25 Sweet Dreams

The was a small group of irritated people in front of the bathroom door on the second floor. I pushed through them, gathering a few less than friendly stares.

'Hey, watch where you going!'

Ted was somewhere downstairs, checking the guest bedrooms. I stopped before the door and hesitated.

'Who's in there?'

The guy who advised me to watch my step made a face.

'Dunno. Some chick. Can you, like, get her out of there? I'm going to piss myself, dude.'

I knocked on the door.

'Claire? Are you there?'

No response.

I turned to the angry guy.

'How long has she been in there?'

'How the fuck should I know? I've been waiting here for, like, twenty minutes.'

I checked the door. Locked.

There was a muffled sound from the inside. Then I heard Claire's voice, slurring her words.

'Go'way.'

I could hear the water running.

'Claire, are you okay?'

'Who the fuck cares, man! Just tell her to open the damn door, I need to piss!'

I took a deep breath and slowly looked at him.

'Go piss somewhere else.'

He must have heard something in my voice, because his attitude momentarily changed.

'Uh... no problem, man. Like, peace. Be cool.'

He backed away, turned and made a hasty exit. The others looked at me nervously and followed, whispering.

I tried the door again.

'Claire, please let me in.'

'I ssaid, go'way.'

Her voice sounded shaky.

I swallowed, then put my hand on the door. I could sense the cold metal of the latch through the wood. Metal was easy to affect, unlike living beings. But what if she was staring at the door right now? Should I risk using the Ability for the second time this night?

I made the latch move, at first slowly, then in one swift motion. The door moved, and I stepped inside.

Claire was sitting on the floor, her hair wet and disheveled, stuck to her skin. She was hugging her knees, completely out of it. There was a lost, sad expression on her face. The shower was running, and I could smell vomit in the air.

'Whoos it?'

I kneeled beside her and moved a wet strand of hair away from her eyes.

'It's me. Matt.'

It took her a couple of seconds to recognize me.

'Matt? What're you doin' here?'

'Searching for you.'

She looked at me, uncomprehending, and then grimaced.

'Lemme the fuck alone.'

I took her by the shoulders.

'Claire, listen...'

She made an angry move to push me away.

'I said l-leave me alone! Mother... motherfucker! G-go bother that girl o'yours!'

I winced, trying to keep her from falling.

'What girl?'

Claire stopped struggling and leaned on the side of the bathtub. Her eyes shut close.

'Fuck you, Matt...'

She covered her face with her hands.

'J... jerk. You could have just... fuck... said! Thanks but no thanks, man...'

He flinched awake, and looked at me with wet eyes.

'Am I, like, too young? Talk too much? Do you think I'm crazy?'

I looked away, a painful feeling in my chest. It hurt to see her like this, to know that this was because of me and my lies.

Why did she even care about a broken, foul thing like me? Up until now, I was so full of self-pity. Poor Matthew, wanting for a girl he couldn't have. I never even considered how Claire felt on the other side of this equation. How it might hurt her too.

'You're a loser, you know that? A f-fucking nobody! Go away. I don't wanna see you.'

She closed her eyes again, half-unconscious.

I swallowed the bitter sting of her words.

'Let's get you home, Claire.'

Her skin was cold. I lifted her up from the floor and felt her body shaking, pressed against mine. She weighed almost nothing.

'Come on, Claire. You need to stand.'

I put her arm around my neck and bent to minimize the difference in our height. She moved, trying to find her footing. We walked outside, swaying. I pretty much carried her down the stairs.

There, Ted rushed to us.

'Hey! You found her!'

I nodded.

'Yeah. She's pretty drunk.'

There was a clear relief on his face.

'Good! I mean, bad. But it's good that she's okay.'

He hesitated.

'Will she be alright?'

'Apart from a wicked hangover? Yeah. But we need to get her home.'

Ted got that guilty look again.

'Right! Of course. It's just... uh... I kinda promised that guy to, you know, uh, leave together...'

I stopped him.

'It's cool, Ted. I got it.'

He smiled.

'Are you sure?'

I nodded.

'You're the man, Matt! Thank you.'

Ted blinked a few times, then searched in his pockets and produced a well-worn set of car keys.

'Here, man. Take my car. I'm too wasted anyway! You're okay to drive?'

It was a while since I sat behind the wheel, but I knew how to handle a car from my days working as a courier. And I only made a few sips of beer to keep up appearances.

'Sure.'

I took the keys and said goodbye.

I carefully put Claire in the passenger's seat. She was asleep by now. In the darkness of the night, she looked so vulnerable, so beautiful. I moved a stray lock of hair from her face and closed my eyes for a second. Looking at her just then broke my heart a little.

I got into the driver's seat and fastened her seatbelt. Unlike Mickey's primordial beast, Ted's car had a proper electric engine. It started quietly, and for a long time, the only sound surrounding us was the rustle of the wheels on wet asphalt.

The snowflakes were dancing in the white beams of the car's head lights.

I let myself relax a little. My face was pulsing with dull pain. My mind was quiet, heavy with the weight of my many failures. I let down Mickey. I let down Claire. And, worse of all, I felt like I let down my mother. It hurt.

Everything hurt. The past hurt. The present hurt. The future hurt worse of all.

It wasn't fair.

Claire murmured something in her sleep, too quiet for me to understand. I looked at her, cold. Frozen. Then turned back to the road.

'It's not tomato juice,' I said in the darkness. 'On my shirt. It's blood. My blood. I got beaten.'

Claire didn't react. She was asleep. She was too drunk to remember any of this the next morning.

'I really thought I was going to die today.'

The words felt cold on my lips. I kept driving.

'I'm so scared. I don't even remember the last time I wasn't afraid. I imagined that moment so many times, and I thought... I thought when something like this will finally happen, when they come for me, I will be ready. But I wasn't.'

'I wasn't ready at all.'

'And in that moment, sitting in that car... all I could think about was that I will never play piano for you again. That I will never hold your hand. That I will never hear your voice. That I will just... cease. '

'...'

'And I one day soon, I will.'

#

I parked Ted's car in front of the small house Claire and Nelly were renting. I never saw it before, but it looked just like Claire had described it, a long time ago. Neat and tiny. I climbed out of the car, and let snowflakes cool my throbbing face.

Fucking Mitchel and his fucking fist.

Claire murmured something when I lifted her out of the car. She smelled like booze and vomit.

I wanted to hold her forever.

Instead, I carried her to the door and rang the bell. Then I rang a couple more times.

Nelly must have been asleep already, because it took her at least ten minutes to come to the door. I saw the lights in the house lit up, heard steps, and then the door opened. She was sleepy, her short blond hair sticking up. She was wearing warm PJs and a blue robe decorated with white stars.

Nelly looked at me, then at Claire, and frowned. Then she raised an eyebrow.

'Hi, Nelly. She, uh, had a little bit too much to drink.'

Nelly sighed. Then she smelled the air and shook her head. Finally, she moved aside to let me in.

Inside, their home was very cozy. There were two bedrooms and a living room, which was paired with a kitchen. There were guitars positioned carefully on the stands, heavy metal posters on the walls, and a wild assortment of paperback books lying here and there.

Nelly led me to Claire's room and turned on the lights. I looked around with curious hunger.

It was small and tidy. Her bed was made up, and there was a very old plush monkey looking at me with judgmental button eyes from it. Clothes, mostly hoodies and black t-shirts, were hanging neatly in the closet. Her laptop was adorned with colorful stickies. I looked closely. On one of them, there was a crude drawing of a viking helmet, with handwritten text reading: "Achievement! Seven full nights of sleep in a row. Awesome Helmet of Sweet Dreams, +5 to Constitution". Other notes bore similar rewards. There was another plush monkey, this one in a red hat, sitting near. It was guarding two photo frames. In one, Claire was hugging a tired-looking woman in her forties, smiling. On the other, Claire, much younger, was laughing with a little boy in a warm purple jumpsuit, two handfuls of autumn leaves in the air around them.

I put her carefully on the bed and stepped back. Nelly patted me on the shoulder and made an O with her thumb and index finger, letting me know that she'll take it from here.

'Alright,' I said, a small smile on my lips. 'I'll be going then.'

Before I left, she went into her room and came back with a notepad. She wrote something on it with a black marker and then turned it to me. There, in neat handwriting, was written:

'YOU'RE A NICE GUY, MATT.'

Nelly looked at me, making sure that I read it. There was no smile on her face.

'Thanks, I guess.'

She kept looking at me, a strange intensity in her eyes. Then she turned the page and wrote something else.

'IF YOU HURT HER, I WILL KILL YOU.'

I stood there for a few seconds, silent. Then I gave her a smile.

'Fair enough, Nelly. Sweat dreams.'