSHIT in Janet's handwriting. She pulled the box off the middle shelf, heaving at the heaviness of it. Next time, Townes needs to find a lie that isn't so goddamn heavy.

"Can you ask Malcolm if we're still having a barbecue on the Fourth?" Janet tightened her bathrobe and grabbed the backpack and coat laying on the couch. Townes nodded, and the pair walked out the front door to Townes's car.

Loading her bag into the passenger seat, Janet slammed the car door shut and walked around to the driver's seat. Townes pulled on the window crank until Janet would be able to rest her arms on the car.

"You're just going to the mall today, right?" Janet asked Townes when she twisted her keys in the ignition. There was a hint of accusation in her tone, and Townes felt it was warranted. She did almost die a dozen times the past two years right under Janet's nose.