Nora Stevenson

Chapter Five

Liam sits dejectedly on the bench outside the police station. Eli paces by his side, talking exasperatedly on the phone. "Listen, I told you, I had to dash. I'll be back at work tomorrow. Yes. No. See you tomorrow." He hangs up. "God, I hate that man. He's so annoying."
"I bet." Liam's feet swing and scuff rhythmically on the pavement, but he doesn't care. He's worried about Nora. "You think she'll be okay in there?" he asks Eli. He doesn't particularly care for Eli, but seeing as how he's Nora's brother, he figures that he knows her as well as Liam does.
"Ah, yeah, sure! She's a tough cookie. You're forgetting that she already survived a week in a much harsher prison in the Nevada desert. She'll be fine." Eli plops down on the bench next to Eli and sighs. "I'm hungry. You want to go somewhere?"
"Nah, I'm good. You go ahead. When did they say we could bail?" Liam looks at Eli expectantly.
"Eight o'clock. She has to be in there for, like, five hours before we can bail her. It's six o'clock, so just two more hours to wait." He stands up. "I'm going to get some Wendy's. Sure you don't want anything?"
"Yeah, I'm kind of nauseous actually. But you go ahead. I'll wait here."
"Okay. See you later, then." Eli strides off toward the red Corvette, revs its engine, and speeds away. Liam watches him go.
I should probably go and say something to Abigail, he thinks. His face shifts into a small smile as he remembers Nora slapping his ex-girlfriend upside the head. What a boss. She's pretty cool. But alas, his smile fades once more and his stomach twists into a billion knots as he entertains the thought of confronting Abigail. He sighs. I really should go say something... Maybe I should apologize for Nora. Or ask how she's doing? Ugh. I don't know. I just don't know.
He receives a burst of courage and decides to act upon it while it lasts. He stands up, walks inside, and waits impatiently for the receptionist to get off the phone. At last she hangs up. "Excuse me, ma'am. I'm looking for Detective Reeves?"
The black woman from before looks up and says, "Sure, hon. Third door on the left. Be fast; she's off duty in half an hour."
"Thank you!" Liam takes a deep breath and half-walks, half-sprints to Abigail's office. Third door on the left. I've got this. He arrives at the door on the left and decides he doesn't have this. Her flaxen-colored long hair twists and twirls across her back as she paces back and forth. She appears emotionless and professional in her gray business attire of a blazer and pencil skirt, but Liam knows better. He reminisces to the days when he and Abigail used to do all kinds of stuff, such as art, take walks, and dare each other to do crazy things. But now, the joy is gone.
Just breathe, Liam. You can do this. He knocks on the door of her office and she whirls around, startled. Her face turns expressionless at the sight of Liam, but she opens the door. "Can I help you with something, Mister Wallace?"
He surveys the office and nods. He refocuses his attention on Abigail. "Abigail, come on. Don't do this. It's not like I told Nora to do that. I promise."
Her eyes narrow. "Liam, this is a place of business. This is my job. I will not deal with my personal affairs at the police station. Please leave. I have work to do."
Liam scoffs. "Sorry, but you're busted. The receptionist says you get off work in like, fifteen minutes. You can spare fifteen minutes, can't you?" He watches hopefully as Abigail weighs her options.
She sighs. "Fine. Speak."
"Abigail, I don't know why you left me. I've tried to get over it; I really have! But I just don't think I can until I know why." Abigail's expression is guarded. "So can you please, please, please tell me why you turned down my proposal to marry you?"
"I—I loved you, Liam. I still do. But I just can't tell you. I'm sorry."
"Abigail! I think I deserve to know, don't you?" She buries her face in her hands and moans.
"Oh, Liam. If only you knew. I just can't tell you. It's too bad." Liam's face grows upset and tears begin to well up in his eyes. Nope, he thinks. Can't afford to cry. Do not cry in front of your ex.
"There is nothing so bad that you can't tell me, Abigail! I love you. I thought you knew that." He sighs. This is going well.
"I know you do. It's just that...if I told you...I don't think you would love me anymore. I did something horrible and I just can't tell you. I'm sorry." A tear slips from her eye and she wipes it away, embarrassed.
"Please tell me, Abigail."
"No. I can't. It's too terrible."
Nothing but silence passes between them, and Liam closes his eyes.
"Fine," he says. "I won't push you. But if you're ever willing to talk, you know where I live. And...I am sorry that my friend hit you. But you have to admit, you kind of deserved it, you know? What you did to me was awful. I forgive you, but I'm having a bit of a hard time forgetting. So...if you could tell me, I think it would help. But it's fine." He turns around, twists the knob, and walks out.
"Bye, Liam," Abigail says, a split second before the door shuts. "It was good to see you."
"It was good to see you too," he replies. "You look well.
"I am."
"That's good." He swivels his head back around and hears the door click shut behind him as he exits the police station, every counter and every desk a blur.
Why can't she tell me? Doesn't she know that I love her? He buries his face in his hands as he plops down on the bench outside and sighs. Then, he lets it flow. All the memories, all the pain, all the tears. He sobs violently, his body convulsing with emotion as the sun sets behind him, the sky turning all colors of the rainbow.
A thought pops into his head. It scares him. His feet tingle and his stomach churns as he attempts to analyze it. What if I really don't love her anymore? he asks himself. Maybe I'm just in love with the memories. He bows his head in shame, and the tears surge forth once more.
He sits there for a while until he loses track of time. It is completely dark outside. Good, he thinks. Perhaps nobody will see me cry anymore. He'd received a bunch of weird looks as citizens and officers alike poured out the doors at closing time. He'd barely been able to check himself and act normal when Abigail walked past, glancing at him guiltily.
Suddenly, an engine revs in the parking lot, and a door slams. Eli has returned. As Liam pulls himself together, he watches Nora's brother approach from the parking lot with a paper bag. "I brought you this," Eli says. "I thought you might have gotten hungry while I was out."
Liam stares at it glumly, but decides he should eat. "Thanks," he mumbles.
"Hey, Liam?"
"Yeah." Liam looks up at Eli and remembers all the times his friend's brother had tortured him as a child.
"You know I was kidding earlier, right? When I said I'd forgotten who you were? At my office?" Eli's voice was penitent and shaky.
"No, I didn't, Eli."
"Well, I was. And...I'm also sorry for what I did to you when we were kids. I was stupid." Liam's eyes narrow and he analyzes Eli's apology. He seems sincere.
"It's fine."
"It's not fine, Wallace. I was pretty horrible to you. I'm sorry." Eli bites his lip and Liam watches, unforgiving.
"Yeah, you were pretty horrible. But I've learned to live with it, so it's fine." Eli seems to not know what to say, so Liam changes the subject. "Anyway... What time is it?"
"It's seven fifty. We should go ahead inside and sign everything for the bail."
Liam heaves a sigh and stands up wearily. It's been a long day. "Alright," he says. "Let's go get our Nora back, then."
"Okay."
Liam and Eli walk inside awkwardly. What just happened? It's not like Eli to apologize for anything! He must've had a revelation or a near-death experience or something. Weird. He decides to ignore it for now. "Excuse me, ma'am," he calls to the nighttime receptionist, a pretty, young woman named Clarice.
Clarice looks up from her computer and smiles. "Hi, there," she says. "It's after hours, but can I help you?" Liam's stomach churns—she's beautiful.
"Um, yes, actually. C-can we get some papers to bail someone?" She blinks.
"Yes, sir. I'll draw them up for you. Who are you looking to bail?" She rises from her chair and Liam beholds her petite body, clad in a casual plum-colored dress. Woah. Stunned, he forgets to speak. "Sir?"
"Oh! Yes, sorry. Zoned out. We're here for my friend, Nora Stevenson. She was arrested earlier today." Clarice turns back around with the papers in hand, a sympathetic smile donning her face.
"I'm so sorry. What for?" Eli's head swivels back and forth as he watches Liam grow redder and redder.
"Well, it's a long story, but she was framed and arrested for something, but she escaped prison last week. She was telling Detective Reeves about it and found out too late that she shouldn't have mentioned it."
Clarice hands him a pen and brushes auburn locks out of her face. "That's too bad," she says. With her almost miniature hands, she pushes the papers across the counter for him to read and sign.
"How much will the bail be?" Eli asks, getting down to business. Liam is snapped out of his rose-colored vision.
"It's going to be around five thousand," she answers. Liam looks sideways to Eli.
"Five thousand is a lot," Liam says. "Do you think Nora even has that much on her card?" Eli scratches his chin thoughtfully.
"You know what?" Eli says. "How about we split it down the middle, as a favor for Nora?" Liam smiles.
"That's a really good idea. Let's do it." Pulling his brown leather wallet out from his jean pocket, he grins at the thought of doing Nora such a big favor. He slides out his card and hands it to Clarice, his fingers sending shivers through his body as she touches them to take the card. Eli does the same and nods to himself approvingly, obviously proud to have done something kind for his sister.
Clarice swipes the cards and hands them back to their respective owners. "That should cover it!" she says cheerfully. "Just sign the bottom of the paper, sir. I'll draw another set up for your friend here." Eli isn't my friend, Liam thinks, but he has to admit that Eli's been pretty kind today. Maybe he's changed. He signs the document with his characteristic messy scrawl, and places the pen back in its holder.
"Here we go," Clarice says brightly as she returns with papers for Eli. He signs them in a neat cursive signature, and hands her the pen. "Thank you. That will be all. I'll send some officers to retrieve Ms. Stevenson."
"Thank you so much, Clarice," Liam says cordially. He and Eli decide to sit on a wooden bench just inside the building and wait for Nora. "Eli, thanks for apologizing," he begins, out of the blue.
Eli looks surprised that Liam is talking to him voluntarily. "No problem. You deserved an apology." He nods and smiles. They wait in silence for a few minutes. Liam's stomach disagrees with the Wendy's that Eli brought him earlier.
All of a sudden, Nora bursts forward from the downstairs portion of the police station, jogging toward Liam and her brother. "Guys! You're here! I'm out!" Her guards watch as she runs toward Liam and tackles him in a hug. "Thanks so much for staying and bailing me."
"You're welcome," Liam responds with a grin. It's so good to see Nora happy. "How was your second visit to jail?"
She's breathing hard from excitement. "Eh, it was boring. What'd you guys do?" Liam decides not to tell her about his confrontation with Abigail. He needed to figure out what he thought on his own before he confided in her.
"Oh, not much. We sat around. Eli went and got some Wendy's." Liam twirls his fingers nervously as he lies to Nora.
"Oh, yum! Did you save any for me?" she asks, winking at her brother. She hugs him, and he smiles.
"Nah, sorry. Glad you're out though." Nora seems happy to be alive after her ordeal with Abigail Reeves and jail.
"Me too. You guys want to hit the road?" She grabs her jacket from the officer behind her and waves goodbye. "Thanks, Hank. You were good to me." Hank waves back and turns around, descending back into the jail.
"Yeah, let's go," Eli suggests. "It's already dark out." He pats Liam on the back as he passes, his jacket swishing as he walks through the automatic doors.
Nora turns to Liam. "Did my brother just...pat you on the back?" Liam chuckles and attempts to explain.
"Yeah," he says. "You know what he did today? He apologized to me, you know, for being so mean back when we were kids. He's turning out okay."
Nora is dumbfounded. "My brother..." she says, appalled. "Apologizing. Strange." She cocks her head inquisitively and shrugs. "Huh."
"I know, right?" He pushes a tag sticking out from his friend's jacket back inside, and leads her toward the doors. "So," he starts, "you slapped my ex-girlfriend."
Nora nods proudly. "Yes, Liam. I slapped your ex-girlfriend." She looks at him.
"You're a pretty cool woman, Nora. You know that?"
Her eyes sparkle with the joy of freedom and life, and, after a minute, she responds. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." They follow Eli out through the blistery, biting air to the car, and Nora shares stories told to her by the officer downstairs, Hank. "Did you know," she says, "Hank went skydiving once? He's a really cool guy."
Liam smiles. "Wow. I bet." Nora laughs, and all is well.

"Abby, just do it. Please." Piper moans in exasperation as she argues with her henchwoman and partner in crime. "You've got to get a car to send them to the hospital, okay? ...I don't care if it's against your ethics. ...No, Abby, don't drive the car yourself... Have someone else do it. Perhaps a friend? Just make sure we can trust whoever you pick."
Piper paces around her apartment as she argues with Abby. "Just do it. Have him crash them, send them on a detour to the emergency room... Yes, Abby, it will be fine. Yes. Goodbye, Abby." She hangs up the phone and laments the stupidity of her partners for this crime. Sometimes it's better just to do things myself, she thinks.
She kicks cardboard boxes out of the way as she trudges through her messy apartment, fanning her face to relieve her nose of the impending smell of mold. Things can only get better from here. As she enters her office, moving not two but three boxes out of the doorway, she decides to write to her boyfriend. Eli hasn't written me in over a week... Is he okay? Is there something I've done?
She switches on her dusty goose lamp and sits. Struggling to slide open the top left drawer of her desk, she curses under her breath as it remains determined to keep locked in place. Could this day get any worse? Finally, she yanks the wooden drawer open with a triumphant "Aha!" Extracting two sheets of stationary paper adorned with flowers and swirls, she smooths them across her desk and thinks.
The stationary had been given to her by Eli himself, as a present when he left for San Francisco. "Write to me. Okay, Piper?" he had said before kissing her goodbye.
"Of course, my love," she'd responded. "Be safe."
Piper snaps out of her reverie and returns to her task. What to write? She grabs a simple yet elegant black ballpoint pen from a jar on her desk and prepares to write. Scratching the side of her head with the back end of her pen, she contemplates her words and chooses them carefully. Finally, she begins. She writes for nearly an hour, stopping every few minutes to select the right wording for each and every phrase.
As the sun goes down, leaving blood red streaks to stain the cottony sky, Piper works diligently. At last, she rests her weary hand, shakes it, and picks up her stationary to reread her letter:
My dearest, Eli, November 27, 2016
I long for your touch. Perhaps not even that—just your presence would be a gift in and of itself. My heart craves you and your crooked, haughty smile. I receive glimpses of you in my dreams; nothing can comfort me more... I miss you, Eli. Why have you not written? I cannot express the complete and utter despair that envelopes me each day that I do not receive a letter from you, my love. Have I said something against you? Am I no longer worthy of your precious thought? Every night, before I sleep, my body convulses at the notion of being without your love. So, please, my dear Eli. Write to me, for I must know: do you still love me? I am contemplating a trip to come and see you. Would you allow me? I know you are busy with your studies, but if you could spare just one hour for me, I could be the happiest woman in the world—so content and fulfilled, both of which can only be determined by you, Eli. So, my sweet, if you have any heart for me, please write soon. I love you, my dearest. Return soon.
All my love,
-Piper Abrams-
Pleased with her work, Piper folds the stationary into thirds and slips it into an envelope. Placing a small drop of lavender oil on its seal, she licks the glue and presses it closed. After addressing the envelope, she takes the package to the kitchen counter to be mailed tomorrow.
For the rest of the evening, she sits on her lumpy, torn-up couch alone, watching television. Different shows start and end. The Middle. Modern Family. Full House. The list goes on and on until she remembers to look at the clock. The analog clock on the wall, one her most prized possessions, having been given to her by her mother before everything happened, was pink with yellow and green flowers—meant for a little girl. She reminisces the few memories of her parents: strolls in the park, bedtime stories, sing-a-longs in the car.
Piper shakes her head violently, forcing out the memories. No, she thinks. Not now. Not ever. The inherited clock flashes eleven thirty-seven. It's late.
Trudging to her room, she slips into sweatpants and a tank top—her average pajamas. Piper sighs miserably as she climbs into bed, pulling the holey sheets up and over her shoulders, clinging tightly to the blanket on top. Her expression is cold and emotionless, yet inside she weeps. Her eyelids close gradually as she slips into a light and fitful sleep, dreaming of Eli over and over and over again.