The young woman fell silent for a moment, letting the soft patter of rain on the umbrella fill the space. "That sounds like a very heavy burden for such a small object," she said at last. "It clearly holds meaning for you, as you say. But what did it represent to you before? And now, what do you want it to represent? Maybe changing its meaning is the first step. It might 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, though drunk and happy, had promised each other to be a family unit—ridiculously cheesy, but indestructible among themselves.
That's what those earrings represented. That's why it hurt so much when Lily lost and left one of them at the house when she left. Now, for Lily to give her the other one, for her to have both again... it's like seeing that promise they sealed that day as something she didn't know what Lily was trying to express now... What could it represent? A reminder or possibility of them getting back together? Forgiveness? Surrender? Or the simple, painful act of Lily telling her to let her go?
"I... don't know," she confessed. It was the most authentic truth she had uttered in weeks.
"Then maybe that's the work. Your focus, or structure, whatever you want to call it," said the young woman with a soft smile. "It's not the painting, nor the kicks, and much less 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 have to find it for yourself, not for or because of anyone else."
The rain began to let up slowly, dwindling to a drizzle, prompting the young woman to relax from her protective posture over her instrument. "Looks like my aquatic audience has been canceled. I should take my wooden friend home before it 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 the shared umbrella and the chat. It helped me understand that I have my own chaos with structures too," 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 sounded like an echo from a dream or a memory of 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 she was. She knew what she would mean for Ted. But at this moment, under the diffuse streetlight, 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 responded, and for the first time in a long while, she felt genuine joy in meeting and talking to someone.
"Take care, Alyx," said Tracy with a final warm smile. "And remember, even the best solos have pauses, so don't be afraid to take yours."
But that name, Tracy, echoed in her head, even as she was introducing herself. Now, thinking it wasn't just another name, but carried the echo of the future and the knowledge that she dies young...
A deeper cold seized Alyx, but this time it wasn't from the panic of her own secret weighing on her. It was a visceral and concrete terror for this easy-smiling girl 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 at her, seeing in her eyes the spark of life that the future would steal. "Take care," she began, and the words came out awkwardly, laden with a weight Tracy couldn't understand. "Seriously... just take really good care of yourself. More than you think necessary."
Tracy blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity. "Uh... thanks. I'll try."
"No," Alyx insisted, taking a step forward, filled with an overwhelming impulse, a need to alter a destiny, to throw a lifeline to a person who didn't even know they were adrift. "Listen, seriously. Health... it's not just about not catching a cold. It's listening to your body when it tells you to stop, or when it has a discomfort you shouldn't let slide, 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 very destructive, 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 such a strange and specific warning, but a deep, compassionate curiosity. "You sound like someone speaking from... a place of a lot of knowledge," she said softly. "And a lot of pain. Are you... taking care of yourself, Alyx?"
The question, simply being asked with genuine concern, completely disarmed Alyx. Here she was, trying to warn a stranger about a gloomy future while her present was a self-destructive mess. Tracy didn't need her prophetic warnings; she needed an example of someone who chose 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 precipices than your own."
Tracy smiled a sad, understanding smile. "Then maybe that's our pact under the rain," she said, symbolically extending the hand that had held her umbrella. "I promise not to burn myself out so much on the painting—which I don't even really know what it's about yet—until dawn too often. But you... promise to seek a kind of structure that doesn't include hitting yourself or insanely consuming coffee and cigarettes. Even if it's just a little, taking one day at a time."
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