She had called Murphy's while he showered and arranged for a tow truck to meet them at her car within the hour. She figured it'd be easier that way for him, she could just hitch a ride with the mechanic into Hawkins and Hopper could finally be free of her.
"Sounds good," he agreed even as something tugged under his ribs. He slumped in his armchair and fished in his pocket for his pack of Camels.
"You want to, uh, watch something on TV?" he asked stretching over to pick up the remote controller. They had some time to kill before needing to head out.
"You put whatever you want on."
Skipping anything Christmas, he settled on The Price is Right before tossing the remote back onto the coffee table.
They sat for several minutes, blindly watching the ecstatic contestants try to win merchandise and money. Hopper sucked away on his cigarette, not terribly interested in the show, wondering how quickly the garage would be able to fix her car. She was probably anxious to leave, perhaps her brother was worried about her...
"Did you want to call your brother? Let him know what happened with your car?"
She tore her eyes away from the TV screen, a sort of blankness covering them.
"Oh, uh, I hadn't thought of that. But, no, I don't need to."
"You sure? Won't he be wondering where you are?"
"No...see...," and she began playing with her cuticles, "Gilbert,...my brother,... doesn't actually... Well, he doesn't know I'm coming, so..."
"What, is it a surprise?"
Her eyes lifted.
"Yeah, yeah. He'll definitely be surprised," and she laughed nervously. He studied her as she continuing picking away at her nail beds. She seemed uneasy, sad even.
"Is everything you own in that Datsun of yours?"
"Yeah."
"And he doesn't know you're coming. Or possibly moving there."
"Nope."
"Boy," and he took a puff.
They had arrived before the tow truck and waited quietly in his Blazer, a bizarre silence hanging between them. She was back in her thrift store get up, though she opted to forego the ski mask and goggles as the weather was infinitely milder than it was the day before. She sat looking out of the window.
"Patrick Murphy is a good guy, he should take care of you," Hopper suddenly said, the weight of the noiselessness making him feel claustrophobic. She turned her face to him.
"If he doesn't I'm going to refer him to you."
They exchanged smiles.
"So, what do you have planned for the rest of your day now that you're nearly rid of me?" she asked, a light tease in her voice.
The bar and blonde popped into Hopper's mind.
"Don't know. Maybe see a movie."
"Nice."
He looked down at his steering wheel wishing the tow truck would just get there already.
Anne cleared her throat after a few moments just as he started drumming his fingertips on the truck's window ledge. More silence.
Hopper glanced at the time on his dash. Patrick was only about five minutes late, but he wasn't exactly feeling patient at this point. Not that he was itching to be rid of Anne. He cast a glance at her as she leaned her head back against the seat. He was beginning to understand, as he had the time to think about it, that he was simply anxious to be done with something that he didn't really want to do. It felt like anticipating a trip to the dentist or a tedious station meeting or something. Just...get it done. End it so he didn't have to think about it anymore.
Because he was getting real tired of thinking about Anne Garrett leaving.
"Feels kinda weird to be leaving."
Her soft spoken words made him look at her sharply, wondering for a moment if she had some sort of creepy mind reading ability. He didn't exactly discount the unbelievable these days.
"Well, I guess what I really mean is," she clarified a moment later, "it's weird that it feels weird...you know?"
He narrowed his eyes a little. "Sure."
Nah, he really didn't.
She exhaled and looked over at him. "It's just that I've only been here like, what? Twelve hours or so? But it feels like I've been here much longer. That's not normal, is it?"
Hopper shrugged. "I don't know. I guess if you see one small town, you see them all, right?"
"And yet at the same time," she went on somewhat wistfully, glossing over his comment, "I also feel like it's kinda sad that I won't get to learn more. Like I read the first chapter of a book and then just...threw it away? If that makes any sense." She let out a short laugh.
"There would've been a time that I would've told you you weren't missing much, but now...," he looked over and found her gazing at him expectantly. "Well, every town has its sordid past," he finished lamely.
"Even little old Hawkins, Indiana?" she asked incredulously.
He wanted to say 'Especially little old Hawkins, Indiana,' but he simply nodded. He had made a bargain with the devil and he had to hold to it, which included never speaking of the events he went through with anyone.
Not that anyone would've believed him if he had. Except, as he watched her eyes stare off through the windshield, that recognizable quality coming into them whenever someone starts thinking deeply about something, Hopper found himself believing that, of all people, Anne would probably be the one who would believe him if he told her.
"He's here," she suddenly said, a flat quality to her voice. Hopper followed her line of sight and saw the tow truck, lights flashing, coming down the road. He felt a bag of stones fill his stomach.
"Yeah."
When the truck finally decided on its parking spot and the driver popped out of the cab, Anne and Hopper both opened their doors and climbed from the Blazer.
"Hey, Hopper," Patrick Murphy greeted, extending his hand for a shake which Hopper took with a friendly smile. Hopper introduced Anne and verified that they tried to jump start the battery the previous night without success.
"Okay. Let's get it back to my garage and swap out the battery with a new one and that'll take care of your problem for you," Murphy said with a wide grin to Anne. The mechanic walked back to his truck and pulled a shovel out. Hopper and Anne stood by Hopper's truck idly, watching as Murphy tried to make quick work of the snow piled up behind her Datsun.
"I feel like I should be helping him," she murmured to Hopper. She had her shoulders hunched forward and her arms crossed in front of her chest as she jounced slightly in one spot. Hopper looked down at her and resisted the urge to pull her into his side and rub her arm.
"Why don't you wait in the truck. I'll go see if he needs any help." And he walked across the street before she could argue. When Murphy said he didn't have another shovel with him, Hopper asked if he could take over for a bit, practically stealing the tool from out of his hands. He had a need to be doing something physical, couldn't just stand there and wait any longer. A few minutes into the digging, Hopper had made good headway and Murphy was able to begin connecting the sling to her car.
Huffing from the exercise, Hopper stood aside. He heard his truck door open and close and had Anne standing beside him a moment later, her bag at her feet.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked without looking at her.
"Yeah. But... he's almost done."
Yes he was, Hopper agreed in his mind. Probably just another few minutes.
"I was thinking," he said. His surprise at hearing the words fall out of his mouth made him mute for a second or two. What was he thinking? He looked down at her and found her peering up at him, her forehead wrinkled in a question.
"Maybe I should go with you. To the garage. Just to make sure everything goes alright, I mean."
Her eyes seemed to brighten for a moment, the caramel turning to a more golden color. But then the spark fell as her gaze dropped to the ground. He felt something inside him drop, too.
"That's awfully nice of you, Jim, but... I don't think it's necessary. But thank you just the same."
"Okay," he said with a smile and nod before returning to watch Murphy hoisting up her car. A sense of relief washed over him. He chalked it up to being relieved of duty, as it were, over taking care of this girl, this stranger. He was in the home stretch now and would soon have the pleasure of having several drinks at a friendly bar in the company of another woman and getting some afterward. He was really looking forward to that now.
"All set!" Murphy called over to them. They both seemed to take a breath at the same time as they turned to each other.
"Have a safe drive, okay?" Hopper said first, the smile feeling like it was burning a hole in his face. He stuck out his hand and she looked at it before taking it. But then she focused her eyes on his again and before he knew what happened, she was hugging him.
"Thanks for everything, Chief. And...," she pulled away just enough so that she could see his face, "and I wish you...all the best. Take care of yourself, Jim." She gave his hand a squeeze, a sad smile on her lips.
"You, too," he replied softly, his own smile falling short of the cheerfulness he wished to convey. She bent down and lifted her bag up with a quick motion before jogging over to the waiting tow truck. Hopper retreated to his Chevy but paused when he opened his driver's side door to watch Murphy pull away into the street. A black limb leaned out of the passenger window and shook at its end, the nibs of a hand just poking out of the sleeve. Hopper grinned warmly and returned her wave. Then he got into his truck and headed home.
When he pulled into his yard, Hopper sat in the Blazer for a solid six minutes, engine off. He let the cold seep in around him, soaking into his clothes and skin. It was real and honest as it swallowed him casually. And it reminded him that for the last several years, he had lived without warmth, without the gentle heat that would come from having someone greet you with a kiss and a smile, who would ask you about your day or show you the picture they drew. The cold is what he knew now, it was familiar, and he would manage with it as he always had.
Throwing open the door, he jumped out of his truck and hurried up to his trailer. One way he liked to manage was by getting himself to a bar and hitting on the most attractive female he found. The booze helped, too.
He dragged off his flannel and undershirt as he headed into the bathroom. The smell of strawberries, though faint, still hung in the air. Ignoring it, he slapped on some cologne then went and dug through his closet for the blue button-down that he had been told brought out the color of his eyes nicely.
He was in his truck again in no time and on his way back to Route 421. At the turn off, he hesitated. Originally he had thought of going to Montauk to a place he hadn't been to before. But that meant driving through Hawkins.
He took a left instead, deciding on an old favorite of his on the edge of Hawkins and Monument called Greasers. He hoped, as he sped along the roadway, that Carl, the owner and bartender, would have the place open on Christmas day. He knew the man had been divorced twice with a few grown kids living scattered across the country somewhere, so, fingers crossed, he was as on his own for the holidays as Hopper was and therefore more inclined to be available to the public.
Hopper wasn't disappointed.
The blue neon sign was on and there were a few cars parked out front when he pulled up to the dive. Leaving his hat on the dashboard, Hopper checked the glove compartment for an extra pack of cigarettes and then sauntered into the dark and sketchy establishment.
Carl was leaning on the bar watching a hockey game when he spotted Hopper.
"Hey, Hop! Good to see you!" he said as he straightened up and grabbed a Schlitz and glass for his new arrival. Hopper took the stool directly in front of Carl, the other patrons preferring the ends or small tables. The two men exchanged pleasantries and went down the list of the usual question and answers while Hopper chewed on a bowl of peanuts and put away his first beer. The next couple of hours was spent in much the same way, with an occasional light conversation with a customer just coming in and a little game watching on Carl's mounted television.
Hopper was enjoying his fourth beer when she came in.
He had seen her there before, a fair haired woman of about Hopper's age, maybe a little older, who dressed like she wanted to be ten years younger. She always came in alone, her hair pulled back in a clip and wearing bright tomato red lipstick and heavy eye makeup. She liked to sit at the bar under the TV. She had made eyes at Hopper more than once, but he had always played it cool with her, his attraction usually for the younger, darker types. But today, his gaze followed her to her seat and didn't waiver when she looked at him and smiled. He smiled back.
The record for the quickest conquest Hopper ever made was back in college when he and a few of his buddies, all pretty well sloshed, crashed a fraternity party on campus. Lisa Something-Or-Other had been there and had caught Hopper's eye as she stood by the radio drinking her vodka and tonic. He would later recount to his friends that all he did was smile at her, walk over, and ask her if she liked The Beach Boys and she had giggled. Twenty minutes later they were locked in one of the bathrooms upstairs going at it in the tub.
That afternoon, Hopper's record was broken by ten minutes.
They had made it as far as her car before things got out of control and needed to be dealt with in the back of her Mercury. Afterward, when they were both enjoying a cigarette, her head leaning on his shoulder, Sandy, as he had learned was her name only minutes before, said,
"Who's Anne?"
Hopper inhaled so strongly from shock that a fleck of saliva traveled down his windpipe into his lungs causing him to burst into a cacophony of wracking coughs. He almost dropped his burning cigarette on her upholstery, but Sandy cooly plucked it from his fingers and waited for him to regain control over his breathing before handing it back to him.
"What?" he finally managed to croak between hacks.
"Anne. You said her name before you...you know," and she discreetly puffed on her butt instead of providing any further details. Hopper's face contorted into a look of disbelief and confusion.
"I did?"
He had no memory of saying Anne's name. But he did remember imagining it was her and not Sandy he was engaging with, pretending it was her lips that kissed him and her voice in his ear.
"You did," Sandy confirmed as she began pulling her hair back into the clip that Hopper had yanked loose during their romp.
"Ah, jeez, I'm sorry, Sandy."
She gave a little snort and shook her head.
"Oh, honey," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "If I got upset every time a man called me by another woman's name during sex, I'd have to be on blood pressure medicine. It's no big deal." With her cigarette pressed firmly between her lips, she tucked her blouse back into her jean skirt as Hopper looked on, still processing what she told him.
"So. Who is she?" she asked when she was finally done straightening her clothes out and sitting back against the seat.
"She's... she's no one."
"No one, huh?" she gave her head a bob to the side, the corner of her mouth turned down skeptically. Hopper chose to ignore her insinuation. He wasn't about to have this conversation with some random stranger with whom he just had sex.
Instead they sat in her car without speaking for a few more minutes, finishing their smokes. Hopper checked his watch. It was close to five and he was hungry. He cocked his head as he regarded his companion.
"You, uh, wanna grab some dinner?"
She gave her head a light shake.
"Nah, I should head home and feed my kids. Teenage boys are constantly hungry." She snuffed out her stub in the ashtray in the back of the driver's seat. "But thanks anyway."
They crawled out of her two-door car, awkwardly maneuvering around the front seats until they were clear of the vehicle. She stood for a moment leaning on her open driver's side door before getting in, a lecherous grin covering her tomato lips.
"I enjoyed myself with you tonight. I've been wanting to get you into the back of my car for a long time. Anyway, it's alright to talk to me next time you see me here or if you're looking for something extra" -she inclined her head towards the backseat- "that's fine with me, too. Buy me a drink if that's the case. It'll be our code. Otherwise just say hi and chat, okay?" She winked at him before sitting down and closing the car door. He waited until she pulled out of the bar parking lot, a steady wind picking up around him. Then he flicked his Camel away and went inside to pay his tab.