fear list
Robin Buckley has a fear list.
It's long, most lists she makes are.
It's topped by rabies, sparked by a documentary her father had accidentally left on when she was six. (Foaming mouths of coyotes and raccoons sure did leave a mark)
Earthquakes are a definite number two. A reasonable fear, she supposes. She saw it on the news once, something about one in California, half a nation away. She was unsteady as is, she didn't need the ground to shake under her too.
Three is a tie between snakes and spiders, for wildly different reasons but still valid enough in her mind to keep them that high after all these years.
And somewhere between public speaking and sharks is Nancy Wheeler.
But Nancy wasn't there because of crawling up your throat fear like rabies was. No, she was there because of messy feelings made up of warm cheeks and twisted tongues.
It was a repeated offense, appearing in every encounter they had shared with each other since their first meeting in third grade at lunch.
Sweaty palms in fifth grade at a field trip to the museum in Indianapolis.
An itching feeling in her gut over the summer between seventh and eighth grade at the local pool.
Nervous rambling in the summer of 85' at Starcourt.
Always around her, no matter how brief of a interaction. Brief eye contact across the school hall could leave Robin spiraling.
Nancy Wheeler had that effect on her. A racing heart and overwhelming urge to please and connect with.
And that's exactly why she's number twelve on her fear list, sometimes thirteen whenever she has to present an assignment for the class.
Robin's heart felt like it would burst every time they were in the same room, but another feeling kept her stable, lifting her head above water to get air.
It ran alongside her so-called fear. She thinks it's admiration. But deep down she knows it's love.
She couldn't afford to love, love was on her fear list too. Below snakes but above Nancy herself. Number ten, maybe.
Rejection shared the space with a slash between them, one in the same.
A common fear, but also so unique. A guy could fear rejection out of embarrassment. Robin did for pariah status and cruel words being flung. Fear for her life. Number seven on her list, being outed.
Nancy is number twelve when Chrissy Cunningham dies. She replaces large crowds at number eight while in the Hawkins Library, shining a light on her shot in the dark,showing a bullseye.
She makes it past needles at number four while running from Pennhurst, a mad smile of glee on her face as she hits the gas, smiling at Robin as she smiles back.
Her heart keeps its normal beat. Robin thinks she is losing her fear.
Number twelve sits blank while standing in the Creel house, burned away by the sparks of a cracking gun as Nancy steps up and relentlessly pulls the trigger.
She's not afraid. She's in love.
Robin has a likes list.
It's short, but every spot is there for a reason.
She likes lemonade and snow. Dogs more than cats. Learning languages and playing her trumpet.
But at the very top is Nancy Wheeler.
Nancy Wheeler’s name is marked with love beside it in quotation marks, deserving of its own list tattooed on her heart.
But she's there on Robin's like list as she looks at her with dopey eyes and flashes bashful smiles.
Sometimes Nancy returns them.
But maybe she's reading it wrong, just because she's off her fear list doesn't mean she's clean of worry.
Number ten stays the same, after all.
But Nancy keeps her stable, listening with the attention of a whole room whenever Robin rambles, number eleven isn't as daunting anymore.
She retakes her spot at number twelve briefly, just for a night as Robin fights for the courage to admit her feelings.
But she's erased fiercely from it when she kisses her back.
Robin's heart bursts not with fear but joy. Nancy makes her feel lots of things. Happy, loved and nervous. But not fear.
It's always love. It always was.