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metalhoops · 1 year

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Nancy Wheeler always wanted something. That was her secret. It was the one thing that no one knew about her because she hardly knew how to explain it to herself. It was like being hungry for something other than food. It was illogical, incomprehensible and all the things Nancy had never let herself be.

She prided herself in being capable and competent. This manifested in different ways across the years. In the days before her best friend’s death, she had prided herself in her grades, her appearance, and her capability to somehow charm the once acclaimed ‘ladies' man’ Steve Harrington.

After that, things got messy, and her world changed. Her friend died, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She’d learnt how to use a gun to keep herself and those she loved safe. She redefined capability, using it to encompass roles like ‘fighter’ and ‘protector’.

She realised she’d never loved Steve, not really, not in the way she should. Steve was funny. He knew how to make her laugh, sweep her off her feet, and make her feel special. No one had done that for her before. She’d lived in a crowded house that always felt empty. Steve understood that. Her mother and father had been dancing around each other since she was born. Even as the eldest child, she’d never felt special, not until Steve.

Then there was something about Jonathan. He’d been kind and compassionate. He’d been something Steve wasn’t. She didn’t want to be with Jonathan because of any external forces. Dating Jonathan wouldn’t turn heads or make the other girls in school look her way with something akin to envy. But it might fill that gaping hole of want. Jonathan understood her. He saw her for who she was and he’d loved her for it. No one had ever done that before. Steve had come close, but he hadn’t seen her. He’d seen the possibility of a white picket fence and a family.

Nancy knew if she went for that life, she’d be just like her mother. A woman filled with ambitions and dead dreams. A woman who got glassy-eyed when gazing out of her bedroom window, as though envisioning herself opening the glass and soaring free or falling to her death, impaled on the same white picket fence that’d sprung up like a field of daisies the day Nancy Wheeler was born.

For a while, Jonathan had been enough. Until he wasn’t. She didn’t know who owned the blame for the demise of their relationship. It happened slowly, maybe when he moved to California, possibly before that. They were two continents drifting apart. He left in his wake the same old familiar aching hole of want.

She applied for colleges, worked on her journalism, and freelanced for a couple of local papers outside of Hawkins, ones where women were allowed a seat at the table. It helped. She was done trying to impress others. She wanted to impress herself.

She felt more at home in her body while she was moving, but when she came home, either to her estranged family house in Hawkins or to her silent student dorm room, she felt the hole once again. That was when Steve asked her to move in with him.

She wanted to say no. She wasn’t going to do it to herself or Steve again. She didn’t want to give him hope. He was always in love with her. It waxed, waned and morphed like the moon, but the love was always there. Yet, to her surprise, he shook his head, showing her he’d also changed in their time apart.

“Not just with me, Nance. Robin and Eddie are coming too. There’s enough room. It’s gotta be lonely sometimes hauling up all by yourself.”

Nancy couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. So she didn’t.

What she hadn’t expected was how much she would enjoy having someone to come home to. The house was never quiet. Eddie would play his guitar at all hours of the night and morning. Ever since the group had made the mistake of getting Steve a record player for his birthday, he’d blast his music while cooking or cleaning. She couldn’t go a week without waking up to Toto’s Africa. A prospect that’d once petrified her, had somehow managed to bring her such comfort. Then there was Robin. Robin was never quiet. She was always talking to Nancy.

Nancy had gotten used to her childhood home, where they ate together at mealtimes but remained silent. The place where, when she asked about someone’s day, she’d get a one-word response and a thousand-yard stare. When she asked Robin about her day, the girl told a novel-length, detailed account, filled with wild hand gestures and, more than once, illustrations.

Nancy had come home late after spending the day at the library trying to complete a paper for her Intro to Communication and Journalism course. She was surprised to find Robin home alone, sprawled out in front of the T.V. watching what appeared to be a French Film.

“Where’s everyone?” Nancy asked, letting her bag thud to the floor as she positioned herself on the armrest of the couch.

“Watching a movie at the drive-in. I said I couldn’t go since I’m sick, real bummer.” Robin faked a cough, then winked at her, sitting up and making room for Nancy. When she didn’t move quickly enough, Robin pulled her closer.

The girl was clearly faking it. For what end, Nancy could guess. She knew Steve and how he acted when he was in love. He and Eddie had been mooning over one another for months. At first, it’d surprised her. She’d tried to deny her intuition, unsure why the concept of Steve liking Eddie made her feel naked. Nancy had always been progressive. It didn’t bother her that Steve or Eddie liked men, but it made the old, odd ache within her burn.

“Do you think they’ll finally work it out?” Nancy questioned, watching as a flicker of surprise, followed by an air of mischief fell over Robin.

“Oh, Steve knows he’s got it bad for Eddie,” Robin confided, a cheeky grin spreading over her lips. Their faces were very close. Her eyes were blue, flecked with greys and greens, perfect in their imperfection.

“He’s been waxing poetic to me for the past month. You thought listening to him talk about girls was bad? At least I can relate to that. Listening to him gush about Eddie kinda makes me want to puke. I mean Steve’s all ‘his hair looks so soft and curly, Robby.’ what am I meant to do with that? To me, Eddie’s just... I don’t know, our gremlin roommate that lives in our walls. I like the guy, but I don’t know what Steve sees in him,” Robin admitted with a laugh.

She slung a hand around the back of the couch and absentmindedly tangled one of Nancy’s curls around her finger. Oh. Nancy liked that more than she should. Robin smelled like green apple shampoo, pen ink and poor decisions.

Nancy was good at noticing things. She wanted to be an investigative journalist, and it came with the territory. She’d heard Steve mention how Robin had the habit of talking too much when she liked a girl.

Nancy also noticed how Robin looked at her, the way her eyes lingered when she came out of her bedroom in her nightdress. Her eyes had scraped over Nancy’s shins, calves and the hollow space beneath her clavicle. All the new exposed flesh she usually kept hidden. It shouldn’t feel intimate, but it did. She’d seen drawings of her likeness amongst the clutter on the kitchen table and knew who they’d belonged to. Robin was good at drawing. She wondered if the girl would ever consider doing comics for the papers. It’d be nice to work with her around.

Nancy knew Robin was talking, but she didn’t hear a word of it, distracted by the stray strand of sandy hair, caught in Robin’s lip gloss. Nancy was smart, smart enough to know nothing good could come of acting on what she was feeling. She leaned forward anyway, brushing the hair back behind Robin’s ear, watching her go still.

“How’d you get that?” Robin asked, capturing Nancy’s hand, trailing her finger over the scar cut across her palm. It was too close to another night, another possibility of love, another stupid decision by Nancy Wheeler.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nancy breathed, pulling back from Robin’s hand.

“Robin, can you do me a favour?” Nancy asked, but before she had time to reply, Nancy pushed forward.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” she warned, her voice small but deathly serious.

Robin pulled back as though slapped, looking at the woman before her with wide eyes, seeming like a creature ensnared in a trap. It’d come out all wrong. Nancy was never good with this kind of thing.

“I hurt everyone that loves me,” she amended.

“So please don’t fall in love with me, because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Robin blinked owlishly at the girl before leaping to her feet and pacing before Nancy and the TV.

“Holy shit,” she breathed as she paced. Robin’s body never felt at home staying still either. Nancy opened her mouth to say something, but it was drowned out by another bout of ‘holy shit’.

“You like me, Nance,” Robin exclaimed, gesturing an upturned palm between the two of them.

“You have to like me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t say that. And I mean, why the hell would you say that?” Robin ran a hand through her hair before huffing and sitting back down across from Nancy, taking her hands into her lap. They were both shaking. To her credit, Robin didn’t touch the scar again.

“It’s not your fault. What happened between you and Steve. You know that right?” Nancy hadn’t expected that. Robin was always on Steve’s side for everything, they were best friends.

“I broke his heart, too. He’s told you that, right?” He had.

“That’s different,” Nancy reasoned.

“Just because a relationship doesn’t work out doesn’t mean it was pointless. It’s like... I don’t know, having a crush on Tom Cruise,” Robin reasoned, instantly losing Nancy.

“Alright, bad example. What I mean is back in high school, I had a major crush on Tammy Thompson. Don’t give me that face. Steve has said everything you could say. The point is, looking back at it now we never would’ve worked. She was a total flake. She was pretty but I’d drive her up the damn wall, like, could you imagine Tammy Thompson letting me talk about Italian Neorealism for two hours? No. But you did.” Robin nudged Nancy’s shoulder as though to prove a point.

“Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. The point is, I realised I liked girls because of Tammy Thompson, so liking her wasn’t a waste of time. You changed Steve and Steve changed you, same with Jonathan. It’s made you who you are, Nance and who you are is a total badass, that I really, really like. So please don’t tell me not to fall in love with you. It’s not fair. You won’t hurt me, but even if you do, I think it’d be worth it for us to try.”

Nancy never had learned to shut Robin up, but she suddenly had an idea.

She leaned forward, placing a shaking hand on Robin’s cheek and crashing their lips together, sleek, sticky, glossed lips smacking together, tasting of strawberry, feeling like home.

Maybe the third time was the charm.

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