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Dusk began to fall upon the sleepy town of Hawkins. The whole town always closed up shop before 9 pm. It was a quiet day and an even quieter night as the town began to shut down for the day. To not much complaint Hopper called it a day at the police department.
Hopper expelled the smoke past the cigarette loosely hanging from his mouth. All the windows to the Blazer were down as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel to the random song that was on the FM radio. The damp air was keeping him awake and alert. It was a lengthy day of paperwork and errands. The several cups of coffee he had throughout the day had completely worn off. A caffeine crash was inevitable.
He kept pressing on home trying to keep alert. His eyes caught attention to something. Hopper spotted a thin shadow of a female ghosting along the deserted highway unaccompanied. He began to wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Hopper flipped a U-turn in the middle of the highway and switched his flashers on.
“Shit,” the woman whispered to herself.
“Joyce?” Hopper muddled tipping his hat back glaring down at her.
Joyce had her arms wrapped around her chest staring down at the rain water trickling from the strands of her sopping hair. She hunched over feeling minuscule. She preferred no one had discovered her hiking in the rainstorm. Post-traumatic problems led her desiring to be solitary in her distress. Anger switched over to regret when her choice to travel the main roads became a wrong decision. She might as well have her problems on parade going down the road for everyone to scrutinize.
“Joyce! Let me help you,” Hopper offered.
“Hop, I don’t need help,” she muttered.
“That wasn’t a question. That was a demand,” Hopper sternly corrected her, “What are you doing out here at 2 AM by yourself?”
Joyce turned the other cheek avoiding eye contact. Hopper let out an enormous sigh as he stepped out of the Blazer. He towered over her. At this point, she was feeling slightly rattled and vulnerable. She kept her head slumped but peered up at him feeling ashamed. Her drenched clothes clung to her slender frame; shivering from the combination of nerves and being cold.
“Why didn’t you call me if you needed a ride?” Hopper scolded.
Joyce was frantic pressing her mind for an answer. Hopper took his jacket off and started unbuttoning his flannel left with only his white henley on.
“Wait…what are you doing Hop?”
“Do you want to catch pneumonia? Go to the back of the car and get out of that wet shirt,” he grumbled as he handed her his flannel and coat, “What happened to your car?”
“It was on its last leg I suppose,” Joyce sniffled.
Hopper opened the car door for her. Joyce, with her short stature, had to climb into the Blazer. An unstoppable shiver went through her body as her body adjusted to the warmth of the vehicle. She pulled the jacket as snug as she could around herself.
Hopper turned the heat up in the vehicle. Joyce sat up placing her hands in front of the warm car vents. There was an awkward silence. Hopper shot a quick glance over at her from the corner of his eye trying to keep his attention on the road.
“What happened tonight Joyce?” Hopper muttered awkwardly.
“What?” Joyce replied bluntly.
“Are you still seeing…uhhhh?”
Hopper knew the gentleman’s name, but he always had a hard time dealing with the fact that Joyce was dating him. Hopper knew he had himself to blame too.
“Bob…his name is Bob,” Joyce raised an eyebrow at Hop, “And no, not after tonight.”
“What happened?”
“Are you interrogating me?” she snapped.
“Nope, I’m just trying to make conversation here.”
“You’re not a very good conversationalist.”
Hopper guffawed. Joyce glared at Hopper offended at his seemingly amused demeanor.
“Yep, I get that from a lot of women,” Hopper joked.
Joyce had a crooked grin on her face as she shook her head attracting her attention back to the lane dividers on the road that whizzed by in a blur of yellow haze. Her head was rested on her arm as the cool autumn breeze raced across her face. The mixture of the crisp, fresh air and the warmth of the Blazer were relaxing to her.
She focused solely on the road, grounding herself until her anxiety attack ceased. An emotional ache in her heart followed. The veering road between the woods they ventured on held nightmares of countless sleepless nights of search parties. She had been on this road a few times after that; traveling this path with Hopper jolted those memories.
Hopper stared at her from his peripherals trying not to make it obvious he was catching glimpses at her. She dozed off to the sound of crickets whizzing by and the rain sloshing under the car tires.
“Hopper,” her voice quivered.
Hopper continued to sit and listen in our her somniloquy. She was dreaming about him. A smile stretched across her face. Hopper decided to take the long way back home.