[A fic for day 5 of @jancyweek2020. The theme is ‘one difference’ - and I’ve written about Karen finding Jonathan in Nancy’s room back in 1x06!]
Karen Wheeler pinned the final wave of her brown hair into place and stood back from the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. Smoothing a barely visible crease in her shirtdress, she nodded to herself. Perfect.
She knew some people thought she was vain, but she just saw it as being sensible. Why wouldn’t she want to look as good as she could? At her age, especially after three kids, she was lucky to still have her figure and a relatively unlined face. Lucky too to have the money to buy nice clothes and visit the salon every week, courtesy of Ted. (And she knew maintaining a certain look was an important part of keeping him, even if he didn’t show much interest in her these days.)
Yesterday had been rough. Funerals always were, but a child’s funeral – her son’s best friend – that was too much. She’d worked so hard to build a safe, happy, prosperous life, but seeing Joyce’s dazed and broken face had made her realise how quickly things could be taken away from you. All you could do right now was enjoy what you had, and try to hold your children a little closer.
Maybe she’d see if Nancy wanted to help her make breakfast. They could do blueberry pancakes, her favourite. They used to cook together all the time, her little girl standing at her elbow and solemnly watching as she measured out the ingredients. Her Aunt Janine had even made them matching aprons the Christmas Nancy was eleven, with their names embroidered on them. The two of them had drifted apart over the past year, but this seemed like a good moment to try to get back to a simpler time.
Her older daughter had been out last night – a movie with Ally, or maybe it was Stacey. She’d heard her come in just after Karen had gone to bed, so it wasn’t too early to wake her. She didn’t bother knocking, and was already opening the door as she asked, ‘Nancy, sweetheart, are you up?’
Nancy was up. She was sitting on her bed, books scattered around her. And next to her, asleep in her bed was – a boy.
Karen stared, agape. Nancy was momentarily frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Then she carefully jumped up off the bed and walked towards her mother, glancing back at the boy, whoever he was. (Presumably this was the mysterious Steve Harrington, but his face was buried in a pillow.)
Her daughter shushed her (actually shushed her!), and led her by the arm out into the hallway.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Karen asked in a loud whisper. The last thing she needed was for Ted to hear this conversation.
‘It’s not what you think!’ her daughter replied, her blue eyes looking at her mother pleadingly. ‘Jonathan and I were just—talking, about Will and Barb, and everything that’s been happening, and…and neither of us wanted to be alone.’
Wait, that was Jonathan Byers in there? She’d seen the two of them spending time together at Will’s funeral, and thought it was sweet of her daughter to reach out to the boy, but this was definitely not sweet.
‘Oh really?’ said Karen. ‘What am I supposed to think? A couple of days ago I found out you’d spent the night with some boy I’ve never even met, and now I find a different boy in your bed. It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore, Nancy.’
Nancy looked genuinely hurt by that, and Karen felt a stab of guilt. But honestly, what was her daughter thinking? If she didn’t want to be alone, her whole family was right there. But apparently Nancy would rather confide in a boy she hardly knew than her own mother.
‘It’s not like that,’ Nancy said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘Jonathan and I are just—We’re friends. We were just talking. Oh my god, Mom, we were at his brother’s funeral yesterday. Do you really think we’d be…doing anything after that?’ Karen tried to read her daughters expression, but found it hard to parse. She looked exhausted, for one thing, and full of anxiety. Barb’s disappearance was taking a toll. It was plausible, she realised, that Nancy and Jonathan had just connected in their shared grief.
But she didn’t quite believe her daughter’s statement. The way she’d glanced back at Jonathan as she’d pushed her mother out of the room wasn’t just about trying to avoid a scene. She’d been genuinely concerned; she’d wanted to let him sleep. And Jonathan was a sweet boy, he took good care of Will and seemed very responsible. He was someone she’d have been happy for Nancy to go on a date with. But the kind of boy she was happy to find in her daughter’s bed was no boy ever.
Karen took a deep breath. She didn’t want to drive her daughter away even further, but she didn’t want to be a pushover either. ‘Nancy, I’m not interested in excuses or explanations. But I never, ever want you to have a boy sleep over in this house again, do you understand?’
‘Right now I really need you to get Jonathan out of this house before your father realises he’s here.’
‘It’s okay, he can climb out my window.’
That answer came way too easily. Was this not the first time Nancy had snuck a boy in or out of the house? Karen didn’t want to think about it, but there were a lot of things she was suddenly having to face up to.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes. And then I expect to see you at breakfast, alone.’ With that, she turned and headed downstairs to cook breakfast on her own, wondering where her little girl had gone, and if she’d ever get her back.
Nancy didn’t appear at the breakfast table. When Karen went upstairs to check on her, Jonathan was gone – and so was Nancy.
