REM // Van McCann

38. She Haunts Me

Florence's mouth fell open. It was apparent she wasn't expecting me to answer and I don't know why I even told her. But one thing was for sure. It felt good to tell someone. For years, I've kept Clara to myself and now someone else knows about her.

"Why do you think that?" she asked softly. "It was her choice."

"Sometimes I wonder if she'd still be here if I chose her over my career. I broke her heart by moving to Seattle for a program I was interested in which led me to this job. This is my dream job. It's everything I ever wanted but how come I'm not happy?" I asked, pointing to my heart. Florence stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

"I'd probably be happy if I followed her to Portugal. There are no jobs in my field there but at least she'd still be here. The both of us are headstrong and not willing to compromise and look what happened," I continued.

"It sounds like you both loved each other a lot," Florence started. "Don't you think she wants you to move on and be happy?"

My mind wandered to the last letter she sent me that I didn't have the courage to open. The previous letter took me months to read because I was reading about her decline in mental health; it was happening right before my eyes and I didn't do anything about it. I asked for her address because there were several times I thought about flying to Portugal to meet her but she never told me her address despite me asking directly. The letters she sends me doesn't even have a return address but they send it because it's not required anyway.

I gave my address to her as soon as I found housing to help ease the pain of not being there with her physically. It wasn't until the third time I asked for her address that I realized it was never her intention to give it to me. She didn't want me coming after her. She was afraid I'd see she was unwell. Had I known the letters would stop, I would've flown to Portugal in search of her despite how hopeless it was. But I knew one thing—that she lived near the water because she'd always talk about it. It was the one place she could forget about her worries.

Unfortunately for me, the coast of Portugal is extensive and it'd take me forever to find her. Now that I see her flier says last seen in the Lagos area am I finally able to narrow down the location. Don't get me wrong—it's still a large area to look and I'm just one person but it's another step closer to figuring out where she lived.

"How can I when she's not here anymore? She haunts me in my dreams."

"Is that why you don't want people to go under your dreams? You're afraid they'll see her?" she asked.

"You're the only person who's been in my dreams. Neither Bondy nor Larry have had that pleasure."

"The dreams have been going on a while then."

"They've been going on for years. At the beginning, they weren't frequent. I'd dream about her life in Portugal and how it was difficult but she found solace by the water. And then I'd see her gradual decline in health. It's not until recently that I'm seeing how she died." My voice was shaking and I stopped to take a deep breath. "My dreams are like a story and I don't know if they're real or not."

Florence looked around and at the flier once again. Everything about this dream looked and felt real. When we were by the water, we could smell the salt. When we were in the water, we could feel how dangerous and unforgiving it was. And when we saw the body, we were filled with dread because we knew. I've never once set foot in Portugal yet I dream about this place like I've been here many times. That's the reason why I started drawing my dreams in the first place. My hope was that someone would know where this place is. But that was also the last thing I wanted. For all of it to be real.

-

When I opened my eyes, I sat up, and took my mask and probes off. Florence did the same and for a brief moment, we just looked at each other. Never in a million years did I think Florence would be the first to know about Clara and that I would tell her about her. My hope was that this time, she'd keep the details to herself. Florence was unusually silent. Usually she'd have something to say but she glanced at the time and noticed we were behind schedule.