To Me, That's What You're Worth

Time I Fell Down To A Place I Didn't Know Too Well

Derry, Maine was a strange little town. The whole town felt like it sat on top of itself. In the town square stood a park with a band shell, a dreamy little gazebo, and a massive, off-putting Muffler Man statue reworked to look like Paul Bunyan. It was only about an hour away from Portland, where Eddie Kaspbrak grew up in the gilded cage his mother, Sonia, built for him.

He had been delicate, so she said; shy, mild-mannered, sickly, asthmatic, as many allergies as he'd had pill bottles in his medicine cabinet, homeschooled until he begged and screamed and threatened to run away all in the name of human contact. When he did finally get her to give in, she sent him to Neibolt Academy, a prestigious and expensive private school. His mother had money and influence, not that it made any difference to Eddie. So did his father. Even though they were no longer married and his father's 'custody,' if it could be called that, was limited to one weekend a month.

Secretly, Eddie blamed himself for that, too.

Eddie was lonely.

So, when the school's Student Red Cross Society welcomed him with open arms, especially their president, Myra, he had been thrilled. When Myra asked him out, he'd been hesitant, but he agreed because, that was what he wanted, right? A girlfriend would certainly make him less lonely. Even if the way that Bill Denbrough looked at him made his stomach do flips.

Sex would definitely stop those thoughts. It was just because Bill was so cool and smart and all the girls loved him. If he got a girl of his own and stopped wondering why they all wanted Bill, it would all make sense.

That's what he thought.

Instead, as it so often does, sex only complicated matters. Sitting on the edge of the tub with Myra the night before her parents were set to come home from Turks & Caicos, Eddie closed his eyes as they waited for the timer on his watch to beep. With the beep came the appearance of two pink lines and the end of Eddie's life as he knew it.

10 months and one kick to the proverbial crotch after another, Eddie and baby Edie were moving out of Myra's parents' house. He put her safely in her car seat in the back and kissed her head before peeling out for anywhere that wasn't that life.

When asked by Bill, the one person he'd kept contact with from that part of his life, who, it turned out, was actually really cool and super helpful with taking care of Edie, why the fuck he'd chosen Derry, he answered: "I think I saw it on a postcard somewhere." That was partially true, sure. But he neglected to state that the postcard was on the front desk of the literal inn, The Derry Townhouse, he'd stopped in to see if there was any chance that they needed any help around the property in exchange for a place to stay for a little while until he and his infant daughter got on their feet was something he'd neglected to mention.

Luckily, the woman who ran the inn, Arlene Hanscom, had a son about Eddie's age and took pity on him. In the back of the inn was a small kitchen. She sat Eddie down at the table and immediately took Edie out of her car seat and started whirling the baby around with her, grabbing a spare baby bottle out of a high cabinet and filling it with milk. They made small talk while Eddie nervously watched her every move. He'd never let anyone that wasn't himself, Bill, a doctor, or, while she still wanted to, Myra, hold Edie. But something about this woman put him at ease.

After an hour and a full pancake breakfast where his aptitudes were discussed, she offered him the caretaker's room in the basement and set him up with a crash course in maintenance, figuring that it might be nice to have someone on the property for guests. She called her house and told her son, Ben, to make his way down and bring his girlfriend, Beverly. Beverly, she explained, lived with them and did some odd jobs around the townhouse as well. As it turned out, she had a soft heart and a tendency to help as much as she could.