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Joyce is sitting on a small blue couch in the lobby of a hotel in Alaska. She flips through a magazine with a mean-looking moose on the cover, looking up every time she hears someone approach. She stands up and smiles. Murray.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Good morning.” He looks her over. “You’re looking clean, Joyce.”
She laughs. “Thanks. I spent a ridiculous amount of time in the shower.”
Murray nods. “Where’s Jim?”
“He’s getting directions to the nearest pharmacy. We ran out of aspirin and could probably use some other supplies before today’s flight home.”
“We have a couple of hours to kill. There’s a diner just to the right of the hotel parking lot. Why don’t we grab a quick breakfast and then we can figure out things from there?”
“Sounds good,” Joyce says. “If you want to get a head start…”
Murray leaves, and Joyce goes back to the moose magazine before she looks up and smiles again. Bigger than she smiled for Murray. Hopper walks over to her, limping, but smiling too.
“Ready for breakfast?” she asks. “There’s a diner nearby. Murray’s probably there already.”
“A real diner breakfast,” he says. “Bacon. Eggs. Hash browns. Coffee. Orange juice. I think I want all of that.”
“I’m sure they’ll have all of that.”
“Pancakes too. Or maybe French toast. Not sure which one yet. But not waffles. Waffles will wait until I can eat them with her.”
“Of course.”
“A real diner breakfast,” he says again. “Full of grease and salt and syrup.”
“Were you dreaming about that too?”
“Constantly.”
“I’m really glad your food dreams are coming true.”
“Joyce,” he says. He reaches for her hand and pulls her closer to him. “That’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
He leans down and kisses her. They kiss for a little bit before she whispers, “Get the pancakes, Hop. I make a pretty good French toast, and I can’t wait to make it for you when we’re finally home.”
--
It started on the third day everyone was back together. El didn’t notice on the first day because she was too overwhelmed with having her dad back, and being reunited with her friends and everything she had been through recently. She noticed the obvious changes about him right away: the shaved head, the weight loss, all the injuries and the limp. But it wasn’t until the second day that she noticed the way he started breathing funny when there were too many noisy people crammed in the cabin. The way he would suddenly look pale or sick and have to grab on tight to a chair or a table to steady himself. The way he would mumble an excuse before leaving the cabin to sit on the outside steps.
She didn’t follow him in case he wanted to be alone. She understood wanting to be alone. But maybe he’d like some company. On the third day, when she noticed him grab onto something and make a hasty retreat outside, she followed him, standing at first, because she wasn’t sure if he’d tell her to get inside with everyone else.
When his breathing seemed more even and he noticed her, he gave her a weak smile and said, “Come and sit with me, kid.”
And it became their ritual. Just the two of them. She would recognize the signs, wait a little bit to give him some time alone outside to breathe and then join him. And she never came empty-handed.
“What’s on the menu today?” he asked on the fifth day he was back.
She sat down next to him and showed him what she had been hiding behind her back. A package of chocolate cupcakes in one hand and slightly squished Twinkies in the other. “Hmm,” he said, appearing to give it some deep thought. “How about the Twinkies?”
“Yes,” she said. She opened the package and handed him one. He took a bite and said, “I forgot how terrible and amazing these are. I’m going to get fat again.”
“No,” she said. “Not fat. Medium. You need to get medium.” Medium would mean healthy and not too skinny. She wished for medium more than anything.
“Yeah,” he said. “Medium would be really good.”
She polished off her Twinkie quickly and stood up. Now was time for Part Two of their ritual. She grabbed his arm, the one that wasn’t holding a Twinkie, and looked it over. Checking all the injuries and how they were healing. She looked at his other arm, then his face, really anywhere there was visible skin.
When she was done with the scrutiny, she sat back down.
“How’s it looking, Doctor?”
She frowned at the raised red marks covering him, pointing at a particularly deep one. “Scars.”
“Probably.” He sighed. “I think my beauty pageant days are over.”
She didn’t laugh. Talking about scars reminded her of what she really wanted to talk about today. She had been debating bringing this up, but she was suddenly desperate for him to know that she knew. And that she was thrilled about it.
She took a deep breath and said, “Mike said if he ever caught his parents making out, he’d be scarred for life.”
Hopper gave a surprised roar of a laugh. Just like he used to when she would say something unintentionally funny. It was the loudest she had heard him laugh since he had come back. “Wheeler’s being dramatic. It’s just an expression.”
“I know,” she said. Then, “If I ever saw you and Joyce making out, I wouldn’t be scarred for life.”
“Huh,” he said after a few seconds. “I don’t know if that’s something…”
“I saw you,” she said before he could deny it.
He looked confused. “But we haven’t…we weren’t…. I’m not sure what you saw here.”
“No,” she said, frustrated. “Not here. In Alaska.”
“What?” He turned so he was completely facing her. “What are you talking about, El?”
“When we were driving back here, Will was really sad. And he was worried and had a bad feeling about Joyce. So he asked if I would be able to find her and see if she was ok.”
His voice got really low. “What did you see exactly?”
“Joyce was sitting on a small blue couch in the lobby of a hotel in Alaska.” And she told him everything she remembered. The moose magazine. How Joyce had seen Murray first. And Murray had said, “Jim,” but El was afraid to get her hopes up because Jim was a common name and hardly anyone called him Jim. But then he was there, looking so different and skinny and hurt, but happy when he saw Joyce. And they talked about breakfast and different foods and then they had kissed, and El started crying in the car because she was so excited that he was alive and with Joyce and she couldn’t wait to see him again.
Even describing it to him now had her emotional as she remembered. She blinked tears away as she waited for him to say something. Anything. It felt like a very long time before he said, “I assume Mike’s comment about his parents was in response to what you saw. You told him.”
“I was in the car,” she said. “Describing everything to everyone.”
He nodded. “And what was everyone else’s reaction to your play-by-play?”
“Argyle said, ‘All right, Mrs. Byers!’ and that he would go for pancakes over French toast any day. And then he said…”
“Hey kid, that’s great, but I’m actually more interested in Will and Jonathan’s reactions.”
“They were shocked you were alive too. And happy you were alive. But they told me that if I ever saw you and Joyce kissing again, I didn’t need to tell them. I don’t think they were scarred for life though.”
He was quiet again. Really quiet, and she began to get worried. “Are you mad?” She hoped he wasn’t mad. Now she was really crying. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” he said. He scooted over and put his arm around her. “You didn’t know what you’d be seeing, and you did it to help Will. But it was a very private moment you were witness to without us knowing and that’s an unsettling feeling. And now other people know as well. I think you need to tell Joyce.”
“Ok,” she said. She wiped her eyes with the back of her Twinkie-sticky hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m not mad.”
“Will said that if he had to hear about his mom kissing someone in a hotel, he was glad it was you and not Murray. Me too. I’m really glad Joyce was kissing you instead of Murray.”
Finally, he smiled a little. “Yeah. So am I. Anything else you need to confess?”
“Yeah,” she said. She whispered into his ear. “Joyce’s French toast really isn’t that good.”
--
The two of them continued to sit outside, even though it was starting to get hot. At one point, Will stuck his head out to see what they wanted for lunch, but El shooed him away with a dirty look. She wasn’t done with her one-on-one time.
“I know,” Hopper said, “we haven’t really talked about this.” He ran his hand over her head. It felt surprisingly nice. “And I’m so sorry for that, El. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ok,” he said. “I respect that. But anytime you feel like it, I’m here, ok? Two in the afternoon, two in the morning, you feel like talking, you come get me.”
“Ok,” she said. She ran her hand over his head. “Same for you. Two in the morning.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it either, but I’ll just say that it was not a fun experience. And I can’t even tell you how much I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Do you think … do you think we’ll be scarred for life? Not like your arms or head or my leg, but on the inside?”
A deep breath. “I think if we’re going to have discussions like that, we’ll need to break out the cupcakes. What do you think?”
“Yes.” She passed him the package. He handed her a cupcake, touched their two cupcakes together and said, “Cheers.”
He took a few bites before putting the cupcake down next to him. He waited until she started on hers before he said, “I don’t know. I really don’t. But from my experience, I think it’s something we have to consider as a real possibility for both of us. And if you ever feel that way, I want you to tell me.”
“I want you to tell me,” she said. She lightly touched the huge cut on his face. “Bad men did bad things to you too.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t fun. But hey, as a diet plan, it was pretty effective.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t you make that face at me,” he said, his voice teasing.
She was going to ask if he was ready to go back in, but he said, “El, one of the things I thought about a lot when I was away was that if I ever came back, I wanted to be better. Not lose my temper so much. But I swear, if I was given ten minutes alone in a room with the people who did this to you…” He ran his hand over her head again. “I’d kill them all.”
It was an interesting thought. He was really good at punching people and shooting guns. But there were so many bad men and so many monsters, she wasn’t sure how it would go. She felt herself tense up with nerves before reminding herself he was still sitting right next to her, finishing his cupcake. She was grateful though for him saying that, for knowing that he would fight the bad men for her, so she sang softly, “You don’t mess around with Jim.”
A wide grin spread across his face. “Shit, kid, I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.”
“I want to kill all the bad men in Russia too,” she said. “And I could do it in less than ten minutes.”
“Ok, you just proved me wrong. Now I’ve never been prouder. You don’t mess around with El.”
“No.” The front door opened again, and Joyce stepped out. El could tell that even with all the terrible stuff happening around them, Joyce looked so much happier than she had in the last year. El knew why.
It was because of the kissing.
“Don’t want to interrupt, but lunch is ready if you’re interested.” She glanced at the Twinkie and cupcake wrappers on the ground. “Unless you’re not hungry.”
“I am,” El said. They both stood up. “Joyce, after lunch, can we talk? In private?” She would do as promised. She would tell Joyce that she knew, that Will and Jonathan knew. She would tell her everything she had told her dad. Except for the French toast thing.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Joyce looked from El to Hopper, concerned. “Everything ok? You guys ok?”
“Yeah,” El said. “We’re good.”
Hopper squeezed El’s shoulder. “We’re good.”
They followed Joyce into the kitchen area where Will and Jonathan were waiting, and they all sat down for lunch.