Chapter

59

Outside at that moment, Charles sat on a lawn bench with Julian. It was a particularly comfortable day for mid-summer, and they sat by the stream running through the grounds as Julian periodically described the rock formations beneath the water. His uncanny ability to visualize by merely hearing the various sounds of the water’s movement in and around obstacles in its path thoroughly entertained Charles, whose mind was into its sixth week of testing and evaluation. “It’s true, Julian...six weeks.  You had me pegged in three hours that night on the rooftop, remember?”

“One thing at a time, Charles. Right there just to the left of your feet...large rock, rounded, bowler hat shape, kind of makin’ the stream split?”

Charles nodded. “Yes...again. How do you do that?”

“Yeah, I remember the rooftop, Charles. And hearin’ those rocks trying to stop the water is kind of like you puttin’ out all those obstacles to me that night. I saw what was drivin’ you nuts. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know.” Charles wrapped his arm around Julian’s shoulders and smiled. “So... why don’t I get you an audience with ‘the man’ and you tell him all he needs to know about me. Sure would save the state some bucks.”

“Anything you say. I’ve got to tell you, though, I sure would like to be earnin’ my pay out here with you.”  He tapped his guide-cane. “Bein’ locked up like this is... “

“You are earning your pay, Julian. I’ve told you that every time you’ve come to visit. Lookin’ after Sara... “

“You mean Max lookin’ after Sara.”

“Okay...Max lookin’ after Sara and you talking with me these past few weeks...that’s earning your pay.”

“Mr. Charles...sometimes I do think you’re crazy.” He chuckled. “All we ever do is walk around the grounds here while I tell you what I’m hearin’. Damndest way to make a living I ever heard of.”

Charles corrected Julian. “What you’re seeing, Julian...don’t ever think I’m not hearing what you’re seeing.”

“Okay, Mr. Charles. Now, how’s this whole business comin’ anyway?”

“Well, I think it’s getting close. Times I dream. Oh, boy, sometimes those dreams...I don’t say a word to Pressman and the others. They’d really lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Doubt it,” said Julian, getting up and feeling his way down to the brook’s edge. “Same dreams you tell me about the roach and white bars and the darkness?”

“Yeah.”

“These people’ve seen it all. Those dreams are no worse than mine, and they ain’t locked me up yet.” He reached down and scooped up some water, wiping it over his face.

“Yeah, but you haven’t had to associate the dreams with a death.”

Julian stood up, taking another handful of water and rubbing it over his head. “Says who?”

Charles paused. “You never told me anything like that.”

“You never asked.”

“Your wife...Laura?”

“Laura...I never really told you much about her, did I?”

“You started a couple of times, but... “

“Well, she’s still right in front of me...all the time. When you can’t see normal, the images in your head are always ready to jump out and remind you you’ve got your own kind of sight. You know what I mean. Keeps you from going nuts. Only difference with you Charles is you hear your demon. Mine...son of a bitch in uniform is riding that horse, swinging that baton, whaling away...images with no sound. I was too strung out on reds, blues, whites, yellows, whole fucking medicinal rainbow to remember any sounds...just pictures of that cop on a horse hittin’ my Laura bad on the back of the head and me like a fool chargin’ the horse, catchin’ a face full of hoof.”

Julian sat almost stoically and continued on the tragedy of his life. Only the small trickle of moisture seeping out from beneath his dark glasses would have suggested to anyone that the story was personal and not a dramatic page from some work of fiction.

“Where were you?”

“Central Park. Concert in the park. Just a concert in the park that went wrong.”

“Want to walk?”

Julian straightened up. “Try havin’ that dream recurring every night of your life. Yours might be bad, but if I were staying at this hotel of sorts with the state payin’ the bill, I’d be using the free service to get rid of that dream.” He forced a laugh.

“I’ve thought about it, Julian, I mean telling more, but Dr. Pressman doesn’t know me, really. Mathews knows me. I could tell him the dreams I’ve had here, the dreams I only play with on paper by drawing them, but I haven’t seen him since I got here. They’re not about to let me tell him my dreams...dreams about death in The Cove...death behind a fire...out in the water behind the fire.”

“Tell them to me. I’ll go see him. Sit on a bench and listen to the brook and tell him your dreams. He’ll tell me what to tell you and we’ll live happily ever after.”

“I didn’t kill anybody, Julian.”

“I know. I didn’t kill Laura, either.”

They clasped each other’s hands as both continued listening to the pictures beneath the water...whispering pictures that had become yet another means of drawing the darkness of these two men together.