Chapter 8: Chloe the Oneironaut

November 5, 2018

Five years ago, any fears Chloe had about her mother Joyce's reaction to her daughter dating another woman were instantly assuaged by the broad smile that greeted the news of Chloe's relationship with Max Caulfield.

"I expected you to get knocked-up by some meth-head biker named Travis," Joyce had said to Chloe. "And you come home with little Max Caulfield? I'm supposed to say no to that?"

No, the anger that Chloe had feared from her mother was reserved for the news of Chloe and Max's break-up in the spring of 2015. Mother and daughter did not speak to each other for two weeks.

Now, in the fall of 2018, seeing her mother and her ex sharing a booth in the Two Whales, Chloe sensed trouble on the wind. Trouble that was coming right for her, as Joyce saw Chloe, waved in an exaggeratedly happy manner that was unlike her, and got up from the booth.

Joyce walked past Max (the back of her head down over what Chloe imagined was a plate of on-the-house food) towards Chloe. She gave her daughter a hug, and whispered in her ear…

"Don't fuck this up."

…before making her way out of the diner. Chloe had only ever heard her mother drop the F-Bomb once. Chloe had been five, and it had been an accident.

Chloe walked to the booth and saw that Max was wearing a black skirt and cardigan. She was hunched over a Belgian Waffle, half of which had already been eaten.

"Look at the brave girl," Chloe said. "Eating something with powdered sugar on it while wearing black."

Max swallowed her mouthful of food. "I couldn't help myself. This is the only place I can find a good Belgian Waffle."

Chloe sat down across from Max.

"Joyce owns this place now?"

"Yeah," Chloe said. "The guy who ran this place, named Bud? He died, and left it to her in his will. She runs this place well, and with all the new people coming into town, she makes bank doing it. She finally got to take that trip to Paris."

"Good for her."

"She certainly thought so."

Max wiped her mouth. "She told me about the divorce, too."

The Great Joyce/Step-Douche Schism of 2016. "I'd moved out by the time it happened. People just grow apart, I guess."

"I figured as much," Max said, slapping some weight on the statement. For the sake of diplomacy, Chloe elected to ignore it.

"In hindsight, Step-Douche… well, I guess he's just regular Douche now. He wasn't a bad guy. He just… sucked at being a good one. Not that it made him any better, but…"

Chloe waited to see if Max would use that statement as a weapon. When she saw that she wouldn't, Chloe relaxed a little.

"So what's with the get-up?" Chloe asked.

"Justin's funeral," Max said.

"Right."

"It starts at one, and I just thought I'd stop in and say Hi. Get some food. Are you going?"

"No," Chloe said. "I've kinda been, uh… informally banned."

"What did you do?" Max asked, sounding like a parent getting a disciplinary report from a harried teacher about an unruly child.

"I'm looking into Justin's murder, and I found out some things that might make the family uneasy if I ask them about it."

Max smiled. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"I knew your curiosity would get the better of you."

"Took me long enough."

"Yeah," Max said. "Because you have to think it's your idea. That's just how you are."

Max put her fork down. "Chloe the detective."

"I'm not a detective."

"Yes, you are. I should buy you a fedora."

"What?" Chloe asked. "No. Douchebags ruined those."

"No, they ruined trilbies," Max said. "Fedoras have wider brims. Bogart wore fedoras."

"Which is what a douchebag would say, Max."


Vivian had delivered Chloe's plate of toast, bacon and sunny-side-up eggs while the two were discussing the case.

"So let me get this straight," Max said. "Justin was murdered."

"Right," Chloe said.

"By this guy Arnold Trainor."

"Correct."

"You think someone hired Trainor."

"That's right."

"And so does Denise Leonard."

"Yes," Chloe said. She had left out some of the other parts of her meeting with Denise. Namely that she came on with the force of a speeding truck.

"And there's this other guy who calls himself The Bull, who threatened you because he doesn't want you looking into this at all, for reasons you don't know."

"Yup," Chloe said. She left out the part where The Bull killed someone in front of her, because Max would worry. It was too early in the morning for Max's worry-face.

"And there's Justin's girlfriend, who you don't know, but who might know something about all this."

"Yeah," Chloe said. "I still haven't looked her up."

Max reached into her purse, and came up with her phone.

"What are you doing?" Chloe asked.

"I'm looking up Justin's girlfriend."

"What? No. No, don't."

Max looked confused. "Why not?"

"Please don't help me with the murder investigation," Chloe said, and realizing that it was a sentence that she'd never thought she say after she'd done so.

"Do you know the difference between an olly and a tre flip?" Max asked.

Chloe was confused. "Um… Yeah?"

"So do I. I liked Justin." Max went back to her phone. Chloe sighed.

"Max, I don't need your protection," Chloe said, and instantly regretted it. That hadn't always been the case. If Max had been a coward, Chloe would have died as a teenager, alone and forgotten on a bathroom floor.

Max put her phone down. "This isn't about protecting you," Max said. "Let's just say… Let's just say I have some experience with, y'know… investigation."

"Since when?"

"Since for a while now."

Chloe took a bite of bacon and rubbed her eyes. "Okay," she said after she swallowed her food. "Two heads are better than one, I guess. And I guess I'll have to… like… defer to your experience or whatever."

"Good," Max said with a grin, and the table went quiet for a while… until Chloe saw that Max's grin had metamorphosed into a smile.

"What's that for?" Chloe asked.

"I know I'm supposed to be going to a funeral today. I know I'm supposed to be sad, but… It's just really nice to be doing something like this with you again."

Chloe furrowed her brow. "Max… we never did anything like this before."

Max looked confused for a second, and then her face changed. Chloe didn't think she caught Max in a lie… but she did think she caught Max giving away a secret without meaning to.

"Oh, yeah," Max said, trying to cover for herself. "I meant doing something with you again… N-Not like I'm trying to start anything, or force…"

"Right," Chloe said. "Right. Completely on the level. We're just doing this as, uh…"

Max smiled. "Gal-Pals?"

"Never say that again."


Vivian had taken Max and Chloe's plates away, and had brought post-meal coffee, giving them both the stink-eye the entire time. Max had taken to quizzing Chloe about what had happened to the Blackwell irregulars from five years past.

"Daniel DeCosta?" Max asked.

"Moved with his family to Argentina."

"Alyssa Anderson?"

"Manages at the Wal-Mart outside town."

"Hayden Jones?"

"Full athletic scholarship to the University of Nebraska. Broke his ankle at training camp and came back here. I think he works at his dad's dealership."

"Logan Robertson?"

"Works at a car wash."

"Taylor Christensen?"

"Moved out of town when her mom died. Don't know where."

"Juliet Watson?"

"Staff reporter for the Arcadia Bay Beacon."

"Good for her. Courtney Wagner?"

"Runs a fashion blog when she's not substitute teaching.

Max looked comically aghast. "They let Courtney near children?"

They both laughed. But Chloe's laughter was stifled by a sudden flash in her brain of the nightmare that woke her up that morning. It must have showed on her face.

"Chloe, what is it?" Max asked, recovering from her laughter.

"Nothing."

"So… something then?"

Chloe looked at Max. She had her doe-eyes on.

"I had a nightmare last night. It's kinda fucking with me."

"What about?" Max asked.

"It's not even that. It's just… Have you ever remembered more of a nightmare as the day went on, and not less?"

"No."

"Guess I must be special then."

Max smiled. "Chloe the Oneironaut."

"What's an oneironaut?"

"Like an astronaut, but with dreams instead of space."

"Oh."

"So," Max said. "Spill."

Chloe breathed and looked down at her coffee.

"You were with me," Chloe said. "And not like that, I mean… we were kids. Teenagers. It was dark. We were in that junkyard that isn't there anymore, the one Nathan Prescott buried Rachel in. I remember being really angry. Really sad. We got to where Rachel was buried, and I bent down to see. I heard you calling from behind me. I turned around, and you were falling and holding your neck. And next to you was that Mark Jefferson guy. He had a syringe in one hand and a gun in the other. I remember I had a gun, too. I went for mine, he fired his, and… that's when I woke up."

Chloe looked from her coffee back to Max.

Max Caulfield, who was a pale woman to begin with, had gone a shade paler. Her mouth was open in horror, and her eyes were glassy, as though they were getting ready to tear.

"Max...? Max, what's wrong?"