The peace of her new apartment was a lie, and Alyx knew it. In the center of the empty space where a dining or living room should be, the only thing was the easel with the finished silhouette painting. It stood as a reminder that she could fill the void in that figure, but also as an accusation that reminded her that no matter how many punches she threw at the bag, painting classes, cups of coffee, or cigarettes she consumed, she still couldn't fill the emptiness she felt.
A date with a punching bag, she had told Marshall and Lily as she left. And indeed, she returned to the Muay Thai gym that same evening. It smelled of sweat, disinfectant, and iron. With each heavy punch she landed on the bag, it was an unspoken word to her partners.
She still felt the pain in her shoulder, but she felt she deserved that reminder of her lack of control over the mess her life had become.
The pain was also a constant reminder of how using her absurd knowledge days before had helped her know that investing in Apple was good for the future. How easy it was to predict the stock market. There, she had a direct map to her future. But it also made her see that there was no data directing her on how to heal her broken heart.
After the session with the bag, she went to the locker room where there was a mirror she avoided looking into. She didn't want to see the fresh bruises on her body or the dark circles she surely had.
So, after wiping the sweat off her body and getting dressed, she took her thermos of coffee from her locker. Her hands betrayed her calm exterior, which she forced with the fine tremor in her hands—a tremor she tried to cover by gripping the metal thermos tighter.
Too much coffee and no sleep. Of course, it's a stupid cocktail that damages her nerves, only relaxed by the future nicotine she would have when going out to the street or on her balcony.
Her phone vibrated with a message from Robin:
Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself at the gym?
Alyx closed her eyes, thinking about how to respond without worrying her too much, but nothing came to mind. In the end, she just put her phone away.
MacLaren's Bar
"I can't stop thinking about it. I texted her a while ago to ask how she was, but she didn't reply," said Robin, stabbing her fork into a salad with more force than necessary. The group was at MacLaren's, at their usual table, of course without Alyx or Lily. "At brunch, it really seemed like her arm hurt. It was noticeable in how she moved, as if every gesture cost her."
Ted looked around uncomfortably. The conversation, plus the mess with his parents and his possibly dead grandmother, had him emotionally drained. "Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Alyx is... strong. She always has been."
"That's the thing, Ted," Robin replied, her voice lowering with gravity. "It's not just strength. She's being hard on herself, and that's a huge difference. The other time I went to the gym to talk to her, I saw what she was doing, and it wasn't yoga; it was something with direct contact. Plus, I saw her—I don't know what it is, but her hands shake. It's just like my grandfather's when he quit whiskey, but I don't think she's drinking that."
Marshall, who had been absorbed in his beer, slowly raised his head. "They were shaking?"
"Yes," Robin confirmed. "And today, when I passed by her new building, I saw her come out to the balcony—I know it's weird that I saw her, but I stayed for a while—and in less than an hour, I saw her come out to smoke a third time, as if it were a very harmful habit at that frequency."
Barney, who until then had been absorbed on his phone searching for 'women with injuries and existential problems' on his dating app, interrupted. "Wait a minute. Are we talking about Alyx? Our Alyx, the one who organized our laundry schedules and could silence a bartender with a look? Smoking like a chimney and shaking? That doesn't fit in the same sentence unless..." A light of pure Machiavellian delight lit up in his eyes.
"Is she involved in something illegal? Art smuggling? Corporate espionage? I knew it! Her success in trading was too good."
"This isn't a game, Barney," Marshall scolded him, concern in his voice as the memory of Alyx adjusting her sleeve at brunch, the care with which she moved afterward, came back to him with painful clarity. She had always been his rock. What happened when the rock cracked?
"Robin is right. Something isn't right."
Ted frowned, his maternal sense of responsibility awakening and momentarily minimizing his own existential crisis of comparing if the similarities between his parents as a couple and his with Robin were equivalent to them not being happy together. "Alright, maybe I should go and talk to her as her friend."
"No," said Robin quickly, knowing that type of masking of Alyx's feelings in herself. "If you go with your 'friend, everything will be fine, I'll help you, come to us' phrases, she'll just close up even more, and the little progress of her showing up these days for meals will disappear completely." I already have an in: going to the gym and inviting her to something. Tomorrow I'll go for sure; she'll be there, and I'll invite her for a drink—'to catch up.' And if she doesn't want to, I'll just wait and insist."
"And if she doesn't want help?" asked Marshall, concern written in capital letters on his face.
"Then," Robin sighed, "at least she'll know someone sees her. Sometimes, that's the first step."
While the group was left with their concern, Lily was watching from the shadows—literally. She was standing across the street with a ridiculous hat she hoped was a disguise, watching Alyx's apartment balcony (she knew the address, thanks to Robin). She had seen Alyx's silhouette on the balcony with a lit cigarette—a tiny light visible against the dark night.
Every time she saw the small light rise to what she believed were Alyx's lips, she felt a pang of guilt in her heart. She knew that before, Alyx had never smoked, and sometimes when she or Marshall did, Alyx didn't like being kissed without brushing their teeth first because she always said they tasted like ash.
Her plan with the red dress, the black one, plus Marshall's calves—all of it now seemed like a ridiculous and childish stratagem that entertained them both to avoid worrying about Alyx. And boy, should they be worrying, she thought to herself. Because these meals with their attacks on each other's weak points with Marshall only achieved more pain, humiliation, and Alyx's icy disapproval.
She needed a new strategy, one that didn't involve cheap seduction but repair. If Alyx was Marshall's anchor, Alyx was also her anchor, and she loved her as much as Marshall. Now she had to approach her, but how? A bouquet of flowers and a 'sorry' wouldn't achieve anything.
A movement on the balcony snapped her out of her thoughts. Alyx finished the cigarette—the small light went out—then turned halfway and entered the apartment. The living room light came on, projecting her figure for an instant against the curtain. She seemed thinner, perhaps, or maybe it was just the distance and Lily's guilt playing a trick on her.
Determined, Lily adjusted her hat. She needed information, and she knew exactly who to turn to.
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