The Opening Act

by thedarkprep

3 - The Intermission

Chapter Three

The Intermission

Brrrng Brrng

Brrrng Brrng

“Uugh… Make it stop…”

Trixie begrudgingly began to awaken, bleary eyes scanning her room for the source of the noise. Her eyes then caught brief flashes of light, which seemed to accompany the soft vibrations coming from beyond the edge of her bed. She shut her eyes as they began to water. She blindly reached her arm over, feeling for her phone, memories from the previous night’s show briefly materializing in her mind, though there seemed to be something wrong with them.

In her memories, she hadn’t actually been shot by the audience member but, judging by the massive headache she was currently suffering from, that simply could not be accurate.

Cold plastic pressed against one of her fingertips, and Trixie deftly cradled her phone with the rest of her fingers, pulling it up towards her and pressing the snooze button. The buzzing sound ended instantly, and she opened one eye again to find that the flashing of the phone had ceased as well.

Oh good, it got unplugged, she grumbled, noticing the twenty-percent battery life warning taking over the screen. Dismissing that, she came face to face with a log, consisting of a missed message and a missed phone call, both from her therapist. A loud groan emitted from Trixie as she realized that she had missed her appointment. What’s the point of setting alarms if they don’t wake you until it’s over an hour late?

Despite already knowing what it would say, Trixie decided to go ahead and open the message.

‘Hello, Bellatrix. I couldn’t help but notice that you missed our appointment. I was really hoping to hear about how your show went last night and how you were adjusting to the new medication. Text me back and we can reschedule.’

Trixie rolled her eyes and sneered.

“Text me back and we can reschedule!” she mimicked with a small shake of her head before flailing back unto her bed with a frustrated whine.

It wasn’t even that she hated Dr. Lining or anything of the sort. It was hard to hate someone that had been in your life for as long as Silver had been in Trixie’s, after all. But their relationship had changed, not for the first time but certainly in a way that she did not appreciate.

Back when they had first met, Dr. Lining had been a gateway to services that Trixie desperately needed. Referrals for medication, doctor notes and affidavits, Dr. Lining had been an integral part of Trixie becoming who she would eventually be. As she grew, their relationship changed for the first time, but this was not inherently bad. The conversations grew shorter. Their meetings became less frequent. A signature here, an as-needed-basis conversation there, a meeting every six months to make sure everything was still in order.

It was different, but it worked. Not so much therapy as rubber stamps, but it was what she had needed at the time and both of them had been on the same page about that.

But things are different now, Trixie thought, hugging her covers unto herself. Ever since Dad left.

Trixie’s fists clenched under her sheets. She flipped to face the other way on her bed.

“Trixie, you seem distracted. Trixie, you need to open up more. Trixie, it's ok to feel overwhelmed.” If only, huffed Trixie bitterly into her pillow. And of course it just has to be because Daddy left. No one made this much of a fuzz when Mom left but because I’m acting off now around the same time, then that has to be it!

Trixie shut her eyes tightly, wishing more than anything that she could shut down her mind and just go back to sleep. But sleep would not reach her.

And what am I supposed to do? Trixie’s thoughts continued. Explain about magic? Tell her I saw an existence that makes ours completely meaningless? Definitely would love to see what type of medication she’d put me on then!

Instead, they’d gone back to meetings every other week. They’d tried multiple types of medications. And they’d talked in endless circles about nothing of consequence, ever searching for a cure to her disillusionment. Just because Trixie couldn’t keep her life together long enough to convince her therapist she was fine throughout an hour-long conversation.

I don’t even know why I bother anymore.

She knew that her therapist wouldn’t cancel her estrogen or her antiandrogen just because she cut back on her meetings. She knew that as an independent adult with no family ties to speak of, no one could force to do anything anymore. She knew her problems had no solutions.

Happiness wasn’t an option for her. Pretending she hadn’t seen a wider world wasn’t an option. So why was she still bothering?

Habit maybe? Trixie guessed, as she unlocked her phone again, and began thinking of her reply. And yet, before she had a chance to, her snoozed alarm came back to life, interrupting her train of thought. She dismissed it with a wry grin. And I guess, Dr. Lining will have to wait a bit longer. Let’s get this show on the road.

Untangling herself from her bed sheets and comforter, Trixie moved off of her bed and began her lethargic walk towards her bathroom, discarding her clothing as she made her way there. A younger Trixie might have balked at the idea of her expensive vest and slacks, left over from the previous night’s performance, being flung across her apartment floor. Still, all she could currently get herself to think about was the warm promise of a morning shower.

Moving inside and closing the door behind herself, she wasted no time in stepping into the shower and it was not long at all before Trixie found herself basking in the warm cascade. A cozy steam began to develop within the bathroom as well, and as Trixie began to wake up she noted that she had, once again, forgotten to turn on the bathroom fan.

Nothing for it now, she figured, as she began shampooing her hair.

Without the noise of the fan however, and without her phone playing music in the background, the bathroom soon became too quiet and still for Trixie’s liking. She attempted to focus in on the sound of the falling spray but it was too constant, too repetitive.

How fitting, she thought, rinsing the conditioner and applying her body wash. Repetitive, constant, unrelenting. A metaphor if I ever saw one.

Hadn’t life been like this recently? Hadn’t her thoughts? Just one disappointment after another? Yes, Trixie could definitely see a connection. In her mind’s eye she stared down a metal tube, a loud bang echoing in the distance.

And what’s more, she thought further, slowly putting down her loofah. This seems to be a me problem. Tons of people saw what I saw. Neon Lights saw what I saw. But I’m the only one that’s like this. Just circling the drain, like running water.

Trixie stared as the suds washed off and floated down the drain, her thoughts rushing back to rips in dimensions and a bright pillar of light. Impossible sights flashed through her mind as repressed memories resurfaced, as if part of a waking nightmare. Trixie saw deep forests and cities of clouds. Trixie saw classmates transform into ethereal beings and demons alike, floating spectres of pure energy glowing with power.

Time seemed to slow as she felt her lungs grow heavy and her eyes began to sting. Memory after memory replayed, in vivid detail, enveloping more and more of her senses on each recursion. Before long, she felt an uncomfortable chill in the air as well. Closing her eyes she could still feel the thrumming of power through her bones, could still feel the shaking of the ground beneath her feet, could still feel the cold rain on her back.

Wait.. it hadn’t been raining.

Opening her eyes, Trixie found that the warm mist was gone, replaced by cold water splashing against her back and rebounding off her shower curtain.

How long have I been in here? she thought, with a slow blink, her eyelids heavy as they struggled against dried tears. She turned the handle on the shower cartridge, but the temperature of the water remained chilly.

Figures.

Despite the cold now seeping into her skin, Trixie applied shaving cream onto her legs and reached for her razor.

You could skip this part, a voice inside her mind argued.

She began to shave.

You don’t need to do this daily.

She continued.

No one is going to notice.

She switched to the other leg.

The internal monologue continued for a while, a familiar chorus of logical arguments against the actions she knew she would take. About twenty minutes later, she emerged from the shower, draped in a towel, having shaved her legs, arms, armpits, and face, a ritual long since established and seldom resisted. Even with her towel, she was shaking, her damp hair still clumped around her neck and the humid interior of the bathroom making it hard to breathe. She had to get out, and so she did, turning on the fan and leaving the door open as she did so.

With dripping footsteps she made her way to her couch, where she unceremoniously sat down, catching a glance of her clock on a counter.

“Two hours,” she mumbled. I was in the shower for over two hours.

While not unprecedented, it was definitely concerning. It had definitely been a while since the last time she had lost herself for that long in one of her episodes.

I’m really starting to lose it, she thought, letting loose a shaky laugh. She leaned back on the couch. Okay, what do I need to do today?

After what had just happened, she knew she should definitely set up that therapy appointment. She also had to stop by, either that day or the next, to the plasma donation place or she’d lose her donation bonus, which she really couldn’t afford to do. After that, she would also need to stop by the store and check on the next week’s schedule.

A pang of guilt tore through her as she cast another glance at her clock.

Definitely too late to help them with the album release stuff, she thought, her eyes downcast. Great, the one favor Neon asks me and I can’t even pull through for him. Fantastic. Well, now he’ll know better than to expect something from me.

And yet, she knew that he’d forgive her. He probably wouldn’t even bring it up or think any worse of her. To him, she’d always be the girl in the cloak that had performed a card trick for him that one time.

He really needs to learn better, she thought. Her eyes scanned the living room, finding her donation bag sitting by the door, the bag she knew the cloak could be found in. Probably a good day to get rid of that thing as well.

A bitter taste crept up her throat at the thought, but she choked it back.

That cloak was the symbol of someone else, and she just wasn’t that girl anymore.

But before anything else, she thought, I have a message to send. Then I should go ahead and take my Spiro and Estradiol, and my Citalopram too... If I’m going to be talking to Silver, I should definitely make sure I’m up on my new meds as well on my old ones.

And with that plan cemented and a swift wrist motion, Trixie unlocked her cellphone and opened her messaging app.

‘Hey, sorry about. I overslept. Last night’s show was kind of intense. Also, something happened during my last trick, nothing too serious, just some thoughts, but something you should probably hear about, so we definitely need to reschedule. How about three PM on Tuesday?’ Trixie typed, getting up from the couch as she finished her message.

She didn’t even make it to her room before she received a response.

‘Sounds good. I’ll pencil you in.’

---

A silver sedan slightly hopped onto the curve as Trixie attempted to parallel park in front of the “Once Upon A Riff” Music Store. With a frustrated snort, she lowered the volume of her music, a bargain-bin seventies CD she’d picked up for free at work, and readjusted her rearview mirror before attempting again. It didn’t help.

Oh come on, Trixie growled. Not that she should’ve been surprised. She was still feeling a bit faint from the plasma donation and she always felt off while on her Citalopram. The fact that she had managed to get between the cars around her without hitting either of them had been a miracle in and of itself. I guess this will have to do.

Cutting off her engine, she gathered her phone and purse, casting a quick glance at the donation bag sitting on the backseat of the car.

One more stop after this and then I can go home.

She opened her door and stepped out of her vehicle.

The store, Trixie noted, looked busier than normal for a Saturday afternoon. That was a bad sign. She scanned the sales floor for Neon Lights amidst the harried employees and eager shoppers, an apology ready on her lips. And yet, for as much as she looked, she couldn’t find him.

Probably on a lunch break, Trixie thought, nodding at fellow employees as she made her way to the back room. Figures, I don’t even get to apologize to him properly.

Upon reaching the door, she began to push it open with her left arm out of habit, stopping when a jolt ran through her still weakened arm. She switched sides and let herself in, the sound of a midday rush dying to a quiet murmur as the door closed behind her. It was always a disorienting experience, shifting from the sales floor to the backroom, which seemed to be soundproofed in some way that wasn’t immediately apparent. Still, as Trixie walked to the front of the bulletin board, she willed herself to at least enjoy the silence.

“Yo Trix! How was the show last night?”

Trixie resisted the urge to groan or wince, and instead forced her best facsimile of a smile onto her face before addressing her boss, who was approaching her from behind.

“It went perfect,” she answered. “Around three hundred people, all eating out of the palm of my hand. Not a trick out of place. Couldn’t have asked for a better performance. How did the release go?”

“Good good,” Jazz Tone said, their toothy smile bright as ever. “Got a bit much there for a bit, but Neon really stepped up and rallied the team. Made me feel real good about putting so much trust in him. Now that things are dying down we can focus on how much money we made, which is bank!”

“Sounds awesome,” Trixie told them, nodding along. “Really wish I could’ve been here to help.”

“Ah it’s all good,” Jazz waved her off. “Gotta chase those dreams right? I’m glad your night went well. Anyway, I’m heading to the sales floor. Next time you see Neon though, make sure you congratulate him, k? He’s super stoked but I’m sure a bit more praise would be appreciated since you weren’t here last night.”

“Will do!”

“Cool cool,” Jazz said, another toothy smile showing, before heading out the door. Trixie watched as the door closed, wondering what exactly she should be congratulating Neon for. She’d been so focused on hiding her feelings from her boss, she’d forgotten to ask them.

I guess I’ll find out, she figured, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of the schedule. And find out she did.

Right above the schedule was a notice dated to the night before altering the employees to Neon Light’s promotion from Sales Associate to Sales Supervisor.

He’s my boss now? Trixie thought, reading over the announcement. No sooner had the thought clicked in her head, that she began to prepare for the bouts of jealousy that were sure to follow. After all, she’d been working there longer. She could handle the pressure better. She was better organized. Remember that he’s your friend. He’s a hard worker. He earned this position. Be happy for him.

Thought after thought after thought ran through her mind as she braced for the envy, but it never came. And that was a curious realization by itself.

Because he was a hard worker. He had earned that position.

And Trixie hadn’t.

Trixie may have started earlier, but where was she? Still working part time. Still missing in action during important sales events. Not working weekends. Out “chasing a dream.”

The sound of a gunshot rang in her ears.

Some dream.

She ran her fingers over the bandage where she’d been stuck for the plasma donation.

Her magic shows didn’t pay her much. And her props were expensive to design and develop. Working part time didn’t pay much either. At this point, performing was costing her more than it was making her.

I couldn’t even stop donating plasma if I wanted to, she blinked back tears. Not if I still want to make rent.

And it wasn’t like her magic shows made her happy. The previous night had been proof enough of that.

So why am I still trying?

Her hand instinctively went to the cards in her pocket. Even now they were still there, always within reach, just in case. But when was the last time she’d actually used them? And what, if anything, would change if she threw them all away?

I’d definitely make more money, she wiped a few loose tears off her cheek. I’d work more hours, spend less on supplies. I’d have more time for myself.

But wasn’t magic her purpose?

As if I could feel more meaningless, she scoffed at herself. Besides, it’s not like it’s real magic anyway.

A cold feeling began to grow within Trixie, spreading throughout her being. It was numbing in a way, calming. There was a certain peace in knowing you were giving up everything, after all. She would simply tell Jazz that she wanted to be scheduled for more shifts, including weekends. She would sell her equipment. Throw away the cards. Get her life on track, or whatever approximation of it Trixie was meant to have.

It was time to wake up.

But that can wait for tomorrow, Trixie figured. She was done talking to people for the day. And so she waited in the backroom for a bit, until the tears stopped and she could finally wipe the evidence away. Once her face was clear, she re-emerged onto the sales floor, and made a beeline for the exit.

Or at least, she tried to.

“Hey, Trixie! Hold up!”

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Before Trixie could make up her mind on whether or not to ignore the voice, an energetic girl grabbed her by the shoulder and swiftly spun her around to face her, denying her a choice in the matter. And thus, Trixie came face-to-face with exactly who she knew she’d find there. A smiling and energetic looking Pinkie Pie.

“Oh. Hi, Pinkie,” Trixie said, with an even tone. “What are you doing here?”

“Not much,” Pinkie replied brightly, though Trixie did notice Pinkie’s smile faltering for a brief second. “Just here buying a CD.”

Trixie focused her eyes on the CD, the cover of the newest Bichette album jumping out against Pinkie’s pastel attire, familiar as it was from being in the backroom for the past few days.

Should have figured, Trixie thought at first, before a separate thought caught up to her.

“Well that’s weird...”

“Um… Not really,” Pinkie said, tilting her head. “That’s kind of what music stores are for. You work here! I feel like you should know this, Trixie.”

Trixie’s right eye twitched.

“I meant that it’s weird that you’re buying a CD that your so-called friend should have mailed you for free,” Trixie snapped. “But you know what? I just remembered that I’ve got better things to do right now, so I really don’t have the time for this. Good seeing you! Later.”

“Ah. So you’re busy too, then...” Pinkie trailed off, as Trixie began to step past her, seeming to take no offense at Trixie’s tone. If anything, she just seemed sad as she said, “That’s ok. Maybe some other time.”

A spike of anger surged within Trixie.

How dare she be sad? she yelled within her mind. She has magic, and power, and purpose! How dare she find a reason to mope when she has so much going for her?

She wanted to yell at her. She wanted to push past her into the open air outside the store. She wanted to disappear. And if it had been anyone else, she very well might have. But it wasn’t anyone else. This was Pinkie. The same Pinkie that had always shown her endless patience and kindness. The same Pinkie that had once sat with her against a brick wall as Trixie grappled with her own identity.

Trixie took a deep breath.

“No. No, I’m not busy,” Trixie said, shaking her head. “I’m just being a bitch. Go ahead, tell me, why are you buying a CD you could get for free if you wanted to?”

Pinkie stared at Trixie in a familiar way, and Trixie wondered what she noticed this time. But Pinkie didn’t comment. Instead, she answered her question.

“I do actually already have this album,” Pinkie confessed. “Dashie sent it three months ago, signed by the band and everything. But I still wanted to buy it on release day. I don’t really get to see her and Shy anymore, so I feel like this is the only way I get to connect with them these days. And hey, their day one sales are going to be one person better now right? So, I’m still helping them a little bit, even if they don’t know it.”

Trixie listened, sure. But more than that, she watched Pinkie as she talked. Specifically, Trixie focused on her eyes.

Trixie had stared into Pinkie’s eyes on plenty of occasions. Bright blue, wide, sparkling and full of wonderment and joy, they stuck out of a crowd like sapphires in a spotlight. Those eyes had been there when Pinkie had helped Trixie set up her very first show, shining with excitement. Those eyes had been there when Pinkie had promoted every event at the school, passionate and determined to make sure every event, every dance, every party, every show was a resounding success. Those eyes had been present at every performance that Trixie had put on back in the day, a beacon for Trixie to look to when in need for a willing participant or a satisfied audience member.

Trixie knew what Pinkie’s eyes were supposed to look like, as vibrant as that endless smile, and filled with a fervor for life.

But as she focused on Pinkie, those eyes were not present. Worst still, the ones she saw in their place were still, in fact, recognizable—familiar.

Those were the eyes she saw in the mirror in the morning. The eyes she saw reflected on polished glass. The eyes she had seen in her rearview mirror not ten minutes ago. And they did not belong on Pinkie at all.

Something within Trixie shuddered at the sight.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if I interrupted you,” Pinkie apologized, an unsteady smile on her lips. “I’m sure you have things to do, so I won’t keep y—”

“Pinkie,” Trixie interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go to the park? Maybe get some ice cream? My treat.”

Author's Note:

One chapter left. I hope you will all continue to join me for it?

In any case, thank you for your time,
-thedarkprep

Comments

[Krickis]

Pinkie has arrived! Gosh I wonder what these two will talk about, i can't wait to read more! Also can I just say how relatable Trixie is here? Because oof I felt this chapter...

[Ice Star]

Wait.. it hadn’t been raining.

There is a missing period in that ellipsis.

[applejackofalltrades]

*screaming*

PINKIE.

I can't even leave a comment. I need to keep reading

[Krickis]

Love seeing these two together! They both really needed this at this point in their lives. Also just like wow the depression in Trixie is so well done. Great job, as always!