Bulbs in Pots by javi

Casey crossed the door. She wears a large black cotton coat, a white scarf and brown boots. Despite that the scarf is covering her face, the uncertainty and fear peer in her eyes. The band was not expecting her to come over, but the violinist did. They both know that they slept one night and this would have an effect afterwards. The violinist hoping to not face a drastic future. Casey hoping from the violinist not to change dramatically due to the drastic future. Their glances crossed. The violinist asked Casey to go to a private room to talk.

The room was cosy but cold. They sat on an old-fashioned couch. There were two cups of tea on a wooden table, and biscuits. It is difficult to gaze at something done in the past and then now when the consequences flourish. Casey is the first to start the conversation. 'Well, I honestly don't believe you could have a spangled mind. You haven't replied to my e-mails and my phone calls. I expected you to be an adult, at least.'

The violinist only said that he was busy because music could be a full-time job often. 'Don't you dare to think of a name?' Casey repeated.
'I think we have to find out how we name our consequence' -- but Casey was not brave enough to say this loudly. The violinist was trying to behave for the moment. He just wanted to let Casey accept the reality of the next nine months.

'It is odd I could play in front of thousands and now it is impossible to accept I changed the life of this girl forever. Maybe those thousand people are unnamable, unknown, face-less. But it is more intimidatory when there is only one person that you can feel with all your senses.' thought the Violinist. This was the first reflection he ever had towards this situation.

'Lily', shouted the violinist. Casey gazed at his eyes with a mix of hope and confusion. We don't even know the gender yet, but if he thought for a name, it could be that he actually wanted to manage the situation. Does this mean that our consequence would be materialised finally? Since we have already put a name, we could conclude that 'Lily' will be our bow rather than handcuffs.

But Casey only said: 'yeah, like lily of the valleys. A sweet flower. It leaves a fragrance that is impossible to forget.'

'Like what we did' -- thought the violinist but he didn't shout it. It wasn't the time to be ironical. Casey doesn't deserve it, and our consequence—Lily—either. Now, the violinist wanted to have a girl urgently. On one side, he felt guilty about an eventual aversion if the consequence turned out to be a boy, and on the other, he felt over enthusiastic. The violinist was realising that such a fool person didn't deserve to be a parent.

'Wait. I feel better when I listen to music while I talk.' -- the violinist puts 'The Nutcracker' suite. Music relaxes the ambience, like opium relaxes people.

There is a delicious aroma of burnt incense in the room. The smoke looks like a fog resting on an orchard.

Now Casey looks dreamy. She was sitting, but now she is lying on the couch. The violinist stands at the window, gazing at the rain. He doesn't see many folks out there, but a lone pedestrian is looking for a taxi. The violinist had a weird thought. He imagined that the misplaced person may be his consequence in the future. Years later, looking for a car to turn home because she/he feels helpless, but she/he might felt this way most of the time of her/his life. The violinist felt devastated and irresponsible. The consequence—let's call it by its real name! A person—doesn't deserve to end up looking for a taxi on a rainy night because she/has no one to call.

He turned to gaze at Casey. As she was lying on the couch, the violinist couldn't see her from the window. When he approached, Casey was not there.

The Violinist left the room in search of Casey. 'The Nutcracker' was still playing on the turntable.

The members of the band weren't there either. 'It is too late, and they decided to return to their homes, probably' The Violinst thought while he was feeling that there was something in the ambience that was off-site. When he opened the door, he gazed to the right and the left, searching not only for Casey but for someone. The Violinist was waiting in the corridor for the lift. He perceived through a small window that it was still raining outside.

'I am not mad'. Thought his inner self, trying to avoid the anxiety.

'Ground floor or basement?' The Violinist thought for a second that Casey might be in the parking. He opted to go there.

When the doors opened up, a light coming from different spotlights blinded him. It wasn't until the melody of a distant piano persuaded him to look around. There were tables with champagne, bartenders going to and fro; and the guests were wearing carnival masks. One bartender approached him jubilant. 'The band is waiting for you, Sir Violinist. They are gathered together in the room next to the toilet. But they will not open you if you don't tell them the password... -- The password is 'Bulb in pots.' Come on, relax yourself, have this glass of champagne and enjoy!'

The Violinist began to move slowly around the carnival hall. Most of the guests dressed as if they belonged to the past, but perhaps they were simply in disguise. Six ballerinas were performing a ballet. They were dressed up as swans. A group of guests were drawn to their aesthetic movements. The stage was a pond with a big sun in the middle. A few guests were close to clapping, but they rejected the idea in the end. Maybe they didn't want to interrupt the staging.

The door—that the bartender talked about a few minutes ago—was purple and the knob black. The Violinist knocked and whispered -- 'Bulb in pots.' Someone opened the door from inside, and in the gloom, a faint blue light illuminated everything.

'We were waiting for you. I hope Lily is OK. You know when they are toddlers they get sick easily. We appreciate that you actually showed up. We couldn't do this performance without you.'

'Thanks, Lily is better now! You know, I wouldn't miss this majestic night ever!'

But when the violinist answered, he felt that there was something unusual. Maybe he felt nervous about the performance. 'We are going to play 'Fidelio' because some guests requested it. But I would like to play The Nutcracker. It is a Christmas theme and my daughter will love it.' All the band members accepted the suggestion.

The Violinist went to the bathroom for a second. Just to wash his face. A random guest with a parrot mask also entered.

'It is raining cats and dogs outside. Luckily, you are a nice pal and invited me to join the taxi with you. I had no pennies in my wallet. Don't hesitate for my mask. It is part of the game. -- It is me! The person who was waiting in the street. Let me you know something. Casey is now happy, and everything around flows correctly. Like a perfectly improvised jazz piece. You are a musician, right? I think you understand what I am saying. Go there and play the suites. The band and the people who love you are waiting for you' said the random guest. Before leaving the bathroom, he handed to the Violinist a wipe that smelt like a garden flourishing in springtime. He rubbed his hands with it, and put the wipe folded in his pocket.

A mist starts to spread around, at foot-level. It feels a bit cold and feels like walking on clouds; or maybe like a couch. Well, he didn't feel that comfortable before.

Everything seemed weird at the beginning of the ceremony, but now the Violinist understood everything. Life is similar to a musical piece. We just have to know the right time to play our instruments, and these resemble our lives. If we play correctly, people clap at our performance. Don't they? The trick is to wait. Every year the garden blossoms, and the flowers will be waiting for me, like the guest with the parrot mask who was waiting for a taxi a few hours ago!

After playing 'Fidelio' and 'The Nutcracker', the audience started to cheer. In the first row, on the left, there were a woman and a little girl, both masked. One with a sheep mask, and the other with a cow mask. Yes, they could be Casey and Lily. Life can be that wonderful too. What a jazzy night!

One more! One more! Shouted the guests and the bartenders delightfully.

***

'I don't want to wake up! Someone, please stop tomorrow from coming!' shouted the Violinist in between sobs.