Two. Steve and Baby
Hawkins, 1983
Violet Harrington. Violet Harrington. Violet Harrington. Violet Harrington. Violet fucking Harrington.
"What are you doing with her?"
Steve Harrington wishes he was dead. He's standing in quicksand, and the sandy laced fairies from underneath have ahold of his feetâthey pull him down, down, down. Till he can't breathe. Can't see. Can't feel. His life is over; ruined. He has a crinkled note in his stressed hands, and there's a child in his mother's arms. They're standing in the Italian based kitchen. Candy gently bounces the small brunette girl on her defined hip.
Steve stares at the child like he's never seen one before.
Her cheeks are bitten red and glossy with tears. Her fingers push between her wet lips as she whimpers. She looks sad.
Steve Harrington had never seen his mother so caring before. "Steve, I asked what you're going to do?"
His throat suddenly feels all too dry. Like he's eaten cotton balls to remain the skinniest on the swim team. (It wouldn't be the first time.) (You can move quicker like this..) His honey, chocolate eyes gloss over and he wishes he could take a large kitchen knife andâ "Steve?"
"I-I don't know!" His voice booms and the child gasps and nearly cries again. Candy shushes her, soft and sweet. "I can't keep her. Like is she even mine? That kid looks nothing l-like me!"
Candy glares, "don't be stupid. She's yours. It's in the note, Violet Harrington."
Steve's jaw hardens, "it's not mine! Lowen was fucking crazy! She's probably punishing me for whatever crazy reason she believes is true!"
Candy gawks at her son, "you sound crazy!" It's more of a whisper yell.
"Mom, I'm not keeping the kid. I haven't even graduated high school yet! I'll drop it off at the station or somethingâI'll do it all before dad gets home tomorrow night."
Candy's lips part, but she doesn't say anything. Her eyes gaze back on the sweet babygirl with Steve's eyes, hair, and lips. She does look like him. "You are not giving her up. The system is awful."
Steve nearly chokes on nothing. "What?"
Candy looks back at her son, who she wishes wasn't her son. "Don't be dense, Steve. You are keeping this baby. She's your responsibilityâ"
"She's like a year old! I didn't even know about her! This isn't my problem! This will ruin my life, can't you see that? No more basketball, swim! I'm done!"
(I will be nothing but a failure to you and dad, for real now.)
"Do not cut me off, Steven." Steve nearly shrinks at his mother's tone. "Steve, I am not letting you give this baby up. She is yours. You were being irresponsible, and now here's the consequences. Live up to them, take them. Be accountable. She's yours."
Steve is crying and Candy watches the tears melt on her son's cheeks. He looks defeated, and he knows Candy will not change her mind. "I-I can't take care of a baby, mom."
Candy shrugs, "you'll learn. I had too."
Steve gets it now: As if Candy hadn't been punishing him all his life this adds to it. Candy was young when she had Steve, too young, he ruined her life. This is karma, and Candy had taken it in with a warm hug. She'll also know how mad it will make Richard Harrington, and there's no better feeling than that. An angry husband and depressed son.
Steve whimpers, palms at his wet eyes. "Dad's going to kill me."
Candy hums, "you'll deal. Tomorrow I'll go and buy her everything she needs. You'll have to clean out a corner in your room for her. Empty a few drawers. Get rid of things that could be hazardous to her."
Steve's chest feels beyond tight. He almost throws up. Candy sends him a look. "WhatâWhat about school? I have school." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it is.
Candy hums, "I'll watch her. But, eventually, you'll have to find a sitter and pay them to look after her while you're gone."
With what fucking money?
Steve possibly can't say anything else, because he can't breathe. He needs a job now? Right? Richard would never give him money for his kid!
His eyes go blurry and he watches his glossy looking mother travel up the stairs with the little girl. She's babbling softly to the child, the babyâViolet seems to make noises of approval.
Steve trips into the guest bathroom, he heaves and heaves and heaves. He can't feel anything. He sobs so hard, he still can't breathe.
The lack of oxygen makes him see black. He nearly hits his falling head on the toilet rim.
Dear Steve,
I don't even feel bad about this. I know I should, but I don't.
A good mother would feel bad about this, I really don't. I don't feel bad. I'm not going to sit here and say I know she'll be okay with you, cause I don't know that. I have no clue how you are with kids, all I know about you is how good you are at sex. I just know she won't die with you like she probably would've with me if I had her any longer.
I know you're probably angry. I get it. I should've told you when I found out, when I realized.. but I don't know why I didn't say it? I just didn't say anything to you. I didn't want too. You didn't even notice the small shifts with me either. So, maybe, this is me being mad at you? For you being in love with me and not possibly being able to tell I was acting different? That I was pregnant? That I said I loved you?
How could you not tell, Steve?
The night I graduated I left after the ceremony, left Hawkins. I told you I would meet you at the after party on your block, and I never showed. Who knows if you searched for me, you probably did. You loved me. I know you did.
I thought I loved you too. But I realized I didn't. Maybe I always knew. I think I might've. And I didn't love this baby when I had her. I don't love her. She makes me angry. I lost her once in my new town a few weeks ago. I had forgotten her in a cart at the supermarketâ I saw cigarettes and got distracted. That's bad of me, I know. But I'm not meant for other people. I am meant for myself, that's it.
I know you get that. I didn't even like sharing myself with you.
I'm sorry, Steve. I just had to pick drugs over you, and this baby. Your baby, Violet. Violet Harrington.
- Lo
He's having a staring contest with a crying child. He knows her loud cries are bothering his mother across the hall, but she hasn't come across to tell him off. You'll learn. Steve himself is crying too, out of frustration. His head is pounding and his hands shake as he rings Lowen's number for the fifth time.
No answer. Still.
He lets the phone slide from his palm, it clatters heavily on his wood floors. It bounces a little. It makes the child flinch, she'd surrounded by pillows on his bed. Her crying stops and Steve's watery eyes flicker to her. Her eyes are a little wide from the loud noise and Steve let's out a shaky breath. He starts his senior year in less than a month.
King Steve! with a baby? No fucking way!
They will all hate him.
His shaking hands move, gently pulling her from the mess of pillows. Her skin is soft and her arms are a decent amount of chunk. He holds her before him, her glossy eyes linger on him and she makes a noise. He frowns, they have the same eyes. Lips. Ears. Hair. She has Lowen's puffy cheeks and small angled nose.
He gently clears his throat, voice a mere whisper. "I'm Steve, by the way.."
She babbles and a bit of spit slips past the corner of her lips, Steve grimaces. "Gross.." He sighs, bringing the child to his lap. He watches the way her lips start to quiver and he all but groans. He cannot handle more crying.
His brows crease as he traces her flushed features with the tip of his pointer finger. Her nose seems to twitch underneath his touch. Her eyes fluttered as he circles her redden cheeks, he can't help but frown. He has no clue how he'll do this, and it hasn't even hit him all the way yet.
He's a father. This is his baby.
Steve grimaces once more as the child takes his finger in her mouth, she seems to hum in content. Her eyes fluttered and Steve's eyes widened. Her breathing is slowing, and she's going limp. "Holy shit.."
He's got a child to sleep.