Disclaimer: DODS
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
R&R, P&TY
For the purposes of the story, I created a character – Carson Drew's sister and Nancy's Aunt, Sallie Martinez.
Also, Frank is a bachelor.
I am flying through the air, screaming at the top of my lungs, free and joyful. When I come back down to earth, I bounce right back up, turn around to see Ned's face, and laugh lightly, reaching out my arms. "Ned!" I call excitedly. "You came back!"
"Hi, Nance," he says, but his voice speaks from thousands and thousands of miles away, and he starts fading, dissolving into the air right before my eyes.
"NED!" I scream. "Come back again! Come back!" but he was gone.
After Ned's death, every single night I had at least one disturbing nightmare. They were all basically the same – I saw Ned again, called out to him, heard his sweet voice one more time, and then he was gone again; and I was sent back to the real world. Sometimes the dream was set just in white, senseless space, sometimes I was in his bedroom, sometimes we were standing in front of the Rock River – but most of the time, it was on the trampoline in my backyard, where we had bounced so many times.
I could take comfort in the fact that he had gone peacefully, but every minute of the day when I was not distracted, I ached to think that I had not gotten to say goodbye face-to-face. Seeing his tortured and whitened face against the blandness of the hospital bed on his last day had been the worst moment of my life. Even though I was only eighteen, I felt like a lifetime of adversity had embedded itself into my soul, aging me so that I was withered and numb.
I spent the first few days afterwards beneath my covers, refusing to speak. I drank what water and ate what food that Hannah brought me, but besides that, I did not interact with my surroundings. That feeling of hollowness and tragedy was inescapable, and so I withdrew – not escaping, but hiding.
After about a month, I managed to completely return to normal life. I was attending NIU, with my own off-campus apartment, and regularly visiting – and being visited by – the Miracle Worker Cousins, Bess Marvin and George Fayne, who somehow managed to support me through my period of mourning. They stood with me at the funeral, escorted me home, and comforted me while I sobbed endlessly in the aftermath.
On most weekends, I returned to the River Heights home I had grown up in, with Hannah and Dad, to savor the silence and reflect on childhood memories. These hours spent at home were my saving grace; they allowed me to go back to when I was more innocent, and free from the burden of fate's wrath. To go back to my childhood was a great thing – a bit of a rinse, really.
My Aunt Sallie, who was actually quite young and whom I held in greatest confidence, was also a large factor in my survival. At least every other week, she would call, email or text me asking me how I was and if I needed anything. More than once, my reply was abundant with requests, all of which she generously and quickly fulfilled. Uncle Carlos, her husband, was also a good person, but I was never very close to him, possibly because we weren't blood-related, and he was a very busy and slightly aloof man.
It had been nearly a year since I'd lost Ned to the power of the plug, and many wonderful people had worked to help me overcome the obstacles that accompanied heartbreak. But with everyday the pain had still grown stronger and more excruciating. My father had attempted several times to persuade me to see a psychiatrist or some kind of help, but I refused. The pain of mourning is natural; therefore must pass naturally to really pass. In order to convince him of this truth, I pretended to 'feel the beginning of such natural passage', which had led to me returning to my schooling and regular schedule. Despite my farce, though, I had still not even begun to recover from my post-traumatic shock. It was difficult to fake mental stability in such a situation, but anything was better than spilling my thoughts to some overrated quack (aka a shrink). And so, I put up my façade at home and around my friends, but when I was alone in my apartment, I cried every single moment.
I was halfway through one such session of total devastation when the phone in my bedroom rang. I crawled over to it, wiped my face on my sleeve, and answered. "Nancy here," I mumbled. I had just had a particularly traumatizing nightmare; I hadn't been having the nightmares in a while, and this shockingly sudden and vivid relapse was entirely unwelcome. I heard my voice coming out slurred and sickly and revealing that I was in a lot of distress, and immediately tried to pitch a more normal tone. If Bess suspected that something was wrong, she would become annoyingly inquisitive, and I didn't feel like having a mental session right then.
"Hey, Nan," Bess's warm and loving voice greeted me. "How're you?"
Bess was in a community college. She was now, more than ever, focusing on her lifelong dream of owning a small fabrics shop and mainly being a housewife; she was obviously not aiming for any high education. George, on the other hand, was at a widely acclaimed athletically-oriented university in Springfield, but managed to make it back down to River Heights often to visit us.
"Hi, Bess," I said, and was relieved to find that now, my voice sounded as close to normal as it could. Also, it was altered over the phone line to sound even better. "I'm doing well, what about you?"
"Yeah, I'm cool." Bess paused. "So, I met a guy."
I sighed exasperatedly. Bess Marvin was always meeting guys (it was her specialty) – at bars, at the mall, at restaurants, everywhere she went, she met a guy, and every time she 'fell madly in love', called me and George to gush, and then the next day decided that she was already bored of her 'future husband'. She was currently living with two other girls who were attending the same community college as Bess in River Heights – Tish, an old classmate from high school, and someone named Ashley Banks – but she was constantly talking about how she wanted to move in with a serious boyfriend, get married, and fill their mansion with lively children.
"What kind of guy?" I asked. It was an unnecessary question. Whether or not I expressed desire to hear about Bess's guy, Bess would tell all.
"Well, he's very handsome. He seems very motivated. He's sort of dark-haired, he has a mysterious vibe… and he feels very familiar," Bess said, stressing the last word.
"Oh, really," I said without feeling. "Is he available?"
"Quite available," Bess said lightly, with a hint of a laugh in her voice. "Are you interested?"
It took me a second to comprehend what Bess was suggesting. Bess's guy was not for Bess. Bess's guy was for me.
"Oh, no, no way, Bess – very clever, but no way… I mean, you know that I'm not ready," I protested.
"Just agree to meet him. I think you might make an exception… for this particular guy," Bess pled.
"No guys, Bess. Every man I look at looks like…"
"Ned?" Bess finished plainly. "Still, you should get back into the sea, Nancy. Or at least dip your toes in the water and test the temperature. Just check it out. Please?"
"Bess, I can't." I felt a sob catch in my throat.
"Nance, you've been telling us for ages that you're fine and ready to go back to normal without Ned," Bess chastised. "If you really are, then why can't you do this?"
I groaned. Bess had caught me. If I admitted that I wasn't over Ned – at all – then I would get carted off to a shrink's office, or maybe even the psych ward. But if I kept up my lie, I had to meet Bess's guy, who was a probable loser that wasn't looking to deal with a basket case like me. While I searched through loopholes in this predicament, Bess started ranting about the guy's natural charm, and blah, blah, blah. It bored the heck out of me, and when I had determined that there was no way to escape, I simply interrupted her sales pitch. "OK, girly, here's the deal. I'll meet this dude once. I'm not guaranteeing anything – in fact I'm warning you right here, right now that nothing is going to come out of this. But I'll go anyway, just to please you. And after this – no more matchmaking, no more suggestions; you know that I can't handle a lot right now even if I am recovering. Deal?"
"Deal," Bess sighed dejectedly. "I told him to be waiting at five o'clock this afternoon at the Tea n' Coffee Shop on Campus Blvd."
"I have class at five," I countered.
"Nancy," Bess answered with a hint of condescension. "It's Sunday."
And so, the date was set.
There you go, chapter number one. Tell me if it's any good, I'm not so sure!
Thanks in advance for feedback.
Feel free to ask any questions or give any suggestions, I don't get offended very easily.
