Black Harvest

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Nick poured wine for Selena, whiskey for himself. They sat at the counter in his apartment. He'd fixed a simple plate of snacks. Crackers, celery and cream cheese. Olives. Brie.

There was a comfortable silence between them.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?" He cut a piece of brie, smeared it on a cracker.

"Us. You and me." She sipped. "You want to move in together or not?"

There it was.

"Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"It might be a bad idea."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid I'll fuck it up."

"Me too."

"That I'll fuck it up?"

"That we both will. Maybe we should wait a little."

"You want some distance?"

"No, that's not it. I'm having a little trouble right now. With what we do. What I do."

"I know."

"I'm having nightmares. I think maybe I need to see someone."

"A shrink?"

"Or a therapist. Someone to help me sort it out. I'm having these dreams, someone's trying to kill me. I can't see who they are."

"Doesn't surprise me. I thought it would happen before now."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone gets bad dreams who does things like we do. Soldiers, cops. Everyone. Except the psychos who love it."

"That's what bothers me. Part of me loves it." She picked up a cracker, nibbled it.

"That's because of the rush. Being on the edge. At risk. Am I right?"

She nodded.

"It's not the same thing as enjoying it the way the nut jobs do."

"So why the dreams?"

"When I came back from Afghanistan." He stopped.

"After the grenade."

"Yes. They made me talk to a shrink. We talked about this. It's called cognitive dissonance. The mind sets up a conflict between belief and reality."

"I know about that."

"We're brought up that killing people is wrong. Then we kill people. We believe we shouldn't do it. Reality is different." He shrugged. "Cognitive dissonance."

"So we get nightmares."

"Yup. PTSD is a nice catch all for a lot of different ways it shows up. Dreams is one of them."

"Doctor Nick. I still think I need a shrink."

"Maybe." He set his glass down. "I've got an idea for short term therapy."

"What about living together?"

"Why don't we talk about that later? After our therapy session?"

He took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

"Doctor Nick," she said.