Chapter 10 #2
Blue: I can do that. As long as one of those boundaries isn't "don't look at me." You get very tense when I do, and I kind of enjoy the way your shoulders go rigid.
My lungs lock. My jaw clenches as I type.
Me: Blue. That's enough.
There's a long pause. Then she sends another message.
Blue: I know. I was just teasing. I can tease you, right?
Blue: With words I meant. And don't worry. I'll be good on Wednesday. I promise.
And then, as if intending to break me entirely, she sends another one.
Blue: I can't wait until our session, Red.
My vision blurs for a second.
Blue: Sorry. Dr. Mercer.
I type a response. Delete it, then type another. I delete it again and eventually settle on something simple.
Me: I'll see you on Wednesday. Please stay safe until then.
I hit send and shut my phone off before I can see if she replies. I shower, get dressed, and go to my office.
It's a normal Monday in every sense, except everything feels off. Shirley's chipper like always. The same patients I typically see have their sessions and discuss the same behaviors they always struggle with, and I go through the motions.
I write notes, ask questions, but don't really dig deep.
All I can think about is how many hours remain before Blue's sitting in the chair across from me.
At the end of the day, Shirley comes into my office. She has her coat buttoned and carries a white box with a bright blue bow. "We had a delivery."
A pulse of unease hits my ribs. "What is it?"
She shrugs. "The messenger handed me a note that said it's confidential and only for you to open."
My stomach tightens. It's not sharp or painful, but has a slow, sinking heaviness.
Shirley smiles, unaware of the fracture forming beneath my calm expression. She sets the box on my desk. "Have a good night, Dr. Mercer."
I force my voice steady. "You too."
The door closes behind her.
I stare at the box and my breath thins. The ribbon glows under the lamplight, and dread clicks into place inside me with terrifying clarity.
I don't want to jump to conclusions or assume. But the first thought that rises is unmistakable.
Blue.
My pulse kicks, climbing too fast. My hands hover over the box but don't touch it. Beneath my anxiety and the instinct to maintain control, there's a dark, undeniable flicker of anticipation.
She thought of me.
She sent me a gift.
Not appropriate.
She crossed another boundary.
Don't open it.
I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply, yet my pulse won't slow.
I open my eyes again and stare at the bow, knotted perfectly. It's the kind of detail someone chooses when they want to impress and be remembered.
Three minutes pass before I reach for the box, unable to stop myself. My fingers slide over the satin ribbon. I pull, and the bow loosens with a soft whisper. The lid lifts away easily, and inside, resting on a molded white satin inner box, is an hourglass.
My breath catches. It's not just any hourglass. It's exquisitely made of luxurious elegance.
I reach in and lift it out of the box. It's heavier than it looks. The flat top has engraved, Broken, yet still yours. The bottom has, Forever in time.
My blood heats. I continue to assess it.
The hourglass commands the space with a bold presence. The gold at its top and base is rich and warm, engraved with swirling patterns that come alive when the light grazes them. Each curve and crest glimmers, hinting at old power and secrets buried.
Between the two gold crowns, the glass forms a perfect hour-shaped silhouette. It's sleek, untouched, and impossibly clear. Inside, the sand is a vivid, electric blue, the same color as Blue's hair and eyes. The particles shift in a steady ribbon that glows against the surrounding depth.
A striking twist of bloodred, winding supports bends around the glass like a thick vine you can't break and holds the gold plates sturdy. There's a violent intensity to it, creating a stark contrast against the polished gold and serene blue sand.
The colors don't just coexist. They're seamlessly intertwined with warning, time suspended between calm blue promise and a red threat that keeps it upright.
I set it on my desk and continue to marvel over it, watching the blue sand gracefully fall. After a few minutes, I notice there's a small folded card tucked in the side.
My throat thickens. I shouldn't read it. It's inappropriate and sure to be another violation.
Time stands still. Curiosity wins. I unfold the paper.
Her handwriting curves across the page in gentle blue ink.
Dr. Mercer,
I'm so sorry I broke your great-grandfather's hourglass when we first met.
I know I can never replace something so meaningful, but I found this, and I thought of you instantly.
And I won't lie. I hope you use it for all your hourly appointments and always think of me.
Thank you for not abandoning me.
Love,
Blue
My lungs stop working. For a moment, I can't move.
Love.
She doesn't know what love is.
I'm going to need to talk to her about this.
How did she know it was my great-grandfather's hourglass?
Did I tell her?
No, I didn't.
The note feels sharp in my hands, the words cutting through every line I tried to draw today. The hourglass sits heavy in my lap, the blue sand settling like a heartbeat, quiet, steady, and persistent.
It's a symbol, a message, and a tether all in one. And now I'm holding it.
I run my thumb over the engraved gold, trying desperately to put it back in the box and tell her I can't keep it.
I can't.
I set the note down carefully beside the box, but the words cling to me, threading through my chest like a vine tightening around a tree.
Broken, yet still yours. Forever in time.
My breath shudders out. This is entirely wrong. Yet, as I turn the hourglass in my hands, watching the first trickle of blue sand slide down in a slow, hypnotic stream, one truth hits me with the force of a confession.
I don't want to give it back, reprimand, or push her away.
I want to keep it and her.
I'm not sure how to hide it anymore, but I'm in territory I have no place entering.