Summary: Post season 3, Stranger Things multi-chapter that picks up where season 3 left off. The In-Between addresses questions left unanswered, fills in the gaps, and explores new potential conflicts and character dynamics. Features some heavy concentration on mileven, but there's something here for everyone.
Disclaimer: This chapter was written way before season 4 was released, so there are obviously many aspects of this story that are no longer canon. I apologize!
Well hello there everyone!
The wait for this chapter has been extensive and I cannot believe some of you amazing readers are still following this story after years of inactivity! You all are wonderfully supportive and it is such a nice treat for me to read your lovely words both on Instagram and here in the reviews.
In the time since I last posted, I graduated from college and started working a super demanding job. Of course, I am beyond grateful for all of these things (especially in current times), but I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been hard to adjust! I work some pretty long shifts, so finding time to write has been rough since I struggle to post anything that I feel does not reflect my fully undivided creative efforts. I am learning how to find some better balance in my life now though!
Season 4 has definitely renewed my love for mileven and the show in general, so you can expect to see a bit more activity from me here on this account…finally!
Now for the sad news…As of right now, I will be discontinuing this particular story after this chapter. The reason for this is simply due to the fact that I find more joy in writing based off of the show's canon events and plot lines, and the plot line I created for the story no longer falls in line with the actual plot line of the show.
I will say that I did not adjust this chapter at all after season four came out, so it was interesting to go back and read it again, just to see how many of my character arcs fell in line with the character arcs the Duffers created in the new season.
That being said, my posts will now consist of one-shots and potentially some multi-chapter stories following the most recent canon events of season four, heavily centered around mileven.
I hope you enjoy this last chapter, as I almost feel like it is the closing to a chapter in my life. Much of this piece has spent several years sitting in a vault of sorts, so I'm so happy to finally have it see the light of day. I can't wait to share it with you!
Happy reading! I'll be seeing you all very soon :)
*Text in italics indicates either a flashback, internal thought, or a recollection of past events.
Content Warning: Some allusions to racism and domestic abuse
Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or any of the show's characters.
The In-Between
Chapter 4 – Count Your Blessings
Family.
By blood.
By choice.
By circumstance.
Humans share around ninety-nine point nine percent of the same genetic material. It's the point zero one percent of the material that makes us different. The genes encoded into your DNA are telling of your bloodline, which you cannot change, proud of it or not.
But you can choose to get married. You can choose to combine the bloodline of another with your own. You can choose to bring new life into the world. And you can choose to care about it, because despite the shared blood, not everyone does.
And then there are those who you end up with. Families fall apart and find others with whom they can piece back together. It's not always pretty and it doesn't always work, but it is a product of human imperfectionism.
Ask a person who they are related to and then ask them who their family are, and their answers will likely be different.
In all of history, a window had never been so view-worthy. The concept of time was not lost on her, but anticipation has a way of making every new second feel as though it might bring with it the thing that you are waiting for. Even if in reality, that thing is nowhere near.
Today, nerves felt like a good thing. However, despite the fact that there were wonderful smells coming from the kitchen, reminding her of a big meal to come, the butterflies dancing around in her belly were taking up all of the space.
She and Jonathan had both refused any breakfast. Jonathan insisted he had no time to eat, and El complained that her stomach was hurting. Joyce had paid no mind to their disinterest, seeing as she knew it would likely disappear once a certain two guests had arrived.
They'd all taken their places in the living room since Jonathan had shooed them away from his workspace. Joyce told him it was ridiculous to try and do everything himself with three other people in the house, but he maintained that it was to be his undertaking this year.
Will watched with interest as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade aired on television, but Joyce kept peering around into the kitchen, and El was hard pressed to keep her eyes on the screen. By twelve o'clock, it was evident that Jonathan was nearing the point of a breakdown.
"Damnit! Ah no, no, no, no, no…shit!"
Smoke billowed out from the oven as the dishes inside began to overheat. He'd been working since daybreak to attempt to have the food ready on time, and preparation for some of the entrées had begun several days prior. Perhaps it was a bit overkill for only five people, but work had gifted Joyce with a turkey for the holiday season, and a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings was a luxury that was usually skipped out on in the Byers household.
He rushed over to the stovetop and twisted the knob on the oven.
"Come on I swear I turned that off!"
As he took inventory of the damage, he felt Joyce's presence behind him.
"Mom, it's fine. The casserole's probably a little burnt but I think if I just scrape the top off and redress it it'll be okay…And the turkey should still be tender—I've checked like every ten minutes because if it gets too dry it's gonna be like eating cardboard…It was all just supposed to be keeping warm in the oven but the damn thing was still on—"
She reached up and rubbed his shoulders. "Honey, you know I have full faith in you, but I think you need a break."
He sighed reluctantly, but she was already pushing him towards the back door.
"Look, it's a beautiful day, why don't you just take a minute, and go outside for some fresh air and let me take over for a little while."
She looked over her shoulder out into the living room. "And could you also maybe—" She gestured over to El with her head, indicating that she too was looking like she could use some time out of the house.
Jonathan turned his head, laughing sympathetically at the sight of El perched up on the highest corner of the couch, staring out of the window as if her life depended on it. He took the kitchen towel off of his shoulder and handed it to Joyce.
She mouthed a "thank you" to him.
Thanksgiving of 1984. It was to be her very first.
Many of the first experiences that most children have within their first twelve months of life had taken El thirteen years to finally have the opportunity to partake in.
As far as annual celebrations, timing had not been in her favor. She missed out on Christmas and New Years by a hair the year prior, and up to this point she'd only ever had one formal acknowledgement of her birthday.
Soon after bringing Eleven into his life, Hopper had discreetly given another look to the documents he'd filed away on Terry Ives. February 19th, 1971. That was the day she claimed her daughter had been born and stolen away from her. When February of 84' rolled around, Hop asked El over breakfast one morning if she happened to know the day on which she was born.
She shook her head.
Control. The less Eleven knew about herself, the more of it they had. Calling attention to the fact that El was aging could have caused her to rebel against their expectations, and so as with many other potentially revealing bits of information, the details of her birthday were kept hidden from her. Truly, Brenner was a son of a bitch.
Because Hopper had mentioned her age a time or two in passing, El could recall that she was twelve years old. Anything beyond that number was still an unknown.
Hop treaded carefully as he proceeded with their conversation. Wanting to spare her the unfortunate backstory of her birth, he went on to simply tell her that she'd be turning thirteen on the 19th of that month.
She seemed unsure about what to do with this fact. And while Hop was relieved that she had not followed up with a question wondering about how he knew this particular piece of information, it pained him to see her sit so quietly as she took in news that most any other kid would be bouncing off the walls about.
"You know, birthdays are sort like a special thing. You get to celebrate being another year older."
He fiddled with the blue band on his wrist. The birthdays that Sara had been able to share with them had always been gloriously monumental occasions. She deserved so many more of them...
"Celebrate?"
He sighed under the weight of his heavy heart. "Yeah, celebrate. Balloons, cake, presents, being with the people you care about…that's the kind of stuff you're supposed to have on your birthday."
He kicked himself as he saw her eyes light up.
"I uh…I can't give you most of the things you probably want right now…" He confessed, trying to avoid a discussion about seeing her friends. Mike in particular. "But, you know, maybe we can do our own thing here. Still make it special somehow."
She nodded, intrigued by what he was offering.
Her birthday fell on a Sunday that year, and Hopper took the day off from work. The first of many Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganzas was created that morning, and Hop tried not to grimace as he watched El use up most of a can of whipped cream while garnishing a stack of waffles already dripping with half a bottle of maple syrup.
He had gifted her with some clothes in her size and the game of Monopoly, which turned out to be a great method of teaching her about the concept of money. That evening, she was allowed to stay up late with him and watch a T.V. show of her choice. When he asked her why she'd chosen an old western, she said that she liked watching the cowboys on their horses.
Despite usually being one to stay up later than she was supposed to, El ended-up crashing fairly early from all of the sugar she'd gotten away with eating that day. She was still out cold as Hop carried the now thirteen-year-old to her bed and cracked the door closed behind him as he left.
Halloween of that year was much less successful of an affair. Eleven's desire to venture outside the constraints of the cabin had grown considerably in the eight months following her 13th birthday, and tension was beginning to build between Hopper's rules and El's independence. After seeing a Charlie Brown Halloween special on T.V. one afternoon, she'd become dead set on going trick-or-treating. She took note of the way Charlie Brown and his friends had each cut holes in a sheet and then placed it over their heads to look like ghosts. She had the clever idea to do so herself, seeing as the costume would make her unrecognizable to the bad men who might still be trying to find her.
Hopper was not sold on this plan come the morning of the 31st, nor was he ever sold on any plan that involved a potential risk to her safety…and as it turned out, there weren't many things that didn't qualify as potential risks.
She was growing tired of his implication that stupidity was the only logical explanation for her willingness to take a risk. At times she desired for the chance to prove to him that she was capable of handling more than the limited opportunities he gave her. And though she was not unable to agree to compromise, lies and broken promises eventually shattered any confidence she'd placed in Hop's ability to uphold his end of the negotiation.
She missed Mike. She yearned for him so intensely because he felt just out of her reach. She could see him. She could hear him talking to her each night. She felt badly when he said how much he needed her. She needed him too.
She counted with him as he numbered the days they'd been apart.
But soon after Halloween, when it seemed Mike had replaced her and Hopper had all but completely disconnected her from the world, she found out about her mother. The true extent of her isolation fell so heavily onto her that had she not gone out in search of who she was, El would have suffocated beneath it all.
By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, the events of the weeks prior still had everyone feeling a bit shaken. However, this did not change the fact that a great deal of relief had also followed, and temporary as it may have been, it was enough to make the upcoming holiday feel all the more celebratory.
It was the 22nd of November. Hopper filled up a large pot with water as El sat up on her knees, facing backwards on the kitchen chair as she observed.
The night Eleven closed the gate served as a mending of fences between the two. Apologies had been given, a few tears had been shed, and a new set of rules had been written.
Although he'd not yet heard back from Dr. Owens, Hopper was able loosen the reins on his orders for El to remain under house arrest. With the Party and Joyce swearing to the secrecy of her identity and whereabouts, El was now allowed to see her friends as she pleased, so long as her travel stay relatively limited between the cabin and the Byers household.
In fact, the pair would actually be joining Joyce, Will and Jonathan for Thanksgiving Day festivities.
In an attempt to contribute to the meal and to thank Joyce for the invitation, Hop was in the process of preparing a casserole. It was a simple yet palatable chicken, pasta, broccoli, and cheese blend which would take no more than a couple of hours to make.
With the chicken baking in the oven, he was readying to cook the broccoli and the noodles.
A quick glance down to his watch indicated that he was running short on time. He waved over to El.
"Ready for a job?"
She nodded her head. From the beginning, she'd always been willing to assist.
He placed the pot of water on the burner and turned on the flame. "Alright, keep an eye on this and when this starts to boil, pour in the pasta. You can stir it around once it's in there but just stand back when you pour it so you don't get splashed." He set down a strainer in the sink. "I should be out of the shower before it's done, but don't try to empty it in there before I get back. I don't want you trying to pick up a pan of boiling hot water."
It was Hopper's fatherly nature towards Eleven that caused him to worry that the same girl who had just recently closed a door to another dimension with her mind might somehow struggle with the task of pouring hot water into the sink. However, having come from a place where she was forced to use her powers, often against her will, she was not entirely bothered by the fact that Hop treated her as any overprotective parent would treat a normal child…even if sometimes it did cause her to roll her eyes.
Before disappearing into his bedroom, he turned to see El dragging her chair over to the stove and positioning herself in such a way that she could stare over into the pot. He eyed her in bemusement as she sat down in front of it.
"What in the hell are you doing?" He chuckled.
She lowered her head at him as if it were obvious. "I'm keeping my eyes on it."
He rubbed his forehead amusedly.
"A watched pot never boils you know." He stated.
She looked at the pot again before looking back at him. "It doesn't?"
He could've easily continued to pull at her leg, but he decided to play fair.
"Well, it does…but it's just one of those expressions, kid. Time seems to move a whole lot slower when you're waiting on something to happen. You're better off doing something else in the meantime." He trailed off. "You know, as long as you don't forget the stove's on."
She gave him a smile.
"Why don't you read something." He suggested. "Just, stay in here or you won't be able to hear it when it boils."
The afternoon and evening that followed were pleasant. Upon arriving at the Byers, El was welcomed by Joyce as she always was with open arms. When Hopper also offered up an embrace, Joyce noticed he smelled of cologne, although he attempted to deny it.
Jonathan as usual, was documenting the holiday spread.
When the time came for them all to sit down around the table, there was a second of silence as someone tried to figure out what to say.
Will spoke up.
"We should dedicate this meal to Bob…You know, because I think he'd like to be here too."
Bob's death was fresh on Joyce's mind. The boys in particular had taken notice to how much she was struggling to accept what had happened. Will however, seemed especially sensitive to her grief because he too had shared a connection with Bob, and had often been encouraged by his support.
Joyce reached over and took Will's hand, thanking him with tears in her eyes.
The conversation moved on to lighter topics as food began to disappear from their plates. Joyce and Jonathan gave praise to Hopper's casserole.
"Couldn't have done it without this one." He said, motioning to El with his fork.
"Do you like to cook, El?" Jonathan asked her.
Truthfully El wasn't so sure she enjoyed cooking as much as she enjoyed watching Hop cook and then trying to copy what he did. Still, she nodded her head.
"I don't know about cooking, but she definitely likes to watch water heat up in a pan." Hopper teased.
She scoffed at him. Joyce leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She picked up a roll and chucked it in his direction.
She giggled as he pretended to be in pain.
That Thanksgiving was the first occasion on which El felt a glimpse of what it was like to be a part of a family.
And then of course, there had been Christmas...
"A watched pot never boils you know."
She jumped as Jonathan's words pulled her from her daze.
She smiled at the familiar expression as she realized he was referring to the fact that she'd been staring out of the window from the moment the sun had come up.
"I know." She said sheepishly, playing with the blue band on her wrist.
"Up for a walk?" He asked.
She bit her lip and peeked back at the driveway.
He smiled. "They left at eight their time. Don't worry, unless that car suddenly turns into a plane, I don't think we'll miss em'."
She laughed but hesitated. However, when he put his hand out to help her up off the couch, she obliged.
It was in fact a beautiful day. Very few clouds loomed overhead, and the sun hit both of their backs as they made their way down to the water. At around 55 degrees, it was uncharacteristically warm for an early Illinois afternoon in late November. The trees lining the riverbank swayed as a breeze rolled through, setting free more leaves from their branches. Some landed on the water and began to slowly drift downstream with the easiness of the current.
Despite the circumstances of their move away from Hawkins, they couldn't have asked for a more beautiful place to live.
"You know, we've lived here for nearly two months now and this is the first time I've ever come down here." Jonathan said disbelievingly. El squinted through the sunlight reflecting off of the water. She had visited the river just a couple of times on days when the weather was nice, usually when she and Joyce were the only ones home and Joyce deemed she needed a break from her school work.
Stones and loose foliage crunched beneath their feet. Absentmindedly, Jonathan picked up a rock and tossed it. It skipped gracefully across the water before descending below the surface.
He seemed hardly as impressed by this as El was.
She reached for a small pebble and tried to mimic him as she threw it. She put a hand on her hip as she observed her pebble sink directly down to the bottom.
Jonathan couldn't help but laugh at the look of betrayal on her face.
"Here, I'll show you." He said sweetly. He picked up two medium sized stones.
"So, it actually helps if you throw one that's got a little more weight to it. And you want to look for ones that are kind of smooth like this, see?
She held one of the stones in her hand, gliding her fingers over its flat exterior.
"Okay now when you curve your arm to throw it, try to keep your elbow tucked low into your hip. And then when you let go…have you ever thrown a frisbee before?"
"A what?"
He paused. "Actually, never mind. It's not important." He put his arm out in front of her to demonstrate. "When you let go, you want to flick your wrist to the side, nice and loose."
She adjusted her stance for a second attempt, but the loud dunking sound that followed the stone's rough skid along the water revealed little improvement in her technique.
"Well hey, that sucked a little, but I might see where the problem is." He told her lightheartedly.
She laughed at his backhanded words of encouragement.
"Alright, I think you're just thinking too hard about it. Instead of putting all of your energy into it…just be more…conservative. You want to be intentional with it, but you don't want to have to force it. Remember, keep the wrist loose and level it."
She nodded resolutely and lined up another rock with the water.
Conservative. Intentional. Leveled.
She was rewarded with two brisk hops along the surface.
She smiled in fascination. "Cool."
"Yeah. It's probably the most useful thing my dad ever taught me." He said bitterly.
El looked at him in surprise. She was aware that Jonathan and Will had a father and that he wasn't around anymore. But she'd never been filled in on the details, and for reasons she couldn't explain, she never felt right about asking.
Jonathan could tell she wasn't expecting him to mention Lonnie.
He cleared his throat. "He uh…he wasn't the best guy."
El blinked. "Gone?"
He nodded. "He may as well be."
El watched him as he became lost in his thoughts.
"He did a lot of bad things…and I don't think I'd be doing either of us a favor if I told you about most of them. But I remember when Nancy and I first teamed up together. I was trying to shoot some stupid cans with a gun as target practice…and I told her about the time my dad took me hunting on my tenth birthday and forced me into killing a rabbit. Some father."
"He…forced you?" El asked, looking disturbed.
"Yeah…said we weren't going back home until I learned how to man up…But I guess out of all the shitty things he did, that doesn't exactly make the top five…Still, I always felt bad about killing it."
He tossed another rock.
El was quiet for a minute as she looked out into the river's horizon.
"I've killed animals before." She said.
She sounded as though she were ashamed. Jonathan kept his attention on her.
"In the woods. When I was alone. I…didn't know what else to do. I was afraid for them to find me. So…"
"So, you killed them for food?" He asked.
She nodded silently, swallowing down her distaste at the memory.
"But, one time, when I was still there…with Papa," she said, finding it unsettling to mention his name as it caused a chill to run down her back. "There was a cat…and I was supposed to kill it for them." She shook her head. "And I didn't want to kill it." She stated, her voice starting to falter so slightly.
Jonathan's words were hushed. "What happened…when you refused?"
She sighed, looking back down at the water lapping the bank below her feet.
"Bad things."
Jonathan ran his hand back through his hair.
"Jesus, El."
She looked at him in question.
"I swear…I don't know…You make me feel like I should just shut up and appreciate my crappy childhood." He laughed and exhaled dismally. "I'm sorry…sometimes I just…forget." He told her.
She shook her head, not allowing him to apologize.
"I'm sorry he made you kill." She said softly.
He shrugged, feeling it unnecessary for any more attention to be placed on himself. "It's okay…I've had to do a lot more killing since then."
They locked eyes, remembering the violent events of the last two years.
"Me too." She said stoically.
He put a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to his feet.
He stood up with two more stones and held one out to her hand. She took it, giving him a small smile in return.
"Okay, same time, ready?"
She nodded and readied her aim.
"One…two…three!"
They watched as both of their stones skipped four times along the water.
"So, are you excited to see Mike?" Joyce asked him as he mashed up the potatoes.
Will shrugged. "I mean, yeah I guess."
She furrowed her brow.
"What?" Will asked a tad defensively.
"I don't know I just figured you'd be a little more, you know…" she searched for the right word, "enthusiastic." She stated.
"Yeah well, it's hard to be enthusiastic about seeing someone who probably won't even notice you're there." He mumbled.
Joyce clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Hey, now I know it's hard when your best friend has a girlfriend. At your age it's not always easy to figure out how to balance your regular relationships with your romantic ones. But honey, just because he has a girlfriend doesn't mean he's stopped caring about you. You and Mike have always been so close, and I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you again. Besides, you guys are sharing a room together for the next two days, so I'm sure you'll have the perfect opportunity to catch up…I'll even let you stay up as late as you want, as long as you boys let me get some sleep before work tomorrow."
Skeptical as he felt, it was worth a shot. "Thanks, Mom. Really."
She smiled. "Why don't you hook up the Atari after dinner. You guys can play together. No video games after everyone else is asleep though, okay? But if you want you could pull out some of those old brain teasers.
He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds good."
"Hey um, I think these are done." He said.
Joyce looked over into the bowl. "Perfect. You are the expert potato masher."
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Thanks for being my helper." She said, ruffling his hair before taking a step back in thought.
"You know I think this is the first time you and I have really done any sort of, you know, mother-son bonding activity together in…gosh I don't even know when."
Will nodded but made no comment.
"I remember when you used to get so excited to help me make those cookies we always baked together around the holidays." She lamented.
"Even though I always ended up doing something to mess them up and make them taste weird? Jonathan's the cook. Besides, all I did was mash up a potato. Anyone can do that." He pointed out.
Joyce shook her head. "Hey now that is not entirely true. There's an art to potato mashing. Remember two Christmas's ago when I made those runny mashed potatoes?"
"Ugh, how could I forget." He said, pretending to wince.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders even as he squirmed. "Hey, but guess what…the cookies you used to make with me were always my favorite."
Jonathan and El returned back to the house within the hour to find that the earlier kitchen catastrophe had been resolved and the last of the side dishes were well on their way to being completed. While grateful for his mother's assistance, it seemed Jonathan was now unsure of what to do with himself. By 2:30 in the afternoon and much to everyone's annoyance, he'd resorted to pacing.
"Mike, I know you're a nervous wreck, but if you don't stop bouncing your leg, I swear to God I'm going to punch you.
No matter how you spin it, eight hours in a car with a sibling is usually enough to drive anyone mad.
Mike and Nancy had made their departure that morning at eight o'clock on the dot. With an hour gained across state lines, perfect conditions would land them at their destination no later than three in the afternoon.
"I'm not nervous!" He shot back.
"Ha! Yeah, and I'm not a good driver."
"Psh, that is extremely debatable. You can't back up in a straight line to save your life and you've been going a solid twenty miles over the speed limit for the past seven hours." Mike argued.
"Excuse me I am driving at a reasonable speed. But I swear, if this car in front of us breaks ONE more time! Not every goddamn curve in the road is a reason to slow down, lady!"
Mike crossed his arms, smirking at her.
"What?!" I just don't like being late, alright?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Oh, so would you like me to slow down then?" She asked, lowering her foot onto the break.
"No!" He hurriedly protested.
"That's what I thought." She said under her breath.
He huffed and turned the rearview mirror so that he could see himself in the reflection. He tussled with his hair disapprovingly.
Nancy glanced over and pulled the mirror back away from him in objection. "Hey! Safety!"
He rolled his eyes.
"You look fine. I'm sure El won't notice if your hair looks any worse than it always does." She taunted.
"Ha ha you're hilarious." He said deadpanned. "And I wasn't checking it for that, I was just…"
"Trying to look nice for the middle-aged women driving in front of us?"
He cut his eyes at her and she sneered.
He grinned sarcastically.
"Oh, and you're not wearing a push-up bra for Jonathan even though he's probably seen your boobs like a million times by now?"
She gasped offendedly and reached over to smack him on the head.
He flinched away. "Ay two hands on the wheel! Safety, remember?"
Despite crossing through time zones, time still seemingly remains one of life's only consistencies. From one second to the next, the amount of time between each minute, each hour, and each day will always be the same. So, it is strange how the mind would have us believe that time has the tendency to speed up or slow down depending on the circumstance. Just as the watched pot never boils, the hands of the clock on a classroom wall never move when they are stared down by restless students. And the extra five minutes before the morning alarm goes off again tick by exponentially quicker than the five minutes before the time when we're expecting the phone to ring.
Certainly, the fifty-five days since they'd seen each other last had demonstrated that sometimes, time can feel all but reliable.
It did not so much freeze as it did blur when the car pulled into the drive.
She was standing outside within seconds, vaguely aware of Jonathan hugging Nancy when the passenger side door flung open.
From the moment they had met, it seemed Mike and Eleven were always apart more than they were together. Putting aside the traditional intensity of young love, perhaps it would begin to explain why in those last six months they clung so closely to each other. There is nothing so longed for quite as much as the people we miss.
She hardly had time to get a good look at him before she was enveloped in his embrace. Her arms wrapped snuggly around his neck, and had he minded, he might have fought to catch his breath. His hands were hugging her waist, and without thinking she jumped up and crossed her legs around his torso. Mike wasn't so muscular as he was lean, but El was a good bit shorter than him now and he was grateful that he didn't noticeably struggle to bear her weight.
Fifty-five days.
She buried her face into his collar, breathing in the familiar smell of him. He brought up one hand to caress the back of her head.
"Home." She thought. He felt like home.
For El, the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving had been increasingly difficult. Though she tried to prevent it, the upcoming holiday coupled with the need for additional income had pushed Joyce to start working double shifts. Consequently, El was alone for the majority of her days. Her schoolwork kept her distracted, but only for so long. Sometimes she would finish early. But most of the time she would reach a point where she found herself stuck on a problem or assignment with no instructor to ask for guidance. Eventually, she'd get frustrated and stop until either Joyce or Jonathan returned home to help her.
This extra time left her mind with ample opportunities to wander off. She found it hard to keep herself grounded in the present while the past loomed so dauntingly behind her. Books and television, her previous go-to's for long days spent in isolation, had not been serving their purpose as effective forms of engagement. Even so, she would usually leave the T.V. on low volume in the living room, just for a bit of noise to drown out the loudness of the silence.
Still, the drone of the day compared preferably to the storms of the night. It's easy to blame a tornado for the devastation that it causes…but how can you not also blame yourself when you were the one who could have done something to lessen the damage that it created?
The sound of porcelain serving dishes clanking lightly against one another filled the gaps between short exchanges as Susan arranged food around the table.
"Okay, I think that's everything. Maxine dear, how about you say grace for us?"
Max rolled her eyes. "I don't wanna say gra—"
"Maxine!" Neil's voice boomed as he leaned in closer to her. "How about you say grace for us?"
Max exhaled through gritted teeth and extended her arms out. Her mother gingerly took her hand while Neil grabbed up her other one in a manner which she knew was meant to be aggressive.
She stared at the nearly empty bottle of wine on his side of the table. Reluctantly, she lowered her head.
"Lord accept our thanks for these and all our blessings. Amen."
She looked up to find him staring at her with hardened eyes.
"Amen." He said, and she snatched her hand away from him.
"Alright, who wants turkey?" Susan's voice was cheerful in a falsifying sort of way.
The walls of the small house closed in as they ate the meal in silence. Neil began to chew noisily on his cut of the bird.
"Turkeys' a little dry, Susan."
Max watched as Susan stiffly sat down her glass of water, swallowing rigidly.
She flashed him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, dear."
Max jammed her fork down hard into her slice.
"Tastes fine to me." She whispered.
Neil cleared his throat.
"What was that, Maxine?" He asked her without glancing up.
"Nothing." She replied, her voice dripping with a fabricated lightness.
Neil chuckled, wiping the sides of his mouth before setting his napkin down on the table.
"No, I think you must be mistaken, because I definitely heard you say something. Now, why don't you try speaking up for me."
She snapped her head up, glaring him in the face. "I said it tastes fine." She repeated, her voice projecting loudly this time.
He nodded slowly.
"Max, let me ask you something..."
"Neil—" Susan carefully refuted, sensing his growing hostility.
He put his hand up to stop her without taking his concentration off of Max.
"No it's okay, I think this may be a good…lesson, to you both." He flipped back his sleeve, retrieved the serving prongs from the platter and proceeded to forcefully stab the simi-cut portion of the turkey, lifting it into to air in its entirety. Droplets of liquid dribbled from the blackened bottom.
"Do you see that?" He asked, referring to the pool of liquid in the pan.
Max leaned back in her chair, folding her arms in indifference. "Yeah. So what?"
His eyes widened and he tilted the pan so that the liquid nearly spilled out onto her plate. "That, Maxine is supposed to be inside ofthe turkey. But it would seem as though your mother might have somehow forgotten that a turkey, which happens to be the most essential part of this particular meal, needs to sit for at least 45 minutes after its finished cooking or else all of the damn juices just fall right the hell out when you slice it."
Max saw Susan rubbing the back of her neck from the corner of her eye.
"Well why can't you just, pour them back on top of it?" She asked, pretending to pour out an imaginary tray with her hands, trying her best not to play into his clear attempt at intimidation.
He laughed snidely, but she could see his jaw clench with anger.
"Because Max, it's not my job to do that."
He let go of the turkey, letting it drop at least a foot from the air back into the foil tray. Juices splashed the table, most of them spraying out in Max's direction, covering her face and the top half of her shirt.
"Neil!" Susan exclaimed.
Max sat with her mouth open in shock before standing so quickly that her chair nearly fell backwards as the legs skidded across the floor. She turned and began to walk furiously towards her room.
"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?!" Neil hollered. He sounded as if he was satisfied with himself for what he had just done.
"The hell away from you!" She yelled bitterly.
She slammed her door and threw her shirt over her head before punching the wall with her fist. The punch wasn't hard enough to destroy to anything but her knuckles, and she clenched them painfully as she yanked back her arm.
"Shit!"
She shook out her hand and pulled another shirt from her closet, not caring enough to notice that it was much too thin and short sleeved to be deemed suitable for the weather. She could hear a plate shatter from the kitchen before the screaming match began. As usual, the battle was grossly unrivaled and Neil's voice was the only one she could hear.
"How can you allow her to get away with that kind of attitude?! Lazy whore, can't even cook the goddamn turkey when you're supposed to and then you let your smartass teenage daughter run around mouthing off to me like that?! Smartass little bitch better learn some damn respect!"
She was halfway out of her bedroom window before she could find out how the argument would end.
"Erica child, now that is enough gravy."
"Umm no, it's not. It's called a mashed potato volcano for a reason."
Her grandmother eyed her warningly from above the thin frames of her glasses, and she set the gravy boat down in surrender.
Lucas squirmed as his grandma shifted her attention back to vigorously scrubbing a minor stain from the middle of his shirt.
"Mimi it's fine, really. Honestly, I feel like there was never even a stain there to begin with!" He pleaded.
She shook her head at him. "Uh, uh. No grandson of mine is going to sit around the table looking like a slob. Now you hold still."
Lucas threw up his arms and looked to his to his dad from across the table for some kind of support. He merely scooped up another heap of cranberry sauce.
"Son, if there is one person who beats out your mother in "being right," it's your grandmother."
The doorbell rang, and Lucas saw his golden opportunity.
"I'll get it! I'm closest to the front door!" As he scrambled from his seat, Mrs. Sinclair turned to her husband.
"I thought you said Jack's flight was delayed?"
Mr. Sinclair wiped his mouth and took a look at his watch. "It was. I'm not sure who that could be."
Lucas opened the door to find Max using the neck of her shirt to feverishly wipe away tears from her face.
He looked at her dumbfounded. "Um, hey! What are you doing here…are yo—are you crying?!" He was not unhappy to see her, but the surprise in his voice made her regret showing up unannounced.
She puffed the air out from her cheeks in frustration. "I don't know, Lucas. I don't know, okay? I just…needed to get out for a while."
She tucked both sides of her hair behind her ears and Lucas caught a glimpse of the bruising that had begun to form on her right knuckle.
"Did…did something happen?" He asked cautiously. Nonspecific as the question may have been, they both knew who it was in reference to.
She locked eyes with him defensively. "No…it's nothing I can't handle, alright?"
He swallowed, watching her rub her bare arms with her hands as a gust of cold air cut through the silence. "How come you're here then?" He asked.
She raised her voice in anger. "God Lucas you act like I can't ever just come see you without having a good enough reason for it! Okay if you want me to leave then I'll leave!"
She turned but he caught her wrist before she could pick her bike up off the ground.
"Hey, that's totally not what I meant." He could feel the goosebumps on her skin. "Come on, you can eat with us. And by the way did you happen to know that it's freaking freezing out here? Ms. I'm-gonna-wear-a-short-sleeve-shirt-in-November?"
Max felt herself break a smile beneath her look of irritation.
It would not be the first time Max had sat down to a meal at the Sinclair's. Lucas's parents had offered to have her stay for dinner on more than one occasion, always showing great hospitality towards her. From the first time Lucas had simi-awkwardly introduced her to his family as his girlfriend, there was little acknowledgment of the rather obvious differences between the two of them. It was not to say that racial discrepancies were not at all recognized, but any concerns that were seen in the eyes of the Sinclair household were far less oppressing than what Max would be faced with, should she be so unlucky as to have Neil become privy to his stepdaughter's relationship. Max knew this, and she knew it too well.
"Oh child! Now what in the Good Lord's name are you doin' with no sleeves on?!"
Lucas jumped in to hastily gain some command over the conversation.
"Mimi, this is Max. She's my—"
"She's his girlfriend." Erica interrupted, clearly empathizing her words in order to embarrass him.
"Erica!" He scolded in annoyance.
"Just the facts." She stated under her breath.
"Anyway, as I was saying…Grandma Mimi, this is Max. Max, this is Grandma Mimi."
Max reached her hand out politely. "It's really nice to meet you."
Mimi shook her head. "Oh no hun, I don't shake no hands in this house, you come on here now." She opened her arms and Max obliged, finding it strangely comforting to feel herself being squeezed tightly by the older women.
"Max, honey we weren't expecting you!" Mrs. Sinclair exclaimed.
"Lucas, why didn't you tell us Max was joining us today?" Mr. Sinclair asked.
Max rushed to provide an explanation.
"Oh um, actually Lucas didn't really know I was coming over. See, my family…finished eating kind of early so…"
"So she called me on the walkie earlier and asked if we'd be down to hang out later and I kind of forgot to ask about, you know…the time."
He checked his wrist to find that he wasn't wearing a watch.
"So…is now good?" He asked, directing the question to his parents.
Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair made eye contact with each other, both looking a little concerned by what seemed to be an odd attempt at a cover story. Nevertheless, they did not seem all that bothered by the unexpected company.
"Well Max sweetie, as long as you and your family are okay with it you know you are more than welcome to join us." Mrs. Sinclair reassured her.
Max suddenly felt out of place. "I'm…really sorry for barging in like this" she looked around as she folded her arms anxiously. "I should…I should probably go—"
Sensing her lack of belonging, Mr. Sinclair cut her off. "Nonsense, now I know you said you've already finished eating with your family, but if…by chance you're still hungry, we have more than enough food here. My little brother's flight in was delayed due to the weather further up north, so by all means, there's plenty to go around."
Max smiled, nodding gratefully before looking over at Lucas, who gave her a cheesy grin and gestured his arm out over the table as a sort of offering.
She took an empty seat next to Erica and slowly began to fill her plate. Max could guess that his parents had not fully bought into her story, but allowed her to stay out of a mix of kindness and pity.
"Lucas, why don't you run and grab Max a jacket off of the coatrack?" Mr. Sinclair suggested.
Max reached back as she felt a jacket being placed around her shoulders. Judging by its size, she figured it probably belonged to Lucas's dad. Her knuckles bumped the back of her chair as she went to weave her arm through the sleeve, and she winced in pain. The reaction was subtle, but it did not go unnoticed.
"Are you okay?" Lucas asked from where he stood behind her.
"Yeah." She said quietly.
"Max—" Lucas pried.
"I told you, it's fine." She defended.
He sat back down across from her, and she pointed to his chest.
"Hey I think you have a stain on your shirt." She informed him casually, doing so in a partial attempt to direct his attention onto something else.
"Ohhh I like this girl!" Grandma Mimi exclaimed jubilantly. She leaned in closer to Max and placed a hand over hers. "I've been trying to get that boy to get that stain off of his shirt all afternoon, but you know he's not gon' listen to me. Pretty and smart young thing like you now, I know he'll listen to!" She laughed.
Max smiled back at her and Lucas trudged off to the kitchen to find a washcloth. He returned with his shirt looking a bit a damp, but stain-free nonetheless.
"There. Do I look presentable now?" He asked.
"Oh definitely." Max teased.
"It's debatable." Erica sassed.
Max couldn't help but snicker as Lucas narrowed his eyes at his little sister.
Conversation picked back up between the adults and the meal continued on from where it left off. But Lucas watched observantly as Max held her utensils somewhat awkwardly in her left hand, favoring it as the bruising on her right one continued to develop.
Karen's voice could be identified over the phone as Joyce informed her that her children had arrived safe and sound in Illinois, just as promised.
Will stood in his room, staring at the controller on his desk.
"It's definitely an Atari!"
"An A-whatie?!"
"The green present. It's an Atarti. I felt Dustin's today, it's the same exact weight."
"Really?!"
"Yeah!"
"Well, we'll have to see won't we?"
That Christmas, Will spent most of the day teaching Jonathan and his mom how to play Atari. And even though they each already had their own, Mike Dustin and Lucas had come over the day after just so they could all play on Will's new one.
Looking back, he remembered the days when they'd spent hours coming up with an elaborate plan to all persuade their parents to let them have a sleepover on a school night. They'd play Atari until their eyes were sore and eat junk food until their stomachs ached. And now, as he looked at the dusty controller, he remembered the days when asking his best friend to hang out with him wasn't the part of the plan that took convincing.
He made his way downstairs, where a cheerful reunion was in full swing. Nancy and Jonathan were already placing food around the table, Jonathan humbly presenting to her the dishes he had prepared. She seemed impressed if not a bit amused.
Mike stood by the doorway, his hand clasp tightly together with El's as he followed behind her into the kitchen.
The sound of his footsteps on the stairs caused them both to turn, and Mike's face lit up upon seeing him.
"Will!"
Letting go of El's hand, he walked over, meeting him with a hug, somewhat to Will's surprise.
"Hey," he smiled.
"Hey man, how've you been?" There was a certain enthusiasm to Mike's voice that Will had not been expecting.
"Um, you know, just…living in Illinois." He said. Not sure how else to describe his current situation.
"Well, we all really miss you, dude."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Of course we do! Why wouldn't we?"
Will shrugged, stuttering for a response before Nancy came in from the kitchen.
"Will!" She smiled. "Hey, it's good to see you!" She said, giving him a hug as well. "How've you been?"
Will suddenly found himself becoming overwhelmed by the attention.
"Hey! Um, yeah—uh good I guess!" He shifted his weight from one side to another.
"Mike?" Joyce called from where she stood by the phone. She looked apologetic for interrupting.
"Your mom just wants to talk to you really quick."
All eyes fell from Joyce onto Mike, and he paused before walking back into the kitchen.
Joyce did her best to break the tension she'd created. "Okay! Nancy I hope you guys are hungry after the drive because I think we have enough food here to last us through Christmas."
Nancy smiled graciously. "Starving, thankfully. It's good to know Jonathan wasn't about to let us go hungry." She said, half teasing her boyfriend who she knew was still within hearing range.
Joyce widened her eyes dramatically and murmured something comical about Jonathan's hardheaded inability to let anyone help him. Nancy laughed in agreement.
Being that most of the kids had yet to have eaten thus far into the day, the process of settling in had promptly been pushed back until after their meal.
After hanging up the phone, Mike was last to sit down at the table. He squeezed into the spot El had saved for him.
Nancy nudged him from one chair over.
"What was that about?" She whispered.
"Nothing." He shook his head, brushing off the conversation.
Nancy narrowed her eyes at his odd behavior but seemed to let it go as she turned her attention elsewhere. El however, was not quite so unbothered.
She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and Mike felt the worry in her eyes. He squeezed her hand from beneath the table, smiling at her with what he hoped was reassurance. She returned the gesture, but unease still lingered in the exchange.
A timer dinged, and Jonathan stood to retrieve the final addition to their feast.
"Alright, I think that's everything." He seated himself once again as he set the basket of rolls in the center of the table.
"Well, I think we should all take a moment to thank you for putting the majority of this together for everyone." Joyce said, her voice jubilant with the tone of a proud mother.
"Eh, it wasn't a big deal." He dismissed nonchalantly.
Joyce grinned remembering the state of panic he'd been in for the majority of the morning and early afternoon.
"Okay, honey."
"Well I think you did a very good job." Nancy complimented, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. He blushed a bit.
"So, can we eat now?" Will asked, not wanting to bare witness to more public displays of affection than necessary.
Joyce laughed. "Yes! We can eat now."
The hunger that had previously eluded El and Jonathan seemed to make a miraculous recovery as each of the four teenagers began to make a dent in their plates. Between the turkey, the dressing, three casseroles, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a delectable choice of either pumpkin or pecan pie, there was little room to focus on much else.
Joyce however, seemed to be picking at her plate.
Will and Jonathan shared a look when she politely excused herself a few minutes later.
When she reemerged casually as one would when returning from a brief trip to the restroom, the glisten of her eyes did not go unnoticed.
Due in part to her clearly emotional state, topics of discussion remained light and nonthreatening. Mike and Nancy detailed the events of the car ride and their visit with their extended family prior to the journey over. Will was caught up on the current status of the rest of the Party; Lucas's sudden interest in basketball, Dustin's never ending battle to win over the approval of his honors science teacher, as well as his nightly escapade to speak with Suzie in an effort to "keep the spark alive" as he would phrase it.
Joyce commented on Nancy's sure excitement to be in the process of completing her college applications, which seemed to raise some anxiety within Jonathan, as he nearly tipped over his glass.
All in all it was, from the outside, a delightful coming together of friends and lovers.
It was evident though, that each of them in their own way, had something to hold back.
Afterwards, Joyce was adamant that she take care of the dishes, telling her own kids (El included) they should see that Mike and Nancy get the chance to stretch their legs after being cooped up in the car for so long. It was a clear attempt at getting a few minutes alone to work through some of her own emotions. The kids took the hint.
Will caught Mike on his way out of the door.
"Hey! Mom said we could play Atari tonight. You know, if we want to. I haven't really played in a while but—"
Mike nodded. "Oh! Yeah, for sure! El just wanted to show me the river first. But, later?"
Will gave him a half-smile. "Yeah, definitely."
There was a bit of an awkward pause.
"You coming? I think we're all heading down to the water."
Will looked past Mike as Jonathan and Nancy stood outside with El. Jonathan seemed to say something that made them both laugh.
"Nah, I think I'll hang back here. It's getting pretty cold out there anyway."
The temperature dropped as late afternoon turned into early evening. But the sun had not yet descended below the horizon, and its position in the sky painted everything with gold.
At first, the four of them walked in unison towards the riverbank. Eventually though, both couples broke off, taking the opportunity to be alone together.
Mike and El made their way further down the shoreline while Jonathan and Nancy waited back, making themselves at home on the upper end of the hill.
Jonathan rested his elbows across his knees and Nancy looped her arm around his. She could see he was in thought.
"I shouldn't have made the casserole…"
"What?"
"The chicken and broccoli casserole. I shouldn't have made it today." He clarified, sighing in regret. "Hopper, he brought it to Thanksgiving last year and I remembered mom really liking it. I made it, just so maybe she would feel… I don't know…but it just—clearly it was a bad idea."
Nancy laid her head on his shoulder.
"I don't think it was a bad idea."
He rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"That's two years in a row now, she's lost someone." He shook his head. "It reminded her too much of him."
She tilted her chin upwards, trying to get him to look her in the eye.
"Jonathan…" She said quietly, "I think right now it's probably impossible for her to find anything that doesn't."
He nodded, dropping his head somewhat defeatedly.
"You know you're being too hard on yourself." She said, sounding like a caring teacher trying to break through the stubborn mind of a student a little too focused on perfectionism.
He chuckled. "Look who's talking" he teased.
She smiled and rolled her eyes, moving away from the topic onto one which was equally uncomfortable for them both.
"So when will you hear back?"
"Not until December 15th.
She nodded slowly.
"And if it's yes?"
He chuckled again, this time in bitterness.
"At this point I'm kind of hoping it's not."
She reeled her head back, squinting in disbelief.
"Are you crazy? I mean come on this is like, your dream."
"Yeah, it was." He exhaled. "But now…I just don't know anymore."
"You don't know if it's your dream?"
"No…I know it's my dream. But it's a dream. And it's just not a very realistic one right now."
He was silent for a moment.
"Nancy…I can't just leave without knowing if they're gonna be able to make ends meet here."
She placed her head back on his shoulder. She knew. And she knew better than to offer advice in a situation she couldn't relate to. Support perhaps. But not advice.
"I know."
Mike took both of El's hands in his own as he helped her to sit down beside him against the trunk of the White Oak whose branches cascaded out above the water. He felt a bit sad when he saw that she still favored her right leg when she sat, trying to hold her left leg out straight so that it didn't cause her any pain. He knew better than to acknowledge this.
"Thanks." She said sweetly, and he caught himself staring.
In the last month and a half, El had continued to grow into herself. Her style had mellowed into a blend of neutral tones which she sometimes paired with a complimentary pop of color. She enjoyed the bold prints she'd experimented with over the summer and wore them on days when she was feeling particularly vibrant. However, most of the time she found herself retreating back to the comfort and familiarity of overalls and Hopper's old flannels. She felt they suited her quite nicely, although now she sometimes preferred to wear them a bit more fashionably by looping the sleeves around her waist or tying the shirt tails off at the midriff. Her hair now tickled the tops of her shoulders, and though she tried to recreate the intricate braids Max had once adorned in her brown waves, she usually became impatient with the tedious process and decided on a much simpler two-stranded-twist.
Today, a pair of worn high-waisted jeans fit loosely over her legs, and a long-sleeve shirt was hidden beneath the buttons of a beige and forest-green plaid flannel, tied off at the hip. Her hair was up high in a ponytail, fastened by one of the many colorful scrunchies she'd acquired from her best friend. The sun brought out her natural highlights as it shimmered off of the several wisps of hair that fell down around her face.
Mike snapped out of it when he realized she was rubbing her arms to try and warm up.
"Are you cold?" He asked, immediately appreciating the fact that it was a stupid question with an obvious answer.
"A little." She admitted, underplaying the discomfort the strong breeze was causing her.
"Here!"
Knowing that he was definitely about to freeze his ass off, Mike promptly took off the wool sweater that served as the only layer in front of his thin collared button-up.
Being as tall as he now was, the garment was entirely too big for her. It hung low around her neck and she had to push back the sleeves a fair amount in order to have the use of her hands.
"See, it fits perfectly!"
She laughed.
There was silence between them as the wind created small tidal waves that rolled onto the shore.
"Pretty cool this is where you live now. I bet you could go swimming and stuff in the summer."
Mike opted to pick out some positives in the situation, if only to make El feel better about leaving. But something about sitting beside her now, in this new and faraway place, only made reality pierce through him more intensely.
She nodded, but he could tell her mind was somewhere else.
"Was…everything okay before? With your mom?"
Ah damn. He thought. He knew that question was coming.
Don't lie.
"Um, she just…wanted to talk to me about something for school…that I forgot to tell her about."
Technically not a lie.
"Oh. Like, homework or something?"
He squinted. "Mm, kinda. Or something. Pretty boring stuff really."
He continued before she could respond.
"Hey uh that reminds me, Max said to tell you she said hi and that it's really boring in Hawkins without you, and that she really misses you."
El smiled to herself. "I miss her too. And Everyone." Her smile slowly faded.
"Is it, you know, hard being here by yourself a lot more lately?"
El shrugged. "It's…lonely." She concluded.
Thanks to the regular phone calls, the two were still no strangers to the day-to-day events of each other's lives. Mike knew all about Joyce's double shifts and the challenges of homeschool and El's struggle to fall asleep at night. But their true feelings about it all? Those were harder to come by.
Guilt and fear have a way of burying themselves deep within a person, destroying them from the inside.
Unfortunately, you can only conceal yourself from the hurt for so long before it starts to cause more pain.
Two days would never be enough. Not to accept this new normal. And not to heal from the past that brought them here. But maybe it would be enough, Mike figured, to pretend and go back to how things used to be.
"Hey, I think I saw a fish jump out of the water over there!"
Looking a bit skeptical, El turned her head over in the direction Mike was pointing.
He swooped in and kissed her cheek with a haste reminiscent of the first time he ever kissed her.
She whipped her head back towards him, hand against the spot where his lips had briefly touched, suppressing the smile on her face.
"Did you see it?" He asked, obviously messing with her.
She rolled her eyes playfully, trying to implicate that she knew what he was doing.
She leaned in, and he kissed her softly on the lips this time. Both of their hearts fluttered in their chests the way hearts do when they've been waiting in anticipation…
It felt so good…to be together again.
The evening was calm after that. It seemed the worry and stress of months prior had built up to the point of inducing a release of sorts. For all that had yet to be resolved, at least for the time being, they had each other to be thankful for.
The kids brought up Mike and Nancy's bags from the car. Jonathan led Nancy up to El's room, where she would be staying for the night.
"I see your taste in room décor has changed a lot in the last two months." Nancy commented, picking up the ceramic unicorn sitting on the back corner of El's dresser.
"Ha Ha." Jonathan said sarcastically. "Yeah…mom wasn't exactly too crazy about the idea of you sleeping in my room."
"Well, I can't say that I blame her." Nancy said, giving him lustful bedroom eyes.
She laced her hands around his neck, and he pulled her in by the hips as they kissed.
Atari had lasted for approximately an hour while El, Nancy and Joyce had all gone up to take showers and get ready for bed while the boys hung out downstairs.
It wasn't the same as having the whole Party back together, but Will was immensely grateful to be spending time with his best friend again.
So grateful in fact, that he didn't even have it in him to feel more than a tad bit annoyed when everyone came back down to watch a movie together to close out the night.
El of course, immediately gravitated towards Mike, who was sprawled out on the couch, waiting for her with open arms.
"Hey." Mike said, smiling up at her as she proceeded to use his body as a pillow.
"Hi." She sighed happily, wiggling into the warmth of his chest.
"Comfortable?" He asked her amusedly.
"Very." She hummed, smiling as she closed her eyes. Mike felt like he'd died and gone to heaven.
"Good. Me too." He said, deceptively casual as he planted a kiss on top of her head.
Leaning his head back on the arm of the couch, he draped his hand across her. Lazily, he began to draw shapes into her back. His touch was light as his fingers ran over the fabric of his sweater, which she was still wearing, even after her shower. He traced up and down the slight curve of her spine.
"Mmmm, that feels nice." She mumbled.
Mike smiled to himself.
"Whenever I was little and I had a nightmare, my mom used to rub my back to try and help me fall back to sleep. It was like, the only thing that would make me calm down."
"Very calm." She half-whispered.
He chuckled at her subdued state, feeling a bit proud of his evident ability to soothe her.
There was a certain honesty to their affection that exemplified the foundation on which their relationship was built.
"Mike?" She breathed.
"Hm?"
"No nightmares tonight." She declared softly.
"No nightmares tonight." He echoed. He knew he couldn't make it a promise, as badly as he wanted to. But maybe such a thing could somehow be spoken into existence.
She spoke not a word for the entirety of the movie. Mike figured she had probably fallen asleep no more than 20 minutes after it started.
He felt her breathing become heavier until it evened out on top of his chest.
"Oh crap" he thought, realizing he would have to wake her up so that they could both go to their respective rooms for the night.
As everyone else began to say their goodnights, Mike tried his hardest not to move.
A moment later, Joyce emerged on the stairwell. She looked as if she were about to call out a question to them both before she noticed El's lack of consciousness. She caught herself, and quietly made her way over to the couch.
Mike made eye contact with her and glanced sheepishly back to El. Despite the innocence of the situation, he was very much aware that his girlfriend was in fact, laying directly on top of him.
Joyce looked down at her pityingly and brushed a stray hair out of her face. "She's exhausted." She mouthed to Mike.
"She said…she's been having nightmares." Mike whispered back uneasily.
Joyce nodded in affirmation. She bit her lip as she seemed to struggle with a thought.
Mike watched her. "Should I…um" He motioned to El, inferring that he should wake her and head up to bed.
Joyce put her hand out in hesitation. "Actually, Mike…" She paused before sighing. "Would you like to stay down here with her?"
The question nearly gave him a stroke.
Joyce was quick to clarify.
"Just for tonight though." She said, giving him the pointed "mom finger."
He looked surprised.
Joyce shook her head as a worried mother would. "She just…She tells meshe's been sleeping, but I know she hasn't had a real night's sleep in months, and with you here, maybe she'll finally get some rest."
Given the circumstances, Mike almost didn't have it in him to be excited about being given permission to sleep beside El. He got an awful pain in the pit of his stomach when he thought about how much she'd been suffering.
He simply nodded, always having so much respect for Joyce…one of the only adults in his life that truly understood what he was going through.
She rubbed his shoulder as his own mother would.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight." He replied.
"Mike?" She called down from the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?" He yelled back softly.
She rubbed her head. "For God's sake don't make me regret allowing two teenagers to spend the night on the couch together." She said pleadingly.
He flashed a smile at her sincere concern. "I won't." He promised.
Trying to create as little movement as possible, he pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch, adjusting it so that it lay up high over El's shoulders, which were slightly exposed by the bagginess of his sweater.
"Night, El." He whispered.
Max threw her head back dramatically as she groaned. It was early March, and the Party had convened customarily in the basement of Mike's house. The boys were working together on a group science project for Mr. Clarke. And though they were not a part of that group, Max and El were also among their meeting, thanks to an invitation from each of their respective now-boyfriends.
Not much progress was being made, and much to the dismay of Dustin and Will, most of the conversation was a mere tangent away from the objective.
"I just don't see why it even matters. Seriously, who ever said you're like, required to go get a haircut as soon as it gets less cold outside? I mean, she does realize that I can just put it up in a ponytail when I get hot, right?"
"Lucas? Lucas! Are you even listening to a word I'm saying right now?"
At the sound of his name, Lucas nearly dropped the miniature basketball he'd been tossing up into the air from where he lay on his back on Mike's couch.
"Oh! Um, yeah, I mean what's the big deal? But I guess if you really want your mom to stop annoying you about it for a while you could just shave it all off." He teased, reaching his hand down and making a shaving motion against her head as she sat on the floor propped up against the couch cushion.
Max shook her head to shoo his hand away. "Ew, no I definitely couldn't pull off short hair. I'd look like a boy." She joked.
The tiny rubber ball hit the floor, bouncing a couple of times as the room filled with an awkward silence. Mike cut his eyes at her contemptuously.
She looked around, confused by their reactions.
"What?" She asked.
Lucas cleared his throat and gestured over to El in a way that was definitely intended to be more subtle than expressed.
Max looked over at her and quickly tried to rectify her comment.
"Oh no no no I didn't mean—I just meant I personally would look bad…I wasn't saying that you—"
"Max. It's okay. I understand." El said quietly.
Max looked down, obviously feeling a bit embarrassed. There was a pause before Dustin spoke up.
"It doesn't matter, we all know El's a total badass and she doesn't need long hair. Besides, what's wrong with looking like a boy, Max? I mean come on you already sort of act like one." He kidded, referring to her tomboy-like demeanor.
Max held up her hand, threatening to hit him.
"Kidding! I'm kidding!" He yelped, flinching as he put his arms up to block her.
"Guys, come on! Are we gonna work on this project or not?" Will complained.
Dustin looked around in offense.
"I am working on the project! It's not my fault that non-project group members are being distracting!" He said, directing his comment to Max, who narrowed her eyes at him.
Lucas spoke up from the couch. "Um, well maybe I'm just a little upset about doing a project on a topic that I didn't get to help pick in the first place! I still think we should be doing this project on physics, not stupid bio-life-science." he argued, picking the ball up off the floor and tossing it in the air once again, this time overshooting the angle and fumbling to try and catch it on its way down.
"Haha, looks like you may not be as good at physics as you thought." Dustin laughed.
The little rubber ball was then thrown in his direction, bouncing right off of his forehead at the perfect trajectory…Lucas successfully attempting to prove a point.
In the midst of their bickering, Mike observed as Eleven disappeared into the bathroom, not closing the door, but cracking it just slightly. He could see that she was standing in front of the mirror, her hands raised up near her face.
He stood, walking cautiously as if not to startle her.
He knocked on the door with only the knuckle of his finger.
"Hey. Um, are you okay?" He asked.
The door opened.
He walked up behind her and she looked at him, her face filled with discontent. She turned back to her reflection, and he saw that she was slowly pulling at one of her curls, as though to try and lengthen it.
He sighed sadly when he realized what she was doing.
"You don't look like a boy." He said firmly.
"No?" She asked, talking to him through the mirror.
"No." He assured.
Putting a hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face him.
"Actually, you…you're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever met. He said, smiling shyly at his candor.
They'd been dating for three months now, and still the newness had not worn off.
She smiled, her eyes remaining skeptical.
Hair tends to reach an "awkward length" when in the process of growing out. Too long to push back, too short to pull up. And right now, El found that hers was just an unruly nest atop her head.
Mike reached out, trying to be romantic as he tucked a strand behind her ear. It popped right back out.
As usual, he made the best of it.
"Hey, I know there's a lot of girls at my school who are always trying to make their hair more curly and stuff. You don't even have to try, though! I bet they'd be insanely jealous of you." He concluded confidently.
They both had a hint of a blush.
He leaned forward to kiss her, more sure now of his ability to do so—
"MIKE!" Dustin hollered. "If you don't come back in here and help us with this project I'm telling Mr. Clarke to give you a zero!"
Mike rolled his eyes and exhaled irritably.
Every. Freaking. Time.
Mike moved the hand that had been resting on El's back up to the crown of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, being careful not to snag any tangles as she slept. Her now shoulder-length golden brown tresses had straightened out considerably from the curly bob she'd once sported. Now, as he tucked a strand behind her ear, it was long enough to stay in place.
Suddenly, she shifted in her sleep. Her head tilted further to the side, and the piece of hair fell right back onto her cheek. He smiled fondly.
Some things never change.
Mike decided that Eleven had always been, and probably always would be, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
He scooched downward, settling into what would be his bed for the night. He knew his neck would likely hurt like a bitch in the morning, but he decided it was a small price to pay for the endless nights he'd spent wishing to have her close again.
Will couldn't help but smile as he hurried down the stairs holding the stack of Bob's old brain teasers. He'd nearly made it to the bottom when he saw them, both out like a light.
His eyes fell on Mike.
Once again, he couldn't find it within himself to be angry. His face dropped in disappointment though as he looked at him, and back to the games in his hands. He began his ascent back up the sitars, though much more slowly this time.
He reached the top, taking one last look at his friend.
"Night, Mike." He whispered, and turned the knob to his room.
It's true what they say, about relationships being hard when you're young. And Will did worry that maybe he would never fall in love. But as he stared at his bedroom ceiling that night, occasionally glancing at the suitcase on the floor that Mike had yet to even open, he worried more intensely that maybe he already had. Maybe the love he felt for his best friend was as close as he would ever come to experiencing what it was like to fall for someone. And maybe he was okay with that.
But he just couldn't shake the feeling that, ever since he was taken, it always seemed like he never quite made it all the way back. It was as if he was still missing out on things that were happening right in front of him. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through that invisible wall leading him through to reality.
He was stuck in time, waiting for the moment when he could finally start living again.
Mike's body woke him up just after sunrise to let him know to let him know a couple of things. The first being that he had to pee. Like, really bad. The second…his neck, as he had predicted, hurt like a bitch.
With stealth that he didn't realize he possessed, he gently worked his way out from under his still-sleeping girlfriend. After a trip to the bathroom, he shuffled to the kitchen for some water.
Joyce was sitting at the table sipping coffee, already dressed for work.
"Sleep well?" She asked, a sympathetic smile on her face as she watched Mike hobble into the room, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in pain.
He sat down across from her and laid his head down on his forearm, giving her a thumbs up in irony.
She ruffled his hair, which resembled a bird's nest.
He leaned to look through the doorway at El, who was snoring softly on the couch.
"I don't think she woke up at all." He stated triumphantly.
Joyce looked at him with knowing eyes.
"When Will used to have trouble sleeping, I would end up staying up all night with him. I know it sounds silly, but I would even stay awake after he fell asleep, just to make sure he was still breathing. And let me tell you, if there was an award for sleeping in an uncomfortable position for eight hours just so you don't risk the chance of waking your sleeping child, I would've earned hundreds of them…" She laughed, trailing off as she watched her words bounce off of his ears as he continued to look off into the living room.
She rested her elbows on the table.
"It's amazing what you're willing to do, for the people you really love."
It seemed these particular words resonated with him, and he finally withdrew his gaze.
"I remember when Hop used to come into Melvald's just looking like his head was about to explode because of how much time you guys were spending together."
Mike laughed through his nose, thinking back to that brief time when life's problems were so much simpler.
"I know he could be…a bit on the crazy irrational side sometimes" Joyce stated, knowing it was a slight understatement. "But it's not easy, watching your kids get older. And Hop was always afraid of losing her. Just like you probably were."
He nodded at this, having come to terms with his previous misgivings with Hop. Right before the end, he felt they had reached at least some sort of an understanding with each other.
"Plus, fathers are always going to pretend to hate their daughter's boyfriends…it's basically a rite of passage"
"Yeah. Except I don't think Hopper was pretending." Mike joked with wide eyes.
"Well, he definitely hated the whole boyfriend thing. But, I think deep down, he knew you always tried never to let anything bad happen to her." Joyce reassured him.
"Try." Mike thought. But what's so great about trying when you don't succeed when it matters the most…
Joyce watched as the light began to fade from his already tired eyes.
"Mike. Really…How are you doing?"
He felt himself suddenly having to blink back tears. His shoulders slumped as he diverted his eyes down to his hands, which were now folded together tightly in his lap.
He shook his head. "I…I don't know."
Joyce reached out to him, somewhat alarmed by how abruptly troubled he seemed.
Before she could respond, El stirred from her sleep on the couch.
"Mike?" She called out groggily, looking around as she adjusted to the room.
Mike snapped out of his state of distress, subtly pitching the bridge of his nose to wick away any unwanted moisture in his eyes before rushing over to her side.
She looked well rested, if not a bit confused. Mike was quick to offer up an explanation.
"You uh, fell asleep laying on top of me last night during the movie. And, Mrs. Byers felt bad because you've been having a hard time sleeping, so she let us crash on the couch."
She nodded slowly as her memory of the night before started to come back to her. "Oh." She yawned.
Mike couldn't help but laugh at how blissfully out of it she was.
"Hey, you slept really well though. I don't think you woke up once all night."
She nodded and rubbed her eyes. "How did you sleep?" She asked.
The question intensified the pain now radiating down through his shoulder. "Oh uh, I slept…you know, good. I mean like, I remember being asleep at one point."
He knew she didn't believe him, and the ineloquent way he fumbled through his words caused her to notice the way he was grabbing at the back of his neck.
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"You lie." She said, laughing as she did, her tongue poking just slightly out from her teeth in a playful, childlike way.
He smiled in response.
When you've experienced what it is like to suffer, it is strangely painful to be happy. Knowing what darkness exists in the world creates an insurmountable fear of losing the things that bring such light into your life.
And so it is the unavoidable truth.
The more you have, the more you have to lose.
Loss becomes such a commonality, that sometimes it feels safer to have nothing at all.
It does not mean you can't try to simply live and enjoy all of the good things that come your way, but it does mean that every effort you put forth to make it last, may always feel like a gamble with God.
And to God Mike prayed, he would never have to lose her again.
This story is so very personal to me. It has become such an intense labor of love and passion, and though it has taken me a while to create, I'm happy that I can post it for others to enjoy as well. At this point I feel like I have internalized the stories of these beautiful characters so much that I forget they are not real.
It is bitter sweet, to end it here, before it is finished. However, I will continue to move forward with many of the themes and ideas reflected in these chapters. But, it will be a fresh start of sorts, intertwining the events of season 4.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for reading.
Please review, and I'll see you in the next one!
- Heather
