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"Remember," Hopper said as he parked the Blazer on the street in downtown Hawkins. "You get to pick where we go. This is your day. All of it."
Jane nodded absently, her eyes large as she stared out of the window.
It was only fair, he thought. One day hardly made up for spending nearly two years, cumulatively, in the cabin -- with as much freedom as he was able to give her, but it was still terribly limited, especially for a girl as bright and inquisitive as she was. But ... this was just one day, out of the entire rest of the lives that he hoped they'd have together.
Nothing could ever make up for the life she'd lived. All he could do, all any of them could do, was just keep moving forward.
She hadn't given him any indication of what she was most interested in, so he'd parked outside Melvald's store, so at least there would be one familiar face around. Jane knew Joyce pretty well by this point -- Joyce was one of the handful of visitors who came out to the cabin when they were able -- so if she wanted to spend the first part of the day with Joyce, well, he was okay with that. He leaned a hip against the Blazer, lit a cigarette, and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, and especially, not to stare at her, as Jane climbed down slowly from the passenger side of the truck, looking around. It wasn't the first time she'd been in downtown Hawkins, but it was the first time she hadn't had to hide.
It still felt ... wrong, to Hopper. Exposed. Like the sky was too big, like there were too many eyes on them. Realistically, he didn't think anyone at all was staring at them. Jane didn't stand out anymore. Her hair was past her shoulders now, and even though she preferred a little more black leather than most of the rural Indiana kids her age, it wasn't like he hadn't seen teens around town dressed that way.
Joyce saw them through the window of the store and waved. Jane raised a hand to hesitantly wave back, and turned to look up the street.
"Wherever you want," Hopper told her quietly.
She didn't answer, just drank it all in with wide-eyed wonder. Hopper looked around the familiar streets of the town where he'd lived all his life. The furniture store. The movie house. Imagine living a life so sheltered that a small Indiana town makes you stare around like you're on the moon, he thought.
"Hell, kid," he said, and threw an arm around her shoulders, making her jump a little before she leaned into his side. "You been to Chicago all on your own, right? You got this."
"I know," she said, looking up at him with a small scowl of affronted teenagehood.
He stifled a grin and let her go, feeling a little squeezing pressure in his chest let go. She didn't do the deer-in-headlights thing nearly so much these days. Jane being stubborn and independent was irritating and occasionally infuriating and exactly the way he wanted her.
And because her stubborn side was back in control, he didn't think she'd let herself be steamrolled, but maybe a little guidance would come in handy. "You wanna get lunch first? I could eat. Totally up to you, though."
After a pause, she nodded.
Joe's Diner it was, then. Hopper pushed the door open for Jane, who looked around the interior curiously. He hadn't planned it this way, but it was nearly deserted between the breakfast and lunch rush, which would probably help with her adjustment. He wasn't sure if she'd been in a restaurant in her life, other than Benny's, and that hadn't ended so well.
"Hey, Hop," the waitress called from behind the counter. "Just let me get this cleaned up back here and I'll bring coffee out to your usual -- oh, hi, sweetie. Who's this?"
"Hey, Margie." Another old friend from his school days; another person who'd known him for their entire lives. "This here's my daughter, Jane. C'mon," he told Jane, who had looked up quickly at him, while Margie stared at both of them in bafflement -- like she thought she'd woken up in an alternate universe this morning; he could relate. "I usually sit in the booth in the corner there, but you can pick whatever table you like. Margie, I know you usually just put in an order for my usual, but could you bring us some menus, please? I think we might want something different today."
After a shy moment of hesitation, Jane pointed to a table in front of the window. Gone quiet again. Owens said she might always do that when she was stressed or overwhelmed -- going nonverbal, he said, and gave Hopper some books on it. Far as Hopper was concerned, the books had about three useful pages and the rest was junk, but what he really needed to know was that it didn't hurt her. If she didn't talk sometimes, that was all right. She made up for it by being a chatterbox other times.
She picked the seat facing the door -- no surprise. Hopper tried not to twitch, sitting with his back to the door; he wasn't in the habit of doing that. It was the kid's day out, though. He wasn't about to overrule her on even something so simple as seating arrangements.
Margie brought the menus, not even trying to hide her curious stare at Jane. "I ... didn't know you had a kid, Hop," she began.
"Yep, sure do," he said flatly, in a tone that did not invite questions. He was going to have to explain sooner or later. Hell, he was gonna get sick of explaining. You didn't just show up one day with a teenager in a town the size of Hawkins without every last person and their dog wanting to know where she came from. But he'd made himself a reputation as an ornery son-of-a-bitch, and he might as well cash in some credit on that.
And he couldn't help feeling warm inside, like something was opening up in his chest that had been closed off for a long time.
My kid. Mine.
Whole town was gonna know it soon.
Margie opened and closed her mouth, clearly choosing and discarding a number of questions while Hopper regarded her with his best poker face, then turned to Jane as she laid the menu in front of her. Hopper noticed her gaze taking in the leather jacket and today's selection of leather wristlets and dangling silver jewelry. "Are you from the city, sweetheart?"
Hopper was poised to intervene if necessary, but she was gonna have to learn to deal with it, too. After a moment, Jane said simply, "No."
"Oh." Margie looked back at Hopper, and this apparently made her remember the coffeepot in her hand, which was drooping onto the edge of the table. She poured him a cup. He remained silent. "So," she said at last, "you just tell me when you're ready, okay?" and went slowly toward the back, staring over her shoulder until she bumped into a table.
Jane muttered under her breath, "Mouth breath --"
"Hey." Hopper held up a finger, stopping her. "What'd I say about calling people that?"
Jane rolled her eyes. "It's not nice and only if they really deserve it," she recited.
"Right." He pointed to the menu. "Pick something. Whatever you like. Take as much time as --" But she'd stopped on the first page and was pointing to a picture under the line of text proclaiming BREAKFAST SERVED ALL DAY!
"That," she said.
"Triple decker waffle surprise, huh? Well, there's a shock. Sure you don't want to try something different?"
The smile she gave him was cheeky and playful. "Nope."
"Well then," he said, putting the menu aside, "guess I'll have my usual, too."
It was the first day of the rest of their lives. And so far, looked like it was gonna be a pretty good one.