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Murray was living in isolation. He had stopped answering the phone, the door, his mail. He just stopped answering. It wasn’t for other people’s lack of trying. Joyce called him at least once a month, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He did read every letter she sent him, he just never wrote one back. He knew she had a son, and Karen had a daughter the same age. They were both married. He had been to Joyce’s wedding seeing as it was before he stopped going back to Hawkins, but he didn’t show to Karen’s. He regretted that, he regretted a lot of the choices he made in life. When a fancy letter with cursive words printed on the front and a Hawkins return address on it showed up in his mailbox he figured it must be Karen, Joyce’s handwriting wasn’t so… eloquent. He walked into his apartment and opened the letter with his teeth and very little care. Time stopped.
“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Jim and Diane Hopper.”
Just reading his name made Murray feel light-headed. He hadn’t talked to Hopper since Joyce’s wedding. He stared at the little boxes under the message, debating with himself for what felt like hours on whether he should RSVP yes or no. He finally pulled an envelope out of the pile of papers covering his kitchen counter and pulled his pen out of his shirt pocket, marking a little ‘x’ in the box next to yes. It’s the right thing to do. He thought to himself as he dropped the response off at the post office, another place he hadn’t frequented in years. He would just have to pull himself together and deal with it, he still had a place in his heart for Jim, and he wanted to support him. He’d also get to see Joyce and Karen, which he was genuinely looking forward to.
It had been months since Murray dropped off his RSVP, he had even written to Joyce and Karen to tell them he’d be coming down. They were excited, both to hear from him finally and because they’d be able to see their old friend again. Murray packed a light suitcase and tossed it into the trunk of his beat-up old car. He looked back at his apartment complex before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the 3 hour trip to his hometown. Several times throughout the drive he started feeling nauseous, but he knew it wasn’t motion sickness.
Murray arrived at the motel on the day before Hopper’s wedding at one in the afternoon. He brought his suitcase and checked in, he didn’t bother to unpack. Joyce said she would come by at half-past one, but by 1:15 there was already an excited knock at the door. Murray looked through the peephole to see a visibly tired but smiling Joyce. He swung the door open and forced his most sincere smile as she flung herself into his arms. He held her tight and buried his nose in the top of her head taking in her scent. She usually smelled of cigarettes and her usual perfume, but this time it was just cigarettes. Perfume wasn’t a luxury she could afford anymore, and he knew why. After a short while, he finally let go of her, stepping aside so she could walk into the motel. She looked around with a smile.
“Nice place you got here, Bauman,”
Murray rolled his eyes
“It’s just for one night, I don’t need to stay at the four seasons,”
Joyce smiled and sat on the head of the bed, facing the foot, cross-legged, just like they used to do when Murray would go over to her place in high school. She looked over at Murray with a face full of excitement, and God did he ever miss that face. He couldn’t help but smile as he sat cross-legged across from her. The bed creaked under them every time they shifted, but it didn’t bother them more than it had to. They had a bit of small talk going, but Joyce could tell Murray wasn’t all there, and she knew why. Joyce and Murray barely had to talk to communicate, even after all these years.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked, looking at him with worried eyes.
He had been trying to stay strong, but when given the opportunity to vent he decided it could help relieve some of these pent up feelings. He took off his glasses and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
“He’s getting married, Joyce,”
Joyce moved closer and put a hand on his knee.
“I know Murray… I know,”
And of course, she did know, because she had gone through quite a similar situation when Karen got married to Ted. At least, he thought, I’m not Hopper’s best man. He couldn’t help but feel as though the situations weren’t exactly the same. Joyce had left Karen first, to marry Lonnie after she got knocked up, and she wasn’t technically alone. She had Lonnie, albeit at that point it would be better if she was alone, and she had her son. Murray had nobody after this. He hadn’t dated anyone, or even thought about it, since high school. He had seen how it turned out for all his friends, pretending to be someone they weren’t, all in loveless marriages, and he swore he’d never resort to that. Yet here he was, watching the last of his friends get married, and it hurt so much more than the others.
Joyce had to leave the motel around six
“We could only afford a sitter until then and Lonnie’s gonna be out at the bar,” she explained
“You should’ve brought Jonathan, I’d love to meet him,” Murray replied with a soft smile.
Joyce returned the smile.
“You’ll see him at the wedding tomorrow, I’m sure you’re gonna love him,”
“I’m sure I will.”
They hugged a final time before she left, and suddenly Murray was sitting alone in his room. Hopper had invited him to his bachelor party, but Murray couldn’t bring himself to go. He lied and said he wouldn’t be in Hawkins early enough when he was first invited about a month ago. After a few minutes of contemplating, he made the decision to visit Karen. He missed her, too, and it was better than drinking himself to sleep at six o'clock in the afternoon.
He pulled into Karen’s driveway at a quarter past six and knocked on her door. She opened it, and was slightly surprised. He hadn’t given her any warning, but she seemed happy to see him anyways. They exchanged a quick hug and Karen invited him in for dinner.
“Oh, no, I don’t want to impose,” he started, but Karen quickly cut him off.
“Don’t worry about it I haven’t even started yet I’ve been so busy all day, you can pay me back by helping me,” she said with her goofy little half-smile. Murray agreed and stepped into her kitchen wearily. Her house was as big as her parents’ was back in the day, maybe even bigger, and he wasn’t accustomed to nice decorations and clean spaces anymore. They got to work on dinner and made the usual small talk. Towards the end of prepping Murray looked over at the living room, Ted was sitting in his big cushy chair watching some horribly boring sports game.
“Does he ever help you?” Murray said in a hushed tone, worried the man would hear him. Karen shook her head and shrugged
“He’s usually tired after working all day,”
Murray raised his eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Karen understood.
“What?” she asked.
Murray looked back at the living room before returning his gaze to her and continued in their quiet voices as they set the table.
“I’m just saying, he could, y’know, help, just once in a while,”
Karen shrugged, she knew he was right, and that’s why she didn’t know how to answer.
“He didn’t even say hi to me,” Murray continued, “when I walked into the house, he didn’t even look in our general direction, what if I was a murderer? Or a child predator?”
Karen rolled her eyes with a smile, “Don’t exaggerate, Bauman, he’ll probably say hi to you at dinner.”
Murray scoffed at the word probably.
Karen was right, however, and Ted did say hi, as well as shake his hand. He also made a comment about how he recognized him from the pictures in Karen’s old photo albums and her constant stories about her days in high school. Murray was surprised this literal loaf of white bread of a human being had the capability to retain so much information at once. They ate mostly in silence with only a small remark about the meal every now and then. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just awfully quiet, Murray’s only entertainment was Karen’s little girl, Nancy. She seemed very shy and timid. She would glance over at Murray, but the second he looked back at her she’d look away. The one time their eyes met Murray stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled. Now when he would catch her looking at him she wouldn’t look away and, instead, waited for him to stick his tongue out, one time even doing it back at him. He chuckled at it and Karen smacked his arm and told him not to teach Nancy bad habits. Can’t be that bad of a habit, he thought to himself, for Karen couldn’t help but smile every time she saw them interact.
After the meal, and after helping Karen clean up so she wouldn’t have to do it alone, Murray decided it was time to head out.
“I gotta get back to the motel and get some sleep,” he started, “big day tomorrow,”
Karen gave him a sad smile, she knew what he meant. She placed her hand softly on his arm.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Murray nodded and turned to leave, halfway to his car Karen called out his name. He turned around to look at her.
“Yeah?” he called back. Karen looked at him for a moment, almost like she was debating speaking up at all, nothing like how she used to be.
“You should come visit more often, we all,” she paused, “we all really miss you, y’know?”
Murray gave her a melancholic smile.
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
He looked down and saw Nancy peeking at him behind Karen’s legs. He stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture, falling into a fit of giggles. Murray looked back up at Karen and gave her a small wave before getting into his car and driving back to the Motel.
Murray could see the truck and the looming figure leaning against it before he even parked his car. He had to do a double-take, to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, but as he pulled into the parking spot two spaces down from him, he knew it was real. As he stepped out of his car Hopper flicked the cigarette he was smoking onto the ground and put it out with his boot. Murray stared intently at the discarded butt.
“You know, they’re saying that’s bad for the environment,”
Hopper scoffed.
“Another one of your conspiracies?”
Murray continued to stare at the cigarette, not moving or giving a response.
“You said you wouldn’t be here today…”
Murray nodded his head, eyes still fixated on the butt.
“I changed my mind,”
Hopper took a slight breath before continuing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Murray lifted his head, exposing the tears welling in his eyes.
“Why do you think?”
Hopper looked surprised at the sight of Murray’s tears. He couldn’t hold the uncomfortable eye contact and switched his gaze over to the motel. They were only a few feet apart, but it felt like they were on opposite ends of the world.
“You didn’t have to come,” stated Hopper softly.
Murray let out a short, frustrated laugh, he continued to stare at the side of Hopper’s face.
“You think I don’t know that, Jim?”
Hopper looked down at the ground and changed the course of the conversation.
“Joyce told me you two hung out today. I guess she didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to…” he trailed off. “How did that go?”
Murray smiled in disbelief at how quickly he deflected the comment he had made. The smile faded, though, and they stood in silence for a few moments.
“It’s cold,” Murray stated. Hopper looked at him confused. “It’s cold out, do you want to go inside to talk?” he explained.
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure, yeah,” Hopper stumbled over his words as he stood up straight.
Murray double checked to make sure his car was locked before walking to his motel room with Hopper.
Murray removed his shoes and coat at the door, Hopper began to do the same but Murray stopped him.
“You don’t have to do that, it’s just a personal preference.”
Hopper nodded and closed the door, making sure it was locked, he knew Murray wouldn’t sit in a private building if the door wasn’t locked. They both sat at the small table set up in the kitchen of the motel room. Hopper sat rather comfortable, legs spread a little, and leaning back in the seat. Murray was sitting like he used to sit when his rabbi would come to visit him and his parents. Hands held tight in his lap, ankles crossed beneath the chair, and back so straight it wasn’t even touching the cool metal behind it.
“It was nice, seeing Joyce again. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I saw her,” he said, staring down at the table. It felt like when their friendship had first started back in high school and Murray didn’t want to accidentally give any indicator to Hopper that he was gay, let alone in love with him. He had no personality in the way he moved, he was just cold.
“Yeah,” Hopper responded, “that’s usually the case,” Murray could feel Hopper’s eyes on his face. He was taking in every subtle feature, every bump, and crevice, all the things that looked different, older, than the last time they had seen each other. Murray continued speaking.
“I saw Karen too. Her kid, Nancy,” he smiled at the thought of her, “she’s got a lot of Karen in her, I just hope she doesn’t lose it the way her mom did,”
Hopper nodded understandingly.
“Yeah, we all kinda… lost something, huh?” he answered.
Murray nodded back at him, still rigid as ever, with his eyes turned towards that stupid little table. Hopper looked exasperated.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, you know?” he said.
“I know,” Murray responded coldly.
“Then could you please just- just look at me?”
Murray shook his head as tears finally started pouring onto his cheeks. He spoke in a voice so broken it hurt Jim to listen.
“I can’t, Jim, I can’t look at you, I can barely listen to your voice I just-” he paused and thought briefly about what to say next. “I came to support you. I came to see Joyce and- and Karen. I came because I thought it would be worse if I didn’t, Jim. I thought to myself- I thought Murray, this is a chance to socialize again, to save yourself before you spiral, before everyone gives up on you. I hadn’t spoken to anyone who wasn’t a coworker in years and I missed it.”
Jim looked at Murray with so much pity and sorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Murray, I didn’t know,”
Murray let out another exasperated laugh.
“Don’t do that. Don’t say you’re sorry. You didn’t know? Of course you didn’t know, Jim, you never fucking called me. Not once after I stopped coming down. I stopped answering the people who did, that’s on me, but people were trying, you never did and then I get a-” his voice caught in his throat. He finally met Hopper’s eyes with his own bloodshot ones. He looked so pathetic and so deeply hurt that Jim could barely keep looking at him, but Murray composed himself just enough to go on, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. “I get a letter in the mail saying you’re getting married to a woman I’ve never even met. And you want me to come down here and what? Party with you? Act like everything's okay? It’s not okay, Jim. I’m not okay and I miss you and I lo-” he stopped himself again. He looked down at his shaking hands and shook his head, deciding it was better not to say.
“I’m sorry Murray,” was all that Hopper could muster up, because he knew. He knew everything he said made sense, he knew he hurt this man more than any high school bully ever had, whether intentional or not.
“Yeah. I know,” Murray answered in a tone like ice. They sat in heavy silence for only a moment.
“You should go,” said Murray, “you have a big day, tomorrow, don’t you?” He was staring at the door, avoiding looking at Jim again. Hopper sniffed and cleared his throat, he had been fighting tears this whole time and was almost relieved to go. Almost. He pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked up to the door but turned towards Murray, unsure of what he was expecting to happen. Murray was staring right at him.
“Goodbye, Jim,”
Hopper left the motel room, and the second Murray heard his car door slam shut he pounded his balled-up fist on the surface of the table and let out several heavy sobs. He sobbed until he felt he couldn’t physically go on without passing out. Just outside, Hopper was sitting in his car with his head pressed against the steering wheel, it was a familiar scenario. Silent tears streamed down his face. What had he done?
Murray went to bed that night after a drink or two, still fully clothed. The motel called his room the next morning, he had requested it so he wouldn’t wake up late. He slowly got out of bed and got ready, showering and ironing his suit, the works. After he finished packing up his few belongings he paused to look at himself in the full-length mirror. He just looked tired, which was the norm at this point. He turned away and brought his suitcase to his car, throwing it in the trunk before dropping his motel key off at the desk. He planned on leaving just after the wedding, so he didn’t want to be late. Once he was in the driver’s seat of his car he looked at himself in the rearview, took a deep breath, and started the engine.
The drive to the church was short, and Murray chose to park on the street, a little up the hill from the venue, instead of in the parking lot. He stepped out of the car and walked halfway down the hill. He was close enough to see Joyce standing on the steps of the church all dressed up, and he could tell she was waiting for him. Sitting on the steps next to her was Jonathan, pushing around some rocks as if they were race cars. She put her cigarette out on the metal banister and waved at Murray. From this distance, she looked even smaller than usual. He wanted so badly to run to her. To smell her cigarette hair and meet her son, but he just shook his head. Joyce saw the gesture and shook her head back, he couldn't be doing this. Murray turned around and began walking back to his car. In a panic Joyce pulled Jonathan up by his hand, away from his rocks, and picked him up, holding him against her. She started running after Murray, glad she wore flats that day. Murray was already almost by his car by the time Joyce was halfway up the hill, and by the time she reached the top, she could see him ducking his head into the driver’s side. She could hear the engine start and smell the gasoline. She thought she lost him, but the car hadn’t pulled away yet. Murray was sitting in the driver’s side building up the confidence to just speed away when Joyce finally reached the car, still holding Jonathan in her arms. She was winded and tried opening the passenger side door, but it was locked. Murray looked over at her with eyes numbed by sadness. Joyce put Jonathan down and pressed her hand against the window.
“Please let me in Murray, or come out, just- I’m not gonna force you to stay,” she said in the calming voice that always knocked some sense into him. Murray stopped the car and unlocked his door, he stepped out and looked at Joyce over the roof.
“I can’t do it, Joyce, I can’t watch it happen I-” he shook his head, “I didn’t tell you, it’s not your fault, but Jim wasn’t supposed to know I was here yesterday. I knew if I saw him I’d lose my nerve and I did,”
Joyce looked at Murray with worry all over her face.
“Oh, Murray I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I-”
Murray cut her off.
“You don’t need to be sorry Joyce, it’s my fault, I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think of it,”
There was a beat of silence.
“I just can’t do this, Joyce,”
Joyce nodded, her eyes full of understanding. Murray looked down at Jonathan, who was standing a little ways behind his mom and staring at him intently. Unlike Nancy, Jonathan didn’t look away when Murray met his gaze.
“I’d still like to meet him properly,” Murray said, nodding his head towards Jonathan.
Joyce smiled softly.
“Of course, of course you can,” she replied, taking Jonathan by the hand and leading him to the other side of the car, placing him in front of her. Murray crouched down and held his hand out for him.
“Murray meet Jonathan, Jonathan,” she gave his shoulder a little nudge, “this is your uncle Murray”
Murray smiled at being called uncle, it made him feel even more connected to Joyce and her little family. Jonathan reached out to grab Murray’s hand, but just as he was about to hold it, Murray pulled it away. Jonathan looked up at his mom confused, but Murray had already put his hand back where it was and Joyce nodded her head towards it, egging Jonathan on. Once again, Jonathan’s little hand barely had time to brush Murray’s before he pulled it back. This time, however Jonathan let out a little laugh, and when Murray put his hand back Jonathan grabbed it too quickly for Murray to pull back again. Defeated, Murray shook his hand, which was less of a shake and more just Jonathan’s small hand placed on top of Murray’s while he waved it up and down.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jonathan,” he said with a wink.
Jonathan finally let go of his hand and Murray looked up at Joyce.
“Did you know you have the best mom in the world, Jonathan?” Murray asked, still looking up at her. Jonathan nodded his little head excitedly and Murray looked back down at him.
“Good, don’t ever forget that,” he said as he stood up. Joyce took Jonathan’s hand and moved him aside so she and Murray could hug goodbye. He did get to smell the cigarettes in her hair after all. They held each other for a long time.
“He’s gonna notice you’re not there,” Joyce spoke softly, her head resting between his chest and chin. Murray lifted his chin and glanced back at the church.
“I know.” he said, as they finally pulled apart. Joyce took Jonathan’s hand in her own again and waved goodbye to Murray as she walked back down the hill to the church.
They had made plans to get lunch next time he was in town, but Murray didn’t know when next time would be. He sat in the driver’s seat, keys in the ignition, and when Joyce and her little boy were no longer visible in his rearview mirror, he started his car and pulled out of the spot. He started his trip back to his Chicago apartment. And he’d stay there, lonelier than he’d ever been before in his life, for over a decade.