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It wasn't a sudden thought.
Joyce had been thinking about it for weeks– maybe longer, if she was being honest with herself.
It had started as a whisper in the back of her mind, one of those idle thoughts that slips in while folding laundry or waiting for water to boil.
She was happy. Happier than she had been in a while, at least. Shes got her kids, shes got Hopper. But healing was a funny thing. It wasn't always linear. Some days her mind would loop back around old places she thought she'd left behind long ago.
Like Karen Wheeler.
Well, she was Karen Childress back then.
They hadn't spoken properly in years–not since Will went missing. Joyce was surprised when Karen had invited herself over that day. They were friends, of course. The way two people were when their kids hung out every day, but they hadn't truly talked since Joyce's divorce.
They used to be closer. Best friends. They were practically connected at the hip, for years you'd never see one without the other.
Then, Karen came over. February 12, 1959. No matter how much Joyce has tried, that day will never stop replaying in her head. They'd spent the last week planning to go see a movie for valentines day. Then that day she got home to see Karen sitting on her bed.
Joyce can't forget the way Karen held her hands, explaining that "My mom wants me to find someone. I tried to explain that we had plans that day, as friends, obviously, but she wouldn't believe it. And I-I think I messed up, because now she's saying we can't be friends anymore. I'm sorry Joyce." And then she was gone.
Joyce had seen her around school, but she didnt think they could really be called friends anymore, not until after they graduated. Everyone else thought that they'd just moved on. That they grew up and decided that that kind of closeness just.. didnt work. Joyce didn't correct them, no matter how much she wanted to.
They never discussed it. Neither when it was happening, or after. Not outside of that day. They weren't able to, they both knew that.
Despite that, sometimes Joyce still found herself wishing they could. Wishing she had the guts to tell someone that once upon a time she love Karen. When the house was dark and still, and she was lying beside Hopper, she wished she could just, turn to him. Tell him all the secrets shes had to keep.
On evening, when the kids had gone to bed, Joyce and Hopper sat beside one another on the couch. The TV was on, but she wasn't really watching. And finally, finally, she decided to do it.
"Can I ask you something?"
Hopper didn't look away from the screen, but she could tell he wasn't paying attention to it anymore. "'Course."
She hesitated. "It's about Karen."
Now he turned. His eyebrows raised. As if he knew. Joyce wouldn't really be too surprised if he did, she always thought he was weirdly perceptive, especially back then. Used to be able to finish her stories, even if he's never heard them before.
"Oh?"
Joyce nodded slowly, chewing at her thumbnail. "I've been thinking about it. About high school. About what we were." When Hopper nodded, like he knew exactly what she was saying, she continued. "Im thinking about talking to her. I just–there's stuff I never got to say. I never thought I'd be able to say. I think I'm finally ready."
She waited for him to say something. To ask for more information, maybe. Ask questions she didn't know how to answer. Instead, he just nodded. "You better not be asking for my permission."
Joyce smiled, just a little. "I dont want you to think…" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "You're it, for me. I dont wanna mess that up."
"You arent messing anything up, Joyce. If you need to do this, then do it. Hell, if talking to her helps you sleep better, I'll drive you there myself."
That made her laugh–small and surprised. Relief flooding her.
"You're really okay with it?"
"I want you to be happy, Joyce," he said simply.
And in the morning, while the house was still quiet and the suns light was just beginning to filter through the curtains, she picked up the phone.
She didnt plan what she was going to say. She never had to with Karen.
"Hey," she said when the other woman answered, not waiting for the usual greeting. "Are you busy today?"
There was a pause. Just long enough to wonder if she'd made a mistake.
"No," Karen said eventually. Her voice was soft. Careful. "No ones home today. Do you want to come over?"
"Yeah," Joyce responded. "I think I do."
☆
Karen had laid out the good cups.
The floral porcelain she only ever brought out for guests she actually liked. Joyce didn't say anything though. Just like she didn't say anything about the fact she knows why theyre Karen's favorites. Because the two of them had picked out the set together.
She remembered it so clearly–how they'd wandered into the antique shop on a summers day. They hadn't even meant to go in, but there was something about the window display. A dusty set of tableware sat in front of pink lace curtains.
Sometimes, on days like that, they'd let themselves pretend, just for a couple hours. That they were braver. That they were allowed. That one day they could be together, the way the wanted to be. In a tiny house with plants in the windows. Maybe they'd adopt a kid or two. The plan changed every time.
Joyce had picked them out. She's never had taste for those kinds of things, just used whatever worked. But something about the little pink roses painted on it, the gold lining the rims. They reminded her of Karen.
She doesn't know when Karen bought them. The two had walked out of the store empty handed, and years later, Joyce had been invited over with the excuse of a playdate. Mike and Will, only five at the time, running around the living room, dragging Nancy into their games of make believe, as Joyce sat in the dining room, catching up with Karen as she stared down at the cups they'd daydream about so many years ago.
The table looked the exact same as it did that day. Neat. Their tea set in the middle of it. There was a sugar cube bowl filled to the brim, and a little plate with lemons in it.
She always hated lemon in her tea. Karen loved it. Said it gave it an 'edge'. But Joyce had a sweet tooth back then (still does) and Karen always humored her. Sugar cubes, hone sticks, even orange blossom syrup once. Anything sweet you can think of, they've put it in their tea.
She looked around the dining room. It wasn't the same house, not the one with the creaky floorboard by the back door or the mirror in the hallway they used to stand in front of for hours, acting like they were posing for photos. But it was still Karens. And if she looked closely, Joyce could still find pieces of that old world scattered throughout.
One of those pieces was a framed botanical print near the kitchen window. A spiderwort–Joyce had once brought one to Karen, pressed and turned into a bookmark. She hoped it would encourage her to actually read the dozens of books she's recommended (it didnt).
The tea was chamomile. The same kind Karen always made her. Said it had a calming effect. She was always looking out for her. Helping whenever Joyce would let her. Whether it was convincing her uncle to help with school work that neither of them could figure out, or helping Joyce with her younger brother when her parents were both at work. That side of her came back, just a bit, when she and Lonnie divorced. She came over weekly, watched the kids whenever Joyce didn't want to leave them home alone, even helped her pay for her new house.
"So," Karen said, tearing Joyce out of her thoughts. "What's it like? Being back."
Joyce stirred her tea slowly. "Weird. But also the same. It's like when, as a kid, your mom cleans your room. Everythings still there, but its also all different."
Karen laughed, light and genuine. "Thats one way to put it."
"And you?" Joyce asked. "How's the family?"
Karen gave a practiced shrug. "Fine. The kids are all good. Nancy and Mike seem a little happier now that you guys are back. Hollys obsessed with frogs now. Dont know where that came from. Ted's… Ted."0-o6
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They fell silent for a while, both sipping their tea, until Joyce built up the nerves to finally say it.
"I've been thinking about… some things."
"Oh?" Karen looked worried, giving her a little frown, eyebrows furrowed. The same look she'd give right before Joyce revealed that she hadn't done her homework, or when she didn't get a good part in the school play.
"I needed to talk to you." Joyce says. Pushing down all the nostalgia that kept rising up. Threatening to suffocate her. "About us. Back then."
Karen's eyes widened. Her posture stiffened. She nearly dropped her tea cup before she put it down. But all she said was, "okay" in an almost meek voice.
"I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Not in the 'what if' way. Not anymore. Just," Joyce gestured vaguely. "It feels unfinished. We never really got to.. end it. Properly I mean. We never talked about it."
Karen carefully picked up her tea cup, taking a sip. "We never got closure."
"Yeah, closure."
Karen didnt say anything right away. She was still holding her cup, cradling it in her hands like she was worried she'd actually drop it this time. Joyce noticed how her wedding ring caught the light.
"I'm not trying to dredge up anything painful. If you don't want to talk about it, we dont have to. I just.. I think im finally ready to." Joyce explained, trying to focus on the tea cup in front of her.
"I've been thinking about it too," Karen confesses, "A lot, actually. Um, especially recently."
She looked at the tea set in front of them before looking at Joyce. "I got the cups before we… stopped being together. It was supposed to be a surprise, but. Well. I couldn't just give them to you after that." She looked away again. "I always took them out when you came over. Hoped you'd notice. Say something."
"I noticed every time," Joyce whispered back, meeting Karen's eyes this time when she looked back up. "I still remember the day in that shop. You looked so happy when I pointed them out."
Karen chuckled. "I was surprised you played along with me. I thought you were just going to be grumbling and asking when we could leave the whole time."
Joyce's voice tightened. "I was so scared. Back then. That someone would notice."
"I know," Karen responded, "I was too."
"I know," Joyce echoed. "Still, I hated it. That you had to walk away. We alway knew it would happen, that there would be a point where we had to stop. But… for some reason I didn't think it would be so soon."
"I didn't want it to end. I wished every day that I could just go back, say im sorry and make everything okay again. I– I think the fact you started ignoring me afterwards made it a lot worse though. I mean, I get it. I know–knew why you did. But–"
"I wasn't ignoring you," Joyce shot out, interrupting her. If anything, it was mutual ignoring.
Karen just chuckled again. "Yeah, you did. One time you made your brother–your four-year-old brother– tell me you weren't home. I could hear you whispering to him."
Joyce froze. She didn't really know how to defend that. Sure, it happened, but that was only once. And it was, like, a week after she ended it. Anyone would do that. "Victor said everything of his own volition."
"Sure." Karen laughed, shaking her head.
Then the conversation droned off again. The two of them just sat for a while, glancing at one another from time to time.
Joyce finally spoke again, quieter now that she didn't need to defend her 18-year-old self's actions anymore. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened? If we had really done it? Gotten the house. Been together?"
Karen smiled sadly. "All the time."
Joyce blinked against the sting in her eyes. "I'm with Jim now. I love him."
"I know," Karen replied. "I'm glad."
"I dont think a part of me could ever stop loving you, though. Not truly. Theres always gonna be that little piece in my heart that I gave you. One I'll never get back."
Karen chuckled a little, a sad chuckle, one you give more out of surprise than humor. "I know. I-I feel the same. I don't know if that'll ever change. I kinda hope it doesnt. I like having that little piece of you."
Joyce chuckled back, reaching over to take Karens hand. "I love you Karen. I'm glad I had you, if only for a little while."
Karen smiled, a real smile. Just like the one she used to giver her so many years ago. Once Joyce realizes she hasn't really seen in a while. "I love you too, Joyce."