AT A GLANCE —tw racism, bullying, anxiety, sexual harassment » The American dream was supposed to mean something. It was supposed to feel like the movies, where people burst into song just because they were that happy. Nour’s first day of school was a rude awakening, where she experienced racism and bullying for the first time in her life. It was quiet and subtle, like it never really happened, which she’s not sure is better than everyone seeing her pain. Coming to America brought about bounds of loneliness Nour was unable to comprehend, trying to find purpose throughout her life in spaces that never allowed her to simply be. While being a postal worker isn’t the dream she thought she’d be living, it is the only job providing her security and room to figure out her place in life.
🖋CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Makino Tsukushi (Boys Over Flowers), Pam Beesly (The Office), Meg March (Little Women), Jane Villanueva (Jane the Virgin), Lexi Howard (Euphoria), Anne Perkins (Parks and Recreation) and more.
Surprised by the woman’s rather bold and brazen statement, Phoenix could feel her eyes instinctively widen as the compliment left her lips. Truthfully, it was nice to know that she had made such an impression. After spending so many years thinking she’d never amount to anything, here she was living in her dream state, being someone who hadn’t managed to fade into the background in a town full of somebodies and nobodies.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but I’m flattered nonetheless. My name’s Phoenix. I’ve lived in Stillwater a little less than a year now. Are you from around here?”
Crap. It was always hard to accept a newsflash due to her ramblings. Nour tended to word vomit when she got nervous, but it was hard to figure out exactly why she did it now. Was it really because of Phoenix or her utter embarrassment of meeting with the gravel beneath her only moments before? It has to be both, Nour resolved, heaving in a deep breath. Struck with embarrassment, her gaze gets a bit shifty, finding it difficult to look at her for too long. “Yes and no,” she nods. “I guess, in comparison, you could say I am. I’ve been here for…” she hums, trying to add the years together quickly. “Over fifteen years. Something like that.” While Nour wasn’t a stranger to telling people how long she’d lived in Stillwater, it didn’t make it easier. It always stung to remember just how long it’s been since she’s seen her family and the last time she’s seen her entire family in person. “Nour,” she adds, smiling.
Joselia didn’t have a lot of women in her life. Other than her mother, who… wasn’t so much in her life anymore, Jo found herself unintentionally steering clear of femmes and feminine energy. She had a way with men, whether they were her father or her brothers or guys in the MC– they were easy, Joselia knew what they wanted… but women required a greater deal of self-reflection, an activity that Joselia purposely avoided. Still, it was lonely. She’d connected with Phoenix, who had been a godsend (if she believed in that kind of shit), and her friendship had begun to chip away at Joselia’s notion that she wasn’t any good at talking to women beyond one-night stands.
Meeting Nour felt like the next piece of the puzzle. Where Phoenix and Joselia fell into step easily thanks to shared experience, Nour was different entirely… which is why Joselia was shocked to see Nour floating through her door. “Well, welcome!” Joselia said, pushing off of the counter and standing to drape an arm around Nour’s neck. Her smile grew at the apparent discomfort on her friend’s face, and Joselia took the opportunity to lead her to the sitting room in the back. It was still just as gaudy as the front, with sketches and pin-up girls and whatever weird fucking ‘vintage’ decor the guys brought in littering the walls, but it was currently unoccupied. “It’s not so bad,” she promised, taking a seat cross-legged on the black leather seattee and motioning for Nour to do the same.
“I mean, you’ll get used to it.” She dropped her voice and leaned in, smirking as she confessed, “The guys have to make it seem super badass to make up for the fact that they sit around doodling all day. Fragile masculinity’s a bitch.”
Nour couldn’t deny that she felt a bit intimidated by Joselia. She was so young and seemed so sure of herself with an identity to be envied. Although she had a distaste for the art form, she found those within this community(?) to have this certain air she found difficult to obtain. It was confident and daring. She felt this entering the shop, but when Joselia pulled her into the back, she felt it even more. Even though Nour was starting to see her as a reflection of all of her shortcomings, she was determined to keep it from getting in between them. It seemed dramatic, but Nour found it difficult to keep her insecurities at bay. These days, all it wanted to do was keep her from swimming.
She laughs, envisioning men with tattoos, doodling in a notebook. “Well, when you put it like that… this is just like daycare, isn’t it?” she grins. Nour then brings the white paper bag she was holding in view, holding it out for her to take. “Hopefully, you’re a fan of pie. It’s from Ruby’s.”
Another drag from his cigarette and a beat of silence later, Nick purses his lips, smoke expelling. “Be honest, are you into all this?” Though not usually a cynic, he found himself feeling exceptionally morose for some reason. Couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that something bad was going to happen. It was strange to be in front of a crowd of people, and not behind the bar. It was frequently his social shield; he loved his ability to hide, there. Be was so well-known there, often overlooked — a fixture. But now, when everyone was looking at everyone, even under the guise of a game, he felt paranoid, and uneasy, and tense. Hence, stalking around outdoors, all but scowling, and now likely ruining someone else’s fun.
“Nah, sorry, forget I said that,” Nick shook his head, like he could shake his thoughts away like an etch-a-sketch. “Everyone always suspects the help. Like we’ve all got ulterior motives or something. What’s up with that?” He flashes a grin in earnest, all teeth but no sincerity, and hopes his counterpart can forgive his transgression. “Alright, let’s practice your accusation speech.”
She’s taken aback by his question but takes a moment to really think about it. She’s not sure why she has to take a second to decide whether or not she is enjoying all of this ‘role play,’ but it doesn’t take long for her to decide that she does. Even though she was suffering from the repercussions of being the murderer, Nour took a liking not having to be in her own shoes for a day. Still, it was hard to deny keeping her own personal feelings under the guise of it playing a part. She was trying not to think so much about it now.
Amused by his quick thinking and backtracking of breaking out of character, Nour can only find herself smiling in response. She’s unsure what to say at first, deciding after a few moments to keep up with the act for a bit. “Well, it feels cheap now to piggyback on that sentiment… but I’m failing to come up with a better excuse. If we’re not pointing the finger at the help…,” she pauses, gesturing between the two of them. “By the way, I may be connected to the family, but I didn’t start out that way… I know my roots,” she whispers, laying her hand beside her mouth for dramatics. “My money is still on the aristocrat.” Nour wants to say more but stops herself. If she speaks anymore about people being desperate for money, it’d be hard to defend herself— or Clara, that is. She then breaks into a soft grin, relaxing her shoulders. “And I do enjoy it, more or less. I’m Nour, by the way,” she adds, extending her hand.
Not much. Dee took that with a tired nod and a needful drag, jaw a little tighter. Wasn’t any kinda surprise, right. “Appreciate the honesty.” He meant that, really; Even though Nour was just doing delivery, like she’d said, she’d know better than he would how unlikely a real answer was. Kinder to admit the facts of the thing than spin too-hopeful bullshit. “Yeah, it’s - it all went through a whole lotta hands, I guess…” Still. He’d just had to ask.
At least he wasn’t alone, waiting on whatever the postmaster probably wouldn’t turn up. Cheeks hollowing, he took that smoke in, let it slip away slow as Nour talked work. Maybe he just kept catching Nour on bad days, but… that uneasy edge made it hard to picture her surviving most of the jobs that came to mind. Like Elly’s, with all those people to deal with, tourists, quick to get pissed and bitch over nothing. Waiting tables, running a till at Crawford’s, pouring drinks - same reason. The post office, all that walking, alone - seemed a good fit, with what she’d shown so far. Peaceful. No rush. Hardly any assholes to put up with, he’d think. And a mental game, sure, she seemed like she’d be into that sorta thing. “Cool. Well, hope they stay good to you. Nothing like a shitty boss to fuck up a solid gig.” He’d had his share. Nour’d have it worse. “What’d you do before?” Just a couple years, she’d said - she seemed about him and Eloise’s age, thereabouts. Left a lot of time to be doing something else. Dreaming of something else, like Elly always was…
As much as Nour was desperate to pretend that she met Dee under different circumstances, the weight of her guilt was simply too much for her to consider otherwise. She felt awful. He was clearly confused, and the desire to be liked by him begged to tell the truth. A part of her regretted meeting him in such a vulnerable way and wished he was just a little bit more awful.
“Before… uh, nothing. I’ve been here for a bit longer than a couple of years… we’re actually coming up on year nine.” She’s a bit shy when she says it, but it’s really because saying the years out like that was sort of a wake-up call. Nour realizes the length of time she’s spent being a mail courier, and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. Had she really been here for that long? Was she really going to make it to year ten? “I was in nursing school before this,” she nods, looking off to the side. “It… uh,” she gulps, immediately uncomfortable even mentioning her time there. “It wasn’t really meant for me.” She meets his gaze again, her grip on her lunch bag getting tighter.
It wasn’t always a priority for Nour to set aside money for new clothes. If anything, it was (at least) the fourth thing on her list of financial priorities. Her main focus was always to send money back home, so when she came to realize there was some cash left over for that new coat she was eying at The Rabbit Hole, Nour knew she couldn’t pass it up. It wasn’t like her to pass the signs she looked for in life. She loved clothes, she loved fashion— even if that extra cash could’ve gone to something more productive, it’d be hard to convince her otherwise.
All Nour could think about was styling that coat. She figured it’d look so great with both jeans and a maxi skirt, smiling to herself at the vision. However, just as she was about to enter the shop, she noticed someone a few feet away. There wasn’t anything necessarily interesting about what she was doing— but Nour couldn’t shake her curiosity. When she finally turned to show her face, her face dropped. Hope Harris? The Hope Harris? In Stillwater? Her excitement got ahead of her, moving towards the redhead before her conscience reminded her of what manners were. “…Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but… are you Hope Harris?” she greets shyly.
“I managed to convince him to come along.” Eloise was outright glowing, thrilled at the idea of introducing her friend to the great love that she’d only been able to tell Nour about. Their friendship wasn’t new now, though it had fallen in the time after Dee had shipped off to Vietnam; Elly was pretty certain she’d mentioned Nour in her letters, though wasn’t sure if Dee would remember. They’d become fast friends, and Elly was practically buzzing with excitement at the idea of finally being able to introduce two of the most important people in her life. “We all know I love a good myster, even if I think I might be better at reading them than solving them. Anyway, yes, he’s here, I just need to find him..”
She’d slipped away to the restroom, lost track of him, but he shouldn’t be too hard to track down; the party might be bigger and more bustling than she’d originally envisioned, but she kew she’d easily be able to pinpoint his face in the crowd. Just as expected, he was not far off and Eloise’s smile brightened as she held up a hand to wave him over. “I mentioned you a few times, in my letters. Mostly just referring to you as a new friend, but I think I mentioned your name a few times.”
All these people. Dee’d grown up knowing most of them, at least a little; if not by name, by story, by some sort of association. So and so’s brother. Such and such’s ex. It wasn’t like any of that was a surprise, just - it was a whole lotta faces he hadn’t seen since he’d got shipped overseas, and a lot of small-talking and catching up he could’ve done without, all while he got stared at in the way once-familiar faces tended to stare at him, now.
(When he wasn’t onstage, anyhow. That was - it was feeling different, since the first couple times. That feverish sort of uncertainty had broken, leaving something bright and loud that just… carried him off.)
And Elly was just - not good. Insisting otherwise, but. Come on. He wasn’t gonna nag her, though, not at this thing she’d been all excited for. But when she ducked out to the lady’s room, he hovered for all of a half-second before veering off to find a door and some fresh air on the other side of it. Elly would probably take a minute; he’d be back before she was. Easy. Totally.
Except he hadn’t been. Dee cussed himself out under his breath as he caught sight of that wave, snaking his way through the crowd. “Hey, baby. Sorry, just went for a smoke. Didn’t mean to miss you.” He looped his good arm around Elly’s shoulders, like that’d brace her up against however much of the night she wanted to stick around for. Then he looked to the company she’d turned up; go figure. Least she wasn’t left all alone. “Nour, how’s - things?” Yeah, he was all out of casual lines. “You know each other?” Sure seemed that way. Small town, right.
I just need to find him. Nour smiled, but she was sure Elly was too wrapped up in finding Dee to figure that her eyes said otherwise. As she started looking amongst the crowd, Nour began panicking. Every fiber in her being was begging her to escape. She started to reason that Elly would understand if she told her she wasn’t feeling well. That they always had ’next time.’ As far as she knew, Nour was as excited to meet Dee as much as Elly wanted them to meet. She had to be happy. But she wasn't— and she knew she’d feel this way, one way or another, but she never imagined it’d be this soon. It was a silly thought, of course. Nour had known Dee for a few months now, but she supposed it was her own delusion that protected her from what was real. And now, it was coming to bite her in the ass.
She spotted him almost the same time Elly did. She immediately looks away, hoping he wouldn’t spot her right away. Nour turns off to the side as he makes his way closer, fixing her hair and outfit nervously. She heaves a deep breath as they start speaking, turning slowly with a pressed grin. Their eyes meet and Nour responds by raising her brows in an effort to seem surprised. She was a good liar, but that only proved to be true in letters and over the phone when she’d talk to her parents. She didn’t really know if that was also true in person. “Oh!” she pulls back, pointing at him. Her heart starts beating fast, but she ignores it. Or, at least, she tries. “Dee? —Wait, you’re that Dee?” Every line made her stomach churn, her smile falling every time she didn’t have to speak. @eloisemeadows
Yeah, no, not really. Man - sounded like Nour’d had a long damn day already, the kind that left you drifting, coasting through conversations. Dee knew the type, for sure. “So long as it got done, hey?” Shelves, fridges, lunch bags. They all needed stocking.
He half-shrugged as she asked after Janine, and… that. “Ah, I don’t - it’s just…” What was it, exactly? Explaining this whole thing a second time around wasn’t any easier. “Some shit to do with the mail,” he decided on, feeling stupidly obvious. Dee started digging his smokes out, fingers itching for something, anything to do. “I don’t know if anybody can do much of anything about that, like… letters get lost, right. It happens.” Especially when they had so far to go. Then again, if Elly’s letters had stopped showing after he got shipped to Japan, with the change of address, change of country, then that’d make some kinda sense. But her mail had followed him from basic to ‘Nam and all over there, through a warzone, without any trouble. And - Christ, none of the explanations he’d been trying to fit into the middle of this mess really sat right.
Wasn’t Nour’s problem, anyway. Sliding a cigarette from his pack, Dee clicked that old lighter. “This where you work, then?” Obvious, again; why else would they have her lunch behind the desk? But small talk was just that: small. He’d stopped looking at her, even - seeing as it didn’t seem to do her anything but discomfort, alright - to let his eyes wander, idly, across the PO boxes and pictures on the walls. “Seems like an alright sorta deal. If the weather and the dogs are decent…” Small, small talk.
Nour wasn’t sure why she asked him that. She was painfully aware that the more she stuck around, the more guilt she felt, and the more guilt she felt, the harder it’d be to hide the truth. She didn’t always feel that way, but meeting Dee changed everything. At first, it started with an episode of overthinking. She realized what was so great about him the day after meeting him. She had wondered if Elly’s words of him were true, but it didn’t take more than a few minutes for Nour to agree. Sure, one could say she was rushing to place him on some pedestal, but Nour would argue that it was hard to find people, let alone a man, to even have a fraction of his kindness. The idea weighed on her so heavily that she felt terrible now for her flighty reputation. She wanted to help him in any way she could (within reason, of course), but the moment he spoke of mail, Nour felt that same chill go up her spine.
Still, it didn’t click right away. Of course, it was a mail issue. They were in the kingdom of letters and parcels. Nour would have nightmares and dreams about this place. That much didn’t surprise her. It was when he continued that Nour began putting things together. Her last letter must’ve left only a few days before Dee’s arrival. The timing was all off. She breathed —finally, but it didn’t help. She found it difficult to relax, haunted by the letters. Nour hoped that now that Dee was here and there were no more letters to be sent, what she had done would just disappear. It would go away and she’d never have to face the music. But now, the whole damn band was in her face.
“—Right,” she nods, apologetic. There’s a beat. “The most we can do is make a few calls, but you’re right… There’s not much we can do.” Another beat. “The postmaster might know more, though. I guess there’s some truth to just being the one that delivers them.” She rubs the back of her neck, persistent in the belief that Dee could feel the awkward tension between them. She could even hear it in his words and the way he shifted his gaze just as much as her. Trying to make her more comfortable, no doubt. “For a couple of years now, yeah,” she nods. “If you’re not too bothered by either of those things, it’s more of a mental game, with the memorizing and the time you have to yourself. It can be nice if it suits you.”
open starter, at the joint tattoo + piercing, just before 11 p.m.@swstarters
Weekdays were always slow, and after the four-hour back piece she’d completed this afternoon, Joselia was grateful for a breather. Cigarette dangling between her lips, she propped her boots up on the desk and doodled in the flash book. Her dad had always reckoned Joselia was some kind of artist, what with her ‘bohemian soul’, but she was twenty-one before she discovered her love for visual art. A late bloomer, or maybe she just never had time for artistic pursuits in between Daddy’s ups and downs.
When the front door jingled open, Joselia peered up from her sketchbook and surveyed the customer. She leaned forward, lips curling upwards. “Please tell me you’ve got something nasty that needs to be covered up,” she teased. “What is it– an ex’s name? A mom heart?”
Nour never thought she’d ever come face to face with a tattoo shop. The sentiment was a bit dramatic, but she couldn’t help but feel so out of place just standing in front of it. She had been eying it from across the street for a while, a treat in hand for her new friend, Joselia. It was a passing invitation, mentioning that she should “stop by and say hello” when they talked about each other’s workplaces. Nour couldn’t help but want to invest herself by actually following through with wanting to see someone again, even if her anxious mind was telling her, ’That’s just what people say.’ Joselia was kind and friendly when she met her, so even if she didn’t mean it and was only looking for someone to work on… Nour still wanted to seem genuine. She was younger and so much different than her, but that was the fun part— scary but fun.
After walking through the doors with her treat, it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t told her she wasn’t actually a customer— or planned to be one. The realization made her sink, but she smiled anyway and shook her head in response. “Actually, I came to just stop by and say hi,” she grinned. “I was in the neighborhood and always wondered what this place looked like inside.” She looks around, visibly uncomfortable. She tried to hide it, but her slight fear of needles started to kick in. “It’s… kind of scary,” she whispers the last bit, the corner of her lips turning upwards with knitted brows.