Work Text:
1966
Joyce didn’t have much growing up. She saw some photos taken at her parents’ “old” house from back when they still had one. Her father had returned from the war a different man than the one who had left in ’41 when her mother was pregnant. She barely remembered her father and had only some fuzzy memories from the first few days after her mother had taken her to live with her Aunt Darlene just before her 4th birthday. She remembered feeling confused and not knowing what to do during her mom’s crying spells, mostly settling for trying to hug her mother the best she could with her tiny preschooler frame.
Joyce had been thinking back to those early days more and more frequently since finding herself unexpectedly pregnant with her first child. She was 24, unmarried, and pregnant with Lonnie Byers’ kid. That hadn’t been her plan. Her plan had been to get out of Hawkins after graduation and move about, see the world, be a free spirit. Her mother had kissed her goodbye with tears in her eyes at the bus terminal the morning she left for Chicago with her best friend six years prior. “Go on Joycie, I wish I had had the chance to go too.”
She’d stayed in Chicago for about three years and then a bunch of other places, hanging out with anyone from beatniks to hippies. At one point she’d even let her hair grow out and tried some stuff she’d never tell her mother about. It was chaos but absolute freedom, a peace she could have only hoped to find someday back when she’d been a brooding misunderstood teenage girl, a bit too rough around the edges for her cookie cutter peers.
And then, on a bus returning to Chicago, she met Lonnie. They stepped off that same bus together and had hardly been apart since. She fell so hard and so fast for him that eventually birth control was forgotten one fateful night 5 months into their relationship.
Could she do it? Be a mom? Could Lonnie be a dad? Would he even want to? Did she really love him? If she did it was nowhere near how much she loved the cluster of cells growing inside her. She knew she was in love with the man, she just didn’t know if she would still love Lonnie once their honeymoon period fireworks went out. The two of them were explosive when together, each day unpredictable and subject to fights and apologies and sweet nothings said back and forward. Her and the baby she carried, that felt completely different. First of all, she’d known pretty early on that she wanted to keep that baby. Thinking about that little person brought about feelings of overwhelming anxiety and fear, seeing as her life would never again be just hers. But below all that there was a steady unconditional love. So steady it almost calmed the storm of feelings above it while somehow complementing it. It had to be what her mom meant when she talked about a mother’s love, or the very least the way the Horowitz women seemed to experience it. After all, despite a troubled childhood, even during the lowest of lows, Joyce knew her mother loved her dearly. If her blind love for a person that wasn’t quite a person yet was any indication, she might take after her mom in that department.
“Your heart is made of butter Joycie, just like your Ma’s.” Aunt Darlene would say. Joyce mostly agreed. She was good at loving. Those sorts of feelings came easy to her. She rested one hand on her still flat belly and felt them. The gesture alone made her want to smile and whisper loving words. To her baby. Hers. Her baby that she was willing to do anything for. Her baby who deserved the world, or the very least more than she had been given as a child. Her baby deserved more than a makeshift bedroom in the living room of Aunt Darlene’s apartment, an overworked single mom and a father they hardly knew.
And so when Lonnie got down on one knee the day after she told him she was pregnant, she ran her hand along her belly and told him yes.
1971
He was born perfect. William. Will for short. He had barely cried when he’d been born, more like some slight whimpers that settled as soon as they placed him on her chest. Joyce could tell he was a special little boy from that moment. Not that she hadn’t felt Jonathan was special too when she’d first held him 4 years earlier, they just seemed different. Jonathan had been more temperamental from the start, very curious and playful. He was a typical little boy when it came to his interests and yet had inherited her heart made of butter. The same heart that had gotten her married to Lonnie. He wasn’t the easiest husband but at least she’d gotten her two precious boys out of that marriage, she’d gotten her Jonathan and her Will.
Will only wanted to be held by her. Lonnie complained that they’d gotten a Mama’s boy but Joyce didn’t care, she almost felt guilty over how much she liked Will’s overt preference for her. He was her little boy. She couldn’t imagine someone so sweet ever being capable of a single bad action.
Her baby whimpered a little in her arms and she nuzzled his little face with her nose. “I’m right here honey, I got you.” She whispered against his forehead. “And your big brother Jonathan is coming to see you in a little bit. He is so excited to meet you, my love!” She gushed. Will was now wide awake and had his eyes completely fixated on her face. “He wants to teach you how to tie your shoes and how to play in a swing and so many fun things once you are old enough. I have a feeling you two will be thick as thieves.” She told him smiling. She could see them playing together in a few years so clearly, Jonathan leading the way to the park with his little brother right behind him.
“I don’t need you to grow up too quickly though. You have no clue how happy you make me just letting me hold you to me, I am sure I am going to miss it when you get too big for it.”
Will looked at her with a look of mild confusion in his tiny features and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I know baby, Mommy is getting way ahead of herself. How about we just enjoy each other’s company while we are alone huh? Some more forehead kisses and maybe even a lullaby or two?”
Will nudged his little head closer to her chest, right over her heart. She ran her right index finger down his chubby face and allowed him to grab it with his fist in the world’s cutest death grip. Her baby boy. So sweet and sensitive and yet so deceptively strong.
1985
In a way, Joyce had been preparing to be El’s mom since the day they’d visited Terry Ives. She would think back to the nursery that poor woman had set up for her baby girl and her heart would ache at the thought of all that El should have gotten. She should have gotten soft colors and stuffed toys and hugs, not fluorescent lighting and a number tattooed on her arm.
Consequently, whenever Hop had a “situation” he needed backup for (“Joyce, she asked me for a bra, should I get her one? Isn’t it too soon?”, “Joyce, she got her period, what do I do?”, “Joyce, how do I do her hair for that damn Snowball thing?”) she had always been quick to come to his aid (“No Hop, twelve almost thirteen is not too soon for a training bra, I’ll measure her when you come over for dinner Thursday.”, “Get her pads, painkillers and some chocolate, I’ll be by after my shift”, “I’ll swing by before going home and I’ll see what I can do with her hair.”). Truth be told, the handful of times she’d gotten to help with “woman things” (as Hopper would say with a slight cringe) had been a lot fun. She had spent so much time dealing with her boys that it was a welcome change of pace to have a little girl to spoil with affection and nail polish for an afternoon. All the care and comfort she imagined Terry Ives would have given her girl had she been allowed to. Sometimes she would even catch herself thinking of herself as a little bit El’s mom and feel some guilt. Hopper was trying so hard to be everything for his girl that it almost felt wrong to give much importance to the few blind spots he had even if they were the ones allowing her to bond with El. Still, Hopper had once told her she could be just a little bit El’s mom whenever she needed one.
But now it had been 4 days since Hopper had died and she’d had to help El do her hair for the funeral and try to help her past the crying spells. Her time with El would not be much fun for a very long time. Life in general would not be fun again for a very long time.
El knocking on her door at night had become almost routine. She’d get up from Jonathan’s bed (because of course her self-sacrificing son would give up his bed and crash on the couch) in the middle of the night, knock, and Joyce would wordlessly lift the bedcovers to invite her in. As soon as El was settled against her she would bury her face in the crook of her neck and allow herself to fall apart for the night again, compulsively chanting her torments (“It’s all my fault. You’ll get hurt because of me. It will all be my fault. Everyone leaves me and it’s all my fault.”) while Joyce rubbed her back soothingly and whispered her reassurances (“Nothing is your fault, nothing that happened was your fault. You deserve to be loved and cared for. Your father loved you. We love you and want to be here for you. I love you sweetheart.”)
And then one night it happened. It was a few days before their move to Lenora when El accidentally called her “Mama” in the midst of her nightly meltdown and Joyce didn’t have the heart to do anything other than hold her even tighter and continue her reassurances. If El needed someone to call mom she’d gladly fill in for that position. She considered it true from that point on. Joyce didn’t whisper sweet words to El while she was growing in her belly or cuddle her to her chest as a newborn, but she held her and comforted her when she needed it most and from that night on knew she could never go back to being just a little bit El’s mother.
2004
“Nana look! I’m going so high!” A little girl shouted from a swing, two days before Christmas. Joyce stood behind her pushing her gently and enjoying the rare one-on-one time.
“Wow honey! It’s like you are flying!” Joyce gushed.
“Now it’s your turn!” The little girl declared and started scrapping her feet on the ground to halt her movements. Before Joyce could refuse her granddaughter was dragging her to sit on the swing and placing her hands on the ropes. Joyce felt her heart melt at the sight, incredibly similar to an afternoon with Jonathan and Will decades prior, down to the instructional placing of her hands. A surprising amount of the time being a grandma felt eerily similar to being a mom, especially when her grandchild was 100% her father’s daughter.
“Now you have to swing your legs and I’ll push you a little!”
Joyce humored her and swung her legs slowly, moving just enough to not gain too much momentum for a six-year-old to handle. “Wow! You are a very good teacher Charlie!”
“Thanks! You learn fast Nana! Much faster than Daddy did!”
“Really? You must be getting better at teaching this stuff!”
Charlie tugged on one side of the swing and motioned to Joyce’s lap, silently asking for them to swing together. Yet another thing Will used to do when he was little.
“What’s the magic word Charlotte?”
“Can I please sit on you lap pleaseeee?” She asked, pigtails bouncing with impatience.
“Hop on.” Joyce winked at her and wrapped one arm firmly around her tiny frame. Charlotte settled herself against her body and started playing with her wedding ring.
“When is daddy coming back from the airport?” She asked.
“We agreed to be back at auntie El’s house in two hours and he’s meeting everyone there with Uncle Jonathan.” Joyce told her for the third time that day. Truth was she was very excited to spend time with all 3 of her kids under one roof but the day was busy with chores and she’d been tasked with getting Charlotte out of the house while Hopper went to pick up a rented Santa Claus outfit for a Christmas surprise.
“I hope Ivy likes her welcome home party even if she won’t remember it.” Charlie stated. It had been just a little over 3 days since El had given birth to her first child, a honeymoon baby born perfectly healthy even if a little ahead of schedule. Joyce and Hopper had dashed to the airport as soon as Mike had called them and would be staying in California until the second week of January to help the new parents adjust.
“Well that’s why Uncle Jonathan is in charge of photos, he’ll take so many it will almost be like she remembers it.”
“Will Uncle Jonathan bring new pictures for me this time? For my birthday he sent me a really cool tiger photo he took just for me!” Joyce felt her heart tighten a little bit. Her eldest son was the child she got to see the least due to him being constantly on assignment as a nature photographer and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss him terribly. Even so, knowing Jonathan was following the career he truly wanted after sacrificing so much of his childhood and adolescence to help her run their household gave her some peace. Jonathan deserved to have some years of worrying about little else but himself more than anyone.
“I’m sure he has a whole photo album’s worth of new pictures to show you.”
“Auntie El said I looked like Ivy when I was born, is that true Nana?”
Joyce chuckled. Charlotte had no idea how many emotions surrounded her birth. Firstly, she was the child of a gay man and his best friend, the result of one drunk night. When Will told her about the pregnancy when they were celebrating him finishing his master’s she felt her brain tie itself into a knot. Just when she was getting her head around the somewhat bizarre situation of her gay son planning on raising a child with his best friend as purely platonic roommates, she got a call from Will and dashed to the airport with Hopper in tow much like she’d done again for her second granddaughter. She got to the hospital near the tail-end of an agonizingly slow labor and then it was all real and Will was coming to get her from the waiting room and introducing her to a little blue-eyed baby that looked just like a doll. Joyce took one look at her and was immediately in love. Will then told her he had chosen Joyce as the baby’s middle name in honor of the woman he admired most and she bawled while holding Charlotte to her chest. It was all so intense and so much happening at once that it wasn’t until a few hours later that it hit her that Charlotte had been born 15 years to the day that Will had gone missing.
“Well sweetie, all new babies kind of look the same at first. But you and Ivy are the cutest babies I’ve ever seen because you are both my grandbabies.”
“Now that you and Pop-pop have two granddaughters can you come stay with us more? You are more fun than Daddy and Scott…” Charlotte twirled the wedding ring around Joyce’s finger pensively.
“Hey! Who do you think taught your dad how to be fun?” Joyce poked the girl in the sides teasingly and she laughed so much she nearly fell off the swing.
“Nana that tickles!”
“That’s the point honey!” Joyce dropped a kiss to her head and rested her arms around the girl’s torso in a cease-fire.
“I know you love spending time with me and Pop-pop and that you think we are super fun but that is because we don’t see you every day like your mom and dad or even Scott.” Joyce explained, making sure to include Will’s partner as a parental figure. It was too early for Charlotte to know but her dad and his longtime boyfriend had started looking into adoption to get her that sibling she so desperately wanted. “So you see, we get to only schedule the fun things because there’s little time for anything else while they have to discipline you and make sure you eat your veggies and do your homework. If Pop-pop and I were here all the time it would be only a matter of days until we started being normal grownups to you sweetie.”
“But grandparents are supposed to be cooler that parents! That’s what grand about you!” Charlotte protested, eyebrows drawn in defiance. It was the expression that Hopper said looked just like Joyce in a smaller scale. Joyce felt her resolve melt away, thinking about how happy Hopper looked holding El’s baby for the first time or how much he doted on Charlotte despite trying to retain his gruff exterior. They had been bored to tears in Indiana since retiring and both loved spending time with their grandkids who happened to be living 30 minutes from each other in California. What was keeping her and Hopper in Hawkins?
“I guess we could come out here to spend time with you more often now that we are both retired… would you like that?” Joyce asked, careful not to make any outright promises without talking to Hopper first. Maybe they’d agree to move, maybe they’d agree to make more frequent trips.
“Yeah Nana!”
“I’ll see what I can do then.”
“Can we stop for ice cream before we go home?” Charlotte asked, seemingly over the previous conversation topic.
“You’ll spoil your dinner!”
“Nana…” Charlotte turned around to face her grandmother and made her sad puppy dog eyes. It was the same pout Will used to use on her and about equally as effective.
“Maaaaybe just one scoop but you have to finish all the veggies Karen puts on your plate, do we have a deal?” Joyce offered.
“Deal!” Charlotte jumped out of Joyce’s lap and tugged on her hand to leave. Joyce led her grandchild out of the park, thankful she’d now have twice as many reasons to be that insanely happy as a sort-of mom.