Chapter Three
It was midnight--barely fifteen minutes after her argument with Jeff--that Nora pulled up in front of a flashy nightclub and got out of her car. She glanced around at the swirling neon lights, pushed all thoughts of her fiancé out of her mind, and boldly strode inside. She was promptly assaulted by the deafening roar of loud rock & roll as soon as she entered, and had to resist an urge to cover her ears with her hands and turn around and flee. The diamond ring still sat on her finger--despite her illness, Jeff wouldn't even think of calling off their engagement. Jeff. Nora's heart sank, as she remembered her childish behavior, which had subsequently led to their argument. And, probably, it would also lead to their break up, as well, Nora thought in despair, as she stood away from the dance floor and indulged in her misery and guilt.
Axl Locklear downed another
shot of whiskey, wallowing in self-pity after his girlfriend had just dumped
him and walked out of the nightclub, draped all over some Italian guy.
Axl looked up blearily from his shot glass, scanning the crowded nightclub
with dark green eyes, and caught sight of a curvy brunette standing uncertainly
amidst the mob of dancing couples. Her size and rather innocent appearance
made her seem almost child-like, and for some reason--perhaps it was all
the alcohol he'd consumed in the last hour and a half-- Axl, after just
getting dumped, felt courageous enough to approach her. He stumbled off
his stool and wove through the sea of people, finally reaching the petite,
chestnut-haired young woman.
"Hey, there," he greeted.
"My name's Axl. Care to dance?"
It was one-thirty in the
morning, a time at which Nora couldn't conceive doing anything but sleeping.
But then again, it wasn't often when she drank four cups of mushroom juice
to the point of passing out, either, so why not keep on partying at the
nightclub. It appeared as if with each passing hour, the number of patrons
at the nightclub increased by another dozen, and on the dance floor, Nora
kept on being pushed against Axl's body by the other couples...not that,
in her current state of mind, bothered her at all. Finally, at fifteen
to two, she pulled her companion away from the dance floor and breathed
sexily into his ear, "Mmm, let's go to your place." After two hours of
trying acid, mushroom, ecstasy, hallucinogens, and God only knew how many
other substances that she couldn't even identify, it appeared as if Nora
had finally succeeded in killing off all her brain cells. Axl blinked dazedly,
as the tiny brunette in front of him transformed in an instant from child
to seductress. He opened his mouth to stammer out a reply, when his eyes
caught sight of the diamond engagement ring that glinted on her finger,
and he closed his mouth uncertainly. Nora saw his reluctant expression,
and somehow through the haze in her mind figured out what he was hesitating
about.
"Don't worry," she whispered
silkily in his ear, and then giggled, almost in the fashion of a schoolgirl's,
adding, "He won't mind."
Axl was still hesitant, not wanting to get involved with an engaged
woman, but then he glanced at the beatiful--and very stoned--brunette draped
all over him, and his machismo--not to mention all the liquor in his blood--took
over. What the hell, he thought to himself, as he grabbed Nora's
hand and propelled her out of the nightclub and toward his red Mazda Miata.
A finally sober Nora stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling above her, and fought a fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over. She pulled the cream-colored sheets tighter over her breasts, and worked up the courage to glance at the sleeping man beside her. Nora didn't remember his name--she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried--and that scared her. She barely even remembered what had happened earlier that night. All that she did know was that she had tried an array of drugs, and then gone and slept with someone while still engaged to Jeff. Jeff. His name filled her with a deep shame and sorrow, and she fought to keep from crying. To distract her mind from her fiancé, Nora glanced at the bedside clock. Three-forty-five in the morning. She got up and out of bed, slowly, almost as if in a daze, and began to dress. Her eyes rested on the diamond engagement ring, which she had taken off before hopping into bed with a complete and total stranger. Nora felt too ashamed to put it back on her finger, and instead gently placed it in the pocket of her dark blue jeans. Her ring safely in her possession, Nora picked up her black leather jacket, and promptly fled from the apartment, too ashamed and scared to stay in it any longer.
Once safely in her silver Volvo, Nora quickly turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. The radio speakers promptly started blasting Bon Jovi, but Nora was too upset to turn it off. Tears were threatening to spill over, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying until she drew blood. What have I done? she thought miserably to herself, horrified at the late night and early morning events. How could I have done this to my body? How could I have done this to Jeff? The thought of her fiancé sent a fresh jolt of shame and despair through her body. Jeff doesn't deserve this, Nora said silently to herself. The diamond ring pressed against her leg, as she thought, I'm just holding him back by continuing to live and continuing to be engaged to him. Indulging in remorse and self-pity, Nora continued to criticize herself. When I die--what did I give to anyone? I'm just blaming everyone else for my problems, and lashing out at Jeff and keeping him from meeting other women. There's so many women out there who would make much better wives to Jeff than I could possibly hope to.
By that time, Nora was driving
erratically and making a beeline straight for a quarry. Fighting back tears,
she came to a solemn decision: that she was doing nothing but holding Jeff--and
all her other loved ones--back by continuing to live and continuing to
haunt them with her imminent death. So, she came to the sober decision
that the best thing would be to end it all. She would have to die, sooner
or later. She might as well make it sooner, so that those she held dear
wouldn't have to agonize over her eventual death. She struggled to keep
from crying, as she sped up, and her silver Volvo shot forward, heading
at a dizzying speed toward the quarry. Just then, as Bed Of Roses
came to an end, the radio DJ began to speak.
"We have here a fresh new
pick, off of the latest album by a group multi-platinum Florida rockers
I believe you all know quite well," he announced grandly. "Now, in case
you haven't heard yet, this song was recently announced to be their latest
single, and I believe that our listeners will greatly enjoy this."
A soft, mournful guitar solo opened up the song, before a gravelly
male voice began to sing.
Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding on to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet
Ain't so far down
I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I'd found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace
I cried out Heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
Maybe six feet
Ain't so far down
Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me
For you and me
Please come now
I think I'm falling
I'm holding on to all I think is safe...
By then, Nora was so touched
by the song from the mystery rockers, that she stopped holding back her
tears and let them fall freely. She stopped her car by the edge of the
road, a mere few yards away from the quarry, and started crying hard, desperate
to let out all the emotions bottled up inside of her. As she glanced up,
Nora noticed the nearby lights of a gas station, and fumbled to unlock
her door, stumbling out of her car and over to the well-lit station. Blinking
in the sudden white light, Nora scrambled over to the nearest pay phone
and dialed in the station, just as the song finished playing and the technicians
went to a commercial break.
"Hello?" the DJ's voice
came out through the end of the telephone receiver, sounding quite bored.
"I...I would like to know
which group did that...that last song that your played," Nora stammered
out through her tears.
"Oh, you mean One Last
Breath?" the DJ perked up. "That was taken straight off from the album
Weathered, and the multi-platinum Florida rockers that made that
LP would be Creed."
"Creed," Nora repeated the
name, as a smile began to peek through her tears.
"Ma'am?" the DJ finally
seemed to pick up on the fact that his caller had been crying, and became
concerned. "Ma'am, are you all right?"
For the first time in several weeks, Nora felt as if a tremendous weight
had been lifted from her chest.
"Yes," she murmured softly.
"Yes. I'm all right."
"Well...would you like me
to play some more songs by Creed?" the DJ asked uncertainly. Nora gave
a genuine smile, even though she knew he couldn't see her.
"Please," she replied gratefully.
"In that case, I suggest
you go to the nearest radio, ma'am," the DJ said cheerfully, and hung up.
Nora returned to her car and got in, cranking up the radio volume as the
commercials ended and the DJ's now familiar voice came back on.
"This request was made just
a few minutes ago by a very special lady," he started to say. "Now, it's
not quite an oldie yet, seeing as how it's from a 1997 album release, but
it's most definitely a goodie. Here's the hit title track of the My
Own Prison album, by Creed!"
Jeff Hardy rolled over in
bed, having been jarred from his sleep by the annoyingly insistent ringing
of the telephone, before reluctantly reaching over with one hand and fumbling
across his nightstand, nearly knocking the receiver off the hook before
managing to pick it up.
"H'lo?" he mumbled groggily,
still half-asleep.
"Jeff?" a familiar voice
spoke up. Jeff suddenly sat up straighter, switching on the bedside lamp
and speaking into the receiver, "Nora?"
"Hi, Jeffie," Nora greeted
sweetly, being the only one who could get away with calling the dashing
daredevil by his baby name. Jeff grimaced, a blush beginning to stain his
cheeks, and to get his mind off of it, he glanced over at the bedside clock.
"Jesus Christ, Nora, what
the hell are you doing calling me at four o' clock in the morning?" he
hollered into the mouthpiece.
"I wanted to apologize for
my behavior earlier today," Nora said quietly, and Jeff became serious
again.
"Oh?" His voice was carefully
guarded, but it didn't sway Nora from what she wanted to say.
"Yes," she said firmly.
"After finding out about my illness, I've been doing nothing but lashing
out at others and blaming everyone but myself for this. I now realize that
I've created my own prison."
"Huh?" Jeff, despite being
the lyricist for his band, was unable to decipher her metaphor.
"I've created my own prison,"
Nora repeated patiently. "Jeff, I know that I'm dying. And although I'm
gradually learning to accept this, I find myself still wanting someone
to hold me and tell me that everything will be all right."
"Oh, Nora," Jeff murmured
softly. "You know I'll always be there for you."
Over at the gas station, Nora glanced down at her engagement ring,
which she'd put back on after listening to Creed. The diamond adorning
the gold band glittered and shone under the artificial lights, as out loud
she said, "I always believed that there was still something left for you
and me."
