Chapter Text
The first time it happens, Robin can't believe it until she sees the two cars drive through the stone columns that make up the driveway gate. Something inside her whispers, until the very end, that no one will come; they had made a silly promise without really believing it, a naive way of putting a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches.
It's not that her fears came out of nowhere or were exaggerated: in the last year, she felt like she had lived at least a hundred years because she had to relearn how to walk alone.
She used to be accustomed to loneliness: her friendships had never given her all the support she needed and, in the end, they burned out like a used matches. And then... then Steve arrived, changing her life, striking her face like a breath of fresh air in the sultry summer heat. Steve had dragged her into a new life, been by her side when she needed him most, accompanied her in achieving that absolute freedom which now, at twenty, seemed to her the most precious thing she had in the world.
Along with his friendship came that of a whole diverse group of young people, so complex, so magical. And then there is Nancy. Her friendship is the most absurd one she has ever experienced. Over the last two years, they have formed a special bond, made up of truths and secrets that only women, only friends, can share. The conclusion of all this is that as a child she had to wrap herself in a suit of armor of independence to defend herself from loneliness: in recent years, however, thanks to Steve and the others, she has been able to put it aside. Until she left. Now that she is alone again, she is forced to reclaim that armor. And for this reason, for this damn entry into adulthood, she feared until the end that no one would come.
Over the past year, she has had to accept that loving someone does not necessarily mean spending time with them. Gone are the movie nights spent on Steve's couch, the days spent with Nancy talking about everything, the D&D meetings she always attended with great enthusiasm, the impromptu baseball games at the Byers' house, the delicious cakes Karen baked when she visited the Wheelers every week, or the little romantic getaways with Vickie inside the hospital or in the hills at sunset.
Now she has meetings for the various college clubs she has joined, weekly sports training, and many classes to attend, and lots of exams to prepare for. New friends, of course, but clearly it's not the same. She is so busy that she struggles to return to Hawkins to visit her parents. She even struggles to call Steve in the evening, as she did at first, or Nancy at least twice a week. If she hears from either of them sometimes now, she considers herself lucky. She didn't even notice she was losing touch with them until the day of the children's graduation when she realized she couldn't remember —or perhaps didn't even know it?—Steve's new girlfriend's name, or didn't know that Nance had dropped out of college to pursue her passion...
Because of all this, she can't believe that her friends have really joined her at her uncle's house in Philly until she sees the cars pull up. When she hears the tires screech in the driveway, she almost rushes out the door, unable to contain her joy, clearly visible on her face in a broad smile. She is so happy that she doesn't realize that, yes, Steve is right in front of her. Only, he is sitting on the wrong side of...Jonathan's car?!
"And to think that until the other day, you were referring to yourselves in the third person," Robin comments, joining them and literally jumping into Steve's arms when he gets out of the car. He slams the door too hard, but Jonathan's complaints end up in a very quiet, distant part of her mind. At that moment, the only thing that matters to her is that her best friend has arrived.
"Come on, Buckley, you're crushing me," Steve groans. But he doesn't push her away. He hugs her and gently strokes her shoulders. Robin lets go after a few more seconds, feeling slightly embarrassed, but she hides her enormous, childish enthusiasm by hugging Jonathan, too.
"Aren't you being a bit weak, Harrington?" Jonathan asks, separating himself from Robin but keeping one arm around her shoulders.
"We'll talk about it when I show you how to drive properly, Byers."
"In your dreams, maybe."
The two began to bicker playfully. It is so unlike what everyone was used to that Robin feels a strange warmth wash over her chest and radiate throughout her torso. It's as if not even a day has passed since they last saw each other, even though a whole month has gone by.
The sound of tires pulling into the driveway and scraping the gravel very gently reaches her ears a few moments later. Nancy parks her blue Volvo Sedan 240 to the right of Jonathan's silver Ford. To her left, a little apart, stands the old, run-down beige Subaru GL that the Buckley family entrusted to Robin when her father paid for her driver's license before she moved to the Smith. After all, how else could she travel between home and college?
When the car door opens, a pair of Oxfords touches the ground, followed by Nancy's elegant figure. She exits the car with such grace that it enchants all three of them, silencing them abruptly. Only Robin, still full of explosive and uncontrollable enthusiasm, breaks the silence by throwing herself into Nancy's arms. She has to bend down a little because of the difference in height, but the embrace is very warm.
Nancy holds Robin just as Steve did: welcoming her, supporting her, moving her hands on her shoulders as if to cling to her and never let go. Nancy allows Robin to sway on the spot and waits calmly for her to compose herself. She is in no hurry. She slows her heartbeat, eliminating the fears and insecurities that had bothered her until that moment.
"Hi, Nance," Robin whispers, earning a warm smile before the boys reach them and pull them into one of their new foursome hugs, making organizing this meeting worthwhile.
"So, where's your car, Steve?" Nancy finally asks, without malice but with a hint of a smirk. She points to the trio of cars occupying the driveway.
"I'm still grieving, Nance. Please," he groans, pressing a hand to his forehead. This brings laughter from the group.
"Well, it looks like you've found yourself a taxi driver. You two spend more time together now than Robin and I do. And we're in the same state!"
"True, but I fully intend to fix that," Robin replies, winking before walking into the house.
"I'm not a taxi driver. Steve promised he'd be an extra in my movie in exchange for a ride,” Jonathan protests, almost drowning out Robin's simultaneous promise.
"I didn't promise anything. I said I might think about it."
"This location should convince you. Robin said there's a big basement!"
They continue to argue and laugh as they follow Robin. Nancy remains silent, looking around with her usual curious expression. Robin smirks at the thought of showing her what lies hidden in her uncle's house.
"Anyway, welcome! Get ready to spend a weekend in the most extravagant house you've ever seen!"
She doesn't even hear the comments behind her about how she must be crazy to forget the misadventures at the Creel house so quickly.
The reason for the extravagance is immediately apparent. The living room is enormous and filled with furniture. The walls are covered with everything from amateur paintings to paintings purchased for millions of dollars. Persian carpets cover the floor on either side of the front door. A grand piano sits on the east side, and a stone fireplace sits on the west side. The hallway leads to a small library stretching from the living room into another hallway whose end cannot be seen clearly. At the border with the other rooms, two Doric columns flank each door.
Opposite the entrance door is a large sofa that has already been opened up into a bed for Robin and Nancy, so as to avoid making the overnight stay awkward. Robin has also provided two large, colorful hammocks for the guys. She has tied one end of each hammock to the Doric columns, which are ridiculous, wonderful, and sophisticated, while the other end connects to the most indecent piece of furniture.
This piece is in the center of the living room. There is a sort of concentric groove, tiled with the utmost care. Inside stands a birch tree with white streaks on its trunk. It stretches from the ground to the ceiling and beyond, its branches penetrating the ceiling so as to leave no gaps for air to pass through - perhaps the ceiling was built to perfectly embrace the tree. Inside the groove around the birch tree, water flows from a complicated system that her uncle instructed her to operate at least once a day to purify and replace the water. The two hammocks are tied to two lower branches of the birch tree that have grown crooked, but are convenient for Robin.
When they enter, Steve bursts out laughing while Jonathan and Nancy exchange incredulous glances. It's clear why Robin's uncle can afford to let her friends stay there. His social status is definitely not the same as the Buckleys'.
Despite all those oddities, who cares? No one wastes time taking off their shoes, and soon they find themselves sprawled on Persian rugs, drinking vodka, eating boppers, and ignoring the playing cards scattered in small piles as they chat and catch up on their lives until evening falls.
If Jonathan wanted to, he could actually shoot his movie in the basement. Steve could take a few swings with a baseball bat and gloves in the backyard if he wanted to. Nancy could strike up a serious discussion about current affairs that would set tempers flying. Robin would be happy with anything, as long as she could stay like this with them, with no set schedule and no limits. Just the four of them. Like they've never been able to do before.
*
The second time it happens is the following month. As Steve's car majestically crosses the driveway into the large courtyard accompanied by Guns N' Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle," even Jonathan can't help but cheer with fascination. Robin, sitting next to Nancy in a large swinging chair on the porch, almost spits out her sip of wine. Nancy flashes a smile made up of a mixture of memories, nostalgia, and satisfaction.
"I'll be damned if you didn't go back to hell to get her back!" Robin exclaims, getting up from the swing too quickly and causing Nancy to lose her balance. Nancy protests weakly; she is accustomed to the physical danger of Robin's company.
"You never understood what I would do for love," Steve replies, getting out of the car and closing the door with a hilarious bow—very different from the one he had given Jonathan's car last time.
Jonathan, for his part, completely ignores the girls struggling on the swing - both are at risk of injury due to Robin's lack of coordination. Jonathan jumps the three steps of the porch separating him from the new burgundy BMW. It's the same color as the one Steve had owned until two years earlier, but definitely cooler. He looks at it with devotion and a hint of friendly envy. Unconsciously, he sets the goal of buying a modern car like that one day, when his old Ford can no longer carry him around.
"How the hell did you do it, man?" he asks, looking at it carefully. He's completely won over.
"Nice, huh? It's a BMW E34, a five series. It's basically an upgrade from my dad's old BMW, only it's more impressive, elegant, and fast. My dad thinks I'm more reliable now than when I couldn't explain where his old car had gone. Now that I have a steady job and a girlfriend he likes, he agreed to lend me some money.”
"Very kind of him, Mr. Harrington. We can only appreciate it," Robin comments, finally settling back into the rocking chair next to Nancy.
"It's softer and less boxy. It's still sporty, but somehow this one seems more grown up," Jonathan continues, thinking out loud.
"It's really beautiful, Steve. It really reflects your upgrade," Nancy whispers before raising her wine glass in his direction and toasting.
Steve throws Jonathan the keys so he can get in and drive his little gem if he wants to. The shadow of animosity between them has definitely remained in the Upside Down, just like the BMW and the spiked bat.
Steve then joins the girls on the porch. He leans over the swing toward Robin, who is waiting for him with open arms. They hug, just like last time. This time, though, she is the one holding him tight, chasing away the absence and longing that have overwhelmed her until now. Each time she leaves him, she feels as if she has left a part of herself behind.
After greeting Nancy just as warmly, Steve sits down on the swing between them, even though it's too small for three people and he wrinkles his fancy jacket. Robin pours him a glass and puts it in his hand. Then, she crouches down, puts her head on his broad shoulder, and resumes the conversation about cars.
When Jonathan finally lets go of the car to join them, there's no room for him on the cushions. Steve teases him, pulling him by his belt to sit on his lap. The girls laugh, and Jonathan protests and screams while struggling until they tip over again on the swing.
They stay on the porch, chatting all evening while the sun sets behind the hills in front of them. Their cars occupy the yard in an orderly line: the old silver Ford, the blue Volvo, the burgundy BMW, and the beige Subaru. Everything is perfect, and Robin finds it hard to believe. But it's all there, right before her eyes. This moment is all they need, and something inside her finally falls into place.
*
The third time, the boys arrived in Jonathan's car. They spent Friday and Saturday morning together, but had to leave right after lunch because Jonathan had plans with his family on Sunday.
At first, Robin struggles to understand why, as the car pulled away from the driveway, her heart did a somersault when she realized that she and Nancy would be spending time alone together, just like in the old days. Back then, the idea of leaving Hawkins hadn't become a reality, and they had other problems to deal with, such as the end of their respective relationships and the traumatic bond they had all shared.
Letting go of something bad hurts as much as saying goodbye forever to something good. This often has to do with an interesting phenomenon whereby good things can come from bad. Robin wonders if anything has really changed since their confrontation in the Wheeler basement. That had been their last profound moment together before moving away. After that, Nancy behaved better. She started eating more consistently and got back in shape. The guys stopped keeping their distance, and little by little, they grew closer again before it was time to leave. Now, everything is in its place. It has changed, yes, but it has also remained the same.
Robin can tell by the way Nancy slips into the house and starts undressing. First, she kicks off her Oxfords. Then, she takes off her elegant jacket. Next, she removes her shirt. Finally, she takes off all her masks. Robin admires the angular curve of her shoulder blades and the contrast between her pale skin and her brown, velvet Lee jeans. They are held firmly in place at the hips by a belt to which extra holes have clearly been added. Robin admires the way her short hair caresses the nape of her neck and almost senses the absence of the thick curls from years past that made her look so much like Lieutenant Ripley from Alien.
Nancy helps herself to one of Robin's T-shirts because the habit of wanting to float inside larger garments to feel small never changes. She goes and sits on the low wall surrounding the birch tree and resumes reading the newspaper as if it were natural to go about their own business in each other's company. Nancy slips into Robin's spaces as easily as she slips into her T-shirt, as if it were her rightful place and she deserved it. As if her pieces could fit into her puzzle. This is somehow different from the way Robin fits with Steve. For a moment, she wonders why, but she really doesn't understand.
Robin stands at the entrance. Half of her is overwhelmed with sadness at having to say goodbye to Steve again; the other half is glad she still has a whole day with Nancy. Robin looks at her silently, trying to memorize her image as she underlines important sentences in the newspaper and circles key words.
"Are you going to stay there all afternoon?" Nancy teases her. She doesn't look up, but a slight smile plays on her face, even though she tries to remain serious.
"And are you going to work all afternoon?"
"Touché, Buckley, but if I finish reading this now, I'll be able to spend more time with you tomorrow. Besides, it's not like you didn't bring your Italian dictionary, am I right?”
"Sì, è vero"
Robin can't help but smile and get the dictionary. Because it's true; nothing has really changed. They can still tease each other, talk about anything, and tell stories about their families—there would be plenty about that birch tree—and...
Then, Robin realizes that Nancy is probably deceiving her again, this time with her smiles and charm. This is more pronounced because they don't see each other much, so Robin doesn't want to ruin everything with arguments. But Nancy's shoulder blades were really pronounced. The belt seems tight. She's deceiving her, but her ways have remained unchanged.
In fact, after they finish reading, Robin makes some simple vegetarian sandwiches—the extent of her culinary skills—and presents them as the house specialty. The contrast between the birch-dominated living room and the not Lucullian meal is laughable, but Nancy doesn't protest. In a way, it's as if Robin is giving her the chance to hide the truth about how she deals with pain from her once again. It's as if Robin is telling Nancy that she doesn't have to be honest, and that she won't ask questions.
But Nancy doesn't want to hide anything from her, not anymore. She surprises Robin by not finishing her sandwich, but she doesn't say she'll eat it later. She just hands it to Robin, silently communicating that she can't finish it. She does so in that oversized T-shirt that smells of pistachio and fruity wood, just like Robin.
Robin reflects silently, trying to understand why Nancy is starving herself again. Or maybe she never stopped. Robin would like to remember more about that night in the basement, but they drank enough to wake up the next morning on the sofa, hugging, without being entirely sure how it happened. Robin only remembers taking Nancy's T-shirts and keeping her promise: washing, ironing, and returning them to their rightful owner.
That morning, she had no answers. Why had they gotten drunk? She couldn't remember. Now, she still has no answers, and Nancy does nothing to provide them. Nancy stays calm, breathing to the rhythm of the water rolling around the birch tree. The sandwich remains on the wall until sunset when Nancy agrees to eat it for dinner. In the meantime, they talk about other things in a personal and private way that isn't possible when all four of them are together because cheerfulness usually prevails in those moments.
"The Herald is the right place for me. I feel comfortable and welcome, but there's an underlying mistrust that has nothing to do with my lack of experience. It has to do with my being a woman."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"That's the problem, you know? They make me feel good. They make me feel comfortable being underestimated. I'm getting used to being treated condescendingly. They make it seem peaceful when it's actually just a way to make me lower my voice. And it works."
"Nothing in the world could silence you, Nance. Not that you're a total chatterbox or anything..."
"I know what you mean." Nancy smiles sweetly, gets up from the wall, and goes to sit next to Robin on the Persian rug at the foot of the sofa bed.
"Oh, thank goodness, that really came out wrong. My mother always says you need a dictionary to understand my stupid jokes and how I communicate with people.”
"I don't need a dictionary, Rob. I always understand what you mean. You always understand me and ask the right questions. How?”
Robin watches her move and sit down. The T-shirt caresses her arms and hips. Suddenly, she feels a slight discomfort behind her neck. It tingles and makes her feel uncomfortable in her own body. She feels envious of a simple piece of fabric, for God's sake!
And that's when it hits her. That's why they fit together. That's why they understand each other so well. She can hardly believe it. She's solved puzzles like the Russian code and the secret of Victor Creel's music. She's even saved lives with her insight, but she didn't understand this. Nancy, whom she had always considered the smartest and most alert detective in the group, had no idea either. How foolish do we become when it comes to love?
Robin notices how close they are. She can see the tiny brown flecks in Nancy's blue irises and the curls at the ends of her mahogany hair. Her heart skips a beat - no, no, damn it, stay still - and then beats as if she's running an obstacle course, as if there were landmines on the ground - SLOW DOWN, I'm telling you - and that's the end. It's the end because the last time she felt this way, or at least something similar, was with Vickie. Only this time, Robin feels her throat dry up. She feels like she can no longer cry and never wants to love anyone else again - shut up, heart. You don't love Nancy Wheeler - and she's never felt this way before.
"I can understand what it's like to be treated like a porcelain doll by men, just like you," she says at last, slowly. "And we... mustn't let them."
"I know. I'm working hard not to let myself be lulled by this serenity they're trying to get me used to."
"They're only trying because they've never seen you hold a rifle..."
They burst out laughing. While the magic of the moment is interrupted, that laughter is the sound Robin will dream of tonight. It's the sound she'll try to hear more than anything else in the world. If laughter came in different languages, Robin would want to hear how Nancy laughs in Italian and French. Or in all languages, without exception.
"How about trying the boys' hammocks? I admit I haven't tried them yet."
Nancy is thrilled by the suggestion. She doesn't seem to realize that Robin wants to avoid sleeping next to her tonight.