Work Text:
Skippin' through the lily fields I came across an empty space,
It trembled and exploded, left a bus stop in it's place.
The bus came by and I got on, that's when it all began,
There was Cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus to never ever land.
The bus came for Steve Harrington in an unexpected form, as it always does: closing time at Family Video. As they counted out the register and shelved the returns, Keith would play what he called “tapes,” bootleg copies of Grateful Dead concerts. Since he was the manager, Steve and Robin had no say in the matter. But Steve found the sound appealing. He asked if he could borrow some.
“Didn't think the Dead would be your thing, Hair,” Keith said with a sneer, but he loaned Steve three tapes, two back issues of Relix magazine, and a joint.
Steve consumed them all and asked for more. “I underestimated you,” Keith said, this time with a sarcastic smile.
After the horrors of Starcourt and the previous years, the Dead became an escape hatch for Steve. All the music, all the lore: the Acid Tests, the Merry Pranksters, the Bozos & Bolos, the ways of Hypnocracy, Egypt '78. The Deadhead path seemed openended, a journey, something he desperately needed. Steve began to grow his hair out longer. He and Robin went with Keith to Bloomington, where there was a small community of Deadheads.
“We need to go to some shows,” he told Robin. She agreed.
Fever roll up to a hundred and five
Roll on up, gonna roll back down
One more day I find myself alive
Tomorrow maybe go beneath the ground
Steve heard it from Keith, who heard it from one of his Bloomington friends: Jerry Garcia was in a coma. He might be dying. Steve was frantic. He was worried as if it happened to a friend. Finally he had managed to find somewhere he felt like he belonged and it was being snatched away, something he lost before he even grasped it.
Five days later, more news came down the tangled chain: Jerry's awake. He's alive. Steve's relief was like when El closed the gate.
Steve and Robin vowed to go see the next show they could, no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, it was time to explore inner space.
When Steve went to see Eddie Munson, the man's first words were “You have to tell me if you're a cop.”
“I'm not a cop.”
“I'm serious, Harrington. It's the law. If you're a narc, you have to tell me.”
“Do I look like a narc?”
“Yes.”
Eventually they got down to business. Munson sold him two sheets of blotter acid and a small baggie of foul-smelling shrooms. The first one was definitely not free (“Your daddy's rich, Harrington.”).
He and Robin tripped for the first time together, listening to a tape of the 2/15/73 Madison show. By the end of it, they found themselves connected in mutual lotus position, each of their heads in the crook of the other's neck, their arms laced together and their knees touching, two atoms in a molecule.
Nothin' shakin' on shakedown street,
used to be the heart of town.
Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart,
you just gotta poke around.
Jerry started playing shows again in December of 1986, but the next show in the midwest was in Chicago, April 9th of the following year. Steve and Robin made it a point to be there.
The first thing Steve was struck by was the parking lot. It was a small city, composed entirely of Deadheads. Endless rows of campers and vans, people reconnecting with old friends, trading tapes, selling vegetarian burritos. He and Robin blended in like they'd been on the scene for years. The Heads were welcoming, genuinely glad to see them.
The first set included “Promised Land,” with its great old-time rock 'n roll feel to it, and “My Brother Esau,” which Steve liked because shadowboxing the apocalypse was something about which he knew a thing or two. But the best part was the second set opener, a tremendous “Scarlet Begonias-->Fire On the Mountain” that swept him in and made him whole.
Down in front of the stage were masses of twirling hippie girls, their hair and skirts fanning out into disks. Steve joined them, twirled along, and found himself in sync with one particular redhead. Robin gave him a wink and told him to have a good time. Steve and the twirling girl retired to a VW microbus in the parking lot city. She dosed them both and they fucked while the acid came on, then lied in each others' arms as they tripped. It was the most intense sex he'd had in a long time, almost like losing his virginity anew. He felt split open.
He didn't quite get the twirling girl's name. He would never forget her.
Wind in the willow's playin' "Tea For Two"
The sky was yellow, and the Sun was blue
Strangers stoppin' strangers, just to shake their hand
Everybody's playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band
Jonathan Byers was back from school, that fancy school in Boston, the one he and Nancy ran off to. They came back for vacation. He and Steve ran into each other at Melvald's.
Jonathan looked at Steve's vest, at the patches, at Steve's shoulder-length hair. His nose wrinkled. “Really, Steve? The Dead?”
Steve took it in stride. “Could you pass the Acid Test?”
Byers didn't back down from that. They retired back to the Harrington house. Steve handed him a piece of blotter paper, which Jonathan swallowed without breaking eye contact.
A few hours later, they were in the woods.
“Wow,” said Jonathan.
“No—WOW,” said Steve.
“Uh-uh. WOW!” said Jonathan
That's where Nancy found them. She was out of breath, obviously worried.
“What did you do to my boyfriend?”
Steve and Jonathan laughed, and their laughter filled the forest, purple, crimson, and gold.
Later Steve considered the risk. They were in the Hawkins woods, the woods once filled with monsters. It could have been the worst of bad trips. But he followed the Prankster way: Freak freely. He went with the moment and the moment took care of itself. They found magic, healing magic, him and Jonathan, magic among the trees.
Byers said thank you before he left.
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home
He told Robin “I love you.”
He told Dustin “I love you.”
He said it to Nancy and Jonathan, to Lucas and Max and Will and El and Mike, to Joyce and Hopper, even to his folks: “I love you.”
The music let him do this. The music told him he could. A golden road, the most valuable thing he ever found, a treasure in the earth.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
Steve and Robin resolved to follow the Dead on tour for a while. Robin was going to Oberlin in the fall, so this would be their last chance for adventure. They ordered tickets by mail and left Hawkins, driving the burgundy Beemer west.
They began with three shows at Red Rocks, the great natural amphitheater in the mountains. He and Robin took turns: one tripped at one show, while the other stayed straight to keep watch. The next show, they switched. At the second show Robin found a twirling girl of her own. The two made love in their tent. Steve waited outside and watched the stars, happy because he knew Robin was happy.
The band played “Estimated Prophet,” “Quinn The Eskimo,” “Black Muddy River,” and even “Touch of Grey,” the Dead song that became an unexpected hit that year.
They sent postcards from each stop: to their parents, to Dustin, Lucas and Max in Hawkins, to the Byers in Lenora Hills, to Nancy and Jonathan in Boston.
Sometimes when the cuckoo's crying
When the moon is half way down
Sometimes when the night is dying
I take me out and I wander around
Wander around
Angel's Camp, Calaveras County, far inland California. Cowboy country. Rolling hills and scrub trees and Steve Harrington felt like he should have a six-shooter at his hip.
Last night he and Robin attended their last show on this tour. The band played “Jack Straw” and “Me and My Uncle,” two of his favorites, and another great “Scarlet-->Fire.” The encore ended with the audience singing along to “Brokedown Palace.”
It was a little before dawn. There was a fringe of light in the east. Robin was fast asleep.
It was time to go back home. Robin needed to get to school. But Steve didn't want to. He wanted to keep driving, see what was over the western horizon, go to San Francisco, go to the sea. He wanted to escape the monsters of Indiana. He felt like he belonged here, like the music led him here, showed him the trail.
The sun rose, over the land and in his heart.
California.
Sunshine daydream
Walking through the tall trees
Going where the wind goes
Blooming like a red rose
Breathing more freely
Light out singing
I'll walk you in the morning sunshine
Sunshine daydream
Walk you in the sunshine