Chapter Text
***
Sunday
November 4th, 1984
Hawkins National Laboratory
***
With screams that split her throat raw, an ache so unbearable that she thought she might collapse to the floor, and the most soul-crushing feeling of terror she’d ever experienced, Joyce watched in horror as the monster barreled into Bob–sweet, innocent–and sent him plummeting to the ground with a bone breaking strike.
Her legs tried to move, but she was frozen, every particle in her body crying out to get to him, to save him by whatever means necessary. She mustered up one last ounce of strength to drive herself forward, but there were strong arms crushing her, pulling her back, and all she could do was scream and struggle.
“Get to the door!” Hopper roared in her ear, “I’ll get him out!”
She fought him, nails tearing into the skin of his arm, but he was too large and too strong for her tiny frame to battle. She yielded. Trembling, she stared blankly as the glass door closed behind her, barely registering Mike Wheeler’s hands on her arms, offering moot reassurances.
Time seemed to stop. Everything else fell away. Dread and immobilizing fear overwhelmed her, and she wondered if she was about to lose two men she cared about to the darkness that had plagued their lives since the day her boy went missing.
Muffled gunshots rang in her ears for what felt like an eternity, then silence. Burning, raging, suffocating silence.
She blinked away tears, eyes transfixed on the exit.
Relief swelled inside of her.
In a fury of blue, she made out two figures rushing towards them, Hopper yelling indecipherably as Bob limped against his side, blood gushing from his abdomen and throat. Joyce felt like she was going to be sick.
The two men crashed through the door, the glass barely swinging shut behind them before a pack of Demodogs snarled and bared teeth inches away, clawing in a desperate attempt to break through the barrier. She grabbed onto Bob, helping him from the opposite side as Hopper continued to support a majority of his weight and half-lifted him into the car.
He was alive, but barely.
In the whirlwind of hospital, emergency life-saving surgery, her son’s exorcism by heat, and the subsequent NDAs and sensational news headlines that attributed Bob Newby: Superhero’s attack to a vicious wild animal, Joyce felt riddled with guilt.
Her sweet Bob didn’t deserve this, and every day for the next eight months, the scars that marred his throat and side reminded her it was all her fault for getting him involved.
***
Tuesday
June 11th, 1985
***
"Will, honey, are you up? Breakfast is almost ready!"
"Yeah, Mom, be right out!"
Ear pressed against his bedroom door, Joyce nodded in satisfaction and breezed into the kitchen where Jonathan was bent over the stove making scrambled eggs. She slid her arm around her eldest son, leaning against him as he stirred perfectly golden, fluffy eggs she probably would have burnt the bottoms of. Her son was a better cook than she was, and they both knew it.
"How's Nancy?" she chaffed, grinning up at him as she rubbed a darling Nancy-shaped smudge of lipstick from his cheek.
He tensed and blushed, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Uh, she's good."
"You know one of these mornings you can invite her to stay for breakfast," she teased. Jonathan shifted uneasily and glanced at her without meeting her eyes. When he didn't answer, she sighed, lowering her voice and tone growing grave. "You're being safe, right? Like we talked about?"
"Mom! Yes! Can we not–"
"Alright, alright!" She drew back and held up her hands with a chuckle. She could go back to pretending she didn't know what it was like to be a teenager in love if it made him more comfortable. She popped a couple slices of bread into the toaster. “Oh, can you make sure to be here for movie night tonight?”
"You mean with Bob?" His tone was diffident, and her stomach sank a little. She eyed him as she uncovered the butter and reached into the utensil drawer for a knife.
"Yes, with Bob. Please, honey? He really looks forward to spending time with you boys. This is important to him—and me."
Jonathan hesitated, plating up the eggs, gaze avoidant. "I guess, yeah."
"Thank you." She watched him regretfully, wondering if her toxic relationship with his father had poisoned him against all the men she’d ever dated or if it was just a Bob problem. She couldn't imagine anyone having a problem with lovable Bob Newby. He was everything Lonnie hadn't been—kind, gentle, patient, understanding, and he actually put real effort into getting to know her boys and spend time with them, unlike their own father ever did or ever would. But it was eight months into this relationship, nearly nine, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jonathan’s refusal to come around wasn’t just a temporary thing that would fade over time like she’d originally hoped. Sighing, she brought the plates over to the table and sat down, peering at her oldest teen.
“Maybe you and Bob should spend a little time alone together,” she suggested, “without me and Will.”
Jonathan poked at his eggs and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mom. Besides, with work and Nancy–”
“It wouldn't have to be an all day thing. He could show you around the store, maybe you two could talk about those… camera thingies, like the one he’s lending to you for your project.” She smiled hopefully, leaning over to squeeze his arm.
Jonathan shoved some eggs into his mouth instead of answering, just as the toilet flushed and Will emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat next to them.
“Look who finally rolled out of bed,” Joyce teased, beaming at her boy as she brushed down his bed hair with her hand. Will gave her a weak smile and reached for the milk, pouring himself a glass. “Don’t forget, movie night tonight,” she reminded him, met by a silent nod.
Her two sons exchanged a quick glance.
She let out another sigh and ate her breakfast, trying not to let their ambivalence towards Bob—which she suspected bordered on disdain at times—get under her skin. Dating as a single mom with teenage boys was difficult, but she knew it had to be difficult for them, too. It was an adjustment. She could be patient. They’d come around, with time. More time.
The three of them cleaned up the kitchen, Will shouldered his backpack and got on his bike for Dustin’s, and Jonathan headed off to work. She grabbed her keys and purse and climbed into her green Pinto, lost in thought on the drive into town.
The June sun was hot even this early in the morning, a dreadful indication of an even hotter summer rapidly approaching them. She didn’t mind the heat, but the Indiana humidity always left her hair a frizzy mess and her skin sticky in incurable ways.
She parked in front of Melvald’s, greeted by her wonderful, beaming boyfriend dressed in his work polo and looking as chipper as always. He held up two cups of coffee. She climbed out of her car and smiled, giving him a kiss, their well-practiced morning routine.
Bob Newby was a good man. And after a lifetime of not so good men, he was a welcomed breath of fresh air. Things were going well. Leisurely, but well. She appreciated that he didn’t put any pressure on her for more and let her set the pace. She was enjoying herself, their quiet family nights together, the occasional casual date in town to see a movie or eat at the diner. And most importantly, he was kind to her and the kids, which was all she wanted out of a partner at this stage in her life. He wasn’t the most exciting man she’d ever welcomed into her life, but he more than made up for that with his eagerness and attentiveness, almost childlike in his innocent, idealistic view of the world. And exciting was a thing of the past anyway, reserved for her teenage years and twenties. Exciting had been tainted by yelling matches with Lonnie and the infuriating way he’d made her blood boil. She just wanted a nice man to maybe—one day—settle down with.
“Good morning,” she murmured against his lips with a wide smile.
“Morning, Joyce,” Bob said, handing her the steaming cup of coffee that metaphorically had her name written all over it.
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Morning came way too early today,” she groaned, taking a sip and eyes fluttering shut as the hot liquid warmed her throat and perked her right up.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… teenagers. You know.”
“Speaking of, we still on for movie night?” he asked hopefully, blowing on his drink.
“Of course! I’m making my world famous meatloaf. We’re all looking forward to it,” she half-lied, convinced the boys would eventually come around or, at the very least, be on their best behavior. She beamed up at him and patted his cheek, eyes falling briefly to the deep pink scar that poked out of his gray collar. “I gotta open up shop. See you at lunch?”
“You know you will,” he retorted.
She smiled warmly, which he returned in his lovestruck way that left her feeling happy and full. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Stealing one last kiss, he headed into Radio Shack, waving at her as he went, and she balanced her purse and drink, unlocking the store and pushing her way inside. She walked to the back to flip on the lights and started up the air conditioner, grateful for some relief from this early summer heat wave. The unit rumbled to life and spilled cool air out of the vents. She began her task of putting up discount signage in-between sips of coffee, sighing as she peered out at the ghost town of Downtown Hawkins. What was once a bustling main street of potential customers had given way to a dead zone, squashed to death by none other than the Starcourt Mall.
It was gonna be another slow day in a long succession of many slow days.
She settled down behind the desk to finish her coffee as she counted the register, looking up when the door jingled.
“Hey,” she greeted.
Hopper entered in his short-sleeve khaki uniform, filling the entirety of the door with his towering frame and blocking a sizable patch of sun against his silhouette. He slid his hat off, revealing tired eyes and disheveled hair.
“Hey,” he answered uncertainly, looking around. “You busy?”
“What do you think?” she scoffed, taking a sip of her coffee before gesturing around to the empty store and putting on her customer service voice and a cheeky smile. “How can I help you, sir?”
He flattened his hands on the countertop in front of her, leaning forward and hesitating. Something clearly weighed on his mind.
“Can I… can I ask you a question? Parent to parent?”
She scrunched her brow but nodded, shutting the money drawer. “Of course. Hit me.”
“So… El and Mike. They’re… kissing. A lot.”
“Well, they’re teenagers in love,” she answered with a smile, shrugging. “It’s to be expected, Hop.”
“Yeah, but…” He groaned and closed his eyes. She watched his shoulders droop.
“They’re not… you know… are they?” she asked, mouth pursed in worry.
“Jesus Christ, Joyce, no! God, no!” He rubbed his face with a groan. “But that’s kind of why I wanted to bring this up.”
She bit her lip and nodded knowingly. “The Talk.”
He peeked at her between his fingers and grumbled. “The what?”
She rolled her eyes and rested her chin in her hand, leaning her elbow against the counter. “The Birds and the Bees, Hop?”
“H-how… how do I do that, Joyce?” He grabbed both of her hands with desperation and squeezed them hard, eying her pleadingly. “Better yet, how much do I pay you to do it for me?”
She put his hands down and patted them both, leaning forward on her stool until they were at eye level. “There’s a book. I’ll lend it to you. It does most of the heavy lifting for you, okay? Don’t panic!” she encouraged, attempting to reassure him.
“A book?” he asked skeptically.
“Yeah, it tells a story about an adolescent and their changing body. The front half is for boys and the back half is for girls, but you should read both sides to her so she has a better understanding of what’s gonna happen to both her and Mike. I read it to Jonathan and Will. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s necessary, Hop, especially if they’re starting to kiss and things.” She gave him a sympathetic smile.
The color drained from his face.
“And things?”
“Just trust me.”
He groaned. “A hundred bucks for you to read it to her for me?”
“I’m not talking to your daughter about sex, Hop. That’s your job.”
“But you’re probably so good at it!” he pleaded. She watched with bemusement as his eyes widened and cheeks flushed, panic setting in over how his statement landed once it had left the safe confines of his mind where it had probably made much more sense. “I-I mean at explaining it. You know… with two kids under your belt,” he added, shifting nervously.
As tempting as it was to tease him, goad him a little and make him squirm, he looked genuinely, deeply uncomfortable, so she took pity on him and avoided the subject.
“You got this!”
“Two hundred bucks?”
“Hop–”
“Alright.” He picked up a sucker from the display rack and spun it around between his fingers. “Two-fifty. Final offer. And I’ll fix your rotting back porch steps for you.”
“Hopper!” she laughed, plucking the sucker away and returning it to its spot. “I’m not doing it for you! I’m giving you the book, that’s more than enough. The rest is up to you.”
He sighed, running a hand through his chestnut hair. “Fine.” A last desperate look her way. “Any other tips, as someone who has, you know, done this before?”
“Just be patient, understanding. Push aside your own discomfort so that you can focus on any questions or concerns she might have. And Hopper…”
“Yeah?”
“Listen to her, okay? No yelling, no rushing through it. She’s gonna be confused about some things, and you have to set aside your own personal feelings to properly educate her. This is important!”
“How am I supposed to do that? Answer… questions? I’ve never done this before, Joyce!”
She shot him a look. “I think you have more than enough life experience to go off of.”
She reached for her paper and pen and slid off the stool, trying not to think in too much detail about the rumors that spread through a small town. In the six years since he’d been serving as Hawkins Chief of Police, it was a well-known fact he’d made his way through the single female population like checking names off a list and had gained quite the reputation in the process. People talked, especially scorned women.
She wandered over to an aisle to begin her inventory, sensing him on her tail.
“I just mean… what if the questions get too personal?”
She knelt down and checked the dates on a couple products, scribbling down some notes. “What do you mean?”
“About…” He stubbed his toe along the waxy floor tile. “About her body and things. I’m a man, Joyce. What am I supposed to tell her?”
She glanced up at him and sighed. “Again, don’t you–I don’t know–have enough experience to help you out in that department?”
“You mean. With women?”
“Yeah, clearly.” Her tone was sharper than she intended it to be. She scribbled down some more notes on her inventory list.
“Adult women, Joyce! I-I have no clue what the hell teenage girls go through!”
“Really? Because it seems like you did back in high school.” She straightened and stretched, lower back complaining from all the bending.
“High school was a long time ago.”
Her sore back only reaffirmed his statement.
She hugged her tablet to her chest and bit her lip, eyes wandering over his face. He was staring at her with pleading desperation, and finally she took pity on him.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If she has questions that you don’t know how to answer, like about her period or other girl things, she can come to me. But only if you try first! I’m not doing this for you, Hop! And you better fix my porch steps before the end of the month!”
His shoulders slumped.
“Thank you!” he breathed, pure and utter relief in his voice, reaching forward to squeeze her arms tightly. “I could kiss you.”
They both stopped as his statement hung awkwardly in the air between them, silence accompanying their mutual slack jaws and wide eyes. He seemed just as shocked as she felt. She stared up at him in surprise and he faltered, quickly clearing his throat and taking a step back, hands dropping to his sides.
“In a manner of speaking, of course,” he blurted out.
“Of course.” She bit her lip hard and shifted her weight, glancing up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. Anywhere but him.
“I should, uh, get back to the station. Got some paperwork to catch up on. You know how it goes.” He let out a nervous laugh and grabbed his hat up from the counter, sliding it back on before taking a few more steps backwards towards the door.
“I’ll bring the book with me tomorrow. You can swing by and pick it up?”
“Yeah. Uh… thanks again, Joyce. Really.”
“It’s not a problem, Hop.” She offered him a tight but genuine smile.
“See ya.”
“See ya.”
She blew out a breath and watched as he hurried out the door, unable to break free from the weirdness in the air. Shaking herself, she got back to work on her inventory, but for the first time in years, her mind drifted to the short-lived fling she and Hopper had had in high school, complicated by her on again, off again relationship with Lonnie.
She knelt down and rotated some of the stock by date—first in, first out—and absently let her mind wander back to sharing cigarettes with a young Jim Hopper under the steps between fifth and sixth period, to necking with him in his dad’s Oldsmobile at the drive-in the night she’d finally agreed to go out with him—just the once, and their subsequent drunken kisses at Karen Wheeler’s party they never spoke about ever again. She hated to admit it, but her seventeen year old whirlwind romance juggling both Lonnie and Hopper had been one of the most exciting periods in her life.
Exciting…
She flushed and kept working, busying herself but grateful when the doorbells jingled.
Finally, a customer.
Joyce stood and brushed off her jeans, spooked when she was instead met with the face of her smiling boyfriend, a momentary feeling of guilt flooding her. She quickly pushed it aside and glanced at her watch.
“Bob! Is it already lunch time?”
“Getting there. My stomach’s growling, and we’re slow. You want turkey or bologna today?”
She bit her lip and pointed towards the turkey. He offered her the brown paper bag and they headed to their normal bench outside the storefront.
“I saw Jim’s truck outside. How is he?”
“Oh… good.” She shoved her sandwich into her mouth.
“We should have him and his daughter over for dinner soon,” he suggested.
She smiled tightly as she chewed, nodding in agreement. Bob began his usual technobabble about the latest products his store was featuring, and she tuned out, subconscious drifting nostalgically back to Hawkins High.
She resisted the urge to light up a cigarette. Bob was trying to get her to quit.
***
Six o'clock finally rolled around. Joyce locked up the store for the night and drove home. She put the meatloaf in the oven and hopped in the shower, then changed into a nice blouse and a fresh pair of jeans, touching up her hair and face. It was movie night with Bob, after all. She wanted to put a little effort into her appearance for him, even if he did seem to be a simple man who appreciated her in every state, which included the rundown single working mom look she had unfortunately perfected over the years.
She heard the door open and shut once, then twice, as both boys arrived home in succession. She knew them by the sounds of their footsteps. Jonathan’s bedroom door slammed and music (if you could call it that) started blaring. She sighed, knowing he’d come out of his brooding cave at the last minute and spend as minimal time as possible socializing. Adding a final touch of lipstick, she headed out of her bedroom and down the hall, smiling at the sight of Will coloring contently at the kitchen table. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around him from behind, and he smiled up at her with his gentle, beautiful big eyes. Some days she was relieved she saw no Lonnie in him.
“Looking good, Picasso,” she commented, beaming proudly and nodding down to the fantastical scene of goblins (or were they orcs?) and wizards battling he was bringing to life with his crayons. Her talented little artist.
“Thanks, Mom.”
He returned his attention back to his artwork, and she puttered around the kitchen, resting plates and utensils on the counter but not setting the table just yet so Will could keep drawing. The smell of meatloaf was slowly beginning to waft into her nostrils.
“Just tell me when I have to move and I'll help you set the table,” he said cheerfully, and she melted, smiling warmly down at him with a nod.
“The meatloaf still has another half hour, sweetie, but thank you.” She rested her hand on his head and caressed, glancing down the hall towards Jonathan’s closed door. “Did you talk to your brother when you got home?”
“No, he’s in… that mood.”
“Brooding teen,” she teased knowingly, and Will nodded. “Baby, can I ask you something?” She sat down in the next chair and tilted her head at her son, eyes softening. He nodded, and she bit her lip. “Do you… do you like Bob?”
Will hesitated, lips parted as he seemed to consider how to answer her question. He wasn’t a good liar, never had been. Her sweet, innocent, and sensitive child. She felt her heart sink.
“Uh,” he started, glancing awkwardly down at his drawing, hazel eyes darting around. “I dunno. He’s nice I guess?” Will shrugged.
“Very nice,” Joyce agreed, smiling sadly. “But?”
“I dunno,” he repeated, sighing. “He’s just a little…”
“A little what?”
Will shook his head. “Nevermind. You like him a lot, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“And… he makes you happy?”
“He does.”
“Good.” Will forced a smile and returned to his coloring.
“Your brother doesn’t like him either, does he?”
Will kept coloring, not looking up. “Jonathan doesn’t like anyone except us and Nancy and, like, a couple bands and some girls in his magazines.” He made a face, nose scrunching.
She chuckled and ran a hand over his back, nodding. “I guess you have a point.”
She distracted herself with cleaning up the kitchen until Bob arrived in a cheerful flurry. He gave her a peck on the lips and excitedly held up a VHS for Will.
“The Neverending Story!” Bob announced, beaming.
Will smiled and glanced at Joyce, then back at Bob, nodding. “Cool!”
She melted. Bless him. At least one of her kids was trying.
“Jonathan in his room?” Bob questioned, setting down his things.
“Yeah.” She grabbed her hot pads and pulled the meatloaf out of the oven, getting smacked in the face with a wall of hot steaming air that didn’t smell half-bad. Meatloaf was one of the few dishes she’d actually perfected over the years, her mother’s recipe.
“I’ll go say hi.”
“Uh, why don’t we just… let him have some space until we’re ready to eat?” she suggested gently, biting her lip.
Bob slid up to her and lowered his voice. “He in one of his moods?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, wincing. “Sorry.”
“Joyce, you don’t need to apologize. I was a teenage boy once, too, you know.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t… like him,” she said, gesturing vaguely.
“You didn’t even know who I was back then,” he reminded her with a chuckle.
“Well, I do now. That’s all that matters.”
She smiled and leaned forward, resting her hands against his chest and pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled and returned it eagerly. He wasn’t the most skilled kisser, his lips often awkward and lacking confidence, but he was eager, something most of her lovers, including her ex-husband, had so often lacked, too consumed by their own needs and wants. It was something she could live with, Bob’s lack of competency in romantic areas made up by his willingness to learn, please, and make her happy, no matter what.
He helped her set the table as Will cleared away his art supplies. She announced supper, and Jonathan begrudgingly joined them, sliding into his seat with a curt nod to Bob. They ate, Bob complimenting her cooking after every few bites. He questioned the boys about their days and listened—eagerly—as her eldest son reluctantly shared details to do with his job at the Hawkins Post and Will chattered on about the D&D campaign he and Dustin were ramping up for, the younger boy reticent to talk to Bob but easily lapsing into conversation when one of his interests was brought up. Something else Lonnie had never cared about. She felt her heart warm, watching Will and Bob affectionately.
Jonathan washed the dishes while Bob rewound the tape and she made popcorn. The four of them retired to the living room and she snuggled up to her boyfriend’s side on the couch, resting her head to his chest as they all watched the adventurous story unfold between bites of popcorn.
Once the movie was finished and having put in his time, Jonathan announced he was going over to Nancy’s and left in a flash. Will thanked Bob for the movie and headed to his room with his coloring supplies, closing the door behind him. Left alone, the two adults sat in comfortable silence, his arm looped around her as he stroked her shoulder and she caressed his chest.
“Joyce,” he said quietly, tone nervous.
She glanced up at him and frowned. “Everything alright?”
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He untangled himself from her and shifted to face her, reaching for her hands and clasping them in his. They were clammy to the touch. She swallowed hard.
“Bob, what is it?”
“Remember last October when I mentioned my parents were moving out of their house in Maine?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Well, I talked to them last night and they finally found a retirement home. I know it used to be a pipedream, but… it’s not just that anymore. I really wanna move you and the kids out there. It could be a fresh start for all of us.” He searched her eyes, his expression gentle but solemn.
She looked down, hesitating. “Bob, I–”
“I know, it’s… it’s a lot to throw at you, but I really want you to consider it. This town, this place—it has so many bad memories for you, for the boys, and honestly, for me too. We could make some new memories out East. Together. As a family.” He squeezed her hands. “You don’t need to answer me tonight, but–”
“It’s just… the boys,” she said with a sigh, closing her eyes tightly. “Jonathan has a girlfriend, Will has his friends here.” She opened her eyes, smiling sadly but sympathetically at him. “Bob, I really want this, too. Actually, I’d pack up and move out of here tomorrow with you—I would—but I’m afraid they’ll resent me for moving them away from everyone they know.”
“Just–maybe talk to them about it? You never know, they might surprise you.” He gave her a hopeful smile and lifted one of her hands to his mouth, planting a kiss there.
“I will. I promise,” she answered with a nod, sliding closer and wrapping her arms around his neck, lips to his ear. “Do you wanna stay over tonight?” she murmured.
He blushed, red creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. He’d spent the night many times over the last several months and still acted like a giddy teenager being propositioned by his crush for the first time. She found it endearing but did hope it would fade with time.
“I’d like that.” He drew back and smiled shyly.
She brought him to bed, and—eagerly—he made love to her, but her mind was too far away, too weighed down by the idea of talking to the boys about Maine to be fully present and in the moment. He finished, sulking that she couldn't, and fell asleep beside her, and she stared at the ceiling deep in thought, body left tense and unsatisfied. She thought about the inevitable look on Jonathan’s face if she even mentioned moving to him, the sadness that would be in Will’s eyes, but she also thought about herself. Was she really ready to leave behind this town and the few friends she had made?
Her mind drifted to Hopper.
Hopper!
Unable to sleep and remembering their conversation earlier, she quietly crawled out of bed and padded over to her bookshelf, thumbing through the titles with a flashlight until she found the book for him to read to El. She set it under her keys by the door so she wouldn’t forget it tomorrow, then leaned against the kitchen counter and smoked through the rest of her Camels she told Bob she'd thrown out, the sweet smoke in her lungs and rush of nicotine taking her mind off of Maine and Bob and the boys and uncomfortable conversations she needed to find a way to have. When sleep finally found her hours later, Bob’s arm draped lazily over her side, she dreamt of high school.
Exciting.