Chapter Text
Hawkins, Indiana
1975
Joyce didn’t even know why she bothered getting dressed up. She had a strange feeling it was just going to be a rehash of prom all over again; all the bad parts, none of the good.
Although she had planned the night out with Karen weeks in advance, psyching herself up for it, even switching shifts at Melvald’s to take the night off, she was suddenly dreading her class reunion. It had nothing to do with being forced to be the third wheel to the Wheelers — pun intended — or that her husband was missing in action, per usual.
A case of the butterflies descended on her, and her hands started to tremble. She wondered if she looked okay, glancing from the backseat into the rearview mirror to check again. At the last minute, she had applied a bit more makeup than usual and royally messed up her eyeshadow. Karen offered to help her with it, lightening the shade and giving her a more dramatic look overall to make it blend, topping it off with a peachy gloss to make her lips pop. Joyce felt like a little girl that had gotten into her mommy’s makeup, despite Karen’s insistence that it made her look just like Cher.
With her long dark hair in loose curls, and the too-tall platform lamé heels she borrowed from Karen’s closet — ones she had to concentrate on walking in without rolling an ankle — Joyce felt like she was having an out of body experience. She hadn’t gotten this dolled up in years. Her stomach flipped as she glimpsed herself in the mirror, looking like she belonged on an album cover. Did she still have the confidence needed to pull this off?
Her nervousness was stemming from the prospect of reliving her last year of high school all over again, along with the all-too-real possibility of seeing him again. Somehow ten years had passed, and yet the feelings remained. She was sure by now she could call Jim Hopper the one that got away.
It was good her husband wasn’t with her after all, or he would’ve called her on it, reading her like an open book. She never got dressed up like this for him anymore. Not that he was the bastion for fidelity in their relationship, but Lonnie never really trusted her and Hopper together. And fair enough — he had every reason to not trust her around the other man.
Her husband didn't know that she had kept in touch with her friend over the last five years, with Hopper acting as a much-needed sounding board when Lonnie was gone for days, or drank too much, or got aggressive with her. Hop had insisted she call him whenever she needed to, as an old friend, and she took him up on it. Their phone calls had become a semi-regular occurrence over the years but had abruptly stopped just before Christmas last year, and she hadn’t heard from him since.
Joyce tugged the hem of the dress towards her knees — was her prom dress always this short? The crinoline was missing now, but that should have made it longer. It had been tight around her waist when she had tried it on earlier that week, and so she had let it out an inch or two, but she didn’t even consider taking down the hem until just now. Seventeen-year-old Joyce clearly had more confidence than twenty-seven-year-old Joyce, and she wished she could have saved up for that flowy bohemian Gunne Sax dress she had been eyeing in the Sears catalog instead.
She pulled at the fabric once more, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure the off the shoulder sweetheart neckline was sitting properly before she had to go in. She definitely filled it out much better than she remembered… the miracle of motherhood twice over, she supposed. She was practically spilling out of the dress now, and she gave one more futile tug on the top to cover up more before admitting defeat.
The Oldsmobile came to a stop in the parking lot, and as she stepped out of the car, she heard Karen Wheeler gasp from the front seat, “Oh my god, I’d recognize that beehive anywhere! Someone should tell her that look is over… Wait! Is Eleanor Gillespie going out with Fred Simmons?”
“I don’t know who that is, dear,” Ted said, monotone as he opened the door to help his wife out of the vehicle.
Karen sighed, already exasperated with him, as she rolled up the car window, “I wasn’t asking you, Ted.”
Joyce threw her hands in the air at her friend in response to her question and started off toward the decorated entrance to Hawkins High. “I think they started seeing each other a few years ago…”
“And…?” Karen trailed after Joyce, Ted following close behind as he tried to keep up with his wife’s quick, excited steps.
“And that’s all I heard!” Joyce rolled her eyes at Karen as they crossed the parking lot.
Karen scoffed behind her friend’s back, “You’re bad at gossip, Joyce!”
“And you’re surprised by this?”
Karen rolled her eyes. She knew precisely why Joyce hated gossip and thankfully dropped the subject as they approached the school.
Draped across the entrance was a banner that read: WELCOME BACK CLASS OF ’65. Blue balloons and white streamers decorated the lockers, leading the way to the gymnasium. Karen and Ted made their way to a table in the atrium where the Sinclair’s were greeting the arriving alumni. When Joyce noticed Bob Newby was manning the other table all by himself, looking forlorn, she walked over with a warm smile. She knew he always had a little crush on her.
“Heya, Bob!”
“Joyce, good to see you!” Bob pepped up at the sight of her and handed her the clipboard in front of him so she could sign in and claim her drink tickets and name tag. “I-is Lonnie with you or is he coming later?” he asked her cautiously, feeling her out if he should expect his childhood bully to show up or not.
“Doubtful,” she threw him a small smile in reassurance and took the sticker he offered that said: “Joyce Horowitz” — there was no way in hell she was wearing that, but she accepted it graciously from him, anyway. “He had to head to the city for work today, so he won’t be getting back ’til late.”
Bob breathed a sigh of relief and ripped off a couple of tickets from the roll in front of him. “Here’s the drink tickets, it’s a buck a drink after that. All proceeds go to the school.”
Joyce wrinkled her nose at the price.
“They better be building the kids a new gymnasium if they’re charging people that.”
Bob chuckled, “Tell me about it. People aren’t taking the news well.”
She winced, feeling sorry for him and all the flack he must have been getting from their former, and probably still rowdy, senior class. Whoever decided not to have an open bar had made a grave mistake.
Bob looked around them to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice, “Here, you can have Lonnie’s drinks too. Tell no one,” he ripped off another row of tickets for her, and she mimed zipping her lips, taking them with a nod of thanks. Good ol’ Bob.
“Maybe we can catch up later? After I finish my MC slash DJ duties?”
Joyce nodded at him, already distracted. Karen was waving her towards the gym, and she took that as her cue, “You bet! See you in there, Newby. Stay strong!” Joyce nodded at him in solidarity, as she headed after her friends, leaving a disappointed Bob alone again.
Tables lined the outskirts of the gymnasium, and they set the stage up to look just like it did the night of prom ten years ago. Through the thick cigarette haze hanging up at the rafters, a disco ball turned over the dance floor. Its lights reflected off the blue and silver foil streamers hanging, making the gym flash in time to the mix of the current music and songs of yesteryear. The whole room was practically iridescent, and Joyce wrinkled her nose at the garish sight.
She crumpled up the name tag in her hand and threw it in the nearest trash can, pointing herself in the bar’s direction, a dozen drink tickets in hand. It was time to get this party started.
Karen was already getting her and Ted something to drink, waving to people she wanted to chat to when Joyce caught up to her. She let Karen head off into the crowd, scouting out the “crowd” that they used to hang with. As she waited for the bartender to pour her a rum and coke, Joyce scanned the room.
Classmates were trickling in through the doors now. She looked around to see if there was anyone from the old gang she still kept in touch with. So far, all she the familiar faces she had seen were just old acquaintances, people she had barely spoken to in a decade.
There was the star quarterback, Jim Williams — or Willy, aka the other Jim. He had gathered up his old crew on the Varsity team and was ordering the bartender to pour them another round of whiskeys. Head cheerleader, Connie Beavers — aka the Beav— was hanging off him, passing the shots around to the boys and telling them to drink up.
Joyce snickered. Good to see nothing had changed there.
She finally spotted Benny off in the far corner by the bleachers talking with the rest of the football team, the Hawks. Benny Hammond was never that hard to miss, being the tallest guy in their graduating class and he raised his drink to her when she caught his eye, nudging the guys next to him to say hi too.
Joyce smiled and waved, happy to see a friendly face — Benny was always kind to her over the years. The man to Benny’s left, whom she didn’t seem to recognize, waggled his eyes at her and was about to make his way over when Benny pulled him back, shaking his head no. Probably telling him Joyce was Lonnie Byers’ old lady, and it wasn’t a smart idea to approach her, marking her off-limits to even look at. She might as well have had a scarlet letter stitched to her dress.
That’s when she noticed two women at the next table eyeing her up and down. Cathy Smith and Kathy Meyers. Two of Joyce’s least favorite people from high school. In fact, she distinctly recalled how miserable those two had made the last week of high school for her. The Chatty Cathies smirked and giggled to themselves before realizing that Joyce was staring back at them.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Already ostracized, and it was barely 9 o’clock. Joyce was gonna need way more booze if she wanted to make it through the night.
Turning her back on the Cathies, she noticed that the gym had really filled up now with more and more people she recognized, yet not a single one was the person she was hoping to see. Joyce and Karen had planned to arrive fashionably late, but it was getting even later now; the doors had opened well over an hour ago. Maybe he couldn’t make it after all? That might have been a blessing in disguise, especially now she was having second thoughts.
Just when she felt a strange combination of relief and disappointment he might not make an appearance, Hopper strode in through the main double doors in a prime example of ‘be careful what you wish for.’
The whole gym seemed to turn to watch his every move. The strobes flashed to the beat of the music, a dazzling display as if lighting his entrance just for Joyce. A deep bass rumbled through the sound system, and as Carly Simon sang about her ex-lover walking into a party wearing an apricot scarf, Joyce watched her ex walk across the gymnasium in slow motion. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel her cheeks burning and took a swig of her drink, wishing it was stronger.
A small group of people, mostly women from their graduating class, were fluttering about him, bombarding him with questions. He was smiling and laughing, nodding with them, slapping an old friend on the back who handed him a Miller Lite as if he were the great Jay Gatsby and this was his exclusive party. He was the center of attention; the talk of the town.
Hopper was never voted the most likely to succeed in high school, but he was likely the most successful now after being promoted to Homicide Detective at the NYPD after two short years on the force. Lonnie’s words from an argument the week before echoed in her ears… Mr. Big-Shot from New York City.
But Hop didn’t look like a big shot to her. Sure, he was clean-shaven now, with his dirty blonde hair slicked back and dressed up in a navy sport coat — a little unusual for his tastes, she could admit. Despite the wardrobe change, to her, he looked the same as ever… just a little older, a little more distinguished.
A tall frosty blonde followed in behind him a moment later, wearing a long silver cocktail dress with a cape draped over her bare shoulders, her hair pulled up on the top of her head in a perfect chignon. She looked like she stepped off the red carpet and compared to the surrounding crowd, she was overdressed for the small-town high school reunion. Hopper reached out to her and pulled her close to introduce her to the group. That had to be her.
Diane.
Joyce groaned a fear she never knew she had just realized. Hopper’s wife was drop-dead gorgeous.
What was she expecting, though, really? That he would have shown up without his wife? That they had quietly divorced, and he would use this reunion as an excuse to hook up again? He’d confess his undying love, and she’d ditch Lonnie. That they’d run away together into the warm, Indiana summer night?
Joyce didn’t think she was that naïve, yet these stray thoughts had run wild through her head the weeks leading up to that evening, and now she wished she hadn’t thought them at all.
Marissa approached her then, giving Joyce a much-needed break from her thoughts, asking her if she was having a good time, and wanting to catch up. Joyce remembered the mousy brunette from chairing the debate club, and as her old acquaintance droned on and on, bragging about being selected to organize the class reunion and her new job at the library, she also remembered why she had always tried to avoid poor, boring Marissa in high school.
Marissa suddenly interjected, catching Joyce’s attention, “No husband tonight, hm?”
“Huh?” Joyce asked, pulling her attention back to the conversation. “Oh, Lonnie? Yeah, he had to um… work," she said. Not that it was any of Mousy Marissa’s business where her husband was hiding at that moment. “He might swing by a bit later.”
“That’s nice,” Marissa said, taking a sip from her wine. Then, very nonchalantly, she said, “I’m honestly surprised you married Lonnie, you know.”
“Oh?” Joyce asked, impressed that someone would say something so off-hand like that to her face.
Marissa nodded, lips pursed, amused with herself.
“Everyone thought you and Jim Hopper would make it…” She turned her head to look in his direction, and Joyce followed her gaze. They watched Hopper wrap his arm around Diane.
The other woman clucked her tongue, “But, here we are!”
Joyce just bit her cheek and forced a polite smile.
Karen thankfully walked by at that exact moment, and Joyce finally saw an out to the awkwardness the conversation was headed in. She politely excused herself to catch up with her seemingly only friend at the party.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“Oh my god, Joyce, I’m having the best time. Who knew this would be so much fun?” Karen giggled, sipping a tequila sunrise with a little blue umbrella and a maraschino cherry.
“Well, yeah, you were homecoming queen three years in a row and head of the Pep Club. Of course you’re having fun Karen,” Joyce said, looking at her pointedly.
Karen scoffed, “Oh, come on, Joyce! Like this isn’t fun for you, too.”
Joyce shrugged. She didn’t exactly leave high school with the best reputation, and it seemed some people here wanted her to remember that fact.
“I really think — Hi Jeannie, hi -- how are you?” Karen waved behind Joyce before turning her attention back to her friend, “I really think high school was the best time of our lives… I am living for tonight.”
Joyce rolled her eyes at Karen, “What about your children? Didn’t you once say that 'motherhood was the best time' of your life?”
“Get a grip, Joyce.” Karen snorted into her cocktail, and Joyce laughed at her reaction; while they could both agree that their children were their pride and joy, they were absolutely exhausting to raise most days. She could definitely see her friend’s point of view.
“Okay, fine, go… have fun. Just come and find me when you and Ted are leaving, please? I don’t think Lonnie’s gonna make it tonight.” Joyce’s voice fell, but she waved a concerned Karen off as she spoke, trying to make light of her statement.
She was over it by now, anyway. Lonnie was notoriously bad at keeping plans. It was always a pleasant surprise when he made an appearance to an important event for her. She frequently joked it was a miracle he even showed up for their wedding on time. He was even late to their youngest son’s birth for pete’s sake.
Joyce watched as Karen joined yet another group of people to introduce an indifferent Ted. She tried to look interested in the party that was forming around her, tapping her feet to the song playing. She quickly gave up when she realized what a fool she must look like standing at the edge of the room, bopping to the music all by herself.
She had turned her attention back to the rum and coke in her hand when out of the corner of her eye, she caught Hopper watching. She choked on her drink, spinning her back to him so he couldn’t see her spit her drink back into the glass in a coughing fit.
Was she seeing things, or was he staring at her? She cleared her throat and slowly, casually turned back toward him, when their eyes locked for a split second and she got her answer.
He was staring. Hard.
Joyce pretended not to notice, focusing her attention on the drink in her hand and walking over toward the memory wall to look at the collage of photos from their senior year, hoping that he’d maybe get the hint this was his invitation to approach her.
When she had looked over every single photo on the damn wall twice — and only finding herself once — she looked back to see if Hop was still watching. He was deep in conversation with Calvin Powell now, probably about cop-stuff since Calvin just joined the Hawkins Police Department. Facing Joyce over his friend’s shoulder, Hop's eyes casually tracked every move she made. He was like an antique painting stuck to the wall, his cobalt blues following her wherever she moved around the room.
Joyce made her way back to the bar and lingered there for a long moment. She decided on another drink before finding a seat on the opposite side of the room from him. Crossing her legs, chin in hand, she watched the crowd of people as they mulled about her, forming off into decade-old cliques. She was trying her best to look not-too-obvious while she sat there; pretending like she wasn’t also keeping an eye on him, but trying to entice him to walk over to her all at the same time. Lord knows, she’d be damned if she made the first move.
A few other people came up to chit-chat with her and say their hellos, ask about Lonnie and the kids, and she was thankful that someone, anyone wanted to catch up with her so she didn’t look like a complete loner. She was also grateful that they left her alone after only a few minutes so she didn’t have to keep up the charade.
She was clicking her nails against the tabletop now, watching her drink quickly disappear in front of her when she felt annoyed. Why the hell wasn’t he coming to say hello? She took one more glance at him, and this time their eyes locked.
Joyce burned up under his gaze and not knowing what else she could do now that he caught her, she threw him a tiny smile and a wave across the dance floor. He smiled right before Diane walked up behind him, throwing her arms around his chest, recapturing his attention. He turned to face his wife and just like that; the moment was over.
Crunching on the ice at the bottom of her drink, Joyce let her shoulders fall as she stood up and walked to the double doors, headed outside. Stepping into the cool night air, she took a deep breath, in desperate need of something stronger now.
Making sure she was alone, she lit the emergency joint she had hidden in her silver cigarette case and walked around the side of the gymnasium to where she knew she could puff in peace. She found the stairs leading down to high school basement right where they had left it — a familiar place she knew she wouldn’t be bothered. Leaning against the railing, she inhaled deep and let the heavy smoke wash over her senses. What the hell was she thinking coming to this thing anyway? She wished she would have saved the babysitting money and stayed home to watch tv in her pajamas.
Staring down at the steps below, the one place she remembered vividly from her formative years, she realized it hadn’t changed much at all. Sure, there was some new graffiti, a few more cracks but other than that it was ever the same as ten years ago. Looking at it from that angle, Joyce felt the same too; a few cracks in the facade, some new scars, but not much else had changed. There were even times she forgot that she was closing in on thirty now… she certainly didn’t feel any older than her teenage self. Funny how time could fly like that.
She slid her hand along the guardrail, walking to the top of the stairwell. Toying with the idea, but hesitating. Should she look? Is it still there?
She walked down step by step until she came to the bottom and counted down six from the top and to the right and there it was, etched in the cement step by a Swiss army knife over a decade previous. Looking duller than she remembered it, but still recognizable.
JH²
Jim Hopper and Joyce Horowitz. JH squared.
She giggled to herself; they were definitely a couple of squares, as she so fondly recalled. Running her hand over the letters, she felt the outline in the cold cement under the pads of her fingers, and she let herself feel all the lingering memories it brought back…
Their shared first kiss during spin the bottle at Karen’s eleventh birthday party. Prom night and fooling around in the back of his car after they realized how much they both wanted each other and then subsequently getting caught. The last time she saw him. Giving into forbidden temptation.
The bittersweet memory of the exact moment she realized she loved him more than anyone else in the entire world and that she had made a terrible mistake.