SOMEWHERE, just beyond view, a fly buzzed insistently in the dimly lit kitchen.
Ana Thompson felt as though the unseen insect was mocking her. That the sound everyone assumed emanated from its wings flapping, was actually that of tiny snickers.
The lyrics to "Happiness Is A Warm Gun" by The Beatles kept playing in her head like the record sounded repeatedly from a revolving turntable in her mind.
'I need a fix 'cause I'm going down...'
Ana had tried to be cool and understanding, she really had, but she wasn't known for being particularly adept at either. More importantly, though, she had run out of patience.
She was sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette when Hopper approached the cabin after spending another grueling day at the police station. That should have been the first indicator that something was off, Ana hardly ever smoked anymore, and there was a fresh pack sitting beside to her on the patio table.
"Is El home?" Hopper asked, exhaustion coating his voice. It had been a long day, and it was about to get even longer...he just didn't know it yet.
Ana didn't look at him immediately, instead, she stubbed out the remains of her old cigarette in favor of lighting a fresh one. "El is out with the party," she answered shortly. Her chain-smoking and lack of engagement was definitely the second warning.
Hopper hovered on the steps, noting her concerning behavior wearily, before opting against commenting on it. He intended to head inside to change out of his uniform when Ana's next statement paused his progress. "You know, I have extended family in Utah. You want me to call down there and inquire as to how the whole polygamy thing works?"
It took a few beats for the question to bounce around in Hopper's brain before he regained the ability to speak. "What're you on about now?" He asked with a heavy sigh.
Ana was looking at him then, and the light from her cigarette illuminated the searing glare she was offering in his direction. "You know, polygamy, the practice of having more than one romantic partner. Sorta seems like a thing you'd be into. Just figured I could do some inquiring on the matter, find out what we're getting into moving forward." She said it so naturally, as though they were discussing something as benign as the weather, and peered back off in the direction of the darkened woods.
They were on the cusp of an argument, Hopper could see that plain as day, and he could guess as to its origin. However, he wasn't going to engage in her provoking willingly. "I'm not interested in polygamy," he stated, affronted.
A mocking smirk took its place on Ana's lips, though in the darkness of the patio, it appeared more like a scowl. "You aren't?" She asked, chuckling humorlessly. "Does your other girlfriend know that?"
Suddenly, Hopper was throwing his hands up in frustration, knowing exactly the source of her unjust anger. "If this is about Joyce-"
Ana stopped his rant short. "So you do count her as your other girlfriend. Good to know," she stated with a sarcastic titter.
If they were going to have this fight, and there was no denying that was the direction the pair were headed, Hopper would be damned if he was going to do so empty-handed. Withdrawing his own pack from the depths of his pocket, he lit a cigarette as well, and took the first pull in deeply, hoping it would calm his already heightened nerves.
Leaning his hip against the railing, Hopper cocked his head to look at Ana in irritation. "What's your problem?" The question came out sharper than intended, and her raised eyebrows told him that the tone was wholly unappreciated.
Ana took another drag, contemplating her next words. "I thought I was past this sharing shit." She intended for the statement to sound harsh, but it resonated as meek more than anything, and that just increased her frustration. Ana had long ago told Hopper of her past relationship with a man whose eyes tended to wander, but he thought he'd done a better job of reassuring her.
There was that heavy sigh emanating from his chest again, as Hopper ran a hand over his face. "Joyce just watched Bob die, would it kill you to be a little more sensitive?" That was the entirely wrong approach, and Hopper could see that the moment her demeanor shifted.
Ana leaned towards him, balancing her elbows upon her knees, with a true scowl gracing her features. "I've been plenty sensitive," she sneered. "I'm just struggling to understand why you seem to be at her every beck and call."
"I'm not-" He started, crossing his arms over his chest, but, again, Ana didn't let him finish.
"Why you feel the need to go hang out with her at Melvald's near daily." Shit. He didn't know Ana was aware of his semi-regular trips to Joyce's workplace, and the shock showed on his face.
Ana let out an indignant laugh and sat back in her chair. "Didn't think I knew about that, did you?" Hopper didn't have a decent explanation, so he chose the smart move of keeping his mouth shut. "She called earlier and let that little nugget slip by accident, seemed pretty surprised that I wasn't aware you two hung out so often." Again, Ana only received silence in return. "I told you before, Jim, I'll get out of the way if that's what you want." Ana's voice had lost some of its edge, and she was lighting up a third cigarette to keep her hands busy, to minimize the shaking.
Hopper abandoned his place against the railing in favor of crouching in front of her chair. The move reminded her of how adults approach children. Bring yourself down to their level, never leer over them, so they don't perceive you as being demeaning. She resented the gesture immensely. Hopper withdrew the freshly lit cigarette from between her fingers and stamped it out in the ashtray so that he could take her hands in his. Ana tried to shake him off, but Hopper held fast.
"You're Eleven's mother, nothing is going to change that," he reassured with a slight squeeze to her hands. Ana wanted to melt at his words and touch but knew that if she did, this argument would just arise again on a later date. No, they needed to resolve this persistent issue here and now.
"Am I? Or am I just the interim babysitter until something better arises?" She challenged stubbornly, and this time she was successful in pulling her hands loose of his grip.
From the look on Hopper's face, Ana's words might as well have been delivered as a physical slap. He stood back up and moved away from her, towards the door. "You know what, if you're not going to listen to me, then why don't you just go ask Joyce yourself?" Hopper shot back before entering the cabin and slamming the door shut behind him.
Now, sitting in Joyce's kitchen, hearing that damned fly taunt her, Ana was regretting taking Hopper up on the offer. Tapping the well at the source was always easier said than done.
"Ana," Joyce called, knocking her out of her stupor, out of the memory that lead to her current predicament. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
Ana sucked in a breath from between clenched teeth. She was here, and there was no point in turning back when she'd already come this far. "Is there something going on between you and Jim?" There, she had gotten the hard part out of the way, asked the question that lived like a stubborn mold at the back of her mind.
Joyce lightly chuckled at her inquiry, though Ana found it to be anything but funny. "Oh, honey, no. Nothing is going on between Hopper and me." Honey? The term of endearment reminded Ana that she was once again being talked down to like a child. She despised the implication that she was acting juvenile, being dramatic.
"He's awfully protective of you," Ana asserted. Possessive, was more the word she was angling for, but Ana let it rest at protective.
"We're friends," Joyce assured while busying herself around the kitchen. Her search for a distraction told Ana the older woman was growing uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. Good, let her be uncomfortable, the school teacher thought. It was recompense for all the times she'd watched on while Joyce and Hopper had engaged in whispered conversations and shared in secret, significant moments without her involvement.
Ana's eyes turned to slits as she watched Joyce, idly tossing kitchenware into cabinets. "You two seemed more than friendly at the Snow Ball Dance," she remarked pointedly. Ana was growing tired of repeatedly being dismissed, and if she had to apply some pressure to get the truth finally, then she wasn't above doing so.
Joyce's movements halted at the insinuation, and she slowly turned back around to face Ana, who had an eyebrow raised in challenge. "Ana," Joyce started carefully, "Hopper and I have been through a lot together."
"I understand that," Ana responded shortly.
"See, I don't think you do," Joyce remarked while pointing an accusing finger at the younger woman.
Ana was beyond fed up by that point, through with being treated like an imbecile, so her next response came out as biting. "Then why don't you try and explain it to me because Jim sure hasn't been able to."
The air around them was filled with tension as the two women appraised one another. Joyce Byers was a slight woman, both in build and manner. There was an air about her that screamed frail, and it was no wonder that Hopper felt the constant need to protect her. Joyce appeared too weak to fend for herself, those doe eyes always wide and worried, so she'd always need a savior to be strong for her. Joyce was all the things Ana had taught herself not to be, and, it seemed, she was going to be neglected for it.
Ana abruptly stood from her seat at the kitchen table, nearly overturning the chair with her sudden shift. "It was a mistake coming here. I'm sorry." Ana wasn't remotely sorry, not really, but she wanted to escape the stifling environment as quickly as possible. Ignorance had to be better than this stilted conversation of patronizing half-truths.
However, before she could push back her chair and head for the door, Joyce was stopping her. "Wait. Just, hold on a second. It's because of my ex-husband, Lonnie." The admission had Ana slowly sinking back into her seat at the kitchen table.
Joyce floundered for a few moments over how to start her explanation, her hands wringing endlessly through a wash rag she'd plucked from the counter. "When Lonnie and I first split up, things got really bad," she began. Ana stayed quiet and waited for her to continue.
"The night I threw him out," Joyce took a shaky breath before proceeding. "The night I threw him out, Lonnie got violent, and the boys had to call Hopper." Ana's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. This hadn't been the direction she'd expected the conversation to take, and she was immediately regretting her insistence.
"Then, everything happened with Will disappearing, and now Bob. Oh, Bob..." Ana watched as Joyce crumpled into tears before her, and she felt like a right ass for pressing the fragile woman so hard.
Leaving her seat, Ana rounded the table and took the weeping woman into her arms, stroking her hair in an effort to be comforting. "He's just worried, you know," Joyce continued through the tears that were soaking Ana's shirt. "Hopper, he just worries about everyone so much."
"I know, Joyce. I know, and I'm sorry." This time, Ana actually was sorry, and she knew that she wouldn't be bringing up the topic of Joyce and Hopper's friendship again.