The young woman remained silent for a moment, letting the soft drumming of rain on the umbrella fill the space. "Sounds like a very heavy burden for such a small object," she said finally. "Clearly, it has meaning for you, as you've shared. But before, what did it represent to you? And now, what do you want it to represent? Maybe changing its meaning is the first step and can help you not have to hide it from yourself, so you can hold it without it hurting you."
Alyx closed her eyes. That pair of earrings. She had given them to Lily on New Year's Eve the year they became a couple, after the three of them, drunk and happy, had promised each other to be an indestructible family unit, however ridiculously cheesy it might have been. That's what those earrings represented. That's why, when Lily lost and left one of them behind when she left, it hurt so much. And now, for Lily to give her the other one, for Alyx to have both again… it was like seeing that promise they sealed that day as something she didn't know how to interpret now. What could it represent? A reminder or possibility of getting back together? Forgiveness? Surrender? Or the simple, painful act of Lily telling her to let go?
"I don't know," she confessed, and it was the most authentic truth she had spoken in weeks.
"Then maybe that's the work—your focus or structure, whatever you want to call it," the young woman said with a soft smile. "It's not the painting, nor the kicks, nor the coffee and cigarettes. For now, you just need to discover what new story you want to tell with that little piece of silver. But there's no rush. You just need to look for it for yourself, not for or because of anyone else."
The rain began to slow, dwindling to a drip, prompting the young woman to adjust her protective stance over her instrument. "Seems my aquatic audience has been canceled. I should take my wooden friend home before he turns into a raft."
Alyx handed back the umbrella. "Thank you," she said, and the word meant more than she could express.
"No, thank you for sharing the umbrella and the conversation. It helped me understand that I have my own chaos with structures," the young woman replied with a gentle smile as she adjusted the ukulele's strap. "Hey, if you ever need a soundtrack for your chaos, you know where to find a bassist with irregular hours and a good ear for other people's pain. I'm Tracy, by the way."
Tracy. The name echoed like a dream or a memory from the future she already knew. The bassist, the one with the yellow umbrella, the one who… Alyx held her breath, a wave of forbidden knowledge filling her. She knew who Tracy was, she knew what she would mean to Ted. But in this moment, under the diffuse light of the streetlamp, Tracy wasn't a point on a future timeline. She was just a kind girl under a yellow umbrella who had unknowingly offered Alyx the first real lifeline she had found in months.
"Alyx," she replied, and for the first time in a long time, she felt genuine joy in meeting and talking to someone.
"Take care, Alyx," Tracy said with a final warm smile. "And remember, even the best solos have pauses, so don't be afraid to take yours."
But Tracy—that name resonated in her head, even as Tracy introduced herself. Now, just thinking that it wasn't just another name but carried the echo of the future—and knowing that she dies young—a deeper cold seized Alyx. This time, it wasn't the panic over her own secret, but a visceral, concrete terror for this girl with the easy smile who had a destiny written in stone. Tracy, who had just extended a hand in the darkness, had an invisible hourglass over her head.
"Tracy," Alyx said, and her voice sounded urgent, different. Tracy stopped, expectant.
Alyx looked directly into her eyes, seeing the spark of life that the future would steal. "Take care of yourself," she began, the words coming out clumsily, laden with a weight Tracy couldn't understand. "Seriously… just take very good care of yourself. More than you think is necessary."
Tracy blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity. "Uh… thanks. I'll try."
"No," Alyx insisted, taking a step forward, overwhelmed by an impulse—a need to alter a destiny, to throw a lifeline to someone who didn't even know they were adrift. "Listen, seriously. Health… it's not just not catching a cold. It's listening to your body when it tells you to stop, or when something bothers you. Don't ignore it or let it pass, even if you think you have all the time in the world, because sometimes… time is a silent thief."
Her own words struck her. Wasn't that exactly what she was doing? Letting her life pass in a loop that, while seemingly productive, was highly destructive by ignoring her tremors, bruises, and insomnia. She was giving advice that was hypocritically her own sentence.
Tracy studied her, and in her eyes, there was no alarm or horror at the strange, specific advice—only deep curiosity and compassion. "You sound like someone speaking from… a place of great knowledge," she said softly. "And a lot of pain. Are you… taking care of yourself, Alyx?"
The question, simply by being asked with genuine concern, completely disarmed Alyx. Here she was, trying to warn a stranger about a dark future while her own present was a self-destructive mess. Tracy didn't need her prophetic warnings; she needed an example of someone choosing to live well.
"No," Alyx admitted, and the truth felt like a bitter relief. "I'm not. And that's how I know what I'm talking about. You know, it's easier to see other people's cliffs than your own."
Tracy smiled with a sad, understanding smile. "Then maybe that's our pact under the rain," she said, symbolically extending the hand that had held the umbrella. "I promise not to burn myself out so much on this painting—which I'm not even sure what it's about—until dawn too often. And you… you promise to look for a kind of structure that doesn't include beating yourself up or consuming insane amounts of coffee and cigarettes. Even if it's just a little, taking it one day at a time."
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