Chapter Text
Joyce Byers had never found life in Hawkins easy. She had always had trouble making friends... But apart from that, she had no real regrets about her current life. She had married, had children, and eventually divorced, nothing too bad. When she was younger, she had had a few romantic relationships, even though she wasn't really looking for love. In short, her life was like any other, or almost...
***
Joyce was frantically wiping the shower mirror, which was covered in condensation from the hot shower she had just taken, when a car engine stopped in front of her house. She glanced at her watch 2 p.m. and realized it was far too early for Hopper or one of the boys to be coming home with friends. She slipped on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of midnight blue jeans.
With one last glance through the foggy mirror, she walked barefoot out of the bathroom. Three more knocks prompted her to hurry.
She threw the door open with a sharp jerk. Surprise contorted her face at the sight of Karen Wheeler, her face red, her hair tangled, and traces of mascara roughly wiped away along her cheeks. Deciding it was best not to ask any questions, she simply stepped aside to let her old high school friend pass, saying, "Oh, uh, Karen..." Joyce felt a lump form in her throat at the sight of her friend Karen. "I brought some drinks, if you want, otherwise I'll drink alone... I'm not ready for this," the last part of her sentence uttered almost to herself.
Joyce stammered something like, "No, no, it's okay, I want some." Karen took off her heels before slumping down on the sofa. She grimaced and pulled out a notebook that was lying under her on the sofa and placed it on the floor. Joyce lingered longer than she would have liked on Karen's curves... but the sound of a bottle being uncorked snapped her out of her reverie.
With a controlled movement, Karen brought the bottle to her lips and took two long sips before handing it to Joyce, who caught it just before Karen let go. She took a single sip, trying to remember the last time she had drunk a single sip... Probably with Bob. She quickly pushed the memory from her mind; one person was crying in her living room and she clearly didn't need two.
"You know, Joyce, I loved my husband... I loved Ted, the old Ted, the one who took care of me or fondled me after class... But the bullshit is over. I'm a housewife with three beautiful, wonderful children, sure, but a husband who, apart from playing golf, is useless."
She pointed the bottle at Joyce. "Let's be honest, we don't sleep together anymore, nothing works anymore... I loved men, but now I'm starting to think that's behind me." Joyce nodded in agreement, and Karen continued.
"I even almost had an affair with Billy, but things didn't work out... And looking back, I realize that I don't want, or I'm not sure I want, a man in my life... I need more, I need tenderness and love, but men don't know how to give that."
Joyce sat down next to Karen, not knowing what to say or how to react. Joyce had always known that Ted wasn't the right man for Karen. She needed to cultivate mystery, and that had never been the case with Ted.
"But you, Joy, you always made me feel different, and that's why I came to see you... Despite all the crap that's happened to you, you've always managed to get back on your feet and move on with your life." Joyce didn't notice, but the more Karen talked, the more the bottle of wine emptied. Karen continued.
"I need someone like you... In fact, I need you," Karen said.
"You say that like you used to... But that didn't stop you from dumping me the day handsome Ted showed up," Joyce muttered bitterly.
"Stop it, Joy. I... I don't want to go back to being that Karen who smiles at everyone and hides behind a husband who doesn't see anything."
Joyce remained silent for a moment, placing the bottle on the coffee table. Her heart was beating abnormally fast in her chest. Joyce jumped up and blurted out:
"How do you expect me to believe you? You've got at least two grams of alcohol in your blood, and you're saying the same things you said in high school. It's... It's all ridiculous," she finished, waving her arms to indicate the scene before her.
Karen swallowed quickly and stood up before looking Joyce straight in the eye, her expression sad and slightly desperate.
"Kiss me."
The words hit Joyce like a slap in the face, causing her to take a few steps back.
"Go home, Karen." Those cold words were the only ones she could find the strength to say. The only words that didn't involve yelling at her or jumping on her.
Karen grabbed the bottle, recorked it, and put it in her bag.
"Don't look at me like that, I'm not drunk on half a bottle of red wine."
Karen Wheeler found herself alone in her car for the second time that day, wondering what was wrong with her.
Joyce wiped the tear from her cheek just before the boys came home from their friends' house.
"Hi, Mom," the boys said in unison.
Joyce nodded hello and headed for the kitchen as the boys went to their room.
She hated Karen well, part of her hated Karen because of what she had done to her in high school. But the rest of her knew she had had perfect moments with her, kissing in the corner of a hallway or under the bleachers. They had always kept their relationship secret, because Hawkins was clearly not open-minded enough for same-sex relationships.
She hated Karen—well, part of her hated Karen because of what she had done to her in high school. She had hated her when she dumped her for a Ted who was so attentive and muscular.
But the rest of her couldn't bring herself to forget the perfect moments she had shared with her. Kissing in the corner of a hallway or under the bleachers. Kissing in their bedrooms. Kissing late at night. Kissing.
They had always kept their relationship secret; Hawkins was clearly not open-minded enough for same-sex relationships. Nevertheless, that relationship, as secret as it was, was by far the best of her life. She stood motionless in the kitchen for a few seconds, her hands flat on the countertop.
The familiar sounds of bedroom doors closing and muffled voices brought her back to the present with a jolt. Hopper would be home soon, which meant she had to make up her mind: either she would go after Karen, or she would think about it tomorrow.
After choosing the second option, which she thought was the best one, she walked over to her TV (because at that moment, even the silliest TV show would be better than thinking about Karen).
What if she was right? Joyce shook her head slightly, as if to chase the thought away. She stiffened when the headlights briefly swept across the living room. She took one last deep breath before Hopper and El returned from the cabin.
"Joyce?" Hopper called as he pushed open the door.
"In the kitchen," she replied, her voice steadier than she would have thought.
They exchanged a few words that she didn't really listen to. Hopper noticed that she was distracted, but he had learned not to pry. They ate in silence, except for a few conversations about the children's day.
Joyce couldn't stop thinking about Karen's gaze, her words, and her "kiss me." Joyce shook her head and decided that thinking about it all evening wouldn't change anything.
Her memories of high school and Karen came back in rapid flashes: stolen kisses, laughter in the hallways...
As she slipped under the covers, Joyce saw Karen's gaze again, then heard those words, "Kiss me," which had stuck with her. She closed her eyes, determined not to think about it, as if that were possible. Images from high school popped into her head despite her best efforts, fleeting, with that bitter taste she knew all too well. "I need more than a bottle of wine to not know what I'm saying," she had said. Joyce stared at the ceiling until dawn. What if she had been serious? What if she really wanted to try again?