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They’ve been back at the station for a total of fifteen minutes, and everyone is exhausted.
Mike and Erica gather first aid supplies. None of them have made it through the day without a scratch, and they probably need to go see a doctor, but when you’re fighting a secret war, Murray’s collection of smuggled bandages and pain killers will just have to do.
Robin wonders if they’ll ever be in the same room together without worrying about monsters and battles and newfound superpowers. She looks towards the front door, where Joyce had left a few minutes before with the intention of “getting some air.”
She’s always felt a little out of place with Joyce, even before today. The kids and Nancy had always known her as Mrs. Byers, the woman who would open her home to any of them in a heartbeat. Hell, even Steve seemed to regard her as more of a mother to him than the actual Mrs. Harrington—Robin can’t really blame him for that.
She had only really started to get to know Joyce this past year, and she still isn’t sure where they stand after the morning’s events.
“I’m gonna go check on Mrs. Byers,” she decides. The others only nod in her general direction.
She finds Joyce leaning against her car, smoking a cigarette, shaking slightly in the cold air that never seems to leave Hawkins, especially now. Robin almost turns back. Maybe Joyce would rather be alone. After all, it’s not every day you find out that your son is able to kill things using just his mind, and—
“You don’t have to go back in,” Joyce calls, and Robin nearly jumps. She hadn’t realized that she had been spotted.
She makes her way to the car, and takes the place next to Joyce. There was a time when the only thing she knew about this woman was that she was the cashier at Melvald’s. And that feels like forever ago.
Moments pass, and neither of them say anything. Robin starts to regret not wearing a heavier coat.
She starts to think that maybe she should’ve sent Murray out here instead. He’d probably know how to comfort Joyce. They did survive a trip to Russia together, although Robin’s still not exactly sure what happened there.
Finally, she takes a deep breath. “Look, I really am sorry about this morning,” she says, breaking the silence. “I wasn’t trying to put Will in danger or scare you or make you think he’d been taken or something. I just wanted to help.”
Joyce nods, takes a drag from her cigarette, and looks down at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry I freaked out. I know my plan sucked, but I just—I think I still see Will as my little boy who went missing all those years ago, and I have this tendency to protect him, even when he doesn’t need my protection. I should’ve just trusted him.”
“Well, it’s totally understandable. I mean, I don’t really know all that you went through back then, but from what Steve and Nance have told me, it sounds like it was pretty darn scary.”
Joyce doesn’t say anything to that, and Robin wonders if she already took it a step too far, if calling Murray out here is still an option.
“I think he just wanted to feel useful,” she tries. “I think maybe Holly going missing reminds him of when he went missing, and he just wants to help find her, even if he has to put himself in danger to do that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Joyce says. There’s so much grief in those three words, and Robin feels like she needs to fix this, whatever this is.
Maybe if she focuses hard enough, she can somehow telepathically call Murray out here.
“He’s a good kid,” she says—too fast, too rushed. “You should be proud. I mean, not that you’re not proud. Of course you are. It’s just, what I’m trying to say is I’m…glad I can call him a friend. He’s different, you know? He’s different in a way—in a way I understand.”
A chill rises up Robin’s spine as she freezes. She curses the way her mouth operates faster than her brain, and suddenly wishes she were facing a demogorgon head-on instead of standing out here in the cold, making a fool of herself in front of someone who she’s pretty sure hated her guts just this morning.
Maybe Joyce didn’t understand. Maybe Robin and Will are both different because they’re both nerds, or because they both like the color blue. Robin stands, turned away from Joyce, and tries to backtrack, “I’m sorry, uh, what I meant to say was—”
“I know what you meant, Robin,” Joyce says. It’s so quiet that Robin barely hears her. She briefly wonders how long it would take her to run to Mexico, the Hawkins quarantine notwithstanding.
Joyce throws her cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I know Will is…different, and I know what it’s like to be different.”
What.
Robin blinks. Either they’re on completely different wavelengths, or Joyce Byers just came out to her.
It must be the wavelengths thing.
“So, yeah, just so we’re perfectly clear, when I said ‘different,’ I meant—”
“You meant that Will is gay.”
Okay, so they are on the same wavelength.
“I’m bisexual,” Joyce says, and the words are spoken like they’re a secret more dangerous than demogorgons and soldiers and Russian prisons.
Robin just stares at her. She wants to ask so many questions, but the air suddenly feels far too thin for them being outside, and Joyce has wrapped her arms around herself like she’s trying to keep from falling where she stands. Maybe Robin isn’t the only one who wants to run right now.
“I’ve always known that he didn’t like girls. I mean, it’s a mother’s job to know these things. But sometimes, I see a look in his eyes that I remember seeing in my own at that age every time I’d look into a mirror…like I had this information about myself that could destroy me if it got out.”
Robin finally finds her voice. “I…why—why haven’t you told him?” She asks. And it feels wrong to ask such a thing, but somehow she thinks if Will knew for certain that his mother would accept him, maybe it would be easier for him to accept himself.
If Robin had known that her own mother would’ve accepted her—
“I had this…friend in high school who was, well, more than a friend. Her name was Carolyn, and she helped me learn a lot about myself,” Joyce looks up at the sky. “She thought this town was a prison. So, the second she turned eighteen, she left. She never said where she was going, just that she was going to find some place better than this.”
Robin swallows. “Did she?”
“I don’t know. Five years later, I was told that she had been killed. No one ever really said why, but I just knew in my gut that it had been some homophobic asshole who decided her life had to be cut short just because she was different. From that moment on, I don’t know—I find it hard to talk about how I really feel, even with Will. I should have. I should’ve let him know that he wasn’t alone, but I guess…I guess I’m a bit of a coward.”
A coward? Robin blinks away the tears that had somehow formed without her permission. “I don’t think you’re a coward, Mrs. Byers. I mean, just today, I watched you go face to face with a freakin’ demogorgon. You’re definitely not a coward.” And then, just because someone needs to stop this conversation from swallowing them both whole, “I mean, you are perhaps the worst plan-maker I’ve ever met, but you’re not a coward.”
“Hey,” Joyce says, feigning offense.
Robin smiles. “So, you’ve never told anyone else? Besides Carolyn, I mean.”
“Hopper and Murray know,” Joyce says.
Murray knowing doesn’t surprise her all that much, but Hopper knowing does make Robin breathe a little easier. Even before this conversation, she figured Joyce would always choose to love her son no matter what, but she could never quite pinpoint where Hopper landed on it all. If he could accept Joyce though, he’d probably accept Will too.
“And Karen—”
“Mrs. Wheeler?!” The thought of Karen Wheeler knowing about Joyce Byers liking girls raises so many questions that Robin doesn’t even know where to begin, but Joyce gives her a pointed look, and she decides that maybe she’ll wait to ask more about that another day.
“I’m glad Will has you,” Joyce says, and it’s only then that Robin realizes they’re both whispering, even though the kids and Murray are all inside. “I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have Hopper, or even Murray. Knowing that at least one person accepts you…it really can make all the difference.”
“Yeah, it can,” Robin agrees. “You know, I’m not saying you have to tell Will anything. I totally get why you’re selective about who knows and all, but—”
“I could tell him that I’ll love him no matter what.”
Robin nods. Joyce smiles. “I know, and trust me, I’ve said that to him just about a million times, but it couldn’t hurt to tell him again.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
Robin turns back and slouches against the Ford Pinto that somehow still worked, even after years of driving away from monsters and battle-worn homes. She realizes that the air doesn’t feel so thin anymore. She no longer wants to run.
“By the way, Mrs. Byers,” she says, “I’m gay.”
Joyce laughs. “I know, sweetie,” she says, and it’s so understanding, so kind, that Robin thinks she finally gets why the others have always seemed to trust this woman. Maybe some moms really do understand.
The sound of a door opening startles them, and they look over to find Murray, seemingly annoyed as usual. “Hey, if you two don’t mind, we need to start talking about our plans to defeat Vecna now that Will’s gone all superpowered on us.”
“We’re coming,” Joyce calls back. She turns to Robin and smiles. “Thanks for the talk.”
Robin smiles back and follows her in. She still has so many questions to ask, so many things she wants to know, but when she sees Will, she decides he’s going to be just fine, and that’s enough for now.