Young Writers Society

3. Means

February 2003

James had planned on walking all the way down the hall to the elevator, ride it down to the lobby, hop on his bike, and go home. It was part of his plan to let Abigail alone long enough for her to realize that she’d miss out on too much if she kept her walls up any longer. He did actually plan to leave the street she lived on.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It had been over an hour already, and he was walking (more like pacing) a few blocks up and down Lexington. All he could think about was Abigail, and it had him absolutely miffed. She was supposed to be all distraught and sad about him. Not the other way around. He had this planned.

Well, no he didn’t. It was really just a spur-of-the-moment idea, and come to think of it, this plan wasn’t very thoroughly thought through, nor was it great-outcome-guaranteed. When it came to his life with Abigail, James was now living on hope alone.

“I think I’m an idiot,” he muttered to himself as he came to a stop and leaned his back against Abigail’s apartment building. He shut his eyes tight against the lights zooming back and forth before him in the form of car headlights. That was New York City nightlife for you.

“Aww, come on now, sonny,” an older man said to James, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Don’t feel so down. I’m sure you’ll work things out.”

“What are you talking about?” James queried. The man’s thick Brooklyn accent was coming across so strongly, it would’ve been comedic if James weren’t so bothered by his thoughts. He really wasn’t in the mood to humor an old man, but then again, he really didn’t have much else to do.

The doorman laughed in return, an honest, throaty laugh. “I’m 56 years old, sonny. I’ve been through enough to be able to pick out the lady-troubled souls.”

James raised an eyebrow at the stranger.

“Well, that… and you’ve been walking and stopping in front of this building almost twenty times over the past hour or so.”

“Oh.” Wow, this was just embarrassing. James bobbed his head and said, “You must think I’m pathetic.”

The doorman smiled kindly at James. “No, I don’t,” he answered truthfully. “I was pathetic…”

Oh no. This doorman was a talker. Great.

“…There was a girl I’d dated in college – Cindy.” The older man huffed on a pause, and looked out toward the busy street. He was seemingly captivated by a memory as a crooked smile danced on his lips. “Let’s just say that I’d done some stupid things in my life. She dumped me and hated me for the longest time. It’s crazy how much you can take someone for granted.” The doorman’s smile hadn’t wavered, but when he met James’ eyes, the younger man saw a dark, sad look lingering there. “You shouldn’t know the kinds of things I did to try and get her back.”

“And did you?” James asked, his interest having piqued just the slightest.

“Get her back, you mean?”

James nodded.

The older man’s smile turned into a jolly grin. He looked like Santa Claus a little bit, with his white beard and the crinkling corners of his eyes as he smiled.

“November’ll make it 30 years.”

Maybe Abigail and James had hope after all.

Moments passed before the doorman figured James just wanted to be left alone. So, he started to move back toward the door, but James spoke.

“She has a thing for pushing me away,” he offered almost reluctantly. The words had just seemed to tumble out of his mouth as if of its own volition. “I blame her parents for inadvertently enforcing her walls and her stubbornness she calls independence.”

Why the heck was James talking so much? This was a complete stranger. The man didn’t need to know about his personal life. There was just something about him though, that seemed… oddly comforting. Come to think of it, he did sort-of remind James of his father a bit.

He hung his head to the floor as he took a hand out of his jacket pocket to run through his high-and-tight haircut. He sighed and added, “I just wish I knew if this was the right thing to do.”

James stared at a spot of blackened gum on the sidewalk as the Santa-looking man hummed in response.

“If you want my opinion,” the doorman began after having allowed a few beats of silence. “Either go on up there now and force your way back into her life, or just let her some time to think things through. Surely you know her well enough to gauge which route would work best. But either way… she’s worth it, isn’t she? I mean, she oughtta be if you’re spendin’ so much of your time just thinkin’ about her down here.”

When James looked up to meet the doorman’s eyes, he found himself a bit speechless. This man was a stranger who knew nothing about him. He must have just seen and taken pity on him, a man who was leaned despairingly against an apartment building.

This piece of advice he had given James, however, it was simple advice that must have certainly been meant to only encourage. But it was so strangely dead-on and actually beneficial that the young man couldn’t help but be a bit bewildered by its effects.

James snapped himself out of his reverie and offered the older man a grateful smile before saying, “Well thanks, uhh…”

“Nick,” the doorman supplied. “And no problem, sonny. Hope everything works out with her. She must be a wonder if you’re takin’ hours outta your night to pace holes into the ground for her.”

He tipped his hat with a kind smile on his face and walked a few feet over to hold the apartment building door open for a young couple who had approached.

“Yep, she is,” James answered with a grin.

He pushed himself off the wall and stood facing his bike on the curb. He was going to follow through with his initial plan to just wade her out. He was going to let her come to the realization on her own – he knew she would. She was already almost there.

Abigail loved him just as much as he loved her; she was simply hesitant, nervous. Maybe this whole situation could just be the little push in the right direction she needs.

Hopefully it was a push in the right direction.

March 2003

Abigail was different. Not exactly in a bad way, but she had definitely seemed to become a little more work-oriented over the past month. She’d become a little more serious (irritable) and reserved (annoyingly closed-off). Her team and her sister could definitely vouch.

Sam knew that her sister was an extremely private person as it was, but over the past month or so, even she had had a difficult time coaxing out the inner part of her – the best, most genuine part of her sister.

It wasn’t even a week after James had stunned Abigail with a relationship ultimatum that more bodies had seemed to drop, and cases had begun to take up more of her time. Well, that’s what she had told her sister. In reality, she had simply persuaded her team to take almost every case that came their way; she didn’t want a break or too much free time. It’d allow her thoughts to drift to places that she didn’t want to dwell on now or ever.

After a few weeks of such charades, Sammy tried to get her sister to go out with her (somewhere other than the Precinct break room, where she seemed to be living instead of at their own apartment) but Abigail wouldn’t have it.

“I’ve got a case, Sam. Just go and find another flavor of the month to toy with,” Abigail said, peeved (more like yelled angrily).

It was honestly beginning to freak out (piss off) Sammy how uncharacteristically uptight and angry Abigail was becoming.

“What the hell, Abby!?” Sammy retaliated one morning when her sister came home for a shower and change of clothes. Abigail’s case must have been going badly because she had lashed out and compared her sister to their arrogant, domineering, liar of a father.

“The only reason I’m not decking you right now is because I know you don’t really mean that! You’re just sad and pissed off that James dumped you. But… God, Abby! You just can’t keep doing this! Don’t think Collins hasn’t told me how many times you’ve almost lost it in the interrogation room, or almost punched a suspect’s lights out because they might’ve irritated you. You can’t just take your grief and frustration out on the people around you, especially not in your line of work!”

“I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary. Sure, I’m being a little harder on my suspects and my partner, but it’s not like I’m some psycho. And jeez, who the hell do you think you are? You’re supposed to be my sister, Sam. Yeah, okay fine, you’re not dad, but you’re not James’ advocate either. Why the hell are you even staying in touch with him? He’s the one who broke up with me, remember?”

“Damn it, Abigail.” Sammy rarely ever used the whole of her first name. “There aren’t any sides here. I’m not on any side.” She spoke sternly, but didn’t mask her disappointment. “James works for the same paper that I do; his best friend’s my boss. It isn’t like I go to either of them to talk about you. In fact, we don’t talk about you. Abby, I’ve come to avoid both him and my boss as much as possible… just because I am your sister.”

“Yeah, well… it doesn’t feel like it.”

And just like that, Abigail was gone. She stormed out of the apartment, leaving a flustered and quite peeved Sammy in her wake.

Abigail could quite easily become one of the most aggravatingly stubborn people in the world at times, but over the course of a month, she just might have become the most aggravatingly stubborn person in the world.

It was for this reason and because of that outrageous conversation (more like yelling match) that Sammy had decided to do the unthinkable, at least in terms of “sister code”.



“Sammy?” James’ eyebrow arched higher than Sam had ever seen it. “Oh, sorry, please come in,” he finished, just remembering his manners. He opened the green apartment door wider and allowed for her to step inside.

“Hey, Sam! I didn’t know you were coming, too. Ya here to watch the game?”

“Hey, Ryan,” Sammy replied with a polite smile. Her boss/James’ best friend was sitting on the black sofa in front of a large, widescreen TV. “No, actually… I just came by to talk to James.”

She turned to the man in question who suddenly looked nervous with his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and possibly worry.

“Is it Abigail? Is something wrong? Please don’t tell me she’s hurt,” James said urgently. The fact that he was still so concerned about Abigail spoke volumes for his feelings for her, and it brought a smile to Sammy’s lips.

“What? No! Nothing like that. She’s fine, I just came—”

“—Hey James! Game’s starting,” Ryan exclaimed from the living room.

“Oh I’m sorry about this. I really should’ve called first,” Sammy said regretfully when she saw James turn his attention from her, to Ryan, to the TV, and back.

That was when his expression changed immediately. He must have seen unease and anxiety in Sammy’s countenance because in an instant, he turned his complete attention to the woman before him as a look of subtle concern adhered to his features.

“No, no. If this is about Abby…” James started, but trailed off.

He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going to go, and he didn’t want to start it off by saying the wrong thing. Meaning, of course, he didn’t want to say anything that hinted to his remaining feelings for her.

But that was already too late.

“Do you want to talk in the kitchen?” He asked instead.

Sammy nodded her consent.

“You want something to drink?”

“Actually, I kind of just wanted to say this already,” Sammy answered firmly.

With those words, the atmosphere changed drastically. It was clear that this was not going to be a simple conversation between friends or colleagues.

“Oh, alright. Well, please… have a seat.” James gestured to the barstool behind her and took the one beside it.

“Do you… I mean, I know you did what you did for a reason. But… did you ever really love my sister? I know it isn’t my place to be asking this or whatever… and okay, yea she’s a hard person to—”

“—I did,” James answered, his tone too solemn for the context of his answer. “And yes, she is a hard girl to love. That’s why I did it.”

Sammy’s hazel eyes widened with understanding in the same way that Abigail’s would in such a situation, and it almost pained James to look at this sister in the face.

“That’s… wow. Do you still think you did the right thing?”

He didn't need to explain; it was clear that she knew what "it" was. The amount of unsaid but mutually understood statements that had passed between them in a matter of seconds was unbelievable.

“Some days are easier than others,” he replied with a nearly imperceptible nod. He glanced at the teakettle on his stove and looked back at Sammy. “Some days I wish I never said anything at all.”

“The ‘I love you’ or the ultimatum?”

This time it was James’ eyes that widened, but out of surprise instead.

“She told you?”

Sammy nodded. Her sister was indeed a private person, but when Sammy had come home that night and found her crying her eyes out in the same seat that James had left her sitting in, there wasn’t anything for Abigail to do but explain herself.

“Well, both I guess,” James answered. “I just… And I’ve heard things, you know? I still see her partner at the gym every now and then, and he’s filled me in on some things. So, yeah… because of all that, I regret it. If I’d just known her limits...” He shook his head, disappointed with himself.

“James, if you’d known her limits, then you wouldn’t have pushed and you’d have been worse off than she is right now.”

James stared incredulously at her.

“Come on, it’s good to get out of your box—your comfort zone—every now and then. S’called growth, man.” Sammy smirked, but James was still staring at her incredulously.
It was easier than dwelling on the outrageous resemblance Sammy had to Abigail. The eyes and hair were the same (give or take a few inches in length), and if he squinted at the woman before him, he could almost believe that it was Abigail who was in his apartment right now.

James forced himself out of these dangerous, troublesome thoughts and responded.

“Are you telling me that you prefer her this way? A cop on overdrive 24/7? Are you saying that you’re not at all angry at me?”

“Woah,” Sammy scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, there. ‘Course I’m mad at you. I’m her sister. Anyone who hurts her can taste my foot in their mouth.” Her lips began to quirk into a teasing smile, and it eased the ball that had formed in James’ stomach. “But you’re different, James. No one else has made her even close to this screwed up. You’re different.”

“Okay, so I’m different. Is that your way of telling me that I’m weird?” James joked. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He had caused these Rowan sisters too much grief.

“No,” Sammy answered. She didn’t skip a beat, and her tone was surprisingly serious. “It’s my way of telling you to get her back. Get her back now.”

Well that wasn’t overly frank, James thought sarcastically to himself.

Sammy was not one to beat around the bush. He had known this, but her current bluntness still caught him off guard.

“Uhh, what?”

“Come on, James. Do I really need to spell this out for you? She’s doing terribly right now; you’re obviously doing terribly yourself—”

“—Hey!” He interjected, but she kept on.

“You love her; she loves you, but she’s is stubborn as a mule. All you need to do is convince her that you’re a keeper. It isn’t that hard. What the heck is the problem here? Do either of you really need to suffer much more torture?”

James was a little shell shocked. Never in a million years would he have taken Sammy as a shipper, let alone a James-Abigail shipper. This theory suddenly being blown out of the water had him grinning from ear to ear.

“Wh—why are you… You’re kinda creeping me out, James,” Sammy replied to the crooked Cheshire-cat-like grin on the man’s face.

“You like me!” He exclaimed, receiving a look of minor surprise from the brown-haired woman before him.

“Shhh! I’m tryna watch the game, guys!” Ryan yelled from the other room. James lowered his voice only slightly and continued his in-your-face dance of words.

“I knew you always liked me! Sure, you always played tough, but I knew you always liked me! You think me and Abby are perfect together, huh?” James’ eyes widened after a beat, and he continued, exclaiming, “You think I’m cute, too, don’t you?” He winked.

Sammy rolled her eyes, and for the briefest of moments she once again resembled Abigail. His grin was gone in an instant. The atmosphere sobered over a short moment of silence. Why did they need to look so much like each other?

“James,” Sammy said quietly, blanketing her hand over his that rested on the azul platino granite.

She didn’t really have anything to say. She just hoped that this small gesture would offer him comfort for whatever reason his expression had suddenly gone solemn.

James smiled lightly, but it didn’t meet his eyes. He looked at their hands as he turned his over to give hers a grateful squeeze before releasing it and meeting her eyes once more. He seemed to be in need of some reassurance.

So, Sammy said, “The night you broke up with her, do you know how I found her?”

He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the granite countertop, ashamed. That hadn’t been her intended reaction, but she could remedy that soon enough.

“She was crying, James—not sobbing, but the evidence of it was there. She gets hiccups after crying her eyeballs out. And when I had come home that night, there she was: sitting at the dining table with two place settings out and hiccupping every other breath. She was in her comfort clothes—an oversized hoodie and sweatpants—with the rims of her eyelids still red and her eyes still shiny.

In case you haven’t noticed, James, my sister isn’t a crier. Especially not when it comes to anything boy-related. But I’d found her completely torn that night. I’d thought for sure that she’d be running on autopilot for a few days, just kind of being there, not really living there. But it was worse than that. She seemed to push everything emotionally difficult aside. Sure, for work, that's perfect. But for everything else... James, she didn’t—doesn’t—really sleep at the apartment much anymore.

That day after it happened, she didn’t have work, so I figured that maybe I could stay home with her and eat some ice cream in front of a marathon of black & white movies. But she wasn’t even there. She’d gone into work at an obscenely early hour despite it being one of her few off days. That’s when she started in the downward spiral.”

A beat passed, and when it was clear that Sammy had finished, James met her gaze. “Wow, was that a pep talk? You should be a motivational speaker,” he remarked dryly.

Sammy chuckled lightly and said, “I just wanted to make a point, is all.”

“Really. And what is this point?”

Sammy huffed exasperatedly. She really did need to spell everything out for him, didn’t she? “James, my sister isn’t a crier, but she was balling her eyes out because of you.”

“Yes, I know! I’m a jerk! I think we’ve established that!”

James didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore, and he was pretty sure that this talk had to rank high pretty high on the “worst motivational speeches in the world” list.

Sammy rolled her eyes. She quite seriously wanted to punch some sense into this guy. How could anyone be so dense?

“Damn it, James! All any of this means is that she loves you. That’s all that I’ve been trying to get through your skull for the past fifteen minutes!”

“Seriously, guys! I don’t care if you don’t wanna watch the game, but I do! So please, shut up!” Ryan yelled to them from the living room as he raised the volume on the TV.

“Sorry, Ry!” Sammy called back.

“Can you pass me the back of Doritos over there?” He added.

James grabbed said bag off the counter and hurled angrily it at his best friend. The bag passed between the man’s hands in a red blur and hit him square in his face. How could Ryan be thinking about food and basketball at a time like this? His best friend was practically having a mental breakdown, and he was watching basketball with a bag of chips in his hands.

“Owe! What was that for?” Ryan said indignantly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“He’s just mad that you don’t care,” Sammy said with a chuckle, waving the man off. Ryan stood up, though, and padded over toward them, coming to a stop beside her and facing James evenly.

“Bro,” Ryan started. “What’s the problem here? You know what you gotta do, so just do it.”

Sammy simply stared at him—the ‘no duh’ kind of stare.

“Uhh, James,” she started, turning back toward him. “I think what he means is… you’re good for her. Whether or not you think so. You push her, James. You push her to change, to test her own limits—like she’s doing now. Sure, it’s a pain in the ass for everyone else, but it’s a learning experience for her. I just hope you—”

James looked between her and Ryan, smiling when he saw his friend mock Sammy from a step behind her.

“—understand that. And as for you, Ryan—” she didn’t miss a beat; she was still looking at James, but her threat was coming in loud and clear “—I hope you understand that although I’m not a cop, I am capable of clocking you from where I am right now.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him freeze mid-motion and she smirked playfully.

“Uhh, right, yeah… Exactly what she said, James. You’re good for her.” Ryan offered his best grin, his genuine grin that ensured his words were indeed genuine as well.

He slapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder, and shuffled back into the living room where the Laker game was still playing on TV. Plopping down onto the leather couch, Ryan took the remote and lowered the volume significantly before getting comfortable. He could be considerate when the moment called for it.

James looked again to Sammy, and gave her a grateful smile. His demeanor was still somber as he inhaled sharply and exhaled a heavy puff.

“I love her; you know I love her,” he said softly, meeting Sammy’s eyes. She nodded in response. “I just… I need some time to prepare myself. Like you said, she isn’t an easy girl to love.”

They smiled gently at each other. Reassuring.

“She loves you too, James,” Sammy answered after a moment. An encouraging smile quirked her lips and danced like a light in her eyes. “Just don’t be afraid to push.”

“Don’t be afraid to go for it!” came Ryan’s voice from the living room.

James could do this. He would do this. He wanted her back, and Abigail was too stubborn a person to come to him. It was a wonder that he even thought that she would, but miracles happen, right?

But he could do this. He would do this, and he'd do it right.

This is okay. Not really my cup-of-tea, and I don't really read these sort of things. Maybe you could give it a new title because, to be honest, I thought it really was going to be about what 3 means. But I read it anyway.
It wasn't horryfingly bad, not at all. I just didn't like it but I'm sure some people might, this is just my opinion.

Overall, I think you should still write, because I do think you have some potential, just I won't be reading them. Anywho, well done for being brave and writing anyway.