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The package was impossible to miss.
Wrapped in brown paper and stamped with “FRAGILE” and “DO NOT BEND” and even a handwritten scribble in familiar handwriting that said “PLEASE BE EXTRA CAREFUL; it was also completely covered in snowflake and star stickers —a goddamn eyesore for those poor postal workers . It arrived on Christmas Eve along with a handful of Christmas cards and half a dozen letters from Hawkins too, and El immediately gasped when saw her name written in bold, capital letters. Jonathan handed the package to her, looking a little wistful, but gave her one of those warm, brotherly smiles regardless.
El felt like she was going to burst with excitement the second she saw Mike’s handwriting in the upper corner of the label, the Maple Street address feeling more like home than California had those first few months. In fact, she was a little desperate to hear from him, after her last two letters hadn’t received any sort of answer. Something that was completely unlike Mike — and more worrying than she wanted to admit out loud.
Especially since last week, when Angela and her nasty friends had laughed at her as they left for Winter break and told her they hoped “she got a new face for Christmas”. El hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with her face before, especially now that she had her pretty long hair to frame it. It had made her cheeks feel hot, and her eyes wet, and a weird feeling deep in her chest, just under her ribs, that tugged down to her toes.
But Mike liked her face, right?
His silence had made her question it for two solid days, especially after his usual Wednesday letter hadn’t shown up. They’d sent at minimum two letters a week since she’d left, usually more. Her new family hadn’t tired of supplying her with stamps and envelopes, or how she always asked if the mail had shown up yet. Usually when she walked to the post office —which was only a few blocks away—so that she knew her letters would go out the next day, Will went with her, clutching a few letters of his own .
They would chat about school or missing Hawkins the whole way, something they had in common. They had a lot in common, actually, between missing the same people who they loved and their experiences in both the Lab and the Upside Down. Neither talked about the latter that much, but the understanding was there anyways. El had grown to appreciate how her new brother genuinely seemed to know her in ways that no one else did. It had been nice to spend time with him. To get to know him too. The missing friend she had fought so hard to save that first week in 1983 and every year after. Now her brother, welcoming. despite it all.
In fact, all of the Byers had tried hard to make her feel safe and welcome. In their own, familiar and yet unfamiliar ways.
Nothing changed the fact that she missed Hopper. Even though he’d been so awful those last few days during the summer, it hadn’t overshadowed their time together in the cabin and all that he had given her that she’d never had before.
His gruff, steady love and Miami Vice ice cream nights and big hugs that made every inch of her feel safe . Making forts and eating Eggos. Breakfast on the weekends before they swept and cleaned and listened to his old records, abandoning their tasks to dance and laugh. The way he would pat her head and smile with pride when she told him about her day.
But Joyce had her own sort of magic she couldn’t deny.
Whether it was the gentle explanations about makeup, or how to fasten a barrette, she seemed to have a patience and understanding that filled in Hopper’s cluelessness. How the older woman rubbed her back and gently shushed her back to sleep after a nightmare, telling her it would be okay in a way that El couldn’t help but truly believe. Teasing her about the way she grinned when she was handed one of Mike’s letters, especially if he had sent her another photo.
It was good. Softer, and easier, like slipping into a warm bath full of bubbles. Especially when they were all together.
They had a monthly haircut day where her new mother would dig out her trimming scissors and carefully snip the ends of her own hair as well as her children’s, cutting even lines across foreheads and rolling her eyes when she was accused of going “too short”. Jonathan’s breakfast for dinner. Runny potatoes at Thanksgiving that were somehow still delicious. Will’s quiet support as she went over the homework with him for the third time. A motherly smile of pride that somehow felt warmer than sunshine and cozier than ten of Mike’s sweaters.
They felt like home. Even if she was stranded so far away from everyone else that she loved, in a town with cruel people that never had glowing fall leaves or sparkling snow. At a school where no one but Will was kind. At least when she was in that house, in her room decorated with pictures of Hawkins and her old teddy bears and clothes, she could pretend she was where she wanted to be.
Even at Christmas, Joyce had done her best. She and Jonathan had dragged home a scraggly pine tree the week before, digging out a ragtag cardboard box of tangled lights and vintage ornaments. She had put on a Carpenter’s record, singing along as they all sat on the shag carpet and tried to unball the multicolor strands enough to hang on the poor tree. They’d taught her a few Christmas songs and how to wrap presents, and then presented her with her own stocking. A pink one with a candy cane embroidered on the front along with her name.
“I mean, Will and Jonathan’s were made by their grandma and I know it’s not quite the same but we didn’t want to hang them up without you,” Joyce had explained, barely catching her new daughter as she threw herself into her arms.
She had truly enjoyed every second, learning more about her new family and how much fun they could be.
And then her package arrived.
“This looks special,” Jonathan smiled, full of his usual warm encouragement. “It must be from your secret Santa.”
She blinked. “My what?”
He’d then very patiently explained the concept of Santa, a fairytale Hopper had let slip through the cracks. El was thrilled, especially later that day, when the TV had a special stop-motion feature about the jolly man that thoroughly enjoyed. Both of the boys seemed to find her excitement catching, singing along to the songs they somehow already knew and cheering along with her to the story.
El liked Christmas. And she really liked fun packages from Hawkins.
It had taken her all of thirty seconds to shred the outside, pulling out a letter that was two full pages along with a small, velvety box. She’d almost opened the box too, but there had been a piece of paper taped onto it that said “Read Letter First”, and despite her desperate curiosity, she obliged.
Dear El,
I’m sorry I haven’t written anything in a few days. I was trying to get your Christmas present perfect and it just took a little more time. It’s been kind of crazy around here too. Nana came for Christmas this year and my mom made me sleep in the basement so she could have my room. Which is usually fine but it made it really hard to get to your letters and my stuff that I had ready for you, otherwise I would have sent this sooner. So, sorry about that.
I’m really glad you had a lot of fun at school. Sometimes teachers can be fun right before Christmas break. Mr. Clarke used to always play White Christmas during our last two classes before we got to leave. And Mrs. Haven made cookies and let us decorate them and brought hot chocolate. So far none of my teachers in high school have been that cool, though. Sometimes I kind of wish we could go back to middle school. It wasn’t as shitty as high school. But Dustin and I get to play in the Hellfire Club again this weekend and I’m excited about that. Our DM is insane, El. Like, sometimes I think he’s genuinely crazy. You would probably love it.
Speaking of Dustin, he and Lucas wanted me to wish you a Merry Christmas. They’re doing family stuff too and said they wouldn’t be able to write you back for a little but they wanted you to know. We all miss you a lot. Lucas has been busy with basketball lately. He doesn’t play a whole lot, but he’s been practicing a bunch anyways. We go to all of his games anyways, except for Max. She’s been doing her own thing lately, but I’m pretty sure she and Lucas aren’t together anymore, I don’t know. It’s kind of weird. We don’t really talk that much anyways. You should make sure you write to her if you haven’t lately. I think she could really use a friend right now. I don’t know. Just a thought.
Okay, sorry, I’ve been rambling. I know you probably want to open up your present. I hope you didn’t open it yet. I really want you to wait until Christmas so we can call and talk to each other. I miss you a lot. I know it’s only been a couple of months but I miss seeing you every day. And getting to hang out and talk. It’s been really boring without you. I’ve tried calling a bunch of times but your line is usually busy. I know you mentioned Joyce’s new job is on the phone but sometimes it’s hard not being able to just call you and talk to you. I’m glad we can write, but it’s not as good as biking to your house every day. It’s stupid that Cerebro doesn’t reach that far.
Anyways, please call me before you open your present, even if it’s not on Christmas. I know you love presents and if you can’t wait that’s okay but please call me. I want to talk to you.
From, Mike
She cringed at the end. He always said “from”, and she wasn’t sure why. Last summer she had heard him in the cabin, when he had said that he loved her… and she had said it back. Wasn’t he supposed to say it again? Isn’t that how it happened in the movies? You said “I love you”, and then there was a big kiss and everything was happily ever after.
And you wrote, “Love” in your letters. Right?
That weird tugging in her chest happened again, the one that made her frown, but she reread the part in the letter where he said he missed her a few more times before setting it down. That part made her chest feel warm instead. Her fingers caressed the velvet box, and the taped on note. A smile teased her lips, and she couldn’t help but shiver in excitement as she picked it up and almost ran out of her room and into the living room where the phone was.
“Joyce!” She found her new mother-figure sitting at her desk like usual, phone tucked against her cheek. “Can I use the phone please?”
The older woman had been mid-conversation, but paused. “What, honey?”
“Can I please use the phone? I need to call Mike,” she asked, all smiles and excitement.
Joyce tucked the mouthpiece behind her chin with a frown. “Oh, sweetie, can you wait a little bit? I’ve almost got this lady to—Oh, yes, I’m still here! Sorry about that, my daughter was just—” She gave El an apologetic smile. “Yes, yes, I do have the deal on the whole set. They make such a good gift for the grandkids—”
El frowned. It was pretty rare for her to ask to use their telephone because she knew Joyce’s new job needed it. In fact, almost none of the teens had a chance to call out for more than a pizza most days. Sometimes Jonanthan managed to snatch it when Joyce was busy, but for the most part even weekends were filled with Joyce’s calls on the line. It was a little annoying most of the time.
But right now it was downright infuriating.
“Joyce,” she tried again, tugging on the older woman’s sleeve. “Please, Mike sent me a Christmas present and I want to open it.” She held up the box as proof. “He wants to talk.”
Joyce flashed her a look. She’d seen the look before, when Jonathan had come home too late and his eyes had been hazy, smile dopey. Or when Will had shrugged off the shredded knees of his pants, even though El knew some mean football player had shoved him down after school. It was discerning and somehow disappointed at the same time. She tried not shrink, furrowing her brows and almost wishing for a second she had her powers so she could click the hook and make the phone call end.
This was more important than some old lady.
“Yes, Gladys, I’m sure the good lord would want free shipping but unfortunately I can’t offer that—Hello? H-Hello? Gladys?” Joyce’s voice pitched up in panic.
For a second, El blinked in amazement, thinking that maybe she’d done it but—
“ Damn it, ” Joyce burst out, slamming the phone down. “Stupid old biddy—”
El couldn’t help but jump at the outburst. After a moment, her new mother let out a long sigh, but turned with a smile. “Well, sweetie, I guess it’s your turn. Merry Christmas from Gladys.”
“Thank you!” El squealed, unable to keep from beaming as she was passed the yellow telephone, sitting in the warm chair as Joyce gave her another smile and then let her be. The little box sat on the papers that covered in the desk, and El had to stifle a giggle of joy as she dialed the number she knew by heart, her own heartbeat mimicking the tone as it rang.
And rang. And rang—
“Hello, this is the Wheeler’s!” A cheery, feminine voice piped.
Karen. Mike’s mom. It wasn’t the first time El had called and the older woman had answered, but it always made her nervous for some reason. They’d never met, not officially, and as much as Mike liked to complain about her, El still felt a weird need to impress her.
“Oh, um. Hi. It’s El.”
The voice was warm. “Oh, well Merry Christmas, El. We haven’t heard from you in a bit, but I know Mike has been going through rolls of stamps. I’m guessing you want to talk to him?”
“Yes. Please,” she said quickly, then bit her lip. “Um, Merry Christmas Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Oh, please, sweetie, you can call me Karen. Give me a second and I’ll get him.”
The line went quiet before El heard the muffled “Mike!” through the receiver. Then a louder call, much less patient. There was some mumbled conversation after a few moments, that she didn’t catch, but then there was the louder ring of an uncovered phone and—
“Hello?”
Even through the static, she knew that voice almost better than her own. Her heart skipped a beat and she couldn’t keep from smiling against the receiver, twirling the cord around her finger just like a girl in a movie.
“Mike,” she breathed, eyes squinting happily.
“El?!” His voice hitched up in excitement. “Hi, hi! Hello! Oh my god, El, I’ve missed you so much. I keep trying to call but I get the busy signal all the freaking time—”
“Joyce,” she supplied impatiently. “Her job is… she’s always on the phone. Talking about Britannica. I can never call. Only for pizza. I tried to call you too sometimes.”
Mike sighed. “Yeah, I know. You and Will mentioned it in your letters. It really sucks. I just want to talk to you sometimes but I can’t even get through enough to tell you that. I miss being able to call you on our Supercoms whenever we want.”
“Me too,” she beamed. His words filled her up like presents in a stocking. Which reminded her of all she had to tell him. “Mike, Joyce and Will and Jonathan got me a stocking! It’s so pretty. And we decorated a tree with old lights that were tangled. I guess they’ve had them for a long time. And they played Carpenters and we watched Santa on TV.” She suddenly gasped. “Oh, um, do you believe in Santa, Mike?”
There was a laugh. “I mean, not since I was really little. Why?”
“Oh,” she let out a sigh of relief. “Will said it isn’t nice to spoil Santa for people.”
It was apparently a sacred thing for children and she had been nervous about asking. But there was another laugh and she relaxed instead.
“I mean, he’s right. But most kids find out when they’re like ten or eleven. Holly still believes in Santa. My mom was trying to get me to dress up like him this year and walk around the house tonight in case she tries to see him.”
El’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that… a lie?”
“Yeah… but all of Santa is a lie. But it’s a good lie, to help kids be nice. And it’s fun too. When I was really little I remember one year Nancy woke me up to go try and see Santa Claus.”
“She did?”
“Yup,” he snorted. “And we saw him alright. Putting presents under the tree.”
“Really?!” El asked, too excited. It did sound fun.
“Yeah,” Mike chuckled, “but it was just my dad all dressed up like Santa. I guess my mom got him to do it, I didn’t find out until a while later. We tried to see him the next year, too. But he wasn’t there. That was the last year Nancy believed, I think. She told me he was just running behind, she didn’t want it to get spoiled for me. But I guess she’d figured it out.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“Mike,” El whispered. “You have to be Santa. Holly has to see Santa.”
“What?”
She was almost begging. “Please be Santa for Holly. She’ll be so excited, just like you were. It will be fun!”
Another moment of silence.
“I mean, I have to sit around in a Santa costume for like six hours just in case… on Christmas Eve.”
“But you get cookies. And milk!” She insisted. “You love milk.”
El could almost hear the smile in voice when replied. “Okay, you got me there. I could probably work on homework or something while I’m up anyways. Holly stomps around like a troll so I’ll hear her coming.”
“Yes!” she cheered. “You are the Secret Santa.” Her eyes fell on the little box and she suddenly let out a gasping whine. “Oh, Mike, can I open the present? I waited to call you. I know it’s not Christmas yet but—”
There was a shuffling sound through the phone. “Of course, El. It’s basically Christmas anyways.”
“I didn’t—” She frowned suddenly. “I’m sorry, Mike. I did not not get you a gift. I—”
“All I wanted for Christmas was to talk to you,” he quickly butted in. “So, don’t worry, okay? This is my gift right now. Getting to hear your voice and talk to you, even if it’s just for a little bit. I miss you so much, and it’s been really shitty not even getting to call you. I just… I wanted to talk and hear you and um, yeah. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” he blabbered. “And you can open your gift, I, uh, I really hope you like it.”
She smiled at his nervous rambling. It was just so… Mike.
“Okay, I’m going to open it,” she said reverently.
Tucking the phone against her shoulder, she reached out with both hands to the little box. Her fingers gingerly brushed the soft fabric before carefully opening it. A gasp left her lips, the receiver almost falling out of the cradle of her shoulder before she caught it and held it up to her ear, bringing the open box closer to inspect.
“Oh, Mike,” she breathed, eyes wide.
Nestled inside was a golden ring, with a petite, pear-shaped red gem winking back at her from the middle. It was prettier than anything she’d ever seen, and she oh so carefully stroked it with her thumb, letting out a sigh as the cool metal warmed against her finger. It was beautiful, like something out of a movie or a tv show, too pretty to be real.
Her heart felt like it could explode with happiness, brighter than any Fourth of July fireworks or Christmas lights on a tree.
His voice brought her back from her cloud of euphoria.
“El? Are you still there? Do you… do you like it?”
She almost hiccupped, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I love it,” she managed. “It’s… it is so beautiful, Mike!”
His sigh of relief rattled the receiver. “Oh thank god. I was—I didn’t want it to be too, um, much or anything but I saw it and I wanted to get you something special and it just looked like something you should have—”
“It is perfect,” she affirmed quickly, not wanting him to doubt himself for even a second. “I love it, Mike.”
Her fingers were almost shaking as she took it out of the box, but then she paused, unsure of where to put it. She knew that ring fingers were for rings, but they were also only if you were getting married… right? Frowning, she went to put it on her middle finger, but then frowned deeper as it didn’t fit over the knuckle. Trying it again on her index finger, she relaxed as it slid easily down, fitting snugly as if it was always meant to be there.
“—I mean, I know we’re not like super old or anything and rings are kind of serious, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to push anything but we’ve been together since the Snow Ball and I know a lot happened last summer but I saved my allowance since you left to make sure you got something perfect—”
Mike was rambling like a complete idiot and she smiled, eyes wet. “Mike, it is perfect. And I—I am okay with… serious.”
Her heart sped up a bit. As much as they wrote and talked, they hadn’t really gone into detail about who and what they were. Other than boyfriend and girlfriend, terms that made her smile happily. She liked having a boyfriend, someone who was special and who she was special too, something she never had to doubt. Even now, she could almost picture him, his crooked smile and dark eyes lit up just for her. Amazed and enchanted, just for her. Somehow able to capture exactly how she felt for him in the furrow of his brow and the tilt of his soft lips, the sweetness of her own smile reflected in each of his midnight pupils.
The chapped, plush lips she missed being able to kiss. The awkward, twitching hands she missed holding. The bony shoulder she missed resting her cheek on while they hung out with their friends or watched TV on the sofa in the cabin. His goofy grin and crooked teeth as he tried to make her laugh at some stupid joke or badly sung song, always succeeding no matter how ridiculous he had to be, because she was worth the embarrassment.
Wasn’t that…serious?
“Oh, okay. Cool, um,” he was smiling, she could tell, “serious is cool. I mean, Nancy asked if it was a promise ring and I thought that sounded kind of lame—”
“Promise?” Her voice hitched up. Rings and promises? She liked the sound of that.
“Uh, um, well, yeah. It’s like, a thing. Because we’re way too young to get married or anything but it’s kind of like, um, before that. A promise. Of… of someday,” he managed. “Or if you hate that it can just be a ring. I’m fine… with, uh, with whatever you want, El. Sorry if it’s too much. I didn’t want to be too much. But, um, Merry Christmas.”
Someday sounded like a fairytale. A picture perfect happy ending. Something that felt so right despite everything else in their cruel world that wanted to make them believe that it was wrong. She rubbed her thumb over the jewel, smiling through her tears.
Someday. Back in Hawkins. With Mike.
If he’d been standing in front of her she would have kissed him until he couldn’t breathe, taking each one of his doubts away. Unfortunately she could only smile down at the pretty red gem that twinkled back at her and whisper into the phone.
“Merry Christmas, Mike.”