Day 8
Ted's Living Room, 2030
"And then what happened, Dad? Did Marshall get out of bed yet?" asks Ted's daughter, interested.
"No, kids. Not yet. You see, when someone goes through a wound like that... well. It's as if the world stops in that moment, but the rest of the people keep moving forward very quickly.
Summer in New York had settled with a heaviness that seeped through the apartment windows. Alyx combated it with almost military rigor. By 7:30 in the morning, she had already scrubbed the kitchen floor with diluted bleach, reorganized the spice cabinets alphabetically (Ted's chronological disorder exasperated her), and cleaned the window frames with a cotton swab. The mechanical movement of her hands while cleaning was a silent mantra to manage her emotional mess.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Marshall was a motionless statue under the sheet. Alyx had left a plate with two pieces of toast and a glass of fresh orange juice by the bed. The tray from the previous day with barely tasted oatmeal was now the shiny plate in the dishwasher.
Ted and Robin entered the apartment, too cheerful in their love bubble. They laughed, playfully pushed each other, and the sound to Alyx seemed strident, almost obscene, as if her cathedral of pain were being attacked by insane joy.
"Alyx! Is the lazy bear there?" asked Ted, throwing his keys into the bowl Alyx had left near the door for that function.
"In his cave," she responded without looking up while polishing the sink. "I left him food. He barely touched it."
Robin approached with that mix of discomfort and curiosity with which one approaches a house in mourning.
"And you? Have you been out?" Her voice was as soft as she could make it, conscious of the delicate territory she was trying to explore.
"Sure, I went shopping," said Alyx, drying her hands on an immaculate cloth. "We needed milk and toast."
Ted put an arm around Robin's shoulders.
"Come on, I promised you the best burger in Manhattan and a cocktail that will make you forget the news exists. Are you coming, Alyx?" Ted ended with a well-intentioned offer that, to Alyx, sounded like a betrayal of her sadness, of Marshall, of everything—going out, laughing, eating a burger while Marshall consumed himself within the four walls of his room.
Alyx shook her head, a tense smile on her lips, and commented, "Someone has to be here in case he wakes up."
Alyx saw the complicit look exchanged between Robin and Ted, which led Alyx to remember the same looks she shared with Lily or saw Lily and Marshall share. It was a reminder of how alone she now was, the disparity and distance she now had with her friends, the elusive communication with Marshall, taking on the responsibility of being his caregiver—which she knew was not only out of love but also out of guilt for not stopping or preventing what she knew would happen, for having been too confident in the solidity of their relationship without realizing the existential crisis her Lily was going through. Coming out of her whirlwind of memories and self-deprecation, she noticed how Ted and Robin left the apartment with Ted wrapping his arm around Robin's waist in a side hug. This simply generated more of a feeling of emptiness in Alyx's stomach, which was clearly not due to a lack of food.
MacLaren's Bar
The reality of this new relationship was brighter for Barney, who, upon encountering the two in their love bubble—what was once his table of camaraderie, jokes, and inappropriate comments—became a cloying place for a hardened bachelor to get sick of all the honey coming from every act of the couple.
"Well, well, the lovebirds finally dare to come with their incredibly well-dressed friend and drinking buddy," commented Barney as Robin and Ted joined his table.
"Shut up, Barney," laughed Ted, guiding Robin to the shared leather sofa.
Barney watched them with critical attention, ready to make more suggestive comments due to his insatiable sex life, but upon seeing Ted's actions of "casually" (note the sarcasm) putting his arm around to hug Robin and how she happily settled into said embrace, they moved to murmurs, secret chats of nonsense, clearly.
How Ted spoke into her ear, how after the appetizers arrived, Robin stole one that Ted had in his hand, and he playfully held her wrist to stop her and softly reproach her, and in less than ten minutes they were tickling each other and giggling left and right, plus the strange halo that filtered over their silhouettes of a golden light seemed like a low-budget romantic movie that Barney thought he was hallucinating due to the absurdity. This was too much for Barney.
Barney, a witness to an entire annoying teenage movie, maintained a look of dazed annoyance, moving to complete boredom, and with deliberate slowness, raised his right hand from his beer glass, formed the classic toy gun with his index finger and thumb, opened his mouth, placed his index and middle fingers as if pointing at himself, then dramatically "shot" his gun into his mouth. And with a realism worthy of a theater play, he let his body fall like a dead weight against the back of his seat.
Back at the Apartment with Alyx
Alyx found herself cleaning the apartment again after Robin and Ted's departure. Determined, she moved even the sofas to vacuum under them, and there, breathing heavily from the effort, ready to run the vacuum, she saw something shining on the floor with a bit of dust. She crouched down, picked it up between her fingers, and clearly identified that it was an earring. Although simple, she knew that silver hoop was Lily's.
Upon determining its origin, her grip became more delicate; she held it as if it were very fine and easily breakable porcelain, or even more like a found relic—and it was, at least for her. Lily liked to wear them regularly and didn't let them get lost; they were always well put on or stored in a drawer with other small jewels that Lily had clearly taken to San Francisco. But this one probably fell off either during the argument or while she was taking her luggage that day.
Feeling a wave of emotions—from irrational anger at finding her earring, wondering how Lily could lose it if she cared for it so much? How was she capable of leaving breadcrumb memories in a place where she left two people hungry for her affection? She had the strong temptation to open the window and throw it far away or toss it in the trash and quickly take it out of the apartment. But she didn't. The anger dissipated and was replaced with a sadness she hadn't allowed herself to feel, mixed with a feeling of lovelessness and invalidity in her relationship, which she had masked with her obsession with cleaning the floor and taking care of Marshall, plus the guilt and self-reproach for ignoring the clear signs she should have seen, and even more so that she knew the events that would bring.
In the end, with a soft sigh, she went to her desk, which was located opposite Ted's work table against the windows, searched among her drawers, and gently deposited in a small space in her top drawer, next to some books, the small earring as a reminder of their shared relationship and especially of Lily—of how she couldn't simply erase everything about her because it wasn't possible to eliminate the feelings she produced.
Day 12
This new day brought new changes, like new addictions and progress. From Marshall, dressed in an old, dirty pajama, leaving the bedroom, dragging his feet softly as he walked, and timidly heading to the bathroom with his towel. Alyx, who was at her desk since the early morning with her fourth cup of coffee of the day by her side—a constant now in her sleepless and silent nights—noted Marshall's new action. It wasn't like the previous days locked in the bedroom among the blankets with moments of soft, muffled crying or murmurs between reproaches and pleas. Today was different; he was awake before noon and was going to take a bath without her or Ted having to force him.
"Marshall," she said softly upon seeing him in the bedroom doorway, still and staring fixedly at a wall.
He blinked as if coming out of a daydream.
"I... There's hot water," she said, mid-sentence, not knowing how to be happy for the step Marshall had taken, causing Alyx to change her words mid-sentence.
Marshall looked at her as he hadn't in days, softly, with brief recognition, and then with an effort that seemed as if it were a life-or-death decision. He nodded and headed to the shower.
Alyx didn't make any further comment, repeated the same nod to Marshall, stood up, and headed to the bedroom. From there, she took out a large, old university shirt and tracksuit from the closet and left them on the dresser. Then, she changed the sheets and bedding in general from the bed and made it with clean ones she had.
Upon leaving the room with the dirty laundry in her arms to wash, she heard the clear sound of the water stream from the bathroom. But no less than two minutes after she heard the water, this sound mixed with a low and deep moan—a heartbreaking cry that carried the pain of an unexpected breakup. This paralyzed Alyx, who unconsciously began to squeeze the laundry she was carrying in her hands, and as if seeking, for once, support for the whole situation, she leaned against the wall of the hallway. Feeling the cold on her back, the slight tremble in her hands, and her increasing breathing, she thought she was losing control of herself. She didn't realize how much time passed like that because several minutes later she heard the bathroom door opening, and she quickly recomposed herself from her strange moment. She saw Marshall come out covered by the towel. They looked at each other fixedly, and in his gaze, the message was clearly visible—he did it—and Alyx, in a slight nod, affirmed—I know.
That was the first victory in discovering, in Lily's words, who they were outside of their relationship.
And also, without the group yet knowing, the first moment in which Alyx had her moment of introspection and couldn't control feeling her true emotions about the situation.
Day 16
Ted's Living Room, 2030
"And Barney? What was Barney doing in all this, Dad?" asked Ted's younger son.
"Well, Barney, son, was the extreme force, who constantly and inappropriately pulled you out of your comfort zone, and who in himself was a force that could turn against itself if not stopped in time."
Barney, now blinded by his new plans to be Marshall's wingman to get dates, with plans for alcohol, women, liquor, and ridiculously expensive suits, was ready to take him to the next level with constant incursions into the war zone "Marshall's room," where he debated unilaterally with a silent Marshall, and where he had to pass stealthily and with diplomatic words through the control base "the living room with Alyx as guardian," bore fruit in finally getting Marshall to give in to Barney. Although his plan was a strip club, he managed to get him to at least go to the bar for a beer. What he didn't expect was that the flaw in his plan—with Marshall's depression plus alcohol—would cause him to loosen his tongue and the only thing he would talk about were memories with Lily, some combined with their evolution in the relationship when Alyx arrived, and everything mixed with some tears, according to the story.
Barney, seeing how his night was a train colliding head-on with another in slow motion, raised his right hand from his beer glass, formed the classic toy gun with his index finger and thumb (which he had already used one shot the week before), opened his mouth, placed his index and middle fingers as if pointing at himself, then dramatically "shot" his gun into his mouth. And with an identical realism to the previous week, he threw his body and head back against the back of his chair.