It's Only the Rain

"What do people need?"

"Someone to listen. I think most folks just want someone to listen and tell them things are going to be alright."

"Even if it isn't true?"

"Especially if it isn't true," said Mindy.

"Some people would call that dishonest," Trevor pointed out.

"I think most patients know when the end is coming. They don't need it pointed out to them. They just want to go with the comfort of knowing their not alone and someone cares. Death is the elephant in the room. We all know its there. It serves no purpose to draw too much attention to it until it's time to say goodbye."

Trevor looked up from what he was doing, "You are definitely too good for my brother."

"Are you going to show me what you're doing?"

"Fine..." he said, pulling his arm away and turning the napkin to face her.

"Oh...Wow...It's me!"

Even in the short time he had, Trevor had managed an excellent likeness of her in the small sketch. He even captured the way her hair tended to fall unevenly to one side.

"This is good. You want to be an artist?"

"If it were up to me, yes."

"Isn't it?"

"My life is...complicated. You haven't met my mother; she isn't a woman who tolerates not getting her way."

"I think I know a woman very much like that," said Mindy trying to keep a straight face.

"I doubt it. My mom is on a level all her own. She's had it in her head since I was old enough to crawl that I would sit at the head of the boardroom table one day."

"If that's more your brother's thing, then why doesn't she let him do it?"

Trevor sighed, stopping to take another drink before he answered.

"My brother can make money as well as any of the Wall Street sharks, but deep down, I don't think she trusts him. He...this is hard to say about my sibling, but when he was born, something got left out. It's difficult to describe, but when you look in his eyes, you can tell. There's a coldness there that goes all the way down."

"I know what you mean," agreed Mindy.

"Anyway, my mom has always wanted me to run things, not Mitchell, and she doesn't take no for an answer."

"You're a grown man, Trevor. You should get to do what makes you happy. If you have a passion, you should pursue it."

His face broke into that infectious grin once again, making Mindy feel obligated to join him. Trevor was the kind of man who seemed to ooze confidence and charm, drawing in everyone around him.

"I like where your head is at. Maybe I should have you talk to my mom?"

"I'm not good at confrontation. You would need someone with a lot more courage than me."

"Mindy, I suspect you are selling yourself way short. A woman that holds hands with people on the verge of death! You grapple with the Grim Reaper himself, and you say you aren't brave? You may be the bravest person I've ever met."

Mindy couldn't help but blush at that, dropping her eyes to the floor. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel this good about herself, and she wondered if he was seeing anyone right now.

"What the Hell am I thinking. This isn't real...I'm not really here with Trevor," she thought sadly, but it was hard to deny that it sure felt real.

"If you're finished, I have something I would like to show you," said Trevor.

"What would that be?"

"The place I'm most comfortable in this town."

Trevor paid for their dinner, and Mindy followed him out of the building and down the street. They crossed the two-lane freeway on foot rather than bother moving the car. The smell of the lake water was stronger here, and she caught her first sight of the marina where numerous sailboats were tied up their masts appearing as so many miniature towers pointed at the sky. Trevor turned away from there and went down a set of concrete steps picking up a side street that ran parallel to the lakefront and ended near a small series of shops just back from the beach. It was the last of these where he headed, a single-story building with a sign out front that read, "Friedlin's Gallery."

A bell rang as soon as they entered, but no one immediately appeared.

"Ned? Are you here?" called Trevor.

"Keep your shirt on. I'm coming," replied a grumpy sounding voice from deeper inside the interior.

Mindy caught the sound of someone coming up a flight of stairs and then a large, dark-haired man, his shaggy locks falling past his shoulders stood towering over them. He was a great bull of a man with arms that looked as if they could lift a small car and legs like tree trunks with a face only a mother could love.

"It's almost closing time, Trevor," groused the older fellow.

"I just wanted to show my friend a few of your paintings. Mindy Dawson, meet Ned Friedlin. The best artist on the coast."

"The bar is set pretty low, but I'll take your compliment anyway," said Ned, in a voice so deep it seemed to come from beneath the Earth.

"Ned, here is my part-time mentor. He is showing me the ropes," explained Trevor.

"The boys got a good eye and for more than just art apparently," said Ned smiling at Mindy.

She felt the blood rushing to her face again. It was just her day to blush.

"It's nice to meet you, Ned."

"Feel free to look around. I'm going to start locking up though. Need to get home to the Old Lady."

Trevor took Mindy by the arm and led her through a doorway into a small series of rooms. Each had most of its walls covered in paintings and drawings representing beach scenes or ships of various sorts on the water. There were a few pieces that depicted the local wildlife at play, and Trevor stopped at one that showed a cluster of seabirds flying in circles around a lighthouse. The colors and details were so life-like Mindy felt like she was looking through a window at something in the distance.

"This is really good. Your mentor has talent," remarked Mindy.

"Actually...this one is mine," said Trevor sounding embarrassed by the admission.

Mindy let her mouth fall open in surprise, "And you think you don't have a good enough reason to stand up to your mother? Has she seen this because it's amazing?"

"I've never brought her or Mitchell here. It's kind of my little secret."

"It shouldn't be. I can't believe she could look at this and not see how talented you are."

Trevor was happy she liked the painting but shook his head.

"I'm not ready to start that war again right now. Maybe at the end of the summer."

They finished walking through the gallery returning to the front door just as Ned arrived wearing a jacket.

"You have a wonderful gallery here, Ned. I loved everything," said Mindy.

"Thanks. Did you see the lighthouse painting?"

"I did. It was brilliant."

"Then maybe you could convince Trevor here of that fact. He doesn't seem to want to listen to me."

"I think not listening to reason might run in his family."

"Hey! I don't need both of you guys to gang up on me!"

"It would be a waste to spend your life sitting behind a desk when you have so much more to offer the world, Kid. That's all I'm saying. Now you two vagabonds get out of my shop! I got to get home before the wife gets pissed that I'm late for dinner."

The three of them exited with Ned locking the door behind them and bidding them both a good evening.

"Don't let him sucker you into a stroll on the beach. I hear that's how he traps all the single girls in this town!" Ned warned Mindy with a chuckle.

As soon as Ned passed out of earshot Trevor turned to Mindy.

"So...Uh...Want to take a walk on the beach?"

"I think I heard somewhere that is a dangerous place to be with you," said Mindy with a girlish giggle.

"Ah! Don't believe every salacious rumor you hear, especially from Ned. I'm as safe as a choir boy. Honestly, I just wanted to show you the lighthouse."

Trevor offered her his hand, and they made their way down to the shoreline, turning to walk with the setting sun on their right. Mindy was trying hard not to enjoy all this too much, reminding herself that none of it was happening, that she was in someone else's reality. It was a hard sell. Trevor's hand felt very comfortable in hers, his handsome face so full of life and promise making her heart flutter in her chest.

"This is going to sound like the world's worst line, but I'm glad my brother wasn't home today. I know we just met and all, but I feel such a strong connection to you. Am I just being crazy?"

"You're more on the nose than you realize," thought Mindy, but truthfully she felt precisely the same.

"You're not crazy," she said finally, and he squeezed her hand tighter in acknowledgment.

The tall lighthouse came into view a few minutes later, and they stopped to admire it against the backdrop of the sunset.

"I painted it at sunrise before with the sun light falling on it. Perhaps I should try again at dusk. It's a whole different scene now."

Mindy felt the wind starting to pick up, and as she looked out over the water, she saw storm clouds rolling in across the horizon.

"Looks like we might be in for some weather," noted Trevor, "storms on the Great Lakes can come out of nowhere sometimes and sweep down on you before you know it."

This didn't look like any typical storm to Mindy. The clouds were turning darker as they came on, thickening into a solid wall that blotted out the fading sun and brought on premature darkness. The wind was picking up quickly, and the first drops of moisture fell onto the ground around them.

"We should go," she said nervously, feeling a rising unease at the threatening clouds.

"It's just a little rain," said Trevor with a shrug, but he retook her hand and began to lead them back the way they had come.

The storm closed in on them when they were still a good half-mile from the marina. All at once, the rain came crashing down in sheets so thick it was hard to see more than a dozen feet ahead. The wind buffeted the pair, pushing them toward the dunes.

"Damn! Okay, I was wrong. This might be a bit more than just a little rain," shouted Trevor over the sound of thunder.

They broke into a run, trying to reach the boardwalk leading up to the marina proper. The rain became even thicker, a solid wall of water that blinded Mindy and made it almost impossible to see where she was going. She lost hold of Trevor's hand, and a blast of wind knocked her to her knees. Rising, she attempted to fight her way forward but quickly became disoriented, confused.

"Mindy!"

She heard Trevor calling, but in the storm she was caught up in, she couldn't tell from what direction.

"Trevor!" she shouted back.

Another bust of wind even stronger this time sent her sprawling to the ground. Instinctively, she reached out to catch herself and made contact with a hard, tiled floor.

Mindy was on her knees back in 2B, back in Trevor's room. Her clothes were dry, but her stomach was in knots, bile climbing into her throat. She barely made it into the bathroom before vomiting violently into the toilet. Her hands still shaking. She washed her mouth out into the sink, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

"No crab cakes..." she noted, flushing the remnants of her lunch.

The room was exactly as it had been before, Trevor in bed, the hum of his life support machines dispelling the quiet. She removed the metal disk from her head, placing it back on the pillow, and staggered away toward the door just as it opened, and Michell Harcourt came back into the room, nearly running her down in the process.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" he said.

Mindy ignored him, stepping toward the door.

"Are you leaving?"

"I'm sorry...I...I don't feel very well," she said in a shaky voice.

"Make sure they send a replacement..." he called after her as she exited the room.

"Fucking nurses...Can't count on anyone around here to do their job," said Michell under his breath.

JOURNEYS IN THE DARK -

Mindy stumbled down the hallway, trying to get her balance, legs still weak from being sick in the bathroom.

"Mindy? Everything alright?" asked Barbara.

"Um...I'm not feeling so well. Something I ate, maybe. I need to clock out. Can you get someone to take over for me in 2B?" she said.

"Sure...," said Barbara, looking concerned, "Do you want me to check you over right quick?"

"No...I'm sure it's nothing, just some bad shellfish or something."

Mindy walked quickly past the nurse's station to the elevator, not wanting to answer any more questions. She closed her eyes on the ride down, slowly feeling her equilibrium return.

The cold outside slapped her cruelly in the face, but it did help to clear her head even more. By the time she arrived back at her apartment, nausea had passed entirely, and she felt almost normal again.

"As normal as someone can who just spent time in another persons brain," she whispered to herself.

One thing she was noting now was that time apparently didn't work the same. It had seemed like she and Trevor had been together for more than half a day, but in the real world, only fifteen minutes had passed.

The T.V. was going, but it wasn't Greg on the couch this time. Her mother was sitting there in a beaten up looking wool robe watching a soap opera and wiping her nose with a tissue.

"What are you doing home?" she asked in a scratchy voice.

"I wasn't feeling well. Where's Greg?"

"Who knows...Who cares," she grumbled.

"I'm going to heat the leftover soup. Do you want any?" asked Mindy, heading toward the kitchen.

"What I want is a nice, tall glass of bourbon."

"Mom..."

"Yeah, no go, right? Fine, I'll take the soup."

Mindy divided the soup between them and came back with a steaming hot bowl sitting it down in front of her mother.

"You look like shit."

"Look whose talking," said Mindy stirring the broth.

"Funny girl. You weren't this funny when you were a kid. No, you were a moody little cuss."

"I wonder why..."

"I suppose you still think it was all my fault?" said Beatrice, following her words with a loud slurping of her soup.

Mindy knew where this was going, and she wasn't in the mood.

"Can't we just eat in peace," she said.

"Sure."

"Did Greg say where he was going? An interview, maybe?"

"Interview? Shit...I doubt it. He was dressed to impress but not in a suit and tie. Nope...I think he was going to get his knob polished somewhere."

"Jesus Christ! Mom! Why do you say stuff like that?"

"What's a matter? The truth hurt? I don't know why you waste your time with that loser anyway. I would have kicked him to the curb by now."

"The same way you kicked Dad?"

Beatrice dropped her spoon noisily onto the coffee table.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Things between your father and me were good...until..." she let her words trail off.

"Until what, Mom? Until you caught him in bed with another woman for the umpteenth time? Until he put a fist upside your head for smarting off about it?"

"It wasn't like that...He loved me...We were too young and he wasn't ready to get tied down yet with..." she stopped talking again.

Mindy set her spoon aside.

"Say it, Mom. He wasn't ready to get tied down with a kid. He still wanted to run and party with the big dogs, but his wife had to stay home and take care of his kid. He hated to be alone at the bars, and he started looking for other companions to pass the time. While you had to stay home and deal with me, Dad was out there without you. It quickly became my fault, especially when confronting him was out of the question given his tendency to decide every argument with his fists."

Beatrice looked away, not able to meet her daughter's eyes.

"That's why you hid in a bottle, wasn't it? Because you felt so guilty blaming me for what Dad was putting you through."

"I don't have to listen to this crap."

Beatrice rose from the table, "I'm going to take a nap."

Mindy started to say more, but it was like all the air had been let out of her body. The brief flare of anger all too quickly extinguishing itself inside her. The slam of her mother's bedroom door put the ending punctuation on their mother/daughter chat. Lately, it seemed like every conversation they had ended with a slamming door. She finished her soup but left the bowl sitting on the coffee table, lacking the strength to even think about carrying it to the kitchen. A hot shower seemed like a good idea, and it did put some energy back into her step. When she got out, she changed into some clean clothes and started gathering the laundry together while in her head, she mulled over the craziness of her afternoon. She knew she should tell Dr. Avery what she had experienced, but something about him put her off. It wasn't just his condescending attitude; there was something in his eyes that made her uneasy.

"Maybe Dr. Graves?" she considered out loud but doubted he would believe her.

The sound of Greg's key hitting the door drew her back to the present.

He stopped in the hallway when he realized she was there looking confused and not entirely happy about her presence.

"Oh...Uh...Hey, Mindy. I didn't expect you to be here."

Her mom had been right. Greg wasn't dressed like a man who had been interviewing or shopping for groceries. He was dressed in much more casual attire, but nice enough for the club scene. A hint of perfume reached her nostrils and got stronger the closer she came to him.

"Where were you?"

"I had a couple of drinks with friends down at O'Brien's pub," he said cautiously.

Mindy stopped in front of him. The smell of perfume was almost overwhelming, and from this distance, she could see a stain of dark-pink lipstick on his collar.

"Did this friend wear pink lipstick and smell like a French whore?"

She spun on her heel before he could answer, and he followed in her wake.

"Look, a few of the guys wanted to go to the 'Leopard Club,' it was just innocent fun," he explained, naming a local strip joint that Mindy was all too aware was also a front for prostitution.

"Innocent fun? I'm not sure what is worse, Greg. That you would spend money on strip dancers when we have so little of it, or that you would try to hide it from me?"

"You're being unreasonable. I just needed to blow off some steam. It isn't easy to be dealing with the stress of job hunting and taking care of your mom at the same time."

"You could have had a job by now. There were opportunities..."

"We've been down this road, Mindy. I'm not going to prostitute myself, or take something beneath me."

"Yeah, but you have no problem paying a prostitute to get you off..." she said under her breath.

Greg snagged her by the arm, spinning her to face him.

"What was that?"

His face had the same mask of anger it had worn the previous evening.

"Nothing."

"You think it's easy keeping things together around here? I may not be bringing in money, but I shoulder a big chunk of the load too, and that load ain't getting easier to bear when you're making life even harder."

"Harder?"

"You know what I mean! A man can only take so many nights of being turned out before..."

He hesitated to plunge on, but Mindy had heard more than enough.

"Well, at least you're honest for a change," she said quietly.

She tried not to cry, but the tears came anyway, pouring down her cheeks while she pushed past Greg to get her coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Out! I...I need to get out of here. I need to think."

"We need to talk about things, Mindy."

The latch of the front door stuck, and it took her three tries to free it, giving Greg a chance to catch her again. He put his hand on the door so she couldn't open it.

"Let me out."

"You need to calm down. You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"You always say that. It's always in my head. I'm aways being hysterical. Well...dammit, Greg, not this time! Let me go!"

She yanked the door with all her weight, and it flew back, snapping the chain from its slot on the wall. The door caught Greg on the side of the head, and he staggered back, putting a hand to the point of impact.