chapter two — celia cruz and paint stained levis

MAY 2, 1985

After a restless and hectic weekend full of unpacking and dressing up their new home, the three finally had a day to relax and revel in their accomplishments. Irene woke to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen and the soft sounds of whatever Spanish record her mother was playing in the living room as she cooked and sang along. Her mothers voice grew louder as she shuffled into the kitchen rubbing her itchy eyes. She yawned, a smile quickly washing over her face as she watched the older woman dance to the sounds of Celia Cruz and Johnny Pacheco while she poured herself some more coffee.

Sofia turned, startled by her daughter's presence momentarily. She swiftly placed her cup down and pulled her daughter toward her – urging her to follow the rhythm of music. They swirled together, giggles erupting from the both of them while they tried to sing too. Inside his room Mateo groaned, roughly placing his pillow over his head to block out the noise.

Vieja Luna began to play and Sofia brought her daughter into an embrace, swaying them back and forth as the song crackled underneath the needle. They let go of one another, Sofia turning to the potatoes she was cooking on the stove as Irene moved to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"If there is one thing I miss from Arizona, it's the panadería that was only a block away." The teen said as she took a sip of the warm liquid, feeling it run down her throat. She closed her eyes, reveling in the memories of quick supermarket runs with her mother. Hawkins, surprisingly, had a tiny Mexican mercado downtown. It had what they needed which brought them some comfort. Her mother turned, nodding in agreement as she matched Irene's actions.

"Ah and that sweet old woman who always gave us fresh strawberries every time we went." Her mother reminisced, leaning her small frame against the counter.

"Helena!" Irene recalled abruptly and her mother pointed at her with a bright face.

A comfortable stillness resided between them, the sizzling of food on the stove filled the space. Irene walked into the living room, sifting through her mothers records and picking one which she knew was one of her favorites. The sweet sounds of an opening guitar and the rumble of cymbals permeated the atmosphere before the backing vocals surfaced, soon followed by the enchanting voice of Ralfi Pagan as he sang Make It With You. It was a song that always seemed to play on early weekends when she was a child; her father would take her small hand in his and spin her around the living room.

Mateo ignored his sister as she swayed with a pillow while he trudged into the kitchen, his mother's back was turned toward him as she flipped another pancake. She felt his presence and her ears perked up at the sound of him placing the coffee pot back on the counter.

"Buenos días, mi hijo favorito." She chirped softly, turning to greet him with a smile as she brushed his messy hair away from his eyes. She cupped his cheek with her warm hand and his lips pushed upward. He teetered to the side and her hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before her head motioned toward the dining room.

"Set the table for me, will you?" She asked, turning to grab the warm plates of food. He took the three dishes from her, making sure not to drop anything.

Irene had joined him at the table, clinking their silverware down before placing the carton of orange juice that was tucked in her arm on the table. Sofia finally arrived with glasses for them and the three sat together.

The only sound that came from the Vasquez dining room that morning was the clink and scrape of their forks on their porcelain plates. Irene focused in on Ralfi Pagan's muffled voice, barely catching her mother's question. She looked up with wide glazed over eyes, a hmph sound vibrating in their throat as she stuffed her mouth with syrup soaked pancakes.

Her mother sighed, "What do you plan on doing today?" Irene shrugged, taking a drink of her orange juice to help swallow down her food.

"I don't know." She mumbled, avoiding the weight of her mothers gaze. Mateo watched the two in silence while he tried to finish his breakfast in a hurry. He didn't want to get caught in any awkward crossfire, nor did he want his mother to petition the idea that Irene should hang around him for the day.

"I picked up this really nice leather bound sketchbook for you yesterday, just in case they start getting too overwhelming again while we're here. I also snagged a few canvases and paints for a good price too." Her mother said before placing her cup to her lips. Irene's face seemed to brighten slightly.

When she was younger she was constantly drawing the images she witnessed in her dreams or painting just to help ease her nerves. It had become her favorite pastime and it was something her parents and brother encouraged. However, when Mateo shut her out completely and her parents began showing signs of something stirring beneath the surface Irene left the hobby in the dark. As of lately, she tried getting back into it but it was harder to ignite a flame that had whittled down to just an ember.

"Maybe you could scope out the town and find some drawing inspiration?" Sofia shrugged nonchalantly, raising her eyebrows at her daughter. "I've got to go down to the station for a debrief anyway."

After breakfast, the three of them parted ways; Sofia cleaned up the kitchen while her daughter got ready for the day and her son plopped back into his bed. Honestly, she was just glad to be able to sit and be with them even if the moments were brief.

Their mother left for Hawkins Police Station at around two and by then Mateo had finally gotten himself out of bed and presentable enough for the world. He left on his motorcycle to go "clear his head" and see the sights that the rather mundane town had to offer.

It was just Irene in the quiet and small house, her brush gliding against her canvas and the hushed tunes of the mixtape her mother made her were the only things that filled the void of being alone. She faced the darkened creature that she was bringing to life on the cloth, trying to just focus on the details that she remembered from her dream. But remembering the texture of its skin and the bones that stuck out from its body – the spines that wrapped around its legs like vines, made her extremely nauseous. Its piercing scream tore through her ears as she pictured its sharp teeth and then the smell filled her nostrils again; she dropped her paintbrush.

Her frame hunched over the bathroom toilet as she emptied out her previous breakfast and the pan dulce she was devouring earlier. She shut her eyes tightly, squeezing out her tears, thankful her hair was already pulled back into a bun. When she was finally finished she put the cover over the seat and flushed. She looked at herself in the mirror and caught sight of the huge paint splotch on the left side of her shorts. She whispered to herself while shrugging, "Wouldn't be the first time." A sigh left her lips before she turned on the tap.

After cleaning her mouth and brushing her teeth again, she came back into her room and placed the canvas in her closet – refusing to continue staring down the image. The cassette had ended and it was silent while Irene tried to figure out what to do. Her fingers reached for her trusty walkman before she placed a few cassettes in her bag along with the sketchbook her mother bought before slipping her shoes on.

The bus was quiet as Irene propped her head against its glass window, feeling the heat beam down on her scalp. She was partially used to the sun making a b-line for her, having previously lived in a state where all it did was shine. She watched the world in quick frames, taking in the cookie-cutter looking houses with the greenest lawns she'd ever seen. Kids rode their bikes as school bags weighed them down, their frail bodies flying down the pavement.

They stopped moving and a few kids piled in; Irene tried to make herself small as she turned her gaze down to the sketchbook in her lap, unfinished outlines of trees and stores scattered the paper. She turned the page and began sketching something else as they filled the silence with their boisterous laughter – many of them middle schoolers who were chatting about the weekend and growing anticipation of summer. She thought about it too; the idea of staying in her room all summer seemed the most enticing at the moment, even though her mother urged her to look for a job. 

The bus made its second stop and more people hurried in; Irene decided to block their chatter out and put her headphones on. She didn't change the tape, just pressed play and started wherever she left off before grabbing a pencil from her bag and fully turning her attention to the sketchbook. She looked up from time to time, making sure not to miss her stop.

Gareth was talking Eddie's ear off about how it was going to be another year that the metalhead was going to spend without a diploma if he didn't do something about his failing grades soon. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand to the sophomore as they mounted the crowded bus. He hated public transportation but his van was having some problems and they had to make it to Jeff's house to practice for their gig on Friday.

His eyes scanned the seats as they walked down the aisle, meeting a few menacing and disgusted glares from both children and teenagers, before they landed on two open spots and then the girl that was slumped next to them in the window seat. He would've missed her had he not been so intrigued by the vibrant splash of paint on her Levi's and the book that her fingers tightly curled around.

Irene felt a lingering presence and looked up from the parchment to meet the gaze of a stranger who was eagerly looking at her. She swiped her headphones off in a hurry as a flush crept up her face.

"I'm sorry." She breathed, looking up at the stranger and what she believed to be his friend. Fear flickered behind her brown eyes as he stared back with a raised brow. She anticipated an irritable response, but was met with a dimpled smile.

"You're good," He let out a deep chuckle. "Just asked if these seats were taken." The stranger said as the bus began to move. Irene blanked for a moment, her mouth hung open as she stared at the two — like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes were fixed on the face of the guy standing closest to her; she took notice of the soft curls that framed his face.

Finally snapped out of her daze she shook her head, scrunching her face as she gave him a dismissive wave, "Um, no it's, uh, no, no one is sitting there. Sorry." She gulped averting her gaze, crossing one leg over the other as they slid into the seats next to her. She tucked stray hairs behind her ear before placing her headphones back on. She wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts before continuing to sketch.

Gareth nudged Eddie, making it obvious that he was motioning his head toward the girl he was sitting next to. They both glanced down at the book in her lap; the half-shaded image of a girl holding up her melting face piqued both of their interests.

While the sophomore couldn't wrap his head around how intricate the details were, his senior counterpart was studying the dried blots of paint on her fingers before his gaze trailed to her face. He would have never put half as much thought into her presence had he seen her around school, but she was a drifter in his eyes and that enticed him. New people rarely visited Hawkins, mostly because it was a boring vortex of literal hell, and those who did pass through were doing just that. She shifted her body and he moved his gaze forward, picking up on her discomfort.

After a while the bus came to a halt and Irene looked up, letting out a slight breath of relief once she realized they were only two blocks away from her house, and decided to walk the rest of the way. She stood abruptly, too excited to think, and her things clattered to the floor.

"Shit." She muttered looking down and mentally scolding herself. People were getting off as she rushed to pick up her things.

The stranger that was next to her reached down to help, his cold rings brushing against her warm skin as they both reached for her things; the soft sound of water lapping against wood hit her ears. Flashes of the stranger sitting on what seemed to be a dock ran along her irises and she stiffened. He looked back up at her as he gently placed the pencils and eraser in her palm. She opened her mouth to stumble out a quick 'thank you,' but the bus was starting to move again and she shoved her things in her bag and brushed past the two quickly.

Breathlessly, Irene called for the driver to 'wait' as people snickered behind her. He did so, muttering something underneath his breath before she stepped out. She let out the biggest exhale as the bus drove past her; her heart beating furiously. She wiped her clammy palms against her shorts again, before clutching the straps of her bag and walking home.

AUTHORS NOTE
muahahahah, I just love my brain sometimes.
ya'll better SAVOR these breadcrumbs because the meal isn't coming for a while....

also! just thought i'd make a playlist of the mixtape sofia made irene with all of her spanish favs! it also has both of the songs mentioned in this chapter :)

translations for this chapter:
Buenos días, mi hijo favorito = good morning, my favorite son