Heatwaves

Familiarity

"I can't exactly describe how I feel right now

but it's not quite right

and it leaves me cold"

-F. Scott Fitzgerald





The morning sun beamed through the living room window, its rays warming my face and rousing me from sleep. Blinking away the remnants of slumber, I realized I was still on the couch, not in my own room. The TV, left on from the previous night, flickered with the colors of a different show, its sound a low hum in the background.

I sat up, stretching and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The blanket that had been draped over me the night before was now tangled around my legs. I moved carefully, trying not to wake Hopper, who was still deep in sleep in his room. My movements were as quiet as possible, a conscious effort to avoid disturbing his rest.

I made my way to my bedroom to grab some clothes for a shower. The house was still and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of yesterday. After a refreshing shower, I returned to my room to discard my dirty clothes, then headed back to the kitchen.

To my surprise, Hopper was already up, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. I reached for the fridge, hoping to find something to eat, but Hopper's hand shot out, shutting the door with a definitive thud.

"Hey, I was trying to eat something!" I protested, my voice muffled through the closed door.

"Well, no need. While you were in the shower, Joyce called and said she was making breakfast," Hopper replied, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

"Okay, well, you didn't have to slam the door like that. I could've been decapitated, you know," I said, half-jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's go, Grumpy."

"Hey!" I retorted, though a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

We headed out the door, and Hopper drove us to Joyce's house. The morning sun was bright, casting a golden hue over the familiar suburban landscape. As we pulled into Joyce's driveway, Hopper put the truck in park and turned to me.

"If you need anything and want to leave, just have Joyce call the station. She has the number."

I nodded, feeling a lump of nervous anticipation in my throat. As I got out of the truck, I could feel my heartbeat quicken, and my palms grew clammy. The front door of Joyce's house seemed to loom ahead of me, and I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Hopper. He noticed my trepidation and gave me a reassuring smile and a small wave.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and approached the door. I raised my hand and knocked softly.

"One second!" Joyce's voice called out from inside, muffled but cheerful.

Before I could second-guess myself, the door swung open to reveal Joyce, looking a bit flustered but warm. She ushered me inside, and as I crossed the threshold, she quickly stepped outside to say goodbye to Hopper.

Inside, Jonathan was already at the dining table. Our eyes met briefly, and then Joyce guided me to the table. I took a seat and looked around at the spread of breakfast foods laid out before me.

"I didn't know your tastes, but I made everything, including your favorite—chocolate chip pancakes," Joyce said with a kind smile.

I smiled back, touched by her thoughtfulness. "Thank you, but you didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"I did," Joyce insisted gently. "Even when you were missing, you were still considered family. It's just nice to have you back."

An awkward pause hung in the air before everyone began to serve themselves. I waited until the others had filled their plates before I started to serve myself, making sure to take some pancakes to please Joyce. She noticed and smiled approvingly before introducing me to her sons.