Chapter 30

Black Friday 1987

Alexei woke up earlier than he'd intended from the sound of people honking at each other below. He looked down at Main Street. It was jammed with cars and people. He wasn't sure what might be going on, but he threw on his clothes and shoes. No sense in missing a good spectacle.

People were lined up outside the door of the store where Joyce worked. He got in line instinctively. If people were lined up, they were selling something good. And anyway, what else was he going to do until breakfast?

When he got inside, though, he instantly wanted to escape. Why were these people pushing so much? Whatever they were selling couldn't be that good. He plastered himself against a shelf and let the crowd surge by. Once he had enough space to breathe, he looked for Joyce. They couldn't let her work on a day like this. She was so small, these people would crush her. But there she was, on a ladder, restocking a shelf. He pushed back against the crowd until he made his way over. He grabbed the ladder and shouted up at her.

She looked down and smiled. "Alexei! How are you? You need help finding something?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's a little crazy, but that's Black Friday."

"Dis is normal?"

"For the day after Thanksgiving, you bet. But hey, it's time and a half for getting here early. I can't talk now, but come by in a few hours if you're not busy. We need to catch up." And she folded up her ladder and made her way back to the checkout line. Alexei watched, half-expecting the crowd to swallow her at any moment, but she made it back to relative safety behind the counter. He didn't feel at all at ease with this situation, but he wasn't sure how to protect her, particularly if she didn't believe she needed to be protected. He loitered around, looking at things he didn't need, and then decided it was probably safe enough to go across the street for something to eat. He found a seat near the window, so he could keep an eye on her store while he had his pancakes and coffee, just in case. But by that point the crowd was thinning out. He finished his breakfast and let the smelly record store owner sell him "killer tracks." He'd had to explain again that he wasn't quite sure what he wanted, because Soviet censorship had so limited what he could hear.

"That's heavy, man," the record store owner said, before selling him some Warren Zevon and telling him to come back if he wanted "something to go with it." He assumed that would probably be a similar record, so he said he would listen and then decide. Then he circled back to Joyce's store.

It was nearly empty. Joyce was picking up the merchandise people had strewn about. He couldn't help grunting a little bit as he got on his knees to help her clean up, then was annoyed with himself. Did he have to sound old? But she didn't seem to notice, or more likely didn't care. What was it to her if his bones hurt?

Jonathan was settling in well at NYU, and Will was finally getting the hang of geometry. "I have you to thank for both of those," she said. He blushed and made some modest comment. "No, I really do appreciate everything you've done. If you ever need anything, just ask."

He paused and wrestled with his pride for a moment. Need won out. "I do need some help." Joyce indicated she was listening. "Do you – it's silly – do you know any vomen viddout men?"

"You want me to set you up on a date?"

"Forget it. It's silly."

"No, it's fine. I'll have to think. What are you looking for?"

"Someone intelligent-"

"That's going to be a tough order in Hawkins, finding somebody intelligent enough for a guy with a doctorate in nuclear physics."

"You're intelligent. You didn't go to college, but you say interesting dings."

"Oh, well, that's easy. If I'm intelligent enough for you, no problem finding someone. What else?"

"I like kids. Maybe someone with kids?"

"You want a ready-made family?" It sounded strange, like a factory somewhere was churning out families, but he nodded. "This is going to be so easy. There aren't a lot of guys who have steady jobs, want a woman to talk to and like kids. I know some moms who'd fight over a guy like you."

He smiled for the first time in a while. Joyce was probably exaggerating, to boost his confidence, but it still felt good not to be seen as the defective appliance left on the shelf. "Dank you so much."

"Not a problem at all. I'm glad we can catch up now, since you couldn't make it for Thanksgiving."

"Couldn't make it?"

"Hop said he ran into you and you said you were having dinner with some friends from the lab. Which is great. How was it?"

Was he supposed to lie? "I don't – it vas fine. Ve had turkey." That was what they were supposed to eat, wasn't it? "And – potatoes?" Everyone ate potatoes, so that couldn't be wrong.

Joyce gave him a look. "I'm pretty sure you're lying, but I can't figure out why. Want to shed a little light?"

"I – maybe he misunderstood."

"You were alone for Thanksgiving?"

"It vasn't so bad."

"Nobody should be alone on Thanksgiving. Come over tonight. I have tons of leftovers. We'll have dinner. It'll be nice."

So he found himself outside the house Joyce rented, a few sad little grocery store flowers in hand. He wasn't sure what the rules were in America, but in Russia it would have been a terrible breach of etiquette to show up without flowers for the hostess. Joyce gave him a friendly hug and ushered him in. Jonathan and Nancy were off somewhere, but Will was there. He noticed the fourth plate, and hoped against hope that Will had a friend coming. But no such luck. Hopper stopped in his tracks when he saw Alexei at the table.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I invited him," Joyce said, with just a little edge in her voice.

Alexei spent most of the meal stuffing his mouth and spoke only when directly addressed. Some quiet power struggle was playing out, and knowing Joyce and Hopper, it wouldn't stay quiet long. Will got up to go as soon as he finished eating and shot Alexei a sympathetic look.

After he'd eaten all the food Joyce had heaped on his plate – so much for losing weight – Alexei excused himself as quickly as he could. He didn't relish going home to his empty apartment, but he didn't want to be around when the tension exploded. Hopper walked him to the door, stepped outside and pushed him up against the outside wall.

"You just can't stay away, can you, Smirnoff?" he said.

"She invited me."

"Yeah, and you played the pathetic little bachelor to guilt her into it."

"If you vanted me to lie about having a Danksgiving dinner, you should have told me."

"You just can't stand that you lost-"

"I can't stand? You von. I know dat. But you couldn't just vin. You had to take avay my friend. I vent over today to ask her to help me find somevone. Because she loves you, not me. So vy are you so jealous?" He pecked Hopper on the cheek. Hopper let go of him, in shock. "Dat's all I ever got from her. Happy?"

The screen door swayed. Joyce was standing outside. How much had she heard? He didn't really want to know. "Excuse me," he said. "Joyce. Hopper."

He ran until his legs and lungs burned, then walked the rest of the way home. When he got in, he threw off his clothes and jumped in the shower. It was silly, since he lived alone, but the old habit of running water when he needed to cry or shout died hard.

He got his emotions out, made a half-hearted attempt to dry his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. He wasn't anywhere close to sleepy. It was going to be a long night. Maybe he'd make some tea and try to relax. He had just put the water on when someone knocked at the door.