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December 25, 1986
Ted Wheeler’s mother wholeheartedly believed that her son was too good for his wife and kids.
Joyce noticed it almost instantly as she sat beside Karen at the dinner table, across from Will and Mike.
She seemed to like Nancy, at least. She spent the first few minutes of dinner telling Nancy how elegant she looked in her white knitted sweater and black miniskirt, and she mentioned that she used to look exactly like her.
Her entire tone changed when she asked Nancy’s boyfriend what he planned to do for college, though. Jonathan mentioned his love for photography and she raised her eyebrows, gave Ted a look, and began to tell him about how successful Ted’s career in business was by the time he turned twenty-five. Joyce gave her son a commiserating glance, but he looked like he was about to laugh as he took a bite of the sandwich he’d made with his roll and turkey.
Jonathan was creative. That was how her son had always been. Joyce always knew he’d be a million times more successful with his photography than he’d ever be in an office.
Ted’s mother seemed to have an issue with Mike the most. Karen had prepared macaroni and cheese just for him because she knew that he wouldn’t eat most of the foods at the table. When Ted’s mother saw him sit down with his second bowl of macaroni and cheese that he got from the pot in the kitchen, she immediately turned to Ted beside her and gave him another one of her looks.
“My dear,” she said, in her most indulgent tone, “may I ask why my fifteen-year-old grandson has a special meal just for himself?”
Joyce winced at the way she emphasized fifteen-year-old. This woman acted as if a fifteen-year-old wasn’t very much a child.
Ted scoffed. “That’s all Karen. She gives him special treatment all the time. She does that, she treats him better than she treats me. He doesn’t like most food, according to her.”
Mike definitely overheard.
Joyce accidentally met his wide dark eyes from across the table and mouthed a quick sorry. He just shrugged. Will gave him a small smile and a nod, like he was trying to keep the peace.
“Now, that’s troubling to me,” Ted’s mother said. “He’s supposed to be a man. What kind of a man doesn’t like food? That’s not normal.”
The word normal seemed to nauseate Mike, who went completely still.
“Audrey,” Karen started, “could you please stop commenting on my child?”
“Oh, I’m not trying to be difficult,” replied Audrey, “I just find it incredibly concerning that a young man is—”
“It’s not a big deal,” Will interjected. His face was turning pink, the way Joyce knew it did when he was absolutely furious. “He has mac and cheese that took, like, two minutes to make. Why would that be a problem to you?”
“Now, this is none of your business,” Ted grumbled.
“We can all hear you,” Will said, louder this time. “So yeah, it totally is. And I’m gonna need you both to leave him alone.”
The look that Mike gave Will was not an unfamiliar one. It always intrigued Joyce. He would look at him like he was a superhero, the same way he’d look at his favorite Star Wars characters when he’d watch the movies at her house.
Audrey was silent for the next little while, continuing to speak to Ted in a hushed voice. Whatever she was saying was drowned out by Jonathan and Nancy asking Holly questions about a magazine they were going to help her make for her Barbies.
Will took the roll on his plate and began to butter it meticulously, spreading the thinnest possible layer. He discreetly placed it on Mike’s napkin like contraband.
Mike raised his eyebrows. “Woah. Isn’t that yours?” His tone was so incredibly soft. He always spoke more gently with Will, for whatever reason.
Will smirked. “Doesn’t have to be.”
The smile Mike gave him was awkward, hesitant.
“Hey,” Will reassured, “you don’t have to eat it. I just thought… the butter isn’t chunky. It’s the kind you seem to like.”
“You are onto something.”
“So, you can have it, if you want.”
Mike nodded nonchalantly and took a bite. Will beamed.
“Your son,” Karen whispered giddily in Joyce’s ear, “is a godsend. I haven’t seen Michael eat a roll of bread in ages. I’m trying not to stare.”
Joyce chuckled. The comment gave her an excuse to really look at her best friend. Karen was wearing a pink, fluffy sweater dress, her blonde perm resembling a bird’s nest. She’d spent the entire day cooking while Joyce made last-minute runs to multiple stores, only to come home and be told they needed one more thing.
Karen was still working through her mashed potatoes, but she was beginning to slow down now. She looked like she was about to fall asleep, the way she always did when she felt sated from a particularly heavy meal. Joyce felt the urge to ruffle her hair, but settled for smiling at her instead. Karen wouldn’t want her messing up her already messy hair.
“Maybe put your focus on trying to stay awake for another couple hours,” she teased, giving her a playful nudge.
Karen groaned softly, looking at Joyce with the most gentle smile. Her face was flushed in a way that was subtle but still undeniable. Joyce read her very well, and noticing things like this would make Karen bashful in a way that she seemed to really enjoy.
The urge to wrap her arms around her, to let Karen fall asleep against her chest, crept up slowly. Maybe that’s strange of me, Joyce thought, but this is just who Karen is. All soft and cozy all the time. I’m sure everyone wants to cuddle her.
“That boy beside him is Michael’s… best friend, I assume?” Audrey’s voice pulled Joyce out of her reverie.
“According to him,” Ted grumbled. “Talk about influences, if you know what I mean.”
Mike scrunched up his face the way he always did when he was confused.
Karen interjected before Audrey could respond. Joyce thanked God for that, because she knew Will very well and she didn’t like where this was going. If Karen didn’t say anything, she would, but that would have involved curse words that she didn’t want to say around children.
“Mrs. Wheeler,” she said, with the tightest, most insincere smile imaginable, “would you pass me the bread basket, please?”
Audrey gasped. “Oh my. You’d really like another roll, dear?”
Karen’s appetite always bothered Ted. Of course it bothered Audrey, too. Not a normal lady, Audrey was probably thinking. Karen didn’t flinch. “I was hoping I could squeeze in two. Is that allowed, Audrey?”
She used a tone that was posh and patronizing. Undeniably imitating Audrey’s voice.
Mike nearly choked on his water.
“Boys,” Joyce murmured, all while chuckling as well.
Will, who was laughing beside Mike, placed a hand on his shoulder. “You good?”
Mike nodded and then immediately looked down. His smile looked so warm, so tender.
In a way, it reminded Joyce of how Karen would smile at her.
The rest of dinner dragged on. Audrey and Ted grumbled about the lack of manners in the family, but their comments were mostly incoherent, and they seemed to mainly be directed at Karen.
“How are you doing?” Joyce said in Karen’s ear. “You want me to tell her off?”
“Don’t. I’m glad she’s left Michael alone.”
Joyce was hit with the realization that she’d acted up on purpose. To protect Will and Mike.
She felt that same urge to ruffle her hair again, but resisted it. Once Karen finished the rest of her plate, she excused herself and said she’d start getting dessert ready.
Joyce finished the rest of her food rather quickly, trying not to make it obvious that she was doing it on purpose. Then, she scurried into the kitchen.
Karen stood with her back to the doorway, pouring herself a glass of water as she cut the neapolitan ice cream cake into generous slices.
“Karen,” Joyce said, not wanting to startle her with what she planned to do next.
Just before Karen could turn around, Joyce wrapped her arms around her from behind.
Karen made a sound that sounded a little like a squeal. Joyce smiled into her hair. Her hairspray smelled so sweet, like a combination of bubblegum and vanilla.
“Am I hurting you, sweetie?” She softened her grip around her midsection.
For a split second, Karen looked at her like a deer in headlights. But almost immediately following that, her eyes softened and she looked so incredibly happy. Anyone else would have questioned that sort of reaction, but Joyce didn’t. She understood right away.
“No… no, no, it’s okay! I was just…” Karen giggled.
“You were what?”
Karen covered her face with her hands. “I’m happy you’re living with us, Joyce. Christmas was fun. More fun than usual, God knows.”
“Aww,” was all Joyce said. Often with Karen, it was all she could say. “You need some help with the ice cream cake?”
Karen shook her head. “Just… plates, maybe. I’m setting aside slices for Mike and I in the freezer. For later.”
Joyce rested her chin on Karen’s shoulder. “You two don’t want them now?”
“Well, I don’t know about him.” Karen’s eyes were transfixed on the cake. “I’d like for him to try a slice, but I think he’d rather have dessert just with me. Maybe I can get Will to sit with us?”
“Oh, he definitely would.”
It was quiet in the kitchen. Joyce could still hear chattering from the dining room, but it was nothing but incoherent background noise.
Karen shifted in Joyce’s arms. “He does so much better with Will, you know, it’s amazing.”
“Well… he’s glad he can help. He cares a lot about your boy. He’s talked about it before, the food and stuff.”
“Oh. He has. To you?”
“Never in a judgy way. In a worried way.”
She let go of Karen so that she could put the two plates in the freezer. Joyce hoped it was the lighting, but Karen’s eyes looked a little glossy.
“I just… feel so much better sending him to school with Will,” she said. “When you were all away in California, I think he was throwing his lunch away sometimes. Even what he calls his safe foods, he just… that list got really small again.”
“Oh. Poor kid.” Joyce wasn’t sure what else to say.
She always felt a pit in her stomach whenever Karen talked about this. Not in a dreadful way. More of a why Mike? sort of way. He spent so much time keeping other people alive, all while experiencing something that was life threatening, 24/7.
“He was always on the thinner side,” Karen continued, “well, you know, all my kids are. It’s worried me. But I was always told by their doctors that it’s not a problem. As long as they’re eating. But then Michael… he…”
Her voice trailed off. It wasn’t the lighting; she was clearly crying now.
God, Joyce hated when she cried. Karen would always try to laugh it off even when she was full on sobbing. She was bullied for being a “crybaby” as a little girl and it still impacted her to this day. It didn’t help that Ted would tell her she was “too sensitive” whenever she was hurt by one of his rude comments. He knew about elementary school, and he used it against her.
“He got really skinny when Will was away. It was so scary, Joyce. I made the mistake of commenting on it, out of concern, and he looked so uncomfortable. I never know the right things to say about it. Not like Will does.”
“Hey. Hey, I know my boy’s awesome,” Joyce said steadily, “and I can see how much he’s helped. But Mike’s one of the strongest kids I’ve ever met. He’s so independent, Karen, I know he’s fought this on his own, too. I definitely think he’s gonna be okay. Someday. He’s already gotten a lot better!”
Her words didn’t seem to land properly. Karen winced at the word independent.
“What’s that face?” Joyce asked, ever so gently.
“He’s just… had to take care of everyone. His whole life, to tell you the truth. He’s had to be strong all the time. But with Will… he doesn’t…”
“Have to be strong for him,” Joyce finished.
Karen gave her a tiny nod.
“I get it, Karen. I think Will feels the same way with Mike.”
Karen’s mascara was smeared now, her hair messier than ever. She was an absolute mess sometimes, physically and figuratively, and it somehow made Joyce feel even more affectionate toward her.
“Come here, sweetie.”
Karen didn’t hesitate. In fact, she rushed over to hug her.
“He’s just… he’s gotten so much better since you and your family moved in. Since Will moved in,” she hiccuped. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Joyce laughed. “Me? Not… Will?”
“Will and you. Will’s his comfort. He gets that comfort from you.”
The idea of comforting presences was what made Joyce realize that Karen had only had a single glass of wine all night. She drank less when she was around.
The room seemed to dim a little, even if it was just her imagination. Joyce stared at the clock on the wall as she stroked her best friend’s hair. She wanted so badly to tell her that she would spend every day with her if she could. To tell her the truth about why they only seemed to truly hang out once or twice a week these days.
She hugged Karen just a little tighter, as if that would protect her more from all the monsters she knew nothing about.
“I got you,” she whispered. “Mike’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay too. You can set aside some ice cream cake for me and Will, too. When that bitch leaves, the four of us can have dessert together. Complain a little.”
Karen laughed. Not to stifle her crying this time. She really laughed. “You know, the whole reason I can’t have my slice right now is because I was already too full when I had that last roll.”
“You just had to prove your point.” Joyce chuckled, her words laced with affection.
“I did. Audrey and Ted are such shitheads!”
Over the nearly forty years that Joyce had known Karen, this was about the second time that she had ever heard her utter a cuss word.
She pretended to be shocked. “Language,” she said, mimicking Ted.
Karen laughed so loudly she had to cover her mouth.
“Joyce,” she groaned, “you’re terrible. You’re terrible.”
There was something about the way her subtle dimples showed when she laughed. Joyce felt it immediately: the overwhelming warmth in her chest and stomach that she couldn’t put into words. Whatever the feeling was, she needed to be closer to Karen. She tucked a few messy blonde curls behind Karen’s ear and let her fingers linger as she stroked her cheek.
Karen’s laughing slowed down immediately, and they were both quiet after that.
“Let me tell you something,” Joyce said as she went up on her tiptoes.
“Is it bad?”
Joyce just laughed and shook her head “You’ve got the cutest cheeks,” she whispered in her ear. It wasn’t something that she said impulsively. It also wasn’t something she regretted saying. She felt like she needed to say it.
When Karen met her eyes again, Joyce could have sworn her pupils had dilated.
“You… I… you…” Karen stumbled over her words. She did that a lot. Even though she was friendly, and she knew how to be polite and handle small talk with groups of people, she was still very shy. “You have really pretty eyes. Like brown sugar. I love brown sugar. It’s my favorite thing to put in my tea.”
Joyce hooked a finger under Karen’s chin, guiding her to maintain eye contact. Karen gave her this look - desperate and awestruck and nervous all at the same time.
Joyce knew what would happen next. Or what could happen. What on earth would it mean if it did?
A sudden sound interrupted them.
Joyce pulled away quickly. Her heart rate spiked, because she was afraid it might be Ted. Not because we were doing anything odd, she told herself. He’s just always so mean to her.
Instead, it was Mike, standing there with an empty bowl of mac and cheese. He placed it in the dishwasher.
“Need help with anything, mom?” he asked.
Karen’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Oh, that’s fine, sweetie. If you want, you and Will can go downstairs and hang out until grandma leaves. I’ve set aside some ice cream cake for you and him and Mrs. Byers. We’ll have dessert together later!”
“And complain,” Joyce added with a firm nod.
This made Mike snicker. He was wearing a yellow knitted sweater that Joyce hadn’t noticed until now. It was oversized, cable knit, with a little tear in the right sleeve.
She recognized it right away. It was Will’s.
He really was his mother’s son. Messy hair, knitted sweaters, dark eyes full of love. There was a little bit of a snark to him that Joyce knew was from his father, but his overall warmth made it manifest as comical. He showed his attitude always at the right times and never in a way that was cruel.
“Michael,” Karen said, just before he was about to leave.
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“I’m so sorry. About your dad. I just need you to know that it’s not okay. How he treats you. That’s not normal.”
Mike was composed in a way that was definitely insincere. He had a way of suppressing emotions that made him seem so much older than he was. It devastated Joyce if she thought about it too much. “Are you okay, mom?” was all he replied with.
Karen’s face fell. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, “I’m okay.”
He asked that question a lot. Karen’s eyes always responded with the same immense guilt when he did. She pretended not to notice. She knew why, after all.
When Mike was around twelve, he’d told Joyce that his parents were always fighting. That his mom seemed sad all the time. That she would sometimes tell him she was proud of how kind and caring he was, compared to all the other boys. Obviously, he knew his dad was another boy. It had an impact on him, undoubtedly, but Joyce would always blame Ted for it before she blamed Karen.
She knew what Ted was like. It was even worse than Mike thought.
Karen wrapped her arms around her son and Joyce asked if she could join in.
Mike nodded eagerly. “Absolutely, Mrs. Byers.” Despite everything that had happened over the past three years, he still had a bit of childlike innocence.
“It’s been ten years, silly. Please call me Joyce.”
They served the ice cream cake to the rest of the family and ignored Ted and Audrey’s remarks about Will and Mike leaving the table early. It didn’t matter what they thought.
From the kitchen, Joyce could hear laughter and soft voices drifting up from downstairs.
Whatever it was that was going on between them, Joyce hoped that Will would always live with Mike.