Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer

Part 91

91

I read it for what might have been the hundredth time, then dropped the page and closed my eyes. I wanted to erase my memories. I wanted to erase hers. I wanted no one to know what I'd done. But some things can't be undone.

I opened my eyes, looking for where the paper had fallen, and realised she'd written something on the back, too:

Nathan, this is as much as I can remember. If you'd like to talk about it, I'll be at 47 Adelaide St in Fremantle at 4:30 pm next Saturday – two weeks after I gave you this.

I thought it sounded strange, but I'd go just to see her again. I had so much I wanted to say. Starting with "sorry."

Coward that I am, I wasn't sure if I could say it all. I started writing it down instead.

See, Caitlin? I could document my worst nightmares, too. And mine are as real as yours.

I sealed them in an envelope, wishing I could seal them as securely inside my head.

The week dragged like an insomniac snail, the only bright spot the day the newspaper photo of her arrived. A framed memory of Caitlin smiling at ducklings, as happy as I'd ever seen her. Now I'd never forget, either. I turned on the bedside light when I woke up in the dark, just so I could see her face again.

On Saturday afternoon, I drove up and down Adelaide Street, looking for the right number. After three tries, I gave up, parked the car and started walking. I couldn't find the number anyway.

So, at 4:30 pm, I stood outside an old church, which was where number forty-seven should be. A large wedding party posed for photographs on the steps. I stopped on the footpath, not wanting to get in the photographer's way. I searched the wedding guests for her, scanning faces.

The bride was Caitlin's opposite – tall and blonde with bloody big boobs, wearing a blue and white dress with lots of coloured pearls. Her husband looked at her as if he was hypnotised by bliss.

I bet they'd never had anything but smooth sailing, from first kiss through to wedding night – they couldn't have had as hard a time of it as Caitlin and I had. I could count the number of kisses we'd shared and I didn't dare even mention the possibility of sex...

At the happy couple's feet, a grumpy little flower girl in a miniature version of the bride's dress sat pouting at her toy fish on the steps. Most of the guests were Italian – plenty of dark hair, but none of them as beautiful as Caitlin.

I couldn't see her anywhere. I took a walk around the church, wondering if I was missing something.

The church door was open, with a sign beside it saying, Reconciliation Today. I stepped in through the door, wondering if Caitlin had gone inside.

It was dark in the foyer and while I waited for my eyes to adjust, I felt her fingers close around mine. She guided my hand into some cold water, then helped me draw a cross across my chest, my fingers still dripping.

Before I could ask why, she smiled and said in a low voice, "It's a reminder of your baptism, when all the bad things you've done are forgiven." She paused. "Were you christened, Nathan?"

"I think so," I answered, worried. "I was too young to remember and I don't think I've been in a church much since."

She smiled again. "Then perhaps it wouldn't hurt to spend a moment longer in this one?"

Maybe she was going to kill me and she didn't want me to die unforgiven, I thought in mounting panic. Did I have the right to deny her that? I couldn't deny what I'd done.