Suspicious Minds (Stranger Things Novels #1)(51)

“If you could go back, would you really do anything differently?”

He took a second to consider it. “Probably not. I don’t want to be the kind of person who doesn’t do things because they’re afraid of the consequences.”

“I know.” Terry was the same. He didn’t even need to explain it.

Andrew smoothed the sheet beside his leg. A nervous tic. “I talked to my mom. She wants me to come home, before I get called up. Spend time with my folks and my grandparents—they’re getting up there, and they don’t understand why I’m not home since I’m not in school.”

“You’re working.” He’d gotten the job at the motel.

“But I don’t need to be, not right now. I’m here for you.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “And that feels selfish. That’s what my mom said, and it felt like she was right.”

Emotions and thoughts flooded Terry. She’d expected something like this at some point, if not today, but not this. Not Andrew telling her it was selfish to act as if they might not have much time. Because they might not.

Anger at his mother blazed through her. Didn’t she know how in love they were? Didn’t she know why they needed to be together?

But she also got it. On a level she wished she didn’t.

If she and Becky had known their parents would never come home again when they were still so young, Terry would have done things differently. She’d have spent more nights at home instead of studying with friends or at slumber parties. She’d have proposed endless games of Scrabble and even more endless games of Monopoly.

Every parent of a child eligible for Vietnam must live in that state of mind. And, on paper, there was no reason for Andrew to be here. He should go home and see his family.

“She is right.”

“Terry?”

“She is,” Terry said. “You should go home.”

“You mean it?” he asked.

“But if you leave without coming back to say goodbye, I will be forced to come to Vietnam and kill you myself.”

“Dark,” he said. “I love you.”

“I’m glad we got this selfish time together…” She leaned over, letting the sheet drop, morning breath be damned.

“And I’m glad it’s not over yet,” Andrew said.





5.


Gloria took a seat behind her mama, who remained at her usual front counter perch. The flower shop had at last calmed down after a post-work rush. The delivery boy was out running a slew of arrangements to the funeral home. They had the place to themselves.

Their house was a short walk away on West Seventh, but her parents insisted they keep work and home separate. Work, therefore, had always been the best place for Gloria to bring up sensitive topics. No one argued in public. Or even spoke loudly.

“I forgot to tell you, my glorious girl,” her mama said, rotating on her stool to half face her. “That comic you asked for came in—your dad set it back over at the gift shop.”

“The new X-Men came in and you’re just telling me?” Gloria shook her head.

It hadn’t been selling that well, so her dad had reduced the order. The Fantastic Four and Spider-Man sold more issues for them, and those Katy Keene books. Her dad hadn’t consulted her first and she had gently demanded that he at least get her a copy. Jean Grey as the telekinetic Marvel Girl was her absolute favorite character. Maybe someday there’d be a Marvel Girl who looked more like Gloria, but for now she made do with Jean.

“You and those comics.” Her mother’s voice was affectionate, not judgmental.

Gloria knew how lucky she was in that regard. Her parents encouraged her to follow her interests, to believe she could do or be anything. As long as she did, she’d be representing the Flowers name well. They were a central part of the community. That was important to her parents. It had always been important to her…

Which was why she stayed where she sat, instead of running for her comic book.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started.

Her mama sniffed with good humor. “That’s nothing new. You’re always thinking.”

“Mama,” she said, “this is something serious.”

She turned to face Gloria then, immediately concerned. “What is it, honey?”

“I’m not saying I’m going to do this, I’m just exploring it,” she said.

“All right, now you’re worrying me.”

The bell over the door jingled and Mr. Jenkins rushed in. “Alma, have you got a romantic bouquet by chance? I forgot our third-date anniversary.”

He was a widower, recently dating some of the single women at the church. Apparently he was not getting the hang of the demands of single life.

Gloria hopped up. “I’ll get it. I know just the thing.”

She picked out a bunch of violet tulips, wrapped them in tissue paper, and tied them with a ribbon. Her mother rang up Mr. Jenkins and he rushed out as quick as he’d come in.

“Now,” her mother said, “continue.”

Gloria had almost decided to let it go. She was certain enough how it would turn out—but she wanted some way to gauge how closely Brenner was watching them. How hard he’d push back if they tried to leave the experiment.