Chapter Two
One Week Later…
"Hi, Terri," Nora spoke up
lifelessly as she trudged into the women's locker room, taking off her
coat and throwing it across the back of an unoccupied chair.
"Hi, Nora." Terri's voice
was soft with sympathy, and Nora didn't have to guess twice to know that
word had already been leaked about her incoming demise. Terri's eyes were
filled with sad concern, as she opened her mouth, about to say something,
and then seemed to change her mind.
"I, um, took othe liberty
of checking your messages for you," the tiny blonde spoke instead, motioning
to her cell phone, and Nora tried to appear disinterested.
"Oh, really?" Her voice
was flat, listless, unfeeling. Terri, meanwhile, chose to ignore this,
and nodded.
'That's right. Six messages.
One is from your mother, one is from Mr. McMahon...and four are from Jeff
Hardy."
"Oh, really?" Nora's voice
barely fluctuated, as the petite brunette somehow managed to keep her voice
surprisingly neutral. Terri sensed that something was wrong, and ventured
timidly, "Aren't you going to call him back?"
"No," her fellow diva replied
flatly. Terri looked surprised by her answer.
"Oh." An awkward pause stretched
between the two women, before Terri offered, "You know, if you want to
discuss your problems with someone, I...I can..."
"I'd rather not talk about
it," Nora murmured tiredly, rubbing her eyes.
"All right," Terri said
in a tiny voice. "But if you ever need anything at all--"
"I said I didn't want to
talk about it!" Nora snapped irritably, her voice rising shrilly as she
jumped up from where she had taken a seat. Terri blinked, both taken aback
and intimidated by her sudden outburst, and could only watch as Nora picked
up her coat and stalked out of her office, slamming the door shut behind
her and completely forgetting that she had match against Trish for later
on that night.
The first thing Nora saw
as she walked down the dimly lit, maroon-carpeted hallway toward her hotel
room was Jeff Hardy, looking as wild and dashing as ever as he patiently
waited outside her door, decked out in a pair of black cargo pants and
a long-sleeved white shirt. Despite the fact that she was supposed to be
mad at him, Nora couldn't help but smile at the sight of her fiancé.
The daring high-flyer and resident WWE heartthrob still looked like he'd
barely graduated from college, with his past-shoulder-length hair casually
pulled back with a rubber band and tucked under a purple baseball cap.
On that particular day, his hair was dyed a colorful blue and green, and
Nora recalled with amusement that even she herself had trouble remembering
what his true hair color was. She vaguely remembered it as being somewhere
along the lines of blonde. Jeff seemed to sense that someone was approaching,
and quickly leapt up when he saw his fiancée, absently tugging down
the headphones from his ears.
"Hey," he murmured tentatively.
Nora didn't bother to reply, only gave him a wary look as she reached to
unlock her front door.
"Nora, come on..." Jeff's
voice trailed off, as he swiftly followed her inside, pushing the door
wide open before she had a chance to slam it shut. "Nora, you can't avoid
me forever."
"No, but I can for six months,
and then you'll never have to see me again," Nora replied icily. Jeff leaned
back, as if she had just dealt him a physical blow, and Nora felt a twinge
of guilt at seeing the genuine hurt on his face.
"You don't seriously mean
that," Jeff murmured softly. Nora turned around, a tired expression on
her face, and for the first time Jeff noticed that her carefully applied
makeup was designed to cover her hollow eyes and lifeless features.
"Look, Jeff, there's really
no need for you to be here," she said quietly. "I mean, what could you
possibly do for me? Find a miracle cure? So far, there haven't exactly
been many successful transitions from pro wrestler to medical doctor."
Jeff reached forward to grab her wrist.
"Nora, listen to yourself.
You're giving up on yourself without even--" he started to say. Nora abruptly
pulled her hand away from his.
"When will you get it through
your thick head that you're engaged to a dead woman?!" she yelled emotionally,
angry tears starting to form on the corners of her eyes before she quickly
blinked them away. "Damn it, Jeff, just go away and leave me alone for
a change! Go play tonsil hockey with one--or all--of your groupies or something,
Mr. 'NSYNC of the WWE!"
Jeff's expression turned cold.
"Fine, then," he said stiffly,
icily. "If that's the way you feel about life, then feel free to waste
away. Might I suggest drinking four cups of 'shroom juice and passing out
at four in the morning?"
Nora's eyebrows nearly flew off her hairline upon hearing his words,
as she instinctively drew back, startled that he knew.
"How...how did you find
out about that?" she stammered in a tiny voice.
"Terri told me about it,"
came the prompt response. "She thought I might be able to talk some sense
into you, but by now it's pretty obvious that you're just trying to speed
up your death."
Nora's eyes narrowed, as she shrieked furiously, "Get out of here!"
"You don't have to tell
me twice," Jeff spat out contemptuously, storming out the door and slamming
it firmly shut. Nora glared at the spot her fiancé had occupied,
before letting out a frustrated growl and flinging the nearest object--a
delicate antique vase--at the door, watching as china smashed against rosewood
and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Shattered. Just like her life.
