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Hopper lit his fourth cigarette.
She was gonna stand him up. Just like Alice freakin’ Gilbert in the ninth grade. Un-freakin-believable.
Joyce Byers was gonna stand him up!
But then a little green Pinto sped into the parking lot and squeeled it’s tires as it pulled in right next to his truck and he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched her half walk, half run in. The Maitre’d escorted her partway to the table and Hopper stood up to greet her as she approached.
“Sorry, I’m so late,” she apologized with a hitch in her breath like she had all but ran there, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve stumbled onto something this afternoon, and I was gonna tell you we should raincheck, but then I lost track of time, and I didn’t want to stand you up…”
“No, no, don’t be sorry.”
Hopper didn’t register what she said. He was staring at her and trying hard to keep his jaw from dropping. Neither of them noticed that half the tables around them were turning to stare at the spectacle of a wildly animated Joyce, dressed up to the nines in a navy blue paisley wrap dress and some strappy high heels.
“You look uhhh…mazing,” Hopper said not at all smoothly, moving around her to grab her chair for her.
“Thanks, I wasn’t really sure what to wear, so I just threw myself together. I hope this old thing is okay?” She smoothed the fabric of the dress and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t think it’s in style anymore.”
“No! I mean yeah, it’s perfect.”
“Really? I thought it was kinda dowdy,” she said, adjusting the neckline. It drew his eyes down, but Joyce barely seemed to notice that Hopper got lost for a moment before he snapped out of it and finally pulled out her chair for her.
“I don’t think it’s dowdy,” he reassured her. “You’re not exactly in old maid territory yet, you know.”
“Oh thank god, I was beginning to feel that way! Well — aren’t you… handsome,” she said with a small smirk, getting a good look at him and squinting at the loud pattern of his shirt as he took his seat across from her. “Is that new?”
“Uh…”
Joyce didn’t wait for him to answer before moving on to her next question.
“Did you order yet? I’m starved — I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Well, I ordered a little chee-ant-ee wine—”
“Chianti.”
A tall, skinny man with an oversized mustache appeared at the table, presenting Hopper’s drink order over his arm in a thick Italian accent that Hopper was pretty sure was fake.
“Classico Riserva. A fine vintage, direct from Tuscany, bottled in 1983.”
“Ooh, good year,” Joyce said, glancing at Hopper with a slight sarcastic edge.
The sommelier began to uncork the wine with impressive flair and passed the cork to Hopper for him to smell. Hopper didn’t catch on, though, and stared at the cork for a second before putting it down on the table, thoroughly confused. Then the sommelier turned to Joyce.
“Would you like to sample, signora?”
“Oh what the hell,” Joyce said to the waiter and nodded, allowing the man to take her glass. He filled it with only a mouthful of the rich sanguine wine and passed it back to her. Joyce smiled at the older man, brought the glass to her nose, and inhaled deeply before taking the sample into her mouth.
Hopper watched, enthralled as Joyce swallowed and the seductive Italian continued to roll off her tongue.
“Mmm… Molto bene! Grazie.”
“Prego, mia Bella,” The sommelier returned her smile and began to pour full glasses for the both of them. With a nod and slight bow, he presented them the remainder in the bottle and turned to go with a parting message and wink to Hopper.
“In vino veritas.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Italian. What did he say?” Hopper leaned forward to ask with a sparkle in his eye.
“Dunno,” Joyce shrugged innocently. “I must’ve picked up a few words here and there… from the movies.”
She sipped on her wine before glancing around their table, taking in the ambiance of the soft candle light and a four-piece quartet.
“Ooh, it’s so fancy here! I’ve wanted to try this place forever. How can you afford this?”
“I’m the Chief of Police, doll.” He bragged. “They practically pay me to show up here on a Friday night. I got Carte Blanche.”
Joyce’s eyebrows shot up over her wine glass.
“Really?”
“No,” he sighed and patted his breast pocket. “I brought my Diner’s Club.”
She relaxed just a bit and took another sip of wine, and eyed up the breadsticks.
“What did you get up to today?” he asked casually, trying not to let on that he’d been worried when he didn’t see her earlier for their usual afternoon break. “I stopped by the store earlier, but it was closed.”
Joyce reached for the breadsticks. She broke one in half and started to munch on it, covering her mouth to avoid crumbs from spilling out as she spoke.
“Oh, yeah. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Something came up! I spent the afternoon with Scott Clark.”
Hopper sputtered on his own wine as he felt his heart plummet to the floor, where she practically stepped on it with her high heels as she continued on.
“You know Scott… The science teacher at the middle school?”
“Yeah,” Hopper choked out, “I know Scott.”
“Well, I went to his house this afternoon, and--”
“Pardon me, ma’am,” their waiter interrupted, “Are we ready to order?”
“Uh, no?” Hopper said rudely, holding up his hand. “Give us a second, please.”
Joyce kicked Hopper under the table to scold him silently, while she smiled sweetly in apology to the stout, old man with his pen poised at the ready.
“No, it’s okay. I’d like to order. I’m starving.” She glanced down to the menu in front of her.
“Would you like to hear our specials this evening?”
Joyce shook her head and tapped the menu to show the waiter she’d already made up her mind.
“I’ll have the Puttanesca with the side caprese. And we’ll share the bruschetta to start.”
The waiter nodded and wrote down her order before turning to Hopper.
“And you, sir?”
“Uhhh…” Hopper stared down at the menu, stunned, not able to think of anything else besides the fact that Joyce had been to Scott Clarke’s house that day.
“Do you just want me to order for you?” Joyce whispered across the table.
“Sure,” he said, eager to just get back to the previous topic.
“He’ll have the Chicken Parm with the caesar salad.” Joyce smiled, confident as she handed the menus back. Hopper shrugged; she was right — it’s what he would’ve ordered.
“Very good, ma’am.” The waiter nodded and left their table.
Joyce stuck another breadstick in her yap and took another sip of wine before Hopper had to prompt her to finish her story.
“Oh, right. So, I went to Scott Clarke’s house to ask him about magnets.”
Well… that was anticlimatic.
“Magnets?” Hopper echoed.
“Yeah. Remember the other day when you slipped on one in the store?”
Hopper nodded.
“Well, it’s because the night before, it lost it’s magnetism and fell off. They all did. Even the ones at my house.”
“The magnets… fell?”
“Yeah,” Joyce nodded emphatically. “Off the fridge. All of them! And I thought, ‘Okay, that’s weird.’”
Hopper nodded, feigning intrigue to keep the confusion off his face. This wasn’t how he expected his night with Joyce starting off…
“Right?” Joyce kept nodding too. “Like, why are all these magnets suddenly losing their magnetism?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, I went and saw Scott.”
“Your child’s science teacher?” he asked slowly, trying to put the puzzle all together.
“Yeah. You know, he’s pretty brilliant, actually.”
“Sure.”
Hopper couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew he had beat around the bush asking her, but did Joyce not realize this was a date? She sure as hell got dressed up for one.
“And I asked him, ‘How is this happening?’ So, he built this magnetic field using an AC transformer and plugging it into a solenoid. And... And with that solenoid, which basically…”
“Slow down, slow down.”
“No, I’m trying to tell you something! Shh!”
“Okay, now you’re shushing me…”
“Oh, come on, Hop, you’re not even listening to me.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “Continue.”
“So, Scott was able to demagnetize some of these magnets, and he thinks that a large-scale magnetic field could be built using some sort of machine or... or experimental technology. Whatever it is, it’s gotta be huge.”
Hopper blinked.
“Wow, yeah. He’s brilliant. Is he single too?”
“Oh really,” Joyce scruntched her face at him, chiding with a hint of a grin. “You’re jealous of the science teacher? While I’m here on a date with you?”
Hopper bit on the inside of his cheek at her words as he felt his face turn as bright pink as the cutting-edge shirt he wore.
“What are you trying to say, Joyce?”
She took a deep breath and snapped the remainder of the breadstick in her hands.
“I’m saying… What if it’s them? To build a machine like this, you need resources, right? You need scientists, you need funding. Tens of millions of dollars.”
Joyce tried to whisper the last part across the table to him but did a horrible job of it. The couple at the next table exchanged a glance.
“Joyce,” Hopper warned.
But she didn’t stop or keep her voice down.
“It can’t just be a coincidence, Hopper. It has to be them.”
“Joyce, stop.” He held up a hand. “Please, can’t we have just one night? One night to just… relax and not think about that. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Joyce deflated, shoulders slumping forward. Then she reached for the wine.
“One night?”
Hopper closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
“Yes, please. For the love of God.”
He was pretty sure that the only reason she agreed was that their appetizer came out at that exact moment. Pressing her lips together, Joyce held her tongue and then reached for the bruschetta.
They chatted about the kids while they shared the plate and how Mike was driving Hopper up the wall. They discussed the heatwave passing over the midwest and how neither of them ever remembered it being so hot in July. How strange Main street would be if all the businesses closed up because of that damn Starcourt mall. They talked about the inconsequential, everyday stuff and Hopper felt himself loosen up for the first time in a long time and, it wasn’t just because of the wine or the beautiful woman (finally) sitting across from him.
For a second there in Enzo’s Fine Italian Dining, he felt normal.
He felt like he didn’t have to be anything more than just a man who asked his oldest friend out on a date for the first time in twenty years.
The appetizer was demolished, only crumbs left on the plate, and their wine glasses were running low when a sudden commotion caused half the restaurant to turn and look towards the front door. Two waiter’s and Enzo himself were trying to change the sign at the front door, and struggling to make it stick. The holder wouldn’t take the magnetic corners of the poster and it kept falling down, much to the three men’s growing frustration as evident by the rapid-fire Italian being exchanged.
“See?” Joyce kicked Hopper under the table to get his attention. “Just like my magnets… It even made it’s way all the way to this side of town! I told you!”
“Joyce,” Hopper said her name, getting ready to plead with her again. Damn woman had a one-track mind and not in the way he’d hoped.
“I’m just saying… It has to be the lab.”
“And I’m saying, it’s impossible!”
“Well, then, prove it to me.”
“Prove it? How?”
Joyce pressed her wine tinged lips together, holding her breath before she made her suggestion.
“Take me back there. Tonight.”
“To the lab?”
“Yeah, I wanna go back.”
“Because some magnets fell off your fridge?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Okay,” Hopper held up his hands. He knew there was no dissuading her. “Okay. We can go after dinner.”
Joyce winced. Hopper wasn’t going to like what she had to say next.
“Y’know, I just got this… feeling — yeah, yeah. You don’t need to roll your eyes at me. When have I been wrong, hm?” she asked pointedly. “Look, I just have a really strange feeling about this…”
“You and your strange feelings…” he mumbled, running a hand down over his face and then smoothed his handsome mustache before focusing on Joyce and how serious she looked.
“…And I don’t think it’s something that should really wait…”
Hopper huffed and tried to ignore the old couple next to them that had been listening in and only caught half the story and were now whispering between themselves, staring at them. Joyce saw it too and shot them a look to mind their own business before she pressed Hopper.
“This is why I wanted us to raincheck tonight. I think we should go… Right now.”
Hopper sank in his chair — so much for that date. He reached for his wine, knocking the rest of his glass back in one slug before glancing toward the kitchen, annoyed.
“Why did you order food if this is so damn important?” he gruffed.
“I was hungry,” she shrugged and gulped the last of her wine too. “And we gotta eat.”
Hopper rolled his eyes.
“You really think this is something? That they’re going to use this as a weapon or what?”
“Maybe? A weapon or— or a tool? Maybe they’re using it to open something again…” she said, trailing off, letting him fill in the blanks on his own.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he tossed his napkin on the table.
“I tried to tell you. When I came in.”
Hopper thought about it, then leaned back and shrugged, giving her a flirtatious smirk.
“Yeah, well… I got distracted.”
“Flatterer,” Joyce said, blushing.
Hopper had just enough time to enjoy her smile when their meals came out of the kitchen. The waiter brought their dishes out on a tray, setting it down first on a stand before placing their meals on the table, one at a time, starting with Joyce.
“Oh, uh…” Joyce held her finger up to the man, but he didn’t notice.
“Shall I bring the table another bottle of wine?” he asked.
“Hey, Garçon?” Hopper interrupted. “Can we get this to go?”
The waiter’s smile dropped from his face.
“To go?”
“Yeah, just put em in some doggy-bags for us.” Hopper gestured to the meals and grabbed the rest of the wine in the bottle to put the cork in it.
“Doggy…bags?” The word sounded foreign coming out of the waiter’s mouth.
“We are so sorry,” Joyce apologized. “It’s been lovely so far, but something important just came up for us, and we really have to go. Again, beautiful restaurant, great atmosphere, but can you wrap the food up for us? We’ll just eat in the car.”
The waiter reeled like Joyce had just insulted his mother.
“Oh, and can you throw in one of those tiramisu things you have in the front in the little display thing too? Please?”
“Two.” Hopper coughed behind his hand.
Joyce wiggled two fingers at the man and smiled sweetly.
“Two tiramisus? Thank you.”
The bewildered and vaguely annoyed waiter nodded and loaded up the tray again and Hopper tossed Joyce his keys as their meals headed back to the kitchen.
“Here. Get my truck going, and I’ll pay. Meet you outside.”
Joyce caught the keys and nodded. She didn’t even seem to notice or care that they were causing quite the stir in the restaurant as she hustled toward the doors.
And when Hopper walked out to the parking lot a few minutes later, with their dinner bagged up and an extra bottle of wine in hand, Joyce was leaning up against her Pinto, changing her shoes, ditching the heels in the backseat to put her sneakers on while the patrons inside Enzo’s gawked at them through the windows…
Hopper chuckled to himself — just doing their part to keep the Hawkins rumor mill churning.
Somehow, it was a fitting start to their first true date. Nothing fancy — dinner in a brown paper bag, a bottle of wine to share, and a late-night, last-minute mission to an abandoned lab.
How could he ask for anything more?