ROBIN EILEEN BUCKLEY IS BORN MARCH 15TH, 1968 IN HAWKINS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL. a small town, far smaller than oregon but big enough for the buckley's to make it their own. it's a stormy day as spring pushes in ahead of schedule, similar to how melissa buckley's water breaks two weeks early. power flickers under the onslaught of wind gusts and rogue strikes of lightning, but despite it all, neither melissa nor richard buckley are worried. they have a good feeling about their little girl, and that's all they need. a tornado doesn't touch down, the power doesn't go out, and while she vows to never do it again, melissa gives birth to a fuzzy - haired, blue - eyed baby girl. she cries until she is cleaned anew and held to her mother's breast, and does not make another peep the rest of the night ― something melissa will come to look back on wistfully.
robin's childhood is ... easy, in a way, strange and clumsy in others. her parents aren't very strict and she has very few rules to disobey -- not that she ever wanted to. really, it's everything kids her age dreamed of: relative freedom to do WHATEVER YOU WANTED, as long as you were honest at the end of the day and instead of getting in trouble, your parents would laugh, clap you on the shoulder or ruffle your hair, and offer you a joint they know you'd turn down. HERE'S THE THING --- robin didn't know what she wanted to do as a kid. she had interests, she soaked up pieces of knowledge like a sponge ( french horn, history, languages ), because they had guidelines to follow. instructions. NO ONE EVER THOUGHT TO WARN HER THAT THERE WAS NO MANUAL FOR LIFE. how to walk, talk, run, breathe, be. HOW TO READ THE SILENT CUES THAT EVERYONE EXPECTS YOU TO KNOW INHERENTLY. she got to learn her mother's pretty quickly, though. stern looks she couldn't decipher that eventually evolved into something she could understand: robin, hush. robin, stop talking. robin, why would you ask that? that's rude. robin, be still. be quiet. be smarter. you know better than that. melissa buckley could protest for legalization and against meaningless war and distrust governments with all the passion of an ex-hippie who detested the status quo, but that didn't mean she could understand her daughter. SOMEHOW, SHE COULD MAKE SAYING THE WRONG THING FEEL LIKE GETTING CAUGHT FOR SNEAKING OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
SO THERE WERE MISSTEPS. everywhere. robin learned what was and wasn't acceptable underneath her mother's empathetic lense -- ugh, robin, at least try to make it sound like you care, or, somehow, fix your face. you're squinting. -- and when she should just clamp her jaw shut in certain company. she learned to withdraw. the line between hippie informality and parental expectancy was terribly thin but razor sharp. ( robin, please don't call me melissa in front of the other parents, it's weird. ) a household that encouraged individuality but looked away when they felt she stuck out like a sore thumb. IT WASN'T ALWAYS BAD, THOUGH. her father would never scold her for stumbling over social cues, or become annoyed when she took something at the face value it was presented and not the hidden layers underneath. richard buckley would smile, maybe laugh a little, and tell her that humans are just complicated and it'd be impossible to understand them all. he'd ruffle her choppy hair, that her mother had fussed about because she'd loved braiding it when it was long, and explain what he could in answer to her ceaseless questions or put on his newest david bowie cassette and sweep little robin's mind away from what was bothering her. HE WASN'T ALWAYS AROUND, THOUGH. he already worked long hours for the music shop uptown, and when the pay per hour couldn't justify the gas and groceries, the local steelworks had him there day and night, or so it felt.
and the more time robin spent with her mother, or the kids at school that would only laugh or roll their eyes when she choked on the words rapid-firing from her tongue, the more she realized that some differences would just not be accepted in this world, not unless you buried them deep. SHE TRIES TO BE MORE AWARE. but it seems that apologies for her known shortcomings aren't well met, either. SHE REALIZED THAT THIS TOWN WOULD SWALLOW YOU AND ALL YOUR INDIVIDUALITY WHOLE IF YOU LET IT. and after barb drifted from her in favor of the sweet, pretty girl with a white picket fence and a full family, robin stuffed it all down deep. highschool was just another hell, a fang on the monster of hawkins that looked at her sidelong when she cut her hair a little too short or wore articles of clothing that leaned more on the ambiguous side, not even explicitly masculine, THAT SHE KNEW WOULD EAT HER ALIVE FOR SOME TERRIBLE FLAW SHE DIDN'T EVEN RECOGNIZE YET. because discovering who you are at the same time you're trying to hide yourself? it's like flinching when her mother smooths a band-aid over her scraped knee, waiting for the needle pricks of what she did wrong behind the tender hands. robin buckley tried to grind her teeth into monotomy, prayed she would one day claw free of this place, but gradually learned that maybe fading into the grey wasn't the answer, either. THEN WHAT WAS? SHE WOULD ALWAYS BE HATED FOR WHAT SHE WAS BY SOMEONE, ALWAYS NIT-PICKED FOR WHAT SHE COULDN'T HELP, and sometimes it takes cracking a russian code when you're bored in the summer and being catapulted into fighting actual monsters against the end of the world to realize that.
that sometimes all you need is a few people that see you, to let them see you, and maybe things will turn out alright -- if you aren't killed by faceless, hive-minded, inter-dimensional monsters first. quitting soccer and joining band because you like it more, sitting with your english teacher in your free period because he's the only one that gives a damn what you could say in your essays, SLINGING ICE CREAM WITH THE ONCE-KING OF HAWKINS HIGH AND PROFESSING TO HIM YOUR DEEPEST SECRET IN A BATHROOM STALL, because suddenly the truth doesn't feel so big in the face of being drugged and tortured by russian soldiers, and for the first time in years feeling like you can be entirely yourself with someone. and maybe it isn't so bad, MAYBE YOU'RE NOT SO BAD, maybe not everyone in the town is infected with the unseen monster that told you you were rotten from the inside out just because some people don't UNDERSTAND. maybe it's finally releasing its talons from you.
