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From a logistical standpoint, leaving Hawkins will be the easiest part of El’s escape. From an emotional standpoint, it will also be the most difficult.
This floods her mind as she pushes Mike out of the Void, doing her best to drown out the screams she hears in the distance. If she wasn’t already intimately familiar with everything about him, including his sounds, she would assume it was coming from a wild animal. She doesn’t want to run down the tunnels. She wants to go back, or at the very least pull him into her mind once more and assure him that what he sees is just Kali’s illusion, but her determination not to let her sister’s sacrifice be in vain wins out.
She’ll just have to replay his screams in her mind every day for the rest of her life. If her plan is successful, it will be a very long one.
There are more important things to think about right now.
Before she knows it, she arrives at the barbed wire fence separating Hawkins from the rest of the world. Training with Hopper over the last year and a half has prepared her for this very moment, and whatever energy she may have drained during the final fight with Henry returns as she forces herself to jump over, leaving Hawkins behind for good.
This is it. She’s free.
Well, not completely free. She still needs to keep running from Hawkins. So, she keeps moving through the woods as long as she can. While it’s still dark, she stumbles upon another small town and finds a church with a clothes donation box outside, which lets her put together a makeshift outfit of jeans and flannel. Then she resumes running, only stopping whenever she’s on the brink of collapse. And once she feels she can get back up, she moves with the same intensity as before.
She’s not sure how long she’s been running for. Hunger, thirst, and general exhaustion have made things like time nothing more than a construct. But after what feels like an eternity, she finds herself literally out of the woods and at the edge of a highway, smack face-to-face with a sign telling her she’s reached Illinois.
Until now, El’s been running without a destination in mind, instead fueled purely by the need to get as far from Hawkins as possible, as quickly as possible. It hits her that she can get to Chicago. What she’ll do from there, she doesn’t yet know. But it’s something — anything.
At this point, El is finally comfortable hitchhiking. It takes some time to find someone willing to stop for her, and even then, it takes a few tries before she’s able to take them up on their offer.
The first person who stops — an obvious sleaze about ten years older than her — says he requires a “quid pro quo”; when she stares in confusion, he gestures at his zipper. She slams the door without saying anything, and once he’s resumed driving, she uses her powers to drag a sharp rock from the side into his path, giving him a flat tire. She keeps walking, not even stopping to look at the creep as panics over his predicament. The next few people ask too many questions upfront — her name, her destination, what the hell she’s doing on the road to begin with — leading her to politely nod and keep moving.
She finally manages to flag down a middle-aged couple in a colorful van. They appear nonchalant about her downtrodden appearance and desperate need of a shower. Once she enters the vehicle, she gets it — it smells just like Argyle’s van.
The woman in the passenger seat looks at her through the rearview mirror. “You’re looking worse for wear there, hon,” she laughs, her bright blue eyes shining even through her thick lenses. “Tell me, are you going somewhere or running from something?”
Oh, she has no idea. And while El is smart enough to hold her tongue, she wants to blurt it all out, let someone else in on the life she can no longer pursue, if for no other reason than she already feels so overwhelmed that the thought of carrying it for the rest of her life is almost unfathomable. So, she just whispers, “Both.”
El notices the woman’s eyes shift, her face turning to look at her husband in the driver’s seat. What she’s trying to tell him, El doesn’t know, but they all seem eager to ride in silence, the only sound coming from the muffled radio.
“Listen,” the woman probes, “we’re on our way home to Evanston. It might not be where you need to go, but we’ve got a spare bedroom. Can let you shower, have a nice meal, do what you need before you get back on the road.”
Normally, this would be the stupidest thing to say yes to, but El’s not in a position to turn down help right now. Even if it’s just to eat real food and wear clean clothes for the first time in days, the desire for something to go right is too overwhelming.
After what simultaneously feels like forever and no time at all, the stars peeking out being the only notable sign of the passage of time, they pull into the driveway of a yellow bungalow. El doesn’t immediately get out, leading to the man opening the back door himself. “Can’t wait all night, kiddo.”
El just nods without looking at him, following the couple into the house. It’s unlike any she’s ever seen before. The furniture is a mismatch of tones and textures, and tapestry replaces doorways in many of the rooms. As she looks at the bookcase in the living room, taking note of titles like The Anarchist Cookbook, Steal This Book, and Naked Lunch, and the records by the vinyl player, featuring artists like The Grateful Dead and John Lennon, she takes comfort in the thought that these aren’t people who will turn her in.
“Need some reading material?”
El jumps, turning to find the woman standing only a few feet away, and takes a moment to really look at her. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a braid and her clothes are colorful, a bit like what she imagines Mama would be like if Papa and the lab hadn’t destroyed her. That thought helps bring her guard down. “Do you have anything with happy endings?”
“Sure do,” the woman laughs, kneeling as she looks through the selection. “I bet you need something light right now, so let’s see… have you ever read Little Women?” She hands El a copy when she shakes her head and continues, “Give it a try. It was written over a hundred years ago, but I think it understands women better than a lot of what comes out today. It’s better than anything men write for us, that’s for sure. Can still hope things will change one day, though.”
The rest of the evening is quiet. She learns the couple is named Frank and Gloria, and in addition to the book, they offer El chicken soup and a toothbrush, both of which are greatly appreciated. Before parting ways for the night, however, Gloria gestures to El’s wrist.
“Don’t see a lot of young girls with tattoos,” she says quietly. “I didn’t get my first until ’69, and I was twenty-five then. Things must have changed.”
She has no idea.
El wakes up at 10 the next morning, far later than normal, but Frank and Gloria don’t seem to mind. They’re seated on the couch and waiting for her as she comes into the living room, and she’s convinced this is when they’ll ask her to find a new ride. Instead, both adults turn their heads and give her a quizzical, yet nonjudgmental, look.
“Look, kid…” Frank begins, and El notices how his voice is lower than yesterday. “We’re not going to hurt you, but we need you to be open with us. Are you all right?”
“Well…” El begins, soon drifting. She has to find the best way to explain what she needs without putting her life — or theirs by extension — at risk. “I need… help.”
“We knew that yesterday,” Gloria sighs. “And we want to help you, but we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s going on with you. You don’t have to tell us everything, but we need to know what the basic problem is. Even if it’s just in broad strokes. We’re better at this than you might think.”
Frank joins in, “Oh yeah, you’d be surprised! I know it doesn’t look like it, but helping people out? It’s kind of our whole deal.”
“He’s not wrong. Okay — maybe it isn’t our whole deal, but some of our friends and us, we’ve been doing this with a lot of different people over the years, probably since before you were even born. And we want to help you. We just need to know where to start. Are you running from your parents? Your boyfriend? Someone else trying to hurt you?”
El bites her lip and tilts her head, again lost in thought. These people are eerily similar to Murray, who had talked several times about some of the groups he was part of back in college. She can’t remember all the names, except that some were obvious while others were purposely meant to throw outsiders off, and they had radical political values that were inherently distrustful of the structure of government. More importantly, many of these groups helped political refugees, protestors, and agitators.
Are these people trustworthy?
It’s almost too big a risk to take, but at the same time, El can’t afford not to take at least one. So, she gives an answer slightly more eloquent than what she gave Mike four years ago. “I need to get away from bad people. Important bad people.”
Frank and Gloria look at her, then each other, then right back at her. Their expressions are indiscernible.
“Are you telling us,” Frank says slowly, “that the authorities are after you?”
El nods.
“All right. Go on, tell us your deal.”
She does, or at least as much as she can. She’s not completely honest — she can’t afford to be — but she tells them how she’s been on the run for the last few years. She talks carefully about Mama’s participation in government-sanctioned experiments and how once El herself was born, she was forced to participate because of her exposure to drugs in-utero. She explains the lengths officials have gone to either take her in or simply kill her or the people she loves.
She doesn’t expect them to believe a word of what she’s saying. That makes what comes next so much more jarring.
“That explains the tattoo.” Gloria’s words hit hard. El hadn’t expected her to take much notice of the “011” still conspicuous on her left wrist, but she does without being asked. “I thought you were a bit young to have it on you. It’s too faded to be a recent one.”
They believe it.
Frank and Gloria show her newspaper articles about people who “disappeared” under mysterious circumstances, only to have actually escaped the United States with the help of people just like the ones sitting in front of her right now. They show her photos, letters, and journals going back to the mid-1960s, documenting their connections, the people they’ve helped.
El hasn’t said much as Gloria and Frank share their stories, both because she can’t find a good time to cut in and because she just needs to process what she’s hearing. “How—” she finally manages, stopping herself so she can form a coherent thought. “How am I supposed to believe you? And how — no, why do you believe me?”
Frank shrugs. “Your generation… it’s way more optimistic than it has any right to be. I blame it on Reagan defunding the education system that’s supposed to tell you the truth, but that’s not your fault. I just don’t know if anyone your age could make this lie up and tell it so convincingly. And truth be told, your story isn’t the first we’ve heard about kids being taken like this. There’ve been stories for years. A lot of us have had bits and pieces and shared it with each other. You just confirmed it and put it all together.”
El doesn’t know if she believes in a higher power — she only learned of the concept a few years ago — but if there’s any evidence of its existence, she’s looking at it right now.
Against all odds, El manages to find her saviors just days after leaving Hawkins.
Frank and Gloria, true to their word, help her find a way out of the United States. By January, she has a both a passport and a birth certificate under the name Elizabeth Johnson, albeit with her birth year listed as 1969 rather than 1971. She even has a visa that allows her to live in Iceland via connections that to this day she can’t quite comprehend. Something about an old friend having a cousin in the Alþingi who’s pulled strings for several other American political defectors.
When she arrives in Selfoss, she finds a job working behind the counter at a cafe. She knows next to nothing about pastries or coffee, but under her boss Solveig’s watchful eye, she’s happily surprised discover her natural gift for baking. Making Triple Decker Eggo Extravaganzas with Hopper has clearly paid off.
Her apartment is just a few blocks from work. It’s tiny and not especially inviting, but she finds ways to make it her own. She uses her spending money to decorate the space, putting up purple curtains and painting the walls yellow. Thanks to Gloria ultimately gifting her a copy of Little Women, she develops a love for literature. The pile of books quickly gets bigger, providing her with an education that a traditional school never could. She rents VHS tapes and falls in love with cinema, whether it’s a classic she’s never seen before or the latest import from Hollywood.
She quickly learns to drive and eventually saves enough money to buy her own car, giving her the freedom to travel to Reykjavik whenever she wants. During one visit, she goes to a tattoo parlor. She doesn’t want to see the digits every day, of course, but she also needs to reclaim her body — her personhood. As soon as she walks into the shop, the burly man raises an eyebrow and asks if he can help her. Once she holds up her left wrist and asks how she can get her current tattoo modified, he changes tune and starts asking questions.
“These are supposed to carry meaning,” he tells her excitedly. “It could be a word; it could be a picture. All I care is it matters to you. Knowing what you already have, is there something you have in mind?”
Home.
Moving forward, whenever El looks at her wrist, she no longer sees a reminder of her former life, which saw her as a weapon rather than a human. Instead, she sees the promise that she has the power to build a meaningful life moving forward, and she owes it to herself to pursue it.
It isn’t always easy, though.
For one thing, it’s hard for her to make friends. It’s always been difficult, but the combination of her late introduction into society, previous bad experiences, and the fear of letting anyone risk their safety by getting too close to her means she always keeps people at arm’s length. She makes many acquaintances and even begins to consider some of the girls she works with friends, but it’s not the same.
There’s also her love life, or more specifically, her lack of one.
El has no interest in dating. When she feels virtuous, she tells herself that it’s for the same reason she doesn’t have close friends. When she feels lonely, she’s honest and admits that whatever she pursues with someone else can’t compare to what she previously had with Mike. She won’t try to replace it or even find something new.
She’s committed to not checking in on him through the Void, not trusting herself to be discreet. Sending him mail, even if she doesn’t write her name, is out of the question. She just settles for her memories. The promise ring he gave her remains steadfast on her left index finger, a bittersweet reminder that she’s at least experienced love in a way most people can only dream of.
By summertime, she starts traveling to see the country’s various waterfalls. When she talked with Frank and Gloria about places she could go, she blurted out that she wanted somewhere that had lots of them. Luckily for her, Iceland fits the bill, and she’s committed to visiting all of them.
Her weekends are spent hiking along the falls, taking advantage of the long hours that allow her to spend more time in the natural world. She wonders what Mike would think of everything, from the relative seclusion to the intrinsic beauty of the sights. After her disastrous stint in California, she’d come to accept that city life just wasn’t for her, and Mike had often told her he wanted to settle in a small town where they could just focus on each other. As it turns out, this is the perfect place. If he can’t be there, then she’ll enjoy it for them both.
During El’s second summer in Selfoss, her coworker Sigrún lends her a vinyl of an up-and-coming band from England. She listens to it after work and loves the entire record, but it’s the third track she listens to on repeat. Whether it’s about an actual woman overcoming oppression or England’s tenacity, she’s not sure. What matters is that the song ultimately describes unending strength as a waterfall.
It’s talking about her.
It’s been nearly three-and-a-half years since El escaped Hawkins. She hasn’t contacted anyone since, all too aware of the danger she’ll put them and herself in if she reaches out. She misses her friends, her family, and especially Mike, but knowing they’re all safer without her there must be enough. She refuses to give in to her impulses, no matter how tempting they may be at times.
That is, until today, where she’s decided to reach out to Hopper in the Void.
She’s visited him without making him aware of her presence many times over the years, mostly just to make sure he’s well and see how anyone else around him is doing. She often sees him with Joyce, and the rings on both their hands indicate they got married at some point. She tells herself that she’s happy for them and knowing they’re safe outweighs any sadness she may feel over not being there to witness it all.
If only she can believe it.
Sometimes she sees Will and Jonathan with them. They seem older and more confident, often accompanied by people that she doesn’t recognize: Will with a gawky young man wearing glasses and a leather jacket, Jonathan with a pretty woman with long auburn hair and flannel. But they also seem much like the brothers she remembers being loving, introspective, and creative.
Once, last August, she thought about reaching out. It was breakfast time on their end, which was always a good chance to see them all together. She watched as they ate and talked about the last days of summer before the boys returned to school, and it made her ache in a way she couldn’t quite describe.
Nostalgic?
That was a word Mike had taught her during the van ride home to Hawkins back in ’86. After everything they’d just experienced, both separately and together, her distress over losing the tresses she’d been so proud to finally have felt childish. Mike validated her all the same, pressing his lips to her cheek and running his hands over her buzzed head.
“It’s like old times,” he told her. “Besides, you’re still pretty. Really pretty. Beautiful. I promise.” Both Byers brothers and even Argyle nodded in agreement, and that made her love them all even more.
That memory ran through her mind as she watched the family continue to eat. She seriously considered for the first time breaking her own rule and making contact, even if just to give them a sense of her presence.
Then reality came crashing down. Hard.
“Mike called last night,” Will announced in between bites of scrambled eggs. “His train will arrive in a few hours, so I’ll need to take the car to pick him up. Is that cool?”
They will kill Mike.
That prospect was why El had made her choice in the first place. She’d long hoped that Mike would have figured out the true meaning of her cryptic message, but that had to be enough. She had to let him live his life without any further contact. And if Will got confirmation that she was alive, then he’d almost certainly tell Mike, who she knew would drop everything and everyone to go after her, consequences be damned. She’d sacrificed so much to ensure they were safe, and she couldn’t be selfish and make it all for nothing.
El didn’t listen to anything more. Instead, she immediately left the Void, dry heaved into the nearest basin, and cried for twenty minutes. Once she came to her senses, she renewed her vow to herself that she wouldn’t give in to her impulses, no matter how tempting. She occasionally visited in the months following, but only long enough to still ensure that their lives continued without her. That had to be enough.
Her visit this past Monday changed her mind.
“If you don’t take this more seriously, then you will die,” an older man in a white coat — it must have been a doctor — said sternly to a seated Hopper, who just looked at the floor, rolling his eyes and tapping his foot.
“I’ve lived through worse, Doc,” Hopper grumbled back. “And I’m telling you, my wife’s been up my case about it and making sure I do what I need, but if this is it… well, we’ve done what we can.”
She wanted to reach out right then and tell him to do something — anything — to stay alive. But with the doctor right there, she knew she couldn’t, at least at that moment. She immediately left, returning to the reality of her small bedroom an ocean away.
Despite her best efforts, the scene has replayed in her mind ever since.
He’s breaking the rule: Don’t be stupid. That can’t continue to happen.
It’s selfish, but if anything can keep Hopper from doing whatever it is that puts his life at risk, it’s letting him know that she’s alive and safe, and she needs him to keep living. If not for her, then for the rest of them, as well as himself.
So, on Good Friday, she checks in on him. He’s sitting at a desk, probably at work. More importantly, he’s alone. If she has one opportunity to reach him, then this is it.
She moves toward him one step at a time, taking a deep breath as she finds the strength to speak. “Hello, Hop,” she says once she’s only a few feet away.
It’s only now that she realizes she’s never actually done this with him before, so she really shouldn’t be surprised when he jumps out of his chair and stares at her like she’s a ghost. Which, technically, isn’t too far off.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as his body goes stiff.
El inches her way to him once again, eventually taking hold of his hands. “Hop, please look at me,” she says, still gently but more firmly. “I am real. I promise.”
Slowly, he opens his eyes and stares at her. She can tell he’s taking it all in, trying to process that this is happening, that she’s here. Perhaps he’s dreamed about this moment before. She certainly has, far more times than she can count.
There’s so much she wants to say, but she feels him let go of her hands before she can open her mouth. She’s about to protest, only to feel him wrap her in his arms, squeezing her close to his chest. His heart pounds against her face, and it’s before she can fully register the emotional weight of the moment that she hears him begin to weep.
Over the years, El has imagined countless variations of reuniting with her father. The scenarios have involved different locations, introductions, questions, and even resolutions. Not even one has included this.
“You made it out,” he whispers through his tears. “Thank God. Thank fucking God.”
That’s when El finally joins him, hot tears trickling down her face. “Kali helped me,” she manages to get out. “You made her see that there was a way forward. But I hope you understand that this… it’s the only way we can be safe.”
“I misjudged her,” he admits softly. “I’ve never been happier to be so wrong about something in my life. But what I still don’t get is… why now?”
“I saw you the other day. The man said you were going to die, and… why would you let that happen?”
Hopper’s own tears stop as he pushes away from her and looks down. “Kid,” he chuckles, “I’m not going to die. At least, not yet.”
“But he said—”
“I have something called diabetes. Basically, I need to take some medicine and be better about how I eat. If I don’t, I could die, but I could just lose a foot. The doctor’s mad because he thinks I’m not taking it seriously, so he’s trying to scare me straight.”
She stares at him, checking for any deception or half-truth, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s being honest with her. And with that comes relief: He’s going to be okay. He is okay. Accepting this, El finally allows herself to breathe.
“And you should listen,” she whispers. “After everything that’s happened… you cannot do that to Joyce. Or to me.”
Hopper shakes his head. “You’ve been watching.” It isn’t a question. He continues with a sigh, “I should have known. I should have been paying attention. I—”
“Stop.” Her tone is adamant. “I asked you to trust me. You did. And I chose to stay away, for all of you. Please don’t blame yourself. I wanted it this way.”
She can tell it’s Hopper’s turn to scrutinize her, but his face is otherwise unreadable. She wonders if he’s ever put together what happened that November evening. She’d pulled Mike into the Void instead of him, but there was no way Hopper could have known what Kali had done for her. Though as much as he’d hated her sister, even he had to have known at the end how his own words helped her understand that El still had potential for a life of freedom.
Before El can ask him about any of this, he stops her with a question of his own. “Listen, kid, I gotta know — where the hell are you?”
She wishes he’d asked something else, anything else. Darting her eyes and sighing, she mutters, “I’m sorry. I need you to understand that I wish I could tell you, but I just can’t risk it.”
“Of course not.” He groans and shakes his head, jaw twitching slightly. He almost certainly expected this answer, but it can’t be any less painful. Her heart breaks as she watches him resign himself to it. “Well… are you at least safe?”
“Yes. And I’m happy.” Hopper smiles at that, but she can’t bear to admit that there’s more to it than simply being happy. She may be content, but the Hawkins-shaped hole in her heart is as big as ever. While she’s made peace with the knowledge that she’ll always carry a certain amount of emptiness, it doesn’t make life better. It just makes it more manageable.
“But you can’t tell anyone,” she continues. “Not Joyce, Will, or Jonathan. Not even Mike. Especially not him. I did what I had to because he would have followed me otherwise, and I won’t let him risk it.”
Hopper nods. He’d kept her hidden in the cabin for a year, after all, and he knows better than anyone that safety often goes together with heartbreak. “No,” he says gently, lovingly. “No, you won’t. You never will. But I just hope you know that even though it still breaks his heart, he understands too.”
It still breaks his heart, but he understands... Has he figured it out?
El shoos away the thought almost as soon as it crosses her mind. The answer won’t change anything. She won’t let it. Instead, she takes a final look at her dad. “I have to go now,” she whispers with regret. “But I want you to know that I love you. All of you. I always will.”
Like the last time she said goodbye through the Void, she doesn’t wait for an answer. She just gives a final smile before releasing Hopper back into his reality, thus going back into hers as well. Looking around her small bedroom, she lets herself cry, but this time it’s different. Yes, she’s sad, but she also feels relief for the first time in years. For now, it’s enough to keep her going.
April 4, 1992, marks the first time El goes on a date with someone who isn’t Mike.
She should have seen it coming. Gunnar Arnarsson, an up-and-coming physician at his father’s own general practice, has been a regular at the café since it first opened, long before El’s own arrival in the small town. Tall with floppy brown hair and hazel eyes — a rarity in Iceland — he looks a bit like Steve, and his personality reminds her a bit of him too. Sure, he’s more intellectually minded than she remembers Steve being, but he has the same cocky attitude that fails to mask a giant heart. And like Steve, he’s great with kids. Whether it’s in the cafe or in the village, El often sees Gunnar playing or volunteering with youngsters.
What’s more, he clearly likes El. Whenever she hands him coffee or a pastry, he asks her about her latest craftwork or her latest read. They talk about the music they’re listening to, and he’ll sometimes bring rock cassettes for her to borrow, even when she doesn’t ask.
Maybe it’s because he reminds her of someone she wishes she’d become closer friends with. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t remind her of Mike. Whatever the reason, which she’d rather not think about, she just says yes when he asks her to dinner.
He takes her to a little restaurant where the conversation flows easily. They talk about upcoming movies they’d like to see, what they’ve been reading, and the ramifications of the end of the Soviet Union. As they eat their fish and lamb, she tells him about how long it took for her to get accustomed to Icelandic cuisine, having grown up with a ferocious sweet tooth.
“I guess that’s why I can never stop working for Solveig,” she laughs. “How else would I get so many free treats?”
Near the end of the meal, he gets personal. “Can you tell me about your tattoo?” He clearly likes it. The Seattle Sound has made its way to Europe, even to Iceland, and having ink on one’s body is more socially acceptable than it was just a few years prior.
El purses her lips, trying to figure out the best cover story. “I suppose it’s a way to remember that I’m enough,” she says carefully. “I’ve moved around a bit, trying to find the right place. But no location will define me. I define me.”
“That’s actually quite beautiful,” he laughs. “And maybe a bit cheesy, I’ll be quite honest. But Elísabet, I like your perspective. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”
He walks her to her building at the end of the date. She lets him hug her but turns away when he tries to turn it into a kiss. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t like to kiss on the first date.”
Luckily, Gunnar doesn’t push. “You don’t kiss on the first date,” he repeats with a laugh. “Fair enough. But because you said first rather than only, does this mean there will be another?”
El just smiles as she bids him goodnight. As soon as she’s inside her apartment, she pours herself a double shot of Brennivín and sits on the couch. When she sees the ring on her left index finger, she cries and doesn’t stop for an hour.
The following Tuesday is April 7: Mike’s twenty-first birthday. She’s pretty sure that’s the drinking age in the United States and hopes that he’s grabbing his first (legal) beer with friends and family. Maybe a girlfriend too, though she tries her best not to dwell on that possibility.
Maybe just one look through the Void?
No, not a chance. If she doesn’t like what she sees, like him with another woman, she’s afraid of what she might do. And if he’s alone, what’s stopping her from reaching out?
Her memories will have to suffice.
She thinks back to his sixteenth birthday, the last they spent together. It was a school night, but the group still got together at the Squawk to celebrate. At some point between gifts and cake, Mike pulled her aside and led her to the basement. She knew exactly what was going on and was more than happy when his lips crashed into hers.
One thing turned into another, and soon El felt Mike’s fingers fumble under her skirt. He pulled away reluctantly and looked at her, the unspoken question clear. She just giggled and kissed him again, eager to comply. After all, whatever he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with his enthusiasm.
When they eventually made their way back upstairs, they bumped into Steve and Robin, who were coming down from the rooftop. El noticed the joints in their hands — Mike had previously explained to her what it was that Jonathan and Argyle were doing all day back in Lenora — and quickly looked away. She wouldn’t say anything if they wouldn’t. Unfortunately, that was never going to work with the duo in front of her.
Steve was the first to talk. “What the hell is this, Wheeler?” His free hand moved to his hip, the other flying in the air in the exaggerated way only he could pull off. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to wipe your girlfriend’s lip gloss off your face when you’re done making out with her?”
Mike’s eyes nearly left their sockets, his face quickly turning redder than a tomato. “I — uh — I thought I got it all?” His voice got higher as he stammered, palm quickly moving over his lips and chin in a desperate attempt to remove the damning evidence of their recent tryst.
While Mike tried to play it cool, whatever brain activity El previously had going on suddenly switched off. “What are you talking about, Steve? I’m not wearing lip gloss.”
Yikes.
As El realized what she’d just revealed, everyone else had their own reaction. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands. Robin gulped, eyes darting rapidly between the young couple, but El could also see the beginnings of a smirk. Meanwhile, Steve’s jaw dropped, as did the joint in his hand.
“Goddammit… Wheeler, come with me for a second, will ya?”
Mike didn’t argue, so El watched the two walk off into another room, the door shutting behind them. She turned back to look at Robin, who finally found a way to break the ice.
“Sooo,” she snorted, “Wheeler’s a giver, huh? That’s big of him. I mean, you always hear about how guys are afraid to do it. Then again, most guys don’t have a superpowered girlfriend, so maybe he knows just how lucky he is and wants to show you. For your sake, I hope that’s it.”
El blushed. “Does Steve like to do it?” If Robin was going to go there, then she could too.
Robin coughed. “Oh,” she managed to sputter. “N-no. I mean, I don’t know if he likes it or not… Steve and I aren’t like… that. We’re just friends, good friends. And that’s all we’re ever going to be.”
El tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. Steve and Robin were attached at the hip and seemed perfect for each other. How were they not a couple? She had a lot of questions, but decided not to prod, instead listening as Steve’s interrogation of Mike got louder.
Words like discretion and hygiene came up, as did the fact that limited shipments because of quarantine meant that they couldn’t easily replace whatever surface they’d just defiled. Eventually, the two came back out, and while Steve just shook his head when he locked eyes with El, he turned around to take another look at Mike and grabbed his shoulders.
“One last thing, Wheeler? Proud of you.”
El still laughs thinking about that moment, even though it always comes with a profound sadness. She’s always grateful that she had the opportunity to ever be surrounded by the people she loved and who loved her back, as well as bonding over their shared love for the others. Knowing now that she’ll never see them again, she aches when she mourns what was and what should have been.
But maybe wanting more is asking too much. After all, how was she ever supposed to realistically expect to remain with Hopper, Mike, and the rest of the people she’d come to see as family? Whatever force controlling the universe clearly didn’t want it to happen, so why fight it?
She just needs to move forward — alone — whether she likes it or not. After all, she still has people around her, even if they aren’t the ones who truly know her.
But as she lies in bed that evening, she lets her mind replay that memory on a loop, along with other, more intimate moments between just her and Mike. Her hand wanders, the feelings intensify, and for a few minutes, it’s bliss. Still, she cries once it’s over.
She doesn’t go out with Gunnar again. The next time he sees her at the cafe, he asks if she’d like to take a day trip to Reykjavík. “There’s an amazing record store there,” he tells her. “I could introduce you to some more of the newest acts — all kinds of genres, too. You mentioned you like pop music, yes?”
Her eyes shine as she bites her lip. “Gunnar, I really liked having dinner with you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out again. It’s not you, I just don’t want to be dating anyone. I think I just like my independence too much. But I hope you know I am sorry.”
She means it, though not in the way he might think. She’s sorry she took the time to go out with him when she already knew she wasn’t really into him, and she’s sorry she’s hurting his ego now. She’s sorry that she isn’t telling him the full truth of why she can never give all of herself to this wonderful man. But more than any of that, she’s sorry for her own situation. She’s sorry that she found true, unadulterated love before she was even aware of the concept, and that through no fault of her own or Mike’s, she can never experience again.
Gunnar, a fundamentally good man, respects her decision. She knows they’ll continue to run into one another — a given in the small town — but turning him down now means that they can continue to have an amicable relationship. It’s not the kind of relationship she wants, but the one person she sees herself with romantically is the one she can never have.
It isn’t fair. But it is the reality, and she’ll find a way to survive. It’s what she always does.
If only she didn’t have to keep doing it alone.
By 1995, El is fully integrated into the community of Selfoss. People know her, talk to her, trust her. She still doesn’t have very close friends, or at least in the way she did back in Hawkins, but she has people she can rely on and who help her whenever she needs to talk, cry, or laugh. She becomes the cafe’s general manager when Solveig retires, and she delights in having a responsibility that’s utterly normal.
Hopper had begged her to pursue the happiest life possible, one where she could eventually have a child of her own and give them the life she never had. For obvious reasons, she doesn’t know if that’s ever going to be possible, but it’s more than Kali’s warning that she could never have anything.
It’s a compromise. Halfway happy. Something.
One Friday in June, Sigrún comes into the cafe twenty minutes late. Her clothes are rumpled, her short hair standing in a hundred different directions. El’s learned over the years that Sigrún responds poorly to stressful situations and predicts a long-winded story. Sure enough, she’s right.
“I’m so sorry, Elísabet,” Sigrún sputters, words coming out a mile a minute. “I know it’s not an excuse, but this morning has just been so chaotic. Flóki wasn’t responding when I tried to get him to eat his breakfast and started clawing at the couch when I tried to get out the door. Then, some American approached me, asking all these questions about roads and not seeming to like my answers. And if that wasn’t enough, my bike ran over a tack and got a flat tire, so I had to walk it seven blocks, which is hard when I also have this heavy backpack. Again, I’m so sorry. Please, please, please don’t punish me. I promise I’ll be better.”
El’s habit of keeping to herself has somewhat ironically made her a listening ear in the community, since others see her as someone they can talk to without fearing judgment. This isn’t the first time Sigrún has come into work like this, and it almost definitely won’t be the last. It at least means El knows what to say to calm her down and help her get through her shift.
“Relax, Sigrún,” she says with a giggle. “Flóki is probably just having a bad morning. Who cares about the rude American? I don’t, so why should you? And your bike has gotten flat tires before, and you’ve always fixed it. I promise you, everything will be fine. Just do what you need to make it until the end of the day.”
This is enough to calm Sigrún, at least for now, and El is grateful. As much as she loves her job, even she’s feeling disconnected from everything today. It’s probably nothing serious. Her birthday was two days ago, and she always feels a bit empty in the days leading up to it and in the days after.
Then again…
She can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but the melancholy she normally feels this time of year has been replaced by something else. It’s likely not related to something happening back in the States. She’s visited Hopper in the Void several times since their tearful reunion, though without contacting him, but she’s certain she’d just know if something was wrong.
Right?
She does her best to distract herself throughout the day, focusing on updating the inventory and ensuring that the coffee machines are functioning as they should be. Her mind eventually turns to her planned weekend excursion to Urriðafoss. It only takes twenty minutes by car; once she’s there, she’ll just sit and read, the sounds of the waterfall drowning out the banal noise of the surrounding world. And she’ll just stay there all day, not a care in the world, just living for herself.
Others might consider it boring, but she finds it liberating.
El eventually takes pity on poor Sigrún and lets her leave early but doesn’t yet close the shop for the day. Sometimes people come in near closing time, hoping for a late afternoon cup of tea or a pastry, and she isn’t one to deny an essential craving.
Five minutes before closing time, the entry bell chimes, leading El to look up from her book. She drops it almost immediately.
Her mind goes blank.
Standing in front of her is a lanky man with black curls and dark eyes.
A man she never intended to see again.