We all have our demons, and some hearts are hard to pin Who: Nish, Rafe and Jen [NPC] What: Nish is out for dinner with a friend, but first bumps into her ex. Where:Bluewater Grill When: Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Jen had texted her that afternoon. A spur of the moment idea to go out to dinner before their class tonight. With butterflies in her stomach, she agreed, and then left work early to change. A dressy top made casual by the addition of dark navy jeans. Pretty dangling earrings, hair piled up on her head with waves curling around her face. A little more attention paid to her makeup than she had when leaving for work that morning. She even painted her nails a shimmery navy to match her jeans, clipped short now instead of how she used to keep them slightly longer. She both hoped Jen would notice the extra details and didn’t. She didn’t want to make their friendship into something awkward, though they’d already quite happily crossed several lines together into the realm of ‘not just friends anymore’ territory. But while she was being careful, she was also optimistic, hopeful that things could actually work out for her for once, at least for a while.
She knew Jen wouldn’t arrive right away; her text had said she’d be at the restaurant for 6:30, but it was just after six. So while she waited she ordered herself a starter (tortilla chips with crab and artichoke dip) and a mojito, which she absently picked at while playing Candy Crush on her phone while still keeping an eye on the door.
The sight that greeted her on her next small break from the game was likely not a welcome one. Rafael moved quietly into the room, looking fresh from the beach, all windblown hair and damp clothes that spoke to a hurried change. Saltwater still dripped from his sandals as he strode inside, making his way up to the oyster bar. His steps faltered when he saw her. After a brief hesitation, he offered her a small wave and an even smaller smile.
Nish’s eyes widened when she saw him come in the door, finger hovering over her phone’s screen, her other hand tightening on the nape of her neck where she’d been leaning. She sat up fully and their eyes met, though only briefly as hers began to roam over him, taking in all the little details of his appearance. He’d been surfing, and a pang of jealousy hit her in the stomach. She’d really enjoyed herself that day in the water, but ever since then she hadn’t been back. Hadn’t had the heart to try it again, not without him.
She swallowed and reached for her drink when she found her throat suddenly dry. And she returned his smile with one of her own. It had been weeks, and she’d had time to heal, and she hoped he had too. And Jen wouldn’t show up for another twenty minutes or so. They had time, but not a lot. Perfect.
She gestured to him with a tilt of her head, offering him the seat across from her, if he wanted it. Once again he paused, clearly deciding the best course of action. After a moment he took her up on her offer, sliding into the seat, folding his hands tidily in his lap.
"Hello," he said, with marked awkwardness. His smile seemed easier now, though his gaze still flicked down to the cocktail in her hand. "Um. So… how are you doing, Nish?"
Nish watched him carefully, his hesitance and then acceptance of her offer to join her. She couldn’t help herself from glancing at the door again, but she knew it was still too soon for Jen to show up, and she snuck a surreptitious glance at the time on her phone before clicking it off and slipping it back in her purse.
She met his eyes with a somewhat awkward smile. “I’m good,” she said cordially, her smile relaxing just a little. “You look good...were you surfing?” she asked, trying hard not to let her wistfulness bleed into her voice.
Rafe nodded, grateful for the comfortable topic. He latched onto it like a lifeline. "I was. A little later than I usually go, so it was crowded by comparison. Still good waves, though. I try not to miss a day on the beach anymore. Being locked in a building for a week has a way of reminding you how nice it is to be outside. And to have an outlet, you know?" He tipped his chin toward her, genuine curiosity in the slight forward lean of his body. "Are you still painting?"
“I am,” she said with a smile, latching on to the safe topic with about the same enthusiasm as he had. “It’s actually what I’m doing after dinner...I joined a class that meets Wednesday nights.” She toyed with the straw in her mojito for a moment, but couldn’t hide the happiness on her features. “It’s good...I get to have feedback from an actual artist. And meet new people,” she said as an afterthought, though she was perhaps trying too hard to be casual about it.
There was a pause between them, and it was on the tip of her tongue to say ‘I miss you,’ but at the last moment she pulled the words back. Instead she glanced at the door again, and then down at her drink and took a sip from the straw.
He nodded, smiling softly, oblivious to most of what went unsaid. But he did notice that expectant glance. He could read between the lines well enough. His fingertips drummed a staccato rhythm against the tabletop.
"I'm really glad you're doing that," he said. "I hope it stays interesting and useful. And I'm glad you're meeting people. That's always good." He began to rise from his seat. "I definitely won't keep you from them. I wouldn't want your guest to get the wrong impression…"
She opened her mouth in shock when he started to stand and shook her head. “No, it’s alright, she won’t be here for another,” she checked her phone, “fifteen minutes or so.” She paused, and then forced the words out, her heart jumping a little in discomfort. “We should talk.” She winced just slightly, because it wasn’t at all what she wanted to do right now, but she knew that it had to happen. But now that it was going to, she found that she had no words to speak.
Rafael was at a similar loss. He sat back down, his hands smoothing over the khaki fabric of his shorts. He did not look uncomfortable so much as uncertain where to begin. He settled back against the seat, neatly folding his hands atop the table. "All right," he said, nodding. "What do you want to talk about?"
She frowned at his question. There was so much they needed to talk about. So much had happened, and then they’d just...stopped. Her problem was getting the right words out. “I think I just...need closure,” she said carefully, her fingers worrying the edge of the placemat in front of her. “Everything...just happened so fast, and...I feel like I haven’t been able to process any of it.” She swallowed nervously and glanced around briefly, as if they’d be overheard. Two things were weighing heavily on her: their breakup, and what happened in the stairwell. She formed the words to ask about one of them, but the other came out. Get the hardest out of the way first.
“Was it me?” she asked, “I have to know. Things were never the same after you found my meds. I need to know if that was what...ended us.” Her eyes glistened with emotion, but she did her best to hold back tears.
There were no easy answers to her questions, and Rafael's uncertainty showed in his expression. His teeth worried at his lower lip. He chose each word carefully, and kept his eyes on her all the while. "It wasn't the meds themselves," he said. "You hid things from me. You lied, Nish. And I…" He raked a hand through his hair. "I know I'm not very good at relationships. I never have been. I should've said something sooner. It just all felt…" He gestured, uncomfortable, color rising at last to his cheeks. "It just felt like sex. Nothing more. And then you were lying about things, and you said you loved me, and it's just too soon, and then the dreams…"
She nodded, avoiding his eyes, accepting his words. Several times words of defence swiftly rose inside her and she almost interrupted him, but she didn’t invite him here to argue with him. Just for closure. “I won’t apologise for wanting sex,” she said softly, “you taught me that,” she added with the slightest of smiles. He could and did, at least, return that look honestly. “I guess I just didn’t realise that you...didn’t want it as much as I did.”
She paused for a moment and then the last thing he said finally caught her attention. She looked up at him and frowned. “What dreams?” she asked honestly. “I haven’t remembered a dream in months…”
A deep furrow marred Rafe's brow. "You did then," he said. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the tabletop. "Freyr? Loki?" When he saw no sign of recognition on her face, he tried again. "Your paintings, Nish. They were all from the dreams you'd had. And the night I… that last night, we shared one. You don't remember that?"
She shook her head, her own brow creasing with thought as she tried to access those memories. “The paintings were just...from the stories my grandpa told me when I was little,” she insisted, the beginnings of a headache starting in her temples the longer she thought about it. She looked up, met his eyes, but she was sure he wasn’t lying. “We shared a dream? How is that possible?” She paused again, struggling with the idea of it, and then chewed on her lip. “It’s not the first thing I’ve forgotten….” she said carefully, remembering her conversation with Obed the other day by the pool.
Rafael could only shrug. "I don't know. But it's happened several times now, for both of us. That was the first time you and I had shared one, though." The beginnings of a frown stirred at one corner of his mouth. "Maybe it's for the best you don't remember," he said. "It wasn't pleasant. And it felt… crueler than you are." He reached across the table, giving her hand one small, brief squeeze. "There are worse things than forgetting, Nish."
She held onto his hand probably a little longer than she should have, looking down at it, thinking about what he’d said. “But I don’t like it. It’s as if I don’t just…not remember. The memories are just gone, and there’s a hole there where they should be.” Any time she tried to remember specifics about why she made those paintings, or what happened during that missing week she got a sinking feeling that she was forgetting something important, along with the inevitable headache that came with it. She met his eyes again and leant forward, his hand trapped in hers and a look of desperation on her face. “What happened in the stairwell?” That had been the biggest piece she’d been puzzling over. Her inability to recall details about it was maddening.
"Something chased us," he said. Every word was flat, emotionless, as though meant to impart only fact and no feeling. She had to believe him; she was the only other witness to what had occurred. Gingerly he withdrew his hand from hers, bringing it to rest in his lap. "It was after us both, I think, but I tried to push you out of the way. It clawed me… I had a few cuts, but they're mostly healed now."
Nish frowned again, trying to piece together her scant memories and Rafe’s words. “I remember blood,” she said, curling her hand into a fist and leaning her chin on it. “And fear...we were running from someone...something?” she asked, meeting his eyes and using his word. “I couldn’t see his face...but it looked like a man to me, and I thought he must have had a weapon because you were hurt…” She paused then, because of the word he’d used. Claws. “Until now...I didn’t think it was real,” she whispered, glancing around again as if they’d be overheard. “It was real, right? We were drinking….could it have been just in our heads?” But it couldn’t have been, because of the blood, and the shared memories. Frustration was clear on her face, not remembering, not being sure of herself, causing a whole new kind of discomfort.
Rafael shook his head. "It wasn't," he said. "I don't know what it was, but we didn't imagine that. I was cut. And it could have been worse for both of us, but we got out of the stairwell and blocked the door. There was a heavy altar there… it was gone after the floors changed back, of course. If it hadn't been there…" He stopped himself, and shook his head again. He would not put such things into words.
"I don't know why you don't remember it," he said, "but really. Maybe it's for the best."
She sighed and crossed her arms on the table in front of her, the frustration not ebbing in the slightest. She wanted those memories back, but at the same time...he was right. What she did remember was bad enough...what she didn’t might have been even worse. Maybe this was what post-traumatic stress was...losing memories of something bad that happened? She remembered the doctors telling her parents that she had it, after Heather’s death, it made sense that this was the same sort of thing.
“I remember the altar,” she said, grabbing onto one detail that she hadn’t recalled before. “I scraped up my hands helping you move it,” she said, her fingers lightly touching her palm as if that would conjure more memories. Instead she was rewarded with more pain in her temples. She winced and looked away, taking another sip of her mojito as a distraction. “I’d forgotten about it until you said it just now,” she added hopefully. If that had come back...could the rest?
At the front door of the restaurant, unseen by either of them, Jen walked in with a smile, scanning the room for Nish. She spotted her shortly after, sitting at a table with a man, and hesitated by the door. Instead of heading straight for her, she walked to the bar and ordered herself a drink, watching them from out of their line of sight.
He nodded, watching her face as memory returned in small fits and starts. He thought for a moment, teeth worrying at the swell of his lower lip, his hands still neatly folded in his lap. "If you decide you really want to remember," he tried, unsure, "some people swear by hypnosis. I've never tried it myself, but it never hurts to consider your options."
She nodded, chewing on her thumbnail and frowning as she tried to dredge up more of what happened that night, but it was slipping away as fast as she tried to catch it. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and then smiled at the irony of what she’d just said. She glanced up and just by chance her eyes landed on Jen by the bar, who smiled at her and raised her glass. Nish smiled back and blushed, but then shifted her eyes back to Rafe. “Can I…” she hesitated, her eyes flitting unconsciously to Jen and then back at Rafe. He followed her line of sight, smiling a soft, wordless apology at the woman the gesture revealed. “Can I call you if...I need to? If I remember more?” As hard as it was, he was her link to that time of her life, that she obviously didn’t have access to anymore.
Rafe hesitated, then, but not for long. He nodded, that soft smile playing briefly over his lips once more. "Of course," he said. "I don't want you to think you're alone in this. Whatever is happening here, we're all in it together. Right?" She smiled softly and nodded to him.
He rose from his seat, giving her a brief and hopeful smile. "I hope you feel better soon, Nish. Whether that means remembering or not."
She watched him go, frowning just slightly at the now empty seat in front of her, but not for long. As he headed to the bar, she saw him almost brush shoulders with Jen, who was walking towards her with a drink and a smile. She sat down and Nish echoed the smile.
“Hey,” she said, reaching for her, lacing fingers together with her free hand.
“You okay?” Jen asked her, a slight frown on her face that mirrored the on on Nish’s.
“No,” she sighed. “I don’t think I want to go tonight...can we just…” Jen cut her off with a nod.
“We’ll have dinner, and we’ll go back to your place...maybe we’ll curl up and watch a rom com or something. Nish managed a smile for her after that.