The Girl With the Bad Dreams

Chapter 18

Carlin stares out the window of the El Train, the sun flashing in and out of the passing buildings like a strobe. With each click of wheel on track Heather's funeral stretches further behind her. But Carlin's mind still dwells there.

She'd wanted so badly to contribute. She'd volunteered to give a eulogy, to celebrate Heather and tell the world how much her love had meant to Carlin. But she'd failed. She couldn't say anything. Every time she tried all she could think of was how it was unfair; how Heather should have lived, should still be alive today. She couldn't celebrate the past when the present was so unjust. So Carlin had given up and ceded the responsibility to someone else.

The service was the same way. Carlin wanted it, no, she desperately needed it to be cathartic. But it wasn't. It was just sad. There was nothing cathartic about Heather's murder. So she'd wept and wept and wept and now she doesn't feel better she just feels dry and numb.

The El stutters to a stop with a jerking hammer blows and screeching wheels. The doors hiss open and Carlin forces herself to stand and then push outside onto the platform. She descends to the street level, where trendy boutiques and cafes serve fashionable clientele. Carlin feels out of place in her thrift store coat so she looks down as she walks, staring at the pretty autumn leaves that have collected on the sidewalk of the tree-lined street. She reaches a wall of glass and pushes inside through a swinging door.

Carlin is in an art gallery now, and the walls are tastefully hung with her morbid art. Otherwise the space is empty. Carlin sits down on a padded bench and looks up at one of her paintings – it depicts Hank manipulating the interns of Model & Knight like a grotesque puppeteer. She just stares at the painting, ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching her from behind. The footsteps halt and there's a long silence before Hank says behind her: "How was it?"

"Terrible," Carlin admits, still staring at the painting.

"I'm sorry."

Carlin nods silently. Then she states the obvious: "Nothing's sold."

Hank sits down next to her and rubs her back with the palm of his hand encouragingly. "We've had nibbles, just no bites. Be patient."

"And what do I do in the meantime?"

Hank shrugs. "What all artists do. Make art."

Carlin doesn't nod to that. She just continues to stare, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere. "I had another dream," she finally admits.

Hank looks alarmed. "Oh no...do you need to see Dr. Everett again?"

Carlin shakes her head. "It wasn't like that. It wasn't like my nightmares. But I did see a girl get shot."

"And it wasn't just a normal dream?"

"No," Carlin says emphatically. "It definitely wasn't normal."

"Then what do you think?"

Carlin takes a deep breath. She's obviously been considering this for a long time, turning it over in her mind. "I think I can paint that girl, the girl that was shot in my dream. I think I can find her. I think I can help her."

Hank continues to rub her back absent-mindedly. "You mean with your...power?"

"My gift," Carlin corrects him.

"I'm sure you're right," Hank encourages. "Maybe you could help me, too."

Carlin is surprised. "Help you? How?"

"I need some advice."

"What kind of advice?"

"Of the romantic variety."

Carlin smiles wryly. "I'm not sure I'm that kind of a psychic."

But Hank won't be dissuaded. "Well, see, there's this girl."

"You're attracted to her?"

"Very much so. But she's never really given me the time of day."

Carlin laughs to herself. Then she stifles it and holds her hand up against her forehead. "Hold on...I'm getting a reading...it's because you're completely full of yourself..."

Now it's Hank's turn to laugh. "See? That's why we'd be great together. She could remind me that I'm not so great, and I can remind her...that she really is.

It's heartfelt. Carlin's stunned.

"So what do the stars say?" Hank continues. "Do I have a chance?"

Carlin quotes the magic eight ball. "Reply hazy ask again."

"Do I have a chance?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"
"You're right I will." He takes Carlin by the shoulders and turns her so he's looking right in her eyes. "Do I have a chance?"
Carlin smiles. "Outlook good."

Hank smiles back. "Dinner?"
"How about breakfast?"

Hank's smile grows wider. "Even better." He leans forward and they kiss.