She despises me, but keeps visiting my dreams—Brooke Wiltshire, party girl, who goes clubbing with friends and is the opposite of me.
I love rain and Thirties music and quiet nights with books.
She, on the other hand, exists to torment me.
I’d like nothing better than to forget her—consign to oblivion and get on with my life. But her name keeps being mentioned by colleagues, and what’s worse, she shows up uninvited in my dreams.
My obsession is exacerbated because I have no photos of Brooke—and if I had a picture, it might diminish her mystery—but instead, my mind idealizes her portrait, painting out the shadows.
I dread bedtime, because if I don’t picture her face, I can’t sleep—but if I do, I can’t get her out of my mind.
I’m beset by approach-avoidance nightmares where my nights are filed with gloom and misery, and the only consolation—I get to see Brooke.
By the end of the long week I’m exhausted. It’s a Friday, and it’s raining. I love the moodiness of the day.
My last lecture ends at two o’clock, so I spend a leisurely couple of hours browsing vintage records at my favorite collectibles store called Second Chances. Fay Lilith is the owner and over the past few years we’ve become friends.
Something about the store makes me feel mellow and peaceful—I suppose it’s like the glow a glass of wine lights in me, and in my vulnerable state, I end up confiding all my secrets to Fay.
It’s ironic how she fulfills the role of bartender-confidante. Instead of booze, she purveys the warm, nostalgia of the past—but it has the same effect—I feel blissful and talkative and end up confessing all.
“Sounds like you have a love-hate relationship with this girl,” Fay laughs softly. “You need to do something though—this has gone on far too long. I’m a matchmaker, you know.”
“Oh no—no blind dates, Fay—way too awkward.”
“Don’t worry, Casanova—I didn’t say I’d set you up.”
“Well then, how does this matchmaking thing work?”
She hedges a bit. “Let’s just say you have to be open to the possibility.”
“Look, I’m open—I’m an unlocked door. Hell, I’m a yawning chasm of need. I just don’t think it’ll happen for me, that’s all.”
Her eyes narrow. “But you’re open to the prospect, right?”
“Sure, I am. I pray all the time for things I don’t get—like for this rainstorm to end, so I can go home and commiserate with my four walls.”
There’s a smirk on her face. “Um, Have you looked outside?”
The sun is shining, glinting off the rain-soaked streets.
My jaw drops. “Well, I’ll be…”
She pushes aside the bamboo blinds. “I see a rainbow in the sky,” she smiles.
I grin ruefully, pay for my purchase, and walk home under sunny skies.
Later that afternoon a colleague phones from York University. “Hey, Sean—the old gang’s getting together for drinks at Sweetwater’s tonight. Why not drop by?”
I jump at the offer. I mean, what do I have to lose besides another night of staring at walls watching the lone wolf moon circle the house in silence?
We’ll get together at the bar—all my former work colleagues from another life in another world before a Siren haunted me.
Maybe it will ease my pain for a while, but I’ll still end up seeing her in my dreams.
