Page 31 of The Mirage Guild

Expecting the Prism Society to be my sanctuary as usual, I craved the dimly lit peace it always offered. But tonight, my haven was breached by a digital missive that threw me off-kilter. My usually stowed-away phone remained on the bar, buzzing with a reminder of a past best left forgotten.

Perhaps it was the universe and the stupid retrograde that told me to leave it out. If I hadn’t, then the sensation that currently lined my gut would have at least been pushed off until later. The feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Was it disbelief?

Shock?

Irritation?

Dis-shock-ation, perhaps.

It shouldn’t bother me. It really shouldn’t. But the way he had worded it.

The message was from Nikos. Nikos, who had convinced me that stability and roots were for other people, not for us, the adventurers. Nikos, whom I somehow, against my better judgment, envisioned a future with. And now, he had the audacity to share his engagement and impending fatherhood with me, as if it were some consolation prize for our failed romance.

Nikos: Issa, I wanted you to be the first to know that Clara and I are engaged. She’s expecting, actually, I’m going to be a dad! If this hadn’t come about maybe you and I could’ve found our way back to each other. I’ve been thinking about how we left things. I miss you.

The impact of his words spiraled me into an introspective abyss I wasn’t prepared to explore mid-shift. I masked my turmoil with a practiced smile, but the evening’s tips and snippets of trivial arguments couldn’t distract me from my own storm brewing within.

Who the hell sends an engagement and baby announcement in the same message with their I miss you confession? Someone pathological. And so with the buzz of the message, the reality of it on my screen, and the icky feeling in my gut, I had started my shift.

Max could tell something was off, but he also seemed to have a sixth sense about it and was giving me space. I was afraid I’d burst into tears and scream if he asked me what was wrong. And so I swallowed my emotions, closed my phone, held my head high, and plastered a friendly smile on my face.

Even the tips coming in that night were affected by the retrograde and whatever else was in the air. I could overhear tidbits of senseless arguments from couples as I walked through the lounge, refilling sparkling waters.

My current state of dress, a hasty replacement for my ruined blouse, was just another layer to my growing discomfort. I longed for the simplicity of a wine bath and the quiet of solitude, away from the unending reminder of my perceived failures.

I was grappling with a whirlwind of wants: love without confinement, a career filled with passion, a stable yet thrilling life. The paradox of my desires left me feeling adrift, questioning if a balance between these extremes was even attainable.

I was tired. And not just from the evening. I was tired of constantly feeling like I was playing catch-up in my own life. I was tired of second-guessing every choice I made. It’s not that I believed something better was around the corner, it was that I didn’t actually know what I wanted.

Nikos’s message, a trigger to my spiraling self-reflection, underscored a deeper longing within me—a desire for direction, for someone to navigate the murky waters of my future for me. Yet, admitting such a wish felt like a betrayal to the fiercely independent façade I upheld.

The fact that I even craved that made me angry. At myself. At societal expectations. I walked behind the bar to drop off a tray of dirty glasses along with a few full-to-the-brim wasted cocktails. Because I’d jotted the order down wrong, or delivered it to the wrong table, distraction taking over.

“Hey,” Max said as he was remaking three cocktails for me, “I don’t know what’s up with you tonight, but is it something you can compartmentalize? All these mess ups don’t really bode well for me.”

“For you?” I asked sharply. “Of, course, Boss, my apologies.” I set the new drinks on my tray and turned on my heel before Max could respond, his face softening at the last second.

Getting through the next few hours of this shift was going to be hell for me. I had to school my face to neutrality as I watched couples snuggling and heading upstairs to their private rooms. I grinned like a psychopath as I heard another couple bickering in a velvet booth. The same one me and Max had started our tasting the night that led to the wine cellar.

Finally, with seven messed up orders, but thankfully with only one customer making a comment, I turned the lights up in the lounge and walked to the back. I wouldn’t be sticking around tonight. I didn’t want to see Max. While I wish I could turn off my anger and confusion and fall into our normal flirty banter, I knew I didn’t have it in me. I wanted to be shoulders deep in a hot bath with a glass of wine in my hand, crossing my fingers that a good sleep would chase all these feelings away.

The weight of my phone sitting next to my bag brought back both Nikos’s message to the forefront of my mind and that weird pit in my stomach. He had some audacity to message me that he missed me when he had a human baby on the way.

Holding up the screen, I saw a slew of messages sent from friends I shared with Nikos. A bunch of shocked emoticons and exclamation marks filled my screen. A few offers for me to call and vent if I needed to and one Venmo payment for drinks in case I needed to drown my sorrows in cocktails.

I tossed the phone a little roughly to the bottom of my bag and it hit the metal edge of the locker with a bang. I wanted to yank my tote out of the small locker but, even in this state, I couldn’t do that to my dear Prada.

I walked past the small office where Max was starting closing duties, the heat building up in my chest. I should apologize. But so should he. Sleeping tonight would be made a thousand times easier if I tried to make peace with him before I left. I tapped my knuckles on the door, a neutral expression on my face.

“I’m sorry about what I said out there,” he said before I could even open my mouth. “We all have bad days. No one is going to die over getting the wrong cocktail. I’m sorry for making it a bigger deal.”

I could already feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. A man that took accountability for his role in a disagreement? What a concept.

“You were right, though, I was having a bad day, and I should’ve compartmentalized better before coming to work. I’m sorry for all the mix-ups.” I was already turning to head out, ready to be done with the day.

“Tell me what happened,” Max said. His voice made me stop. Maybe talking about it would help. Normally, I’d call Nat, but I’d bored her so many times with Nikos drama I was sure my bestie was over hearing about it.

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