I drag my ass out of bed, already exhausted from the thought of starting my day when my phone begins to vibrate on the nightstand. It’s too early for this shit and knowing it’s work, I let it go to voicemail as I climb into the shower.
I stand under the stream of hot water, letting it run over me as I replay last night’s conversation with Bridgitte. The whole thing has me wondering why I even proposed in the first place. It just seemed like the next logical step, but maybe it was too soon. Too soon for both of us because I’m seeing a side of her I never knew existed.
As soon as I’m out of the shower, I pick up my phone and hit play on the voicemail not even noticing the number.
The voice begins and it catches me off guard. It’s not what I expected and I slowly lower myself to the bed as I sit and listen to the message play. As soon as it ends, I play it again and for a third time before I get up to jot down the number and a few notes.
With a towel still wrapped around my waist, I shake my head in disbelief. Something I’ve been waiting twelve years for may have finally come to fruition.
“Holy fucking shit,” I mutter, my hand dragging through my wet hair. I’m not even sure what to do, so I play the message again.
“Elliot, this is Jim Peterson. I have some information to share with you about the girl you’re looking for. While I wasn’t able to narrow it down to just one person, I have a few possible people that could be her. Give me a call when you get a chance.”
I stop the message before he can give his number since I already have it written down, and right now I’m not even sure what to do.
This is what I’ve wanted for so long. I want to find Nora, but now that it’s this close, I’m suddenly terrified. This could change my entire life.
I could just let it go. Forget Nora at this point and move on with Bridgitte. Something I’ve been trying to do for the last three years. But would I regret that decision? Would Nora always be there in the back of my mind?
I debate not calling the PI back. I think about Bridgitte and how upset she would be if she knew what I was doing, but I can’t give up now. It’s been too fucking long, so I punch the number into my phone and as it rings, I silently curse myself.
Chapter Fourteen
My hand is shaking as I hold the phone to my ear and I can feel my heart begin to race. I swallow hard, fighting back the need to scream or throw my phone and just fucking run. The PI picks up on the fourth ring and I don’t know whether I’m relieved or destroyed.
I think I secretly hoped he wouldn’t answer and I could take it as a sign to give up, but even I know that’s not true.
“Hey Elliot,” he says greeting me casually and I suck in a deep breath preparing to respond the same way, but fail.
“What did you find?” I ask immediately, shocked by my audacity and lack of decorum. I should have at least said hello. “Sorry, Jim,” I quickly add, apologizing for my rudeness.
“No worries,” he says. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know most people are more interested in getting their information than they are in pleasantries or small talk.”
“Still, it was rude of me,” I tell him, like being polite to him will somehow make me less of a jerk for doing all this behind my fiancé’s back.
He continues with the conversation, letting me know the difficulty he had in narrowing things down since I was only able to give him an age, a first name and a hometown.
“I’ve come up with five women who could be the Nora you’re looking for. Unfortunately I had to limit my search to the greater Boston area rather than the whole U.S. due to time constraints and the sheer volume of hits I found when just searching for the name ‘Nora’ in the age range you gave me.”
“I understand,” I say, but I feel my chest constrict in disappointment because I know the likelihood of one of these women being her is almost impossible. It doesn’t mean I won’t check, but I know the odds are not in my favor.
I could ask him to expand the search, give him more money and extend the timeframe, but I know, the deeper I get into this, the less likely I am to want to quit. I have a life and I can’t let this consume me more than it already does. I’ve told myself this is it and this time I mean it.
I take down the information from the PI, first and last names, addresses, email address, the usual information, still entirely unsure what I will do with it. All I know is that if I find out none of these women are Nora, the Nora I’ve been searching for, I’m fucking done.
I thank Jim for his time and as I’m about to hang up he wishes me a good luck. It’s definitely something I’m going to need, but in all honesty, I think finding her could totally fuck up my life.
I fold up the piece of paper and stash it in my laptop bag. I figure I’ll get ready for work and try to forget about it for a little while. Maybe even sleep on it tonight and decide what to do tomorrow.
Bridgitte texts me around six to let me know she’s running late, like always, but I brush it off, still consumed with what I should do with the information I got from the PI. I need to meet Bridgitte for dinner at seven-thirty and knowing she won’t be coming home randomly, I pull the information from my laptop bag.
The PI also emailed me the files with all the information including pictures of each woman. Out of the five, he was able to get pictures of four of them; the fifth one is still a mystery. I’m clinging to the false sense of certainty that the mystery Nora without a picture has to be her. It’s my last ditch effort to believe I haven’t wasted twelve years of my life.
There’s an easy way to solve all of this and it’s to open the files and look at the pictures. It may have been twelve years, but Nora’s brown eyes and perfect smile have been committed to memory since the moment I saw her at that party. Her face is one I will never forget. It’s fucking impossible to forget falling in love with someone you barely knew.
With my laptop resting on my knees and my notes next to me, I login to my email and open the first file. I open the PDF of the notes the PI gathered, reading through her first, middle and last name, her birthdate and address, as I attempt to remember some small bit of information Nora may have shared that would indicate this woman is her. It’s like solving a mystery and my patience for it is non-existent.
I quickly close the notes and open the picture file, only to have the picture pop up on my screen. I exhale hard, the guilt and the realization hitting me at the same time. It’s not her.
Without stopping, I open the other three files and find the same outcome. None of them are her, and I feel my throat go dry and I swallow hard. Can I really give up? I’ve found nothing from this information other than none of them are her. It’s been a fucking waste of time, like always.
I have one Nora left, the one without the picture and with the way I’m feeling right now, I have serious doubts it can even be her. Even with the doubt weighing heavy on me, I decide I’m going to travel to Boston and find out in person. Enough of this Internet searching bullshit. It may be completely fucking insane to show up in Boston and track this woman down, but I don’t care. I need this to be over.
I grab my phone and call Matt without even giving my irrational decision a second thought.