Chapter 7: Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)

Isn't that the way they say it goes? Well, let's forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine and to show
I've overcome the blow, I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real, but that's not the way it feels

Hopper hasn't spoken to his ex-wife in nearly a year and a half. He isn't satisfied with the way they left things.

It occurred to Hopper suddenly, one day toward the end of February, that he hadn't spoken to his ex-wife in nearly a year and a half. The realization was startling. The unsolicited drunken calls to Diane had been a part of his life for so long that he could hardly believe he'd stopped doing it without even noticing.

He wondered whether she'd noticed. She must have. He'd done it often enough that she must be surprised not to have heard from him in so long. He swiveled in his chair to look out the window as he thought. He'd hung up on her the last time they spoke, and he was almost certain that she'd been calling him back when he ripped the phone cord out of the wall. Maybe she'd tried to contact him, in the months since, and not been able to.

No, that was unlikely. She would have called him at the station, if she really wanted to talk to him. And why would she? She'd hated his calling, begged him every time not to do it again. She was probably relieved not to hear from him anymore.

And yet…Hopper tried to imagine their positions reversed. If he'd moved on with his life and Diane was the one calling regularly to dredge up haunted memories he was doing his best to leave behind, he would be glad she'd stopped. But he'd also be worried, he thought. If her calls had just ended suddenly, with no explanation and no indication that she was getting better, it would feel more ominous than positive.

Before he could really think it through, Hopper had picked up the phone on his desk and dialed Diane's number, dimly surprised that he could still recall it instantly even after all this time.

"Hello?"

At the sound of her voice, his mouth ran dry, and he briefly considered just hanging up.

"…Hello? Is anyone there?"

He cleared his throat. "Hey, it's, uh…it's Jim."

There was a surprised silence on the other side. His chest ached when he realized that he could picture the exact face she was making, confused and a little incredulous. After a few seconds she said uncertainly, "Jim! Hi."

This had been a terrible idea. He'd had no reason to believe she was worried about him, and her surprise at hearing from him indicated pretty clearly that she hadn't exactly been waiting for him to call. And that stung a little, for some reason. He didn't have or want her love anymore, and certainly didn't want her pity, but it had been a bit of a comfort in his darkest moments to know that she did, at least, still care about him, even if their marriage couldn't survive the grief. But maybe that care had dissipated too.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, hi, sorry. Sorry." Not for the first time, he instinctively reached to fidget with the hair tie before remembering that it was on El's wrist now. "I, uh…look, I'm sorry for calling."

There was another short silence and then Diane said, "It's okay." And to his surprise and relief, she sounded like she meant it. "Are you…is everything okay? I haven't heard from you in awhile."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I just…" He was unsure how to articulate even to himself why he'd decided to call her. "Wanted to check in. See how things are going." And that wasn't it, exactly, but it was close enough. "How is…"

"Ryan," Diane supplied when he trailed off. "He's…good. He's about nineteen months now."

Ryan. Hopper tried to imagine Diane with another baby. She'd been so scared when Sara was that little, worried constantly that she'd mess something up and make a terrible mother. Her fear had been misplaced, of course. He wondered if she was that afraid now.

"Is anything new with you?"

Hopper almost laughed at that. For a wild moment, he considered telling her about El—how dangerous could it possibly be, with Diane all the way back in New York? But it was still a risk, and they didn't take risks. "Not much," he told her. But then he remembered part of his reason for calling, and added, truthfully, "I've been…doing better."

Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he could hear a little bit of a smile as she said, "That's great, Jim." She seemed sincere, at least.

And her approval made him feel like he'd suddenly set down a weight he had't even realized he was carrying. It hadn't even occurred to him, throughout all his guilt over loving another child after Sara, that Diane would understand better than anyone. It would be a long time before she could know about El, but even so, that Sara's mother didn't lash out at him for being happy again meant more to him than he had expected it would.

"Listen, Diane—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know you don't like me calling. I won't do it anymore, okay? I just thought, after last time…I didn't want that to be the last time you heard from me, you know?"

"I get it," said Diane softly, and he knew that she did. "It's okay, Jim, really."

"But I wanted to say…I meant what I said, then. I don't regret it. And I also…" He swallowed hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "I don't regret how things turned out, either. And I hope…I hope you feel the same."

When Diane answered, she sounded a little tearful herself. "I do."

"Good," said Hopper. "I'm glad you're happy. Really."

"And are you? You said you're doing better, and I'm glad, but…are you happy?"

Hopper looked around his office. An outsider wouldn't be able to detect any difference, but the mug on his desk had been a Christmas gift from El, ordered to Joyce's house from a catalogue that Mike had brought her. The Thermos he'd brought for lunch was filled with leftovers from dinner with the Byers last night. And there was a Star Wars-themed calendar from the boys that Flo had insisted he pin to the wall despite his grumblings.

"I'm getting there," he told her, honestly.

—

That night, as he watched TV with El, he felt lighter than he had in a long time. It hadn't occurred to him, before Diane asked, to describe himself as happy. He was so used to depression and guilt and self-loathing that it surprised him to realize how much he had changed in the past year.

When she leaned into his side and laid her head on his shoulder, as she did so often lately, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her air almost absently, marveling in how normal it now felt to him.

There would always be the pain of Diane and of Sara. It didn't really feel any smaller than it had five years ago. But now the pain wasn't all he had.