Eddie let go of J'mon's hand briefly to stand and move around the table, sitting next to them instead of with the table between the two of them, almost immediately reaching out for their hands again once he was settled. The touch helped. It was something Eddie was coming to realized he'd missed greatly in the last twenty-something years. He leaned closer still, even though the distance between them was smaller to begin with. To an outsider, it may have looked like he was reading the book in front of J'mon, that they were sharing it or explaining it to him.
He explained to them the story from the start, as much of it as he knew. Of It coming from wherever it came from, landing in what would someday become Derry. Of the Native American tribes it had tortured before the land had been taken by white settlers, who would be wiped out almost completely. Of the Kitchener explosion, with 88 kids and 14 adults dead by the end of the day and the fire at the Black Spot, and the murders of the Bradley Gang, and Adrian Mellon. He'd talk about Georgie and Betty Ripsom and even Patrick Hockstedder. About his friends when they were kids, and again when they were adults. He wouldn't mention what happened to Stan, but he'd be noticeably absent from the second half of his telling. And he'd talk about saving Richie. And of the things Richie had told him of what happened after. He would even mention how much he hated that his body would stay in It's lair forever, something he'd never said out loud for fear of hurting his friends who'd had to leave him.
He wouldn't cry, but he'd be close at times, and his voice would stay soft, quiet; like it wasn't meant to carry beyond the two of them. And when he finished, after he'd spoken about how he felt to die there, he would be almost leaning on J'mon's shoulder. The emotion tired him, even without the tears or sobs.