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Claire was back in their cabin, looking through the small porthole at the darkening ocean beyond as the evening fell. Her face looked sad, and she felt very far from home. The last month hadn't been an easy one for her, and finding herself today in this situation hadn't helped. She missed Frank, even though she didn't want to.
Behind her the cabin door opened, and Trevor came noisily in. He clapped his hands in anticipation when she turned around.
"OK, let's go." he said.
"Trevor, if you think I'm going to rub oil on any part of-"
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about not staying cooped up in here."
"Trevor, as I explained, we can't get involved with-"
"And as I explained Claire, you're still in a little need of a lot of fun. You need to get out there and have a good time, illusion or not. Here, let me show you something."
"Careful, Trevor. I know a lot of tender places to kick..."
Hands on her shoulders, Trevor guided her over in front of the mirror. Together they looked into it, his face hovering next to hers. "Look at that face, very cute, a little pouty. All in all a good thing. Not to mention how good yours looks. Now. Tell me. What's wrong with this picture?"
Claire wasn't really in the mood for this. "I don't know, Trevor. That you're in it?"
"What's wrong is that the face that you're wearing is the exact same face I saw in Chicago. The exact same face that's been moping day after day. The exact same face that finally convinced me that you needed to be dragged to a street carnival for your own good. It's going to take some fun to get you out of your funk. Fun you won't let me show you in here."
"What makes you think I'm in a funk, Trevor?"
"You've been in a funk ever since you broke up with Frank last month. The doctor I set you up with two weeks ago was just collateral damage. You didn't even try for a second date with Dr. Hunk-stein."
"Well, you're wrong Trevor. I've just been... busy."
Trevor nodded. "So busy you haven't found the time to move Frank's picture from where it's face-down on your dresser?"
Claire looked over at him. "How did you..."
Trevor shrugged. "I'm a god. Here's my bit of psyco-analysis. You're afraid to face that picture, Claire. And you won't get past this melancholy you're in until you do. So here of there, my goal is still the same. After dinner I went looking. There's a very noisy party near the bow in the third class open area, and I've booked us a connecting passageway. Feeling better about yourself is the first step, and what could make you feel better than being hit on by a bunch of drunken men from steerage. I'm busting you out of this cell, Claire. Cram some fun into your heart, and the self-esteem thing will follow. Or is that supposed to be a shot of whiskey? Either way, they have them both. Let's go cut a wooden rug."
He began to push her to the doorway. Claire was reluctant. "Trevor, I don't really want to go and be-"
"Course you do. Let's go have some fun. Unless you prefer being alone with me in small room all night." He smiled and waited.
She saw his grin. "Drunken slosh fest it is then. Lead on." They both left the cabin.
The brightly lit third class open area was bustling with people, all of which had come below decks when the night air above had grown colder. They stood together in small clusters, laughing and drinking over a backdrop of music from the impromptu set of musicians playing in the room's center. All in all, a relaxed and festive atmosphere.
Trevor moved through them easily, a hopeful smile plastered across his face. He saw the almost boundless potential inside the room. There was nothing like a slow, boring voyage combined with alcohol and members of the opposite sex to help the mating ritual along. Throughout the years it had always been highly effective. And here he had found his fish barrel. It was time to aim and shoot. He walked up to someone.
"My good man! I don't believe we've met. I'm Trevor Hale." His voice suddenly dripped with romantic implications. "Don't be alarmed but I just walked by this very cute, red-headed Irish rose who's been eyeing you like a fresh batch of haggis! That's a compliment by the way," Trevor paused,"I think..."
Claire watched the crowd from across the room. She was seated on a bench along the far wall. As her eyes passed over the many passengers around her, they finally stopped on Trevor. Curious, she watched him closely as he moved from person to person. What was he doing? Trevor was back at the man he had just accosted and was pulling him to his feet. With a firm nudge he pushed the reluctant participant towards a redhead standing nearby. When the man finally spoke to her, her eyes lit up and she smiled warmly. Trevor nodded as if that were exactly what he had expected before he moved on. He quickly seated himself by a surly older woman, who seemed to only want to be left alone. Claire could just make out Trevor's voice in the crowd.
"You had better watch yourself young lady," Trevor was saying. "A beautiful woman like yourself is a prime candidate for the many bachelors prowling this particular dating pool. So let's narrow the field a bit before we throw out some chum to the chums. Tell me what you like, and the room will provide..."
Claire couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Trevor was being Trevor. She almost laughed. He was still trying to set up couples. Even here where there was no string of beads to his credit. Even when he was surrounded by what was most likely a two bit illusion from a second rate hypnotist. He still believed he was Cupid.
Claire watched as the woman he was sitting next to asked him a question. Trevor didn't pause as he answered. "Who am I? I'm the god of love, doing a little field work. Just thought you might... hey, where are you going?" The woman had stood and left the moment he had answered. Trevor shrugged and got up again, looking for another victim.
Claire shook her head. Trevor never let up, did he? She thought of the irony of the situation. A delusion within an illusion. As if he wasn't messed up enough already. Well, she had better head him off before she had to sweep up the pieces. Claire was just about to go over and stop him when another woman plopped down on the bench next to her, shoving a drink into her hands.
"Good evening, Mrs. Collins. Why are you sitting here alone?"
Claire looked over and recognized who it was. It was the woman Trevor had been talking to on deck that afternoon, just before he had tried to drag her to the departing tender. She was a young, vibrant woman. Brown hair cascaded down the side of her face. Her mouth held an easy smile. She seemed to be enjoying herself. The drink she held had definitely not been her first for the night. But as Claire looked closer she noticed something else. A sadness lingered behind her eyes, hidden deep. She was doing her best to put up a brave front, but Claire didn't need to be a psychologist to see it. Reminding herself where she was, Claire realized it was foolish to care about an illusion.
"I'm sorry," Claire answered her question. "You must have mistaken me. I'm not Mrs. Collins. My name's Claire. Claire Allen."
"Oh, right." the woman said lightly. "I forgot. I hope I didn't upset you." She leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't worry. Trevor told me about your 'condition'."
Claire tried to stay calm. "My condition?"
"It'll be our secret. But if I may be allowed to say so, you and Mr Hale make quite an attractive couple."
Annoyance hovered over Claire's face. "We're not a couple."
"Whatever you say, Mrs. Colli-" the woman stopped herself. "Excuse me... Claire."
Claire could see that the woman didn't believe her for a second. She gave her a level look. "I didn't get your name?"
The woman seemed surprised. "My name? I told you that last night. I'm Eileen. Don't you remember?"
"I suppose I don't." Claire said simply. "I guess it might have something to do with the fact that..." she laughed awkwardly, "Well, that your not a real person, to be totally honest with you."
Eileen's laugh was real. "You and Mr. Collins must have had a deeper fainting spell today than we all thought." She didn't seem offended that Claire refused to accept her reality. Eileen did her best to emulate the festive mood in the room, but Claire knew better. Eileen continued. "Well don't you worry...umm, was it Claire today? I'll believe enough for the both of us." She patted Claire's hands, oblivious to the concern on Claire's face. Claire looked away and sipped her drink.
Across the room Trevor had already moved on to his next target, a target he had been planning to get to all night, but hadn't talked to yet. It was the man Eileen had been watching on deck. Trevor walked straight up to him. "Hello again! I forget your name. Must have tipped back more mugs than I should have last night."
The man recognized him. "Good evening, Mr. Collins. It's me, William. I do hope you are feeling better."
Trevor lied. "William! Now I remember. I'm sorry, it just slipped my mind. How could I forget such a handsome hunkster such as yourself. I'm sure several of the women here aren't having the same problem."
William seemed amused by Trevor's enthusiasm. "As usual, you tend to exaggerate Mr. Collins."
Trevor laughed. "Funny thing. It's only an exaggeration until everyone believes it. My real name is actually Trevor Hale. Mr. Collins was just an alias."
William blinked. "An alias? Whatever for?"
"Well, my significant other over there," Trevor waved his hand across the room at Claire as he spoke in a whisper. "Pardon the expression, but she hates the term wife. Won't even acknowledge it, infuriates her. Anyway she has a 'condition'. An embarrassing ailment of refusing to believe certain people are who they say they are. Olympus knows I've done my best for the little nutball, trying to find her what therapy I could. I'm a... a therapist myself actually. Sure. Umm, why not? That's how we met, until she won me over with her charms. But nothing I've tried has helped her. Now she's even taken to calling herself Claire Allen. Disturbing, isn't it?"
William looked at Claire in a new light. "Hmmm."
"Anyway, leeches, chemicals, body massage... nothing seems to work. So I'm transporting my 'patient' better half to Chicago for treatment from some very gifted specialists in the field of mental do-hickeys. Which... now that I think of it is loaded with irony." Trevor smiled, enjoying this too much. He had better reign himself in before his story got too elaborate.
William took a drink of the beer he was holding. "It all sounds expensive. If you have the means for all that, why are you travelling third class?"