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Hawkins, Indiana
December 23, 1971
It was funny how something so mundane as the crunch of gravel and snow underfoot, and how a cardinal singing its cheery encore as the sun made its grand exit for the day, only seemed to fuel his excitement. Hopper was struggling to contain himself as he made his way up to the house, feeling about ready to burst at the seams with his good news. Skipping up onto her porch, without a lick of hesitation, he rapped upon the door.
A few moments later, one of his oldest friends answered, slowly opening the door with a baby on her hip. He barely recognized her now, looking frazzled and far worse for wear than the last time their paths had crossed.
“Hopper? What the hell are you doing here?”
Joyce’s tired eyes darted to the driveway behind him, scanning the landscape before locking onto his deep and earnest sky-blue gaze.
“Well, y’know,” he chuckled, the sound coming up hollow from the back of his throat. “Tis the season and all that… I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to see a friend and bring, uh, these.” He handed her a Christmas tin filled with his mom’s famous shortbread and flashed a dimpled smile. “I have some big news to share.”
But his offering fell flat.
Joyce’s face darkened, and she stared at the tin for a moment before accepting it with her free hand, dropping it over the back of the couch onto the cushion. She shifted the squirmy little one in her arms as he whimpered and chewed on a fist that was shiny with drool.
“Thanks,” she sighed, “but you see… there’s this newfangled invention called a telephone. Ever heard of it?” She narrowed her eyes on him. The look she wielded sliced right through him to his core. “I doubt it, since I haven’t heard from you in, what is it now? a year and a half.”
It was a blow to his happiness he wasn’t expecting. Hopper took a step back from the door and nodded, feeling his heart sink at her words, and he tried not to let it show on his face. No doubt, he realized then, he should have planned it out better. Especially seeing as their last interaction nearly a year and a half earlier had ended in trading blows with her husband in the very driveway he had parked on.
“And I’m seeing that now is probably not the best time for a visit.”
Joyce scrunched up her face and sniffed her ruby red nose. “Gee. What gave it away?”
“Yeah, you know what? This was a… really bad idea.” Hopper clicked his tongue at her, jaw set in defeat. He took a few more steps back before dropping off the porch step with an indifferent shrug. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to go. “Forget it. Enjoy the cookies. See ya around Maldonado.”
“It’s Byers now, remember?” she called out after him.
“Sure. Whatever.”
He heard the door slam behind him as he got back to his rental car, but it didn’t muffle the sound of the baby crying. A haunting wail, it carried across the driveway to him in the chilly evening air; the high-pitched note pierced his heart. He’d never seen Joyce look so rough before; so overwhelmed and lost. It almost even looked like she might have even been crying.
Some friend he was—leaving her alone when she was so clearly down and out at Christmas. Even if she was likely cursing his name from behind that door.
Hopper pressed his lips together, clenched his jaw, and did the unthinkable — he swallowed his pride. He turned back and knocked on the door once more.
It flew open within a few seconds this time, and she glared at him over the baby in her arms that she was struggling to console.
“You gotta be kidding me,” she mumbled, instantly bristling Hopper.
“Lonnie’s not home, I take it?”
Joyce rolled her eyes. Wasn’t that obvious?
“Of course not. It’s Thursday night, right? And isn’t that why you came by? You wouldn’t be standing on my front porch if he was the one answering the door.”
Hopper sighed, feeling a bit like a punching bag, but he took it. She clearly needed someone to vent to.
“Joyce.” He said her name with every ounce of patience he could muster. “Do you need some help?”
Her eyes darted to the floor as she shifted the whimpering baby to her other hip. She glanced behind her to the hallway, and then she choked up, biting her bottom lip in frustration.
Hopper insisted, taking a step towards her. “You look like you might need a break.”
“No. I’m fine, really. It’s just…” she took a deep breath, catching Hopper’s worried gaze with big, dark, glassy eyes. “Jonathan’s sick with the flu and I know we’re not far behind.” She glanced at the baby again and tried to distract him from chewing his fingers. “This little guy is teething, too. And yes, Lonnie is off gallivanting, as per usual. So, it’s been a real treat.”
Hopper leaned against the door frame, waiting for her to let him in. “Let me help.”
Joyce just shook her head stubbornly, but Hopper wasn’t about to let her protest.
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Finally, reluctantly, Joyce stepped aside to let him in the house.
“Okay,” she sighed.
Hopper grinned down at her and felt himself relax. She welcomed him across the threshold and he took his cue to take his jacket off, slinging over the back of the couch next to the tin of cookies. That’s when he felt a little hand reach out to pull on his shirtsleeve.
“Hey buddy,” he smiled at the chubby baby, feeling his nose crinkle at the cute response he got. “How old’s this little guy now?”
“This is Will.” Joyce gave a half smile as she watched Hopper interact with her youngest, her cheeks turning as red as her nose at the sight. “He’s almost… ten months.” She blinked. “A year in March, so not too long now.”
“I guess this is the first time we get to say hi, Will. Nice to meet you.” Hopper let the baby grip his finger with a slimy, saliva coated hand, his smile widening at his own little joke.
Joyce chuckled under her breath, which turned to a dry cough that caught at the back of her throat.
“Mom-meeeee!”
Joyce turned to look down the hallway at the sound of her other son shrieking for her.
“Oh no. That doesn’t sound good,” Joyce said, lifting Will up off her hip to pass him to Hopper. “Here. Do you mind holding him while I check on Jonathan?”
Hopper’s eyes widened at the sight of the baby in Joyce’s outstretched arms, his little chubby arms reaching for him.
“Uh… Sure.” He flashed the stressed mom a quick smile as he took her babe in his arms.
Joyce scurried off down the dark hallway, leaving Hopper and Will to stare at each other in the low light of the living room. Suddenly feeling very unprepared and almost as if he were holding the most delicate package in the world, Hopper quickly found the couch and sat down with Will on his knee. The baby babbled and stuck his fist in his mouth to suck on, and Hopper took a page from Joyce to distract him before he could chomp down on his fingers again.
Glancing around him to see if there were any toys, Hopper didn’t spot any, so instead he jingled his key chain in front of Will’s face, keeping them just out of his reach.
“Jingle bells, jingle bells… yeah, that's it buddy. You think that’s pretty funny, huh?”
The baby giggled, flashing angry red gums with a couple of flashes of pearly white poking through. Will reached forward, brushing the keys with his fingertips.
“Da-da… da-da.”
Hopper’s heart jumped to his throat, and he had to swallow it whole to keep from tearing up.
“No, sorry lil’ guy. I’m not… da-da,” he whispered.
Will reached again for the keys but quickly settled for cuddling up into Hopper’s arms, finally grasping the keys in Hopper’s hand. He let the kid play with them for a moment, keeping him distracted but making sure he didn’t put them in his mouth. Hopper glanced at the hall where he could hear the soft sounds of Joyce’s voice carry.
She emerged from a room down the hall a few moments later, looking a brand new shade of green.
“Jonathan…” she sighed. “He just puked everywhere, completely missed the bucket. I hate to do this to you, but would you mind if I just gave him a bath and cleaned up real quick? I gotta toss his sheets in the laundry and disinfect.”
Hopper winced, glad he didn’t have to help with the cleanup, and nodded emphatically at her. “Yeah, sure. Of course. Whatever you need.”
Joyce beamed the most beautiful, grateful smile upon him before heading into the kitchen to grab her cleaning supplies. Then she disappeared down the hallway once more.
Will had lost interest in the keys by this point, so Hopper had to scan the room for anything to entertain the little one with. He noticed a small bankers box of Christmas decorations on the floor of the living room, a string of lights hanging out the side, half tangled up in tinsel and garland. That’s when he realized Joyce wasn’t set up for the holiday tomorrow… They didn’t even have a damn tree.
He glanced down at the little boy in his arms, and his heart ached. Some first Christmas. At least Will was too young to understand what he was missing.
“Okay, honey,” Joyce said, walking a sick little boy down the hall to the bathroom. “Let’s get you in the bath.”
She tossed Hopper another little grateful smile over her shoulder and disappeared again. A few seconds later, the bath turned on, and the sound of rushing water filled the tiny house.
“Hey Will,” Hopper whispered to the baby. “What if we surprised your mom and brother? Huh? Let’s sit you down here.”
He stood up and gingerly placed Will on the floor in the middle of the room as if he were a china doll that might spontaneously implode. Once he was sure the kid was okay, Hopper grabbed the box of ornaments and decorations and sorted through them, glancing back to the hallway to make sure he wouldn’t get caught.
“Okay. Let’s see what your mom has in here.”
Hopper pulled out the shiny silver garland first and let Will play with it before realizing that might be a bad idea. Then he found a jolly stuffed Santa Claus and gave that to the baby in trade.
“Here buddy, try this guy out. Ho ho ho!” he gave his best Santa impression. “Merry Christmas!”
The baby giggled and promptly let go of the tinsel garland to chew on the stuffy Santa.
Hopper hung the garland off the TV set and then reached for the string of lights. As he turned around the room, trying to figure out the best spot to hang them, he caught Will crawling over to the TV stand to pull himself up, shuffling along the furniture. Hopper watched in amazement as the little boy grinned proudly as his little hands reached for the garland once more before pulling it down and shoving it back into his mouth. Hopper could have sworn the kid even shot him a look of defiance, as if to say, ‘You can’t tell me what to do.’
“God, aren’t you just a little stubborn clone of your mother?” He took the tinsel from Will and gave him a big shiny plastic bauble instead. “Thankfully, I don’t see much Lonnie in you. That’s a good thing,” he added, mumbling it to himself.
Will babbled up at him and tried to show him the shiny new toy in his hands, chubby fingers wrapped tight around his new prized possession. With a chuckle, Hopper patted him on the head and went back to decorating.
By the time Hopper could hear the bath start to drain, he’d gotten most of the decorations out of the little banker’s box and was sitting as innocent as could be with Will snuggled up to him again, watching the old black-and-white TV. He watched Joyce out of the corner of his eye flit between the kitchen and bath, and then finally appear with a very miserable-looking Jonathan, rubbing his eyes and tugging at a fresh set of pajamas.
“Here baby, take your ginger ale and crackers and go sit with mommy’s friend and your brother. Watch some TV, okay?”
Jonathan nodded and carefully crawled up on the couch next to Hopper and Will.
“Hey,” she said, capturing Hopper’s attention again, and shifting a fresh towel and clothes in her arms. “I smell like P-U-K-E. I’m just going to jump in the shower real quick. I ah—” she glanced around her, blinking at the decorations, the multicolored lights twinkling in the dim glow of the living room. Then she gave Hopper a funny look. “What did you…?”
He shrugged, nonchalant. “It was Will’s idea.”
Joyce nodded slowly, her eyes getting glassy again.
“Go shower,” he told her. “We can visit when you get out.”
Joyce sniffed, and mouthed a Thank-You at him, as a smile slowly stretched out over her face. She made her way back to the bathroom, giving one last casual glance back to the cozy scene unfolding in her living room.
Hopper watched her until she closed the door behind her and the shower turned on. Then he turned his attention to the oldest kiddo sitting next to him, sipping on ginger ale and slowly nibbling the corner of a saltine.
“You like the Flintstones?” Hopper asked Jonathan. The little boy glanced up at him and nodded, once. Hopper grinned. “Yeah, me too. Yabba-dabba-doo!”
Jonathan giggled. He blew bubbles into his soda-pop and watched the TV, leaning his head against his brother, who was quickly falling asleep in Hopper’s arms.
❆ ❅ ❆
Joyce lifted a hand to feel the heat of the water streaming down and when it was just hot enough, she stepped into the bathtub. The water hit her body and provided the instant relief she was looking for; the tightness that had built up in her muscles from her chill disappeared almost instantly.
As the hot water coursed over her body, the numbness she’d been carrying with her all week dissolved and was replaced by the heavy weight of a sob that built up in her chest. Desperate to hold it in, she realized there was no use…
Seeing him hold Will was almost too much to bear.
Strange, after all this time. How far they’d traveled in their separate ways, feeling like they were worlds apart, they could still reconnect like nothing had ever come between them.
Strange, she never had to question how much he cared about her.
Stranger still… She cared just as much about him, if not more.
The guilt that she couldn’t just be honest with him about everything gnawed at her from the inside out. The ache grew until she felt nauseous and she couldn’t tell now if it was from her sickness or her sins.
The last words she’d exchanged with Lonnie before he disappeared again–maybe for good this time – it echoed in her mind.
“I don’t owe that kid shit for Christmas. He ain’t mine. Jonathan is mine, and I’ll claim him to hell and back. But that one… I know he’s no Byers.”
“That’s ridiculous, Lonnie! You can’t know that just by looking at him.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Joyce. A man knows his own flesh and blood. You think I don’t know you cheated on me at that party? I heard all about how you spread your legs for the pig at the Harrington's that night… He even walked you home for chrissakes!”
“You left me there without a ride and then brought another woman back to our house!”
“All you do is lie. Lies, lies, lies. You lied to him too didn’t you? Maybe it’s time that Hopper learned the truth about his little lovechild, huh?”
“Don’t you dare tell him that! You have no proof, Lonnie, leave him out of this!”
“Okay. I will… as long as you promise to keep your mouth shut about me and my business. I got stuff to take care of this week and I don’t need any more pigs sniffing around my wife or my property…”
“You have no proof! I do…”
“Oh I'll leave proof. I'll leave it on your face where everyone in town can see.”
“Fine. Go, then. Do whatever it is you need to do, Lonnie. Make your money that I never see and screw all those girls half your age if it makes you feel better. But just know, I didn’t start this.”
“No, you’re just the one that’s gotta live with it ‘till the end now… Ain’t that right, babe?”
Joyce had so desperately wanted to believe that her husband was wrong but seeing Hopper hold Will on the couch, it was like staring at the sun. There was no way to know for sure, of course, but the gut feeling was undeniable.
And her heart felt as though it could break in two.
What could have been flashed in her mind’s eye as she focused on washing herself down, stifling her gasps for breath and stemming tears with the washcloth. She reminded herself… Even if Will was Hopper’s son, it was too late now to explain everything to him, and even so, she wouldn’t know where to begin.
Joyce wished she could just be honest with Hopper, tell him all the worries and uncertainties that had kept her awake at night for the last 18 months — give or take — since they had seen each other last.
The way he’d made her feel that one night had been like lightning in a bottle, and at the time, she only wanted to capture it. Save it for safekeeping, tucked away in her memories, in case it never happened again.
It was just supposed to be something fun, two friends rediscovering new and old feelings for each other after a war on the other side of the world had torn them apart. It was simply a one time only thing — a way to blow off some steam for the both of them. Her, with a faltering marriage, just trying to get her rocks off, especially since Lonnie wasn’t doing it for her anymore. For Hopper it was his one last chance to be with her before he settled down for good.
Joyce didn’t dream there could be repercussions. Not once that night did she assume she would still have to live with her choices all these months later… or for the rest of her life. Yes, she would always carry a small hope with her that they could maybe unravel the mystery together, but that would mean having to be honest with herself first and accepting whatever other repercussions came next, for better or much much worse.
But she wasn’t a home wrecker and this wasn’t some melodramatic soap opera where she played the villain.
Taking a deep breath, Joyce held it in and swallowed the tears. Then she shut off the water, and stood in the bathtub for a long moment as she drip-dried, listening to the sounds of the TV in the other room. She decided in that moment, with a heavy, broken heart, that sometimes, certain mysteries were better left unsolved.
She sighed her next exhale, full of sorrow.
Lonnie might have had his suspicions, and Joyce had her guilt, but Hopper would hopefully be none the wiser. If he only knew — the weight of it all was crushing her to death.
❆ ❅ ❆
A few minutes later, wrapped up in a fresh nightgown and a terry bathrobe, hair twisted up in a towel, Joyce emerged from the bathroom looking rosy and refreshed. Putting on a brave face and leaving her angst on the bathroom floor with the rest of her dirty laundry.
“Better?” Hopper asked her, quietly, above Jonathan’s head.
“Much.” Joyce sighed as she approached the couch, ruffling her hands through her son’s nearly dry hair. “Let’s get you little monsters off to bed.”
Hopper blinked down at the baby, still snuggled up in his arms.
“Will’s sleeping already.”
“Perfect,” Joyce grinned at the little chubby angel nestled in Hopper’s arms, as if he belonged there all along. She found herself feeling grateful at the sight; it was one less thing to worry about. “Thank you.”
“I can carry him if you want?”
“Sure, follow me.”
Joyce scooped up a bleary-eyed Jonathan and nodded for Hopper to follow down the hall.
“Mommy,” Jonathan tugged on her fuzzy sleeve and murmured against her shoulder. “I don’t want to sleep in my bed. It smells yucky in there.”
“I know, sweetie.” Joyce whispered into his ear. “It’s okay, you can sleep in mommy’s bed tonight, okay?”
“Yay!” Jonathan cheered. Joyce shushed him from waking up his baby brother.
Hopper followed Joyce, heartbeat quickening as he navigated the unknown dark hall and the way it felt as if he might drop the sleeping baby in his arms at any second. As they turned the corner into her bedroom, his anxiety only got worse until she clicked the bedside table light on, casting a dim yellow glow across the messy room. Beat up old Tonka toys and learning blocks, and piles of clothes were scattered everywhere across the bed and the floor, the hamper overflowing.
Joyce carefully laid Jonathan down on the bed, as he took one last sip of ginger ale and passed her the bottle. Then she quickly glanced over her shoulder at her guest before self consciously scooping up a bundle of half folded baby onesies and toddler pajamas and throwing them on the rocking chair next to her side of the bed. By the looks of things, both sides of the bed were Joyce’s now and Hopper wondered when the last time Lonnie was actually home long enough to spend the night.
“Goodnight baby,” Joyce leaned forward to kiss her eldest son on the head before turning to Hopper and without words, gently guided him to pass her baby Will without waking him.
As the transfer happened, and both sets of arms wrapped around the sleeping bundle, Joyce glanced up to catch Hopper’s gaze. Maybe it was just the beginning of the flu, but as he passed her the baby, her stomach felt like it pole vaulted over her heart when he grinned down at her and took a step back.
She could feel him hang back to wait behind her as she set the baby in the crib pulled up next to his brother. When she turned back to Hopper with a finger pressed to her lips, they tip-toed out of the room and snuck back to the kitchen. Joyce gestured for Hopper to sit as she took her own seat across from him with a deep, content sigh.
“Thank you for letting me sneak off and have a shower. I was starting to get a chill, but I think it’s gone now.”
“I told you.” Hopper pulled a half smile until a lone dimple appeared. “I’m here to help. If you need me…”
If you need me. Those words would, no doubt, reverberate in her head for a while and Joyce wished he only knew how much.
“…I’m here. Now, you tell me something.” He caught her eye over the kitchen table, sternly as—she imagined—he was interviewing a witness at a crime scene. “When was the last time you ate?”
He caught her off guard with that question and she stumbled over her reply, reaching for a lie at first, but ultimately thinking better of it.
“Uh… this afternoon, I guess? I ate the rest of the boy’s lunch. Jonathan wasn’t feeling well for supper and Will’s still nursing so…”
She shrugged, guiltily.
Hopper frowned. “Joyce.”
She rolled her eyes and waved him off just as her stomach rumbled. “I’m fine, Hop.”
“Nope. Not okay.” He shook his head at her before glancing around the kitchen, completely lost. “Where do you keep the chicken soup mix?”
Joyce rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, pursing her lips at the stubborn man. “Cupboard. There. Pots are in the one below.”
“Tea?”
She glanced towards the other counter and nodded. “In the little mushroom canister. But, uh… the lid is broken, so just be careful when you lift it.”
Hopper gave her a side-eyed look.
She looked away.
“It had a little accident,” she said, unwilling to elaborate on said accident. “But I’m too stubborn to throw it out… It was my baby shower gift to myself last Christmas.”
Hopper pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything as he started getting the water on the stove ready to boil.
Joyce watched him closely, trying to remember the last time anyone took care of her like this. Maybe her mom? Back in the eighth grade, before her stepdad ran off and mom decided that chasing new paramours was more important than her teenage daughter, who was “old enough” to fend for herself.
“So? You had news to share?” Joyce asked him, rubbing the back of her neck to massage the dull, creeping ache away again.
“Yeah,” Hopper said, with a faraway grin touching his lips, still fixated on making her soup and tea.
“Well?” Joyce leaned forward, elbows on the table as she pressed him. “What is it? Did you get a promotion or something?”
Hopper’s eyebrows shot up and the grin spread across his face. “Yeah, actually.”
“No way!” Joyce’s face lit up at the news.
“I’m an assistant detective on homicide now. Since, uh… September.”
“Woah.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box. “That sounds important.”
“It is…” he trailed off, waiting for her to blow her nose before he continued. “But that wasn’t the news I wanted to share.”
“Oh? Hm, let me guess…” Joyce tapped her chin and looked over him, like a clairvoyant analyzing her customer. She scanned his face, his proud demeanor, and then her eyes widened as it came to her. “Diane’s expecting?”
Hopper grinned and nodded, looking very proud of himself now.
Joyce’s eyebrows jumped, surprising herself with her guess being right, before the realization set in.
The mystery that haunted her would certainly be left unsolved now, likely forever. Her own personal burden to keep for life, she supposed, and rightfully so. There was no way to prove it either way, and she couldn't live with herself for wrecking another family's happiness, unlike some certain absentee-husband who would hopefully remain nameless for the rest of the night.
Maybe it was for the best. It was easier just to keep her doubt and insecurities to herself, even if it was bound to leave a scar.
Joyce was excited for her oldest, dearest friend — really, truly, she was. She just couldn’t keep down the taste of bile climbing the back of her throat for some reason, but maybe that was the flu gripping her and not the unsettling feeling like she was now staring at the broad back of The One that Officially Got Away.
Hopper turned to catch her staring and sat down. Without a word, he smiled across the table at her, looking the happiest he’d ever been. Joyce had to swallow that sour lump forming in her throat to speak up. The visceral reaction was hard to ignore, but thankfully, easy to hide behind the “flu” excuse.
Hopper was still staring at her, eyes twinkling under the kitchen table light, waiting for her eagerly to say something.
“That’s… amazing, Hop.” She finally mustered, blinking blearily, and forcing her smile. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, a hint of red creeping up his cheeks. He glanced down at the table and fiddled with the peeling vinyl top.
Joyce coughed and cleared her throat, hoping it would make it easier to speak.
“You’re going to make a great daddy, I can tell.”
“You think?” he asked, looking back at her with a raised brow.
“Based on what I saw tonight?” Joyce said, her voice betraying her, cracking with contradictions—a deep sorrow for herself and happiness for him. “Yeah. You’re going to do just fine. You’re a natural.”
They shared a smile across the table as the water came to a boil on the stove. Hopper quickly jumped to attention, grabbing the kettle before it started to whistle so he could pour her tea.
“When is she due?” Joyce asked.
“End of April.”
“Watch it sneak up on you. And then your life will flash before your eyes once they’re here. Life with kids goes by so fast.”
Hopper placed the cup of tea in front of her and went back to the stove to pour his own cup and then watch the water for the soup come to a boil.
Joyce reached out to pull the steaming mug towards her and warm her hands.
“Thank you,” she said. Then she sneezed and her smile melted into a frown. “Oh, no… You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get Diane sick, and the baby—”
Hopper waved her off.
“Nahhh, it’s no big problemo.” His new New-Yorker accent bled through with his words. “She’s off visiting her sister for a few weeks in California before the baby comes. I won’t see her for another month still. Besides, you know me. I have an immune system like an ox.”
He stirred a pack of Lipton chicken noodles into the bubbling pot of water on the stove as he kept an eye on her. Joyce wiped at her nose again, making it as red as Rudolph’s.
“You better take it easy,” he told her, “and make sure you’re eating, or this flu is going to knock you on your ass.”
“Hah.” Joyce sniffled into her hands. “Too late, I fear.”
“When’s Lonnie supposed to be home?”
She shrugged and tossed the snotty ball of tissue on the table with a frown.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t expect him home tomorrow, or the next day even.”
“Really?” Hopper scoffed and shook his head at the steam coming off the pot of soup.
“I’m not surprised, so neither should you…”
“I just can’t wrap my brain around it. I couldn’t imagine not being home for Christmas with my wife and kids.”
“Well, that’s what sets you and Lonnie apart, I guess.” Joyce’s frown deepened and she sank further down in her chair.
“Does he at least… get gifts for them?”
Joyce rolled her eyes up to look at him and took a long few seconds to pause before answering.
“I don’t really want to talk about my loser husband or the holidays, to be honest, Hop.” Her cheeks turned an angry shade of red and fire flashed behind her chestnut brown eyes before she blinked it away and forced a grin that stated she was fine. “Let’s just keep talking about your amazing news, okay?”
Hopper frowned then too and poured her soup into the biggest mug he could find in the cupboard. Then he grabbed a couple of saltine crackers from the open pack on the counter and a clean spoon from the dish rack and set that down in front of her, too. He didn’t say a word, simply nodded and took his seat across from her again.
Joyce barely blew on the soup before she started shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth, gobbling it up like she was starving. Hopper watched her eat, half amused by her appetite, half incensed at her situation.
“Oh, I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she sighed contentedly a few minutes later, pushing the mug aside and reaching for the tea again. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” he grinned, happy to watch her settle back in her chair, content.
Then a funny look came over her, and her face scrunched up, nose twitching with a half cough, half sneeze.
“Gazuntite!” He passed her the tissue box, so she didn’t have to reach for it anymore.
“So? Tell me more. Do you have names picked out?” Joyce asked, in between blows.
“Well…” Hopper couldn’t help the smile that came over him then. “Sara, if it’s a girl.”
She smiled at the way the name came off his lips. “Oh, I like that.”
“Yeah? I’m stuck on that name, but I haven’t told anyone that yet.”
“Not even Diane?”
He shook his head and shrugged.
“I was going to surprise her with it when she gets home in a few weeks.” He looked down at his hands. “And then Diane’s fixated on Kenneth if it’s a boy,” he told Joyce with a funny little grin and a shake of his head like he couldn’t believe he was even discussing this with her.
“Hm.” Joyce did her little so-so frown and slowly nodded as she mulled the name over. “Kenneth Hopper? Ken, Kenny… I mean, I guess it’s not bad.”
“That’s how I feel about it, too.” Hopper nodded slowly and then tilted his head. “How did you name the boys?”
Joyce’s eyes widened. “Well, Jonathan was Lonnie’s pick since it’s a family name. I liked it because of…”
“Dracula, right? The main character guy.”
“Right,” she said with a chuckle that turned into a cough, surprised Hopper even remembered her mild obsession with that book from highschool.
“What about Will?” He asked, his eyes sparkling under the kitchen light.
Joyce swallowed hard and shook her head. Put on the spot. “I just liked how it sounded.”
“Huh,” Hopper nodded his approval. “That’s my grandfather’s name, you know.”
Joyce felt the heat creep into her cheeks as she feigned surprise of the coincidence. “I didn’t know that.”
“I guess it's pretty common one, hey? But still… a good name to have.”
“Thanks,” Joyce sighed, relieved to be off the hook. “I think so too.” Then she clicked her nails on the table in front of her, curious and wanting to redirect the conversation back to him. “What do you want, boy or girl?”
“I’m happy with whatever as long as she’s healthy,” Hopper gave another half shrug.
“She?” Joyce leaned forward and, with a knowing grin, tapped the table in front of him. “Ah-hah!”
“Okay, okay.” Hopper ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the ceiling. “I can admit it, I guess. Of course, I’d be happy with a boy, but I just have this feeling… it’s gonna be a girl.”
His perfect, dimpled grin was the best thing Joyce had seen all week. But just as she was about to tell him so, the unmistakable sound of Will stirring down the hall caught her attention.
Sleepy baby babbles quickly turned to whines, and soon, he was crying.
Hopper’s eyes darted to the dark hallway and back to Joyce, who was listening to the sound behind her, over her shoulder. The smile on her face fell, mixed with a tinge of disappointment. She bit her bottom lip to hide a worried frown.
“Do you need to…?”
Joyce blinked wearily and looked back at Hopper. As if waking from a dream.
“Ah, yeah. Normally I’d let him try to go back to sleep, but if he’s feeling anything like I am right now, I better go check on him.” She stood, grabbed the bottle of baby aspirin on the table and turned to go, but paused, looking back at her company and then at the clock above his head on the wall. “You don’t have to stay, you know, if you have places to be. People to see….”
He clicked his tongue and winked. “You’re my people for tonight.”
Joyce smiled awkwardly, feeling flush at his declaration, unsure of how to respond. Then she left him there at the kitchen table, to listen to her pad down the hallway and whisper to the baby in the bedroom.
“Hey bah-bah… Shhh. Shhh.” Her whispered words of comfort floated down the hallway. “It’s okay, Will. Mama’s here. Oh, you’re not too warm. Okay, okay. That’s it, baby. Let’s get you back to sleep….”
Hopper stared at the faded atomic pattern on the vinyl tabletop and then examined his hands, all the scars and calluses and hangnails, before glancing around the kitchen. Plates left in the sink from lunch, crumbs on the counter. Sticky stains of juice running down the cupboards. Crayon marks on the floors. He wondered how Joyce even managed at all, with her husband gone for “work”, no doubt bedding half the state’s freshly graduated bachelorettes and her mother clearly still MIA for grandmother duties, acting like a teenager still, well into her mid to late forties now. He took a moment there in the Byers’ kitchen and vowed to never let Diane feel so overwhelmed with the new baby on the way. It just wasn’t right.
Joyce was an amazing mom; she didn’t deserve this at all.
He listened to her sing a soft lullaby to Will… Moonriver, if he guessed the melody correctly. As she hit the notes slightly off-key, Hopper decided it was time to do things right by her. It was the least he could do. He got up and, as quietly as he could, ran the water in the sink to wash the dishes.
As the pot, mugs, plates and glasses went into the dish rack one by one, he expected her to catch him and scold him for helping. In his mind, he was preparing something witty to retort as he finished up and wiped down the counters and cupboards. But by then, she still hadn’t come back out.
Now he was getting worried.
He walked down the hallway and poked his head into her bedroom. Joyce was fast asleep, in the rocking chair, holding a sleeping baby Will to her breast.
That would be his cue to exit stage left.
Heart filled with regret that he didn’t get more time with her, Hopper slipped the knit blanket off the end of the bed and draped it on her lap. He promised himself right then and there to call more often. He’d make it his duty now to check in on her, since it seemed no one else was.
Then he glanced over at Jonathan in the bed. With his rosy cheeks, he looked about as snug as a bug in a rug. Content the family was comfortable and getting some much needed rest, Hopper tiptoed back to the door and turned the light off.
It felt strange walking through her quiet house. Turning the lights off one by one. Letting himself out. He was no intruder but it sure felt like it as he let himself out.
He didn’t want to leave—had nowhere else to go—but it didn’t feel right staying either. It wasn’t his place, and they just weren’t that close anymore.
When Hopper got back to the rental car in the driveway, he turned the engine over and let the air run hot for a long while, staring at the front door. Waiting for a light to come back on.
He was mulling over whether he should stay or if he should go when he felt the overwhelming urge to turn the car off. There, parked in her driveway, he closed his eyes and listened and waited. Just in case she needed him once more.
❆ ❅ ❆
Before the sun rose, he was awake again, shivering in the frosty morning air that had creeped into the sedan. There was still no sign of life in the house, so he figured she was having a much needed rest.
He blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stretched before he started the car and headed into town. Part of him told him to head on his way and leave it be, but the other part of him, the one he’d been trying desperately to keep buried deep down, told him he had unfinished business.
Within the half-hour, the sun was up and he found himself back in the Byers driveway, bearing all the makings of a balanced breakfast from the diner off main street.
This time, he could see the kitchen light on through the window and he knocked at the door. Jonathan answered, looking much better, with some real color back in his cheeks.
“Hi, mister.”
“Hey buddy. Your mom around?”
He nodded and then ran back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Hopper.
“Mommy! That nice man is here again.”
“Oh! Hey!” She appeared around the corner with a smile on her face and Will stuck to her hip. “You came back! I was sad when I woke up and you were gone. I didn’t get a chance to thank you… for last night.”
“Thank me? For what?” He tried to look innocent but knew he was failing.
Joyce squinted at him over the kid’s head.
“For the nice visit.”
“I’m just sorry it was too short.”
“But still… very sweet.” She said, looking more than a little flushed.
“How you feeling?”
“Much better, actually. Guess I needed a good sleep and a hot meal after all.”
“Well, here’s another. Brought you breakfast,” he said, offering the styrofoam take out boxes in his hands, placing them on the kitchen table.
“Oh, Hop. You didn’t have to…” she said, looking flustered as she started opening boxes to stacks of pancakes and hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon. More than she and the boys could ever eat in one sitting. “I just put a pot of coffee on. Sit down…”
“I can’t, uh, I gotta run. I have to be in Indy by noon to catch my plane home. They got me working Christmas tomorrow night, of course. New guy always gets the Christmas shift, right? But I feel like it gives me dibs to have the next one off…”
“Right.” Joyce nodded, trying to hide the disappointment that flashed on her face with a big, sun beam of a smile. “An important one, for sure. Baby’s first Christmas.”
“That’s right.” Hopper nodded and reached out to ruffle Will’s hair, eliciting a giggle from chubby little cheeks. Then he turned to go.
“Well, then.” Joyce sighed after him. “I guess this is goodbye.”
For who knows how long? she wondered.
Hopper shrugged and shook his head. “How ‘bout ‘see you soon?’”
Joyce nodded slowly, watching him make his way to the front door, opening it to the sight of a fresh Christmas Eve morning snowfall.
“Hey Hop,” Joyce called out to him, just as he was about to close the door behind him. “I’m really happy for you and Diane.”
He could tell how sincere and yet bittersweet those words were for her to say, and so he gave her a grateful smile and a wink, too choked up himself to say anything more.
❆ ❅ ❆
The next morning on Christmas day, Joyce was cleaning up the leftovers of the diner breakfast they’d enjoyed for a second time when the doorbell rang. Before she could get to it, Jonathan was already at the door.
“Mommy! Look! Santa came.” Jonathan called to her from the front door before she could ask who it was. “I knew he didn’t forget!”
Joyce dried her hands on the tea towel tucked into her back pocket and walked over to him, where he had the front door open just enough to sneak out on the porch.
A young boy was riding his bike, navigating through the ruts in the snow to get back to the bare main road.
“Hey! Wait!” she called out after him. “Did you just drop these off?”
The boy, maybe all of fifteen, turned to her with a wave. Joyce barely recognized him, vaguely remembering the little boy she only knew him as.
“Yes ma’am,” a not-so-little-anymore Joey Tanner shouted back. “My old neighbor paid me twenty bucks to deliver them this morning! Merry Christmas!” With a friendly wave, he kicked off and rode his bike down the gravel driveway and disappeared down the main road before Joyce could return the Christmas cheer.
Jonathan scooped up two big boxes and one smaller one to bring them inside, carrying them just barely across the living room before he dropped them down from his little arms onto the floor. Joyce reached out to stop them from tumbling over as Jonathan bounced around the couch.
“Are these for us?” the little boy cried out, shaking one of the bigger boxes as hard as he could.
Joyce looked at the tags, double checking. Each one with their names on it, all marked from Santa Claus in a familiar handwriting.
“Yeah, baby. They’re for us.” She scooped up the smaller one with her name on the tag and held it close to her chest as she watched Jonathan haul the two bigger boxes over to the center of the living room, in front of the Christmas decorations and the TV playing Frosty the Snowman. She might not have a tree, or the big fancy meal, but Santa had certainly made it feel more like Christmas than she ever expected.
“Let’s open them! This one has my name, right mommy? Come on Will, open yours!”
Her heart swelled as Jonathan set to work ripping off the paper and tossed it aside. Will was more interested in the wrapping, of course, but Jonathan oohed and aahed over the Fisher Price record player for him and the rainbow xylophone for Will.
As the boys played with their new toys, Joyce sat down on the couch and, taking a deep breath, pulled at the ribbon on her own gift. Slowly, she opened the box and her heart melted at the sight.
Inside the navy gift box from Sears, nestled in tissue paper, was a replacement for her Merry Mushroom canister and a new matching spoon saver, too—the sweetest, most thoughtful gift Joyce had ever received.