The Hourglass.

TRIGGER WARNING- this short story contains Some Strong Language, Brief Sexuality, and Substance Abuse.

The Hourglass.

Part One- Showtime.

It was showtime, and I could not blink. Hyperaware, and manic as fuck, I took to the stage. The lights hit the curtains, they opened, and it was Lucy that caught my drying eyes. Contacts could be a gift and a curse. Lucy! I can’t go on! I thought. I need my solution! Eyes stinging, I crept up to the microphone, and I nailed it!

Backstage, Lucy smiled so brightly that tears finally came to my eyes, and I was able to blink! She was my biggest fan. A kindred spirit from past lives spent together. Beautiful karma. She knew everything about me, and I her. I could perform anything in front of her, and she in front of me. Even naked if I wanted to. I remember the first time she saw me naked.

“Take it all off. Lay face down… Um… You’ve got a great looking penis.” She said, and I was like, Are you surprised?! It was nice to be massaged by someone I could be so comfortable with. She even knew I had been off hard drugs for quite some time. Which ones? All of them! Now, drinking is fun, and pot can be comforting, but all I really wanted was to be around Lucy. Day, night- I did not care. She flattered me. You gotta admit- it was a nice thing to say.

Part Two- The Hourglass.

As I flipped over the dreaded hourglass exactly one hour before my next performance, I watched the red sand fall, and I took a deep breath. I performed by myself in my dressing room with my eyes closed. As I sang, I felt a magical presence, yet I finished my song. When I opened my eyes, it was Lucy. My trusted companion.

“Good luck tonight.” She said with that bright smile of hers that I always looked forward to seeing. “I like your song choice. It’s catchy, challenging… ambitious. Here, I brought your solution.”

“Oh, thank you! You remembered!” I exclaimed.

“Of course I did, silly. We’re kindreds.”

Lucy walked over to my minibar, and poured us a small whiskey as I applied my contact solution. Whiskey does help with my vocal cords when I sing. I sat at my piano, then she sat beside me. I took a sip, and said,

“I’m nervous again.” And I slammed my forehead down on the keys making a louder sound than was intended. She gently placed her hand on my back, and said,

“Remember this. You’ve never had a bad performance. At least, I’ve never seen one.” Really?! I thought. Another nice compliment. I glanced up at the hour glass, and sighed. I put on my black jacket, and I took to the stage, and I nailed it yet again!

Part Three- Lucy’s Parents.

Lucy, being a senior in college, did not have a whole lot of time for theatre, but she would make time for me. She always made time for me. I would serenade her as she tirelessly and passionately worked on her thesis that was soon to be due. It had to be perfect. Her parents demanded it! Once, she got COVID, and she failed a meager ten-point assignment, so her parents took away her bedroom door withdrawing her right to privacy for months, yet Lucy never lost that smile. That ultra bright smile.

Part Four- The Sands of Time.

The sand was as red as my eyes as I drenched them in solution. PANIC! MANIC! DAMMIT! I thought. It was to be one of my last performances of the series. Why did I have to pick a soft, love song? Why?! I peeked from backstage to look for Lucy. I could see her in my mind, but not with my eyes. She had to be there somewhere. She had to be! I returned to my dressing room, and there it was pressuring me- the dreaded hourglass read that there were roughly ten-minutes before curtain. What to do? I thought. Oh, what to do?!

Part Five- “Last Call for Alcohol!”

Lucy had a favorite pub. It was dark and cozy, and she could work there for hours without being bothered. She would sip apricot brandy- which she sometimes thought was a bit too sweet, but it made her look classy. Like she had good taste, and she did. Suffering from a touch of writer’s block, she saved her work, and closed her laptop.

“All done for the night, Miss?” Asked the rather handsome bartender.

“Night?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’re about to do last call.”

“Last call?! Shit!” Lucy slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, grabbed her laptop, and shielded it under her coat as she raced out into the rain. She threw her arms up, and desperately yelled the word, “Taxi!”

Part Six- Is This for Real?

“Oh, no. Oh, no! My time has run out!” I cried as the hourglass emptied. Where was she? Where was she?! I thought as I took to the stage in sheer, uncomfortable panic. Betrayal. Is this what that feels like? Did she want me to fail? No, that could not be, or could it?! Then it happened. My eyes began to water and itch, and when I rubbed at them- out came my contacts, and when the curtains opened, and the music played, well, I missed my cue. I guess I needed Lucy more than I thought. Could it be… love? As I fumbled through my song, I could not see a thing. I could hear groans coming from the sold-out audience, and I became worried that I might be fired that night.

Part Seven- Fuck Brandy!

Bawling in the back of the taxi, Lucy swore she would never forgive herself if she missed the performance. She decided to swear off alcohol altogether as punishment in case she missed my whole performance. Something I know deep-down would be super hard for her. She hated being in the back of the claustrophobic taxi. No tinted windows! Even in the taxi- she desired her privacy. She envied those who could afford limousine rides. Dark windows. A skylight. Complimentary booze. What’s not to like?!

“Can you go any faster?” Lucy slurred.

“Lady, it’s pouring out.” Replied the taxi driver.

“Oh, god!”

Part Eight- Closed.

As the curtains closed, only a few clapped for me. Pity-claps. Great. I thought. I then lit up a cigarette on my way to my dressing room. Upset, and feeling betrayed, I poured myself a whiskey. As I sipped it- I stared at a small stuffed Teddy bear that I had received from a fan many years ago, and I remembered what I had hid inside of it, and my mouth began to water.

Part Nine- A Late Arrival.

Lucy could barely see the theatre’s flashing lights off in the distance, but as they grew closer in that horrible taxi - they quit flashing, and Lucy’s heart stopped. She had missed the whole thing.

Part Ten- My Mistake.

I truly had missed the sensation of the special, white substance as it went down the back of my throat, and right into my system. It numbed my gums as I pressed it against my teeth, and I then felt really guilty way, way deep inside. Oh, how I wished she had been there that night. Then there was a knock at the door. A soft knock. A sad knock. Could it be? I hid the ripped up Teddy bear inside of my piano bench, and answered the door. It was the theatre manager.

“We had to issue refunds. I’m not pleased.” He said. “I think we’re going to have to make arrangements with someone else.” He left it at that, and just like that, my usually-dry eyes filled up with tears, and I wept. I sat down at what would soon be someone else’s piano, and I slammed my head down on the keys, thus making quite the loud sound again. So loud that I did not hear her enter. As if touched by magic, Lucy gently placed her hand on my back, and I felt better. Comforted- despite still feeling betrayed. I lifted my head, and saw it in her face. Sadness. Remorse. Her black mascara had even stained the beautiful, pink dress that she was anxious to show me that night.

“I got carried away.” She said- her breath smelling of the apricot brandy that she would never drink again. I placed my hand on the bench, and she sat down next to me, and I performed my song for her, and I nailed it, but as my hot blood splattered quickly from my nostrils onto the ivory keys- Lucy knew exactly what I had done.