The Hourglass

When I looked down at my wrist, there was an hourglass outlined in gold. But unlike the other tattoos that traced my skin, this one seemed to move in the light. As I watched the sand trickle to the bottom, I was transfixed by the steady movement. Some part of me was aware that it had not been there before the accident, but in the dreamlike state I was in, its presence made sense. Somehow, I knew that it was counting down the hours I had left. Somehow, I knew that there was absolutely no way to change it.

I ran my finger over the hourglass, surprised at how cold my fingertips were. They were like ice in the cold December night. I pulled my sleeves down, hoping to take my mind off of the passing of time. No matter how fast I walked down the dark street though, I couldn’t outrun the fact that my hourglass was almost empty.  

I had seen these appear on my patients’ arms. I had seen ones that were nearly full, diminish in a matter of seconds as children were brought in from the wreckage of careless parents. I had seen ones that flowed steadily as days turned into weeks as beautiful young souls underwent treatment. The worst were those that had slowed, but, as if remembering their purpose, would begin to race the beeping that echoed in the quiet night. No matter what we did, no matter how hard we tried to reverse the hourglass, each and every one would run out.

I could hear the bass and laughter coming from my apartment before I even stepped off the elevator. I pushed the door open and was promptly handed a tacky 2020 glass filled with something bubbly. Someone across the room blew a noise maker, starting a chain reaction. I made my way across the living room, anxious to get out of my scrubs and to have a moment alone. The purple and blue lights were casting shadows around the darkened room, and the music became muffled as I turned down the hallway. 

I shut my door and splashed water on my face before changing into the party dress I had laid out before my shift. I ran a brush through my hair, catching a glimpse of the golden lines as I did. I took a deep breath and pulled the sleeves as low as they would go. I didn’t dare look at the hourglass again, I knew that it was running out.

I took one last glance at myself in the mirror and, for a moment, pretended that this was just an ordinary New Year’s Eve. I willed myself to believe that I would make it to the next. After another deep breath I joined everyone else.

After what seemed like hours of laughing, dancing, and over-indulging, I took the opportunity to step outside, away from the noise and all of the joyful celebration. I stumbled over fallen streamers and moved aside the banner, which now seemed to read ‘h-p-y n-w y-e 2-0-0.’ I took a seat on the ledge and looked over the city. On the 10th floor, everything seemed so small and miniscule. I watched as cars filtered through the streets, and saw lights turn on and off in apartment rooms all around. The night was not quiet, the sounds of the city were constant, but it was peaceful. I took a deep breath and let myself soak in the view. One that I would miss.

I looked up when I heard the screen door slide open. I offered a small smile as Ryan made his way over to me. He gripped the ledge and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of his bare wrist. I pulled at my sleeve instinctively.

“This is quite a party,” he said, his voice catching in the wind. 

“It is. Much better than how we spent last New Year’s.”

“Oh, don’t pretend that we didn’t have fun last year. What's more exciting than a holiday shift in the E.R.?”

“True, but that doesn’t mean I would rather be there tonight,” I mused as he took a seat next to me. His shoulder and knee brushed mine, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the frigid air. 

“You must be cold, here,” he said, taking off his coat. Before I could say no, he wrapped it around my shoulders. I let the warmth comfort me as I looked back over the city. We sat in a comfortable silence and watched the cars stream in and out below us. I looked down at my sleeve and toyed with the frayed edges.

“Megan, are you okay?”

My eyes shot up to his, and I saw concern in the dark brown. He waited patiently for my answer. Having worked side-by-side almost every day for two years, I knew there was no way he’d believe me if I said I was fine. Rather than explain that I could actually feel my life beginning to slip away, I shrugged.

“I don’t want to talk about it tonight. I just needed a little air. Promise.”

I could tell he was waging whether to press or not, so I squeezed his hand and said, “Really,” with a smile that I hoped looked reassuring. “Go. Enjoy the party. I’ll be in soon.”

He squeezed back and stood up. He walked to the door but paused, one hand on the handle. “Promise me you won’t stay out here too long? It’s almost midnight. The countdown should be starting soon.”

If only he knew. 

After a few minutes, I made my way back into the party. My roommate handed me a glass of champagne in a flurry before grabbing my other hand and pulling me towards the center of the makeshift dance floor. I felt the seconds ticking away, the countdown in my own hourglass in tandem with the rest of the party. 

“20…19…18…” I watched as she cozied up to her date. 

“17…16… 15…” Someone bumped into me, and I began to fall. I felt a hand steady me and turned to find Ryan beside me. 

“You good?” His eyes searched mine. I could still see the ghost of concern. I nodded my head and held his gaze, barely able to hear myself think over the noise.

“8…7…” He didn’t move his hand away, and I took a step closer to him.

“6…5…” Everything in that moment stilled. His eyes searched mine for the answer to a different question entirely. I gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. I could faintly hear the last of the countdown, but the cheers, noise makers, floating confetti, and hourglass all drifted away when I stood on my tiptoes and moved my mouth to his.

I don’t know which of us broke the kiss first, but as I stood there and looked up into his dark eyes, everything came rushing back. I heard cheers and the clinking of champagne glasses; people celebrating the new year. I thought about the hourglass, and before I knew what I was doing, turned and pushed my way through the crowded room, desperate to get out.

As soon as I was in the hallway, I pressed the elevator button repeatedly. As the seconds ticked by, I felt my lungs begin to seize. With one last impatient glance toward the elevator door, I ran to the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. I heard Ryan yell after me, but I couldn’t stop. A rush of cool air hit me as I stepped into the night and looked both ways down the street. Ryan pushed the door open behind me.

“Megan, wait!” 

I stole a glance back at him, sliding on the icy sidewalk in the process.

He reached out to steady me, catching part of my sleeve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you…” He trailed off. His eyes darted to my arm. 

I realized a moment too late what he was looking at. 

I pulled my arm away quickly and tugged the sleeve back down. I backed away before he could reach out again.

“Megan, what is that?”

My eyes desperately searched his. “I think you know,” my voice caught. 

“Megan—" he reached for my hand, but my shoe slipped on the ice again. He pulled me close to him. My eyes burned with tears. Everything in me begged him not to let go. 

But I had to.

“I just can’t be here right now.” I pushed off of him and took another step away.

The next few moments passed in a blur. I saw Ryan’s eyes widen, and maybe he said something too, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a car horn. I saw headlights at the same time that Ryan dove towards me. I felt his arms come around me but still the sound of tires screeching and glass shattering came. 

I woke up on the ice. My head was spinning. The sound of sirens and the flash of lights surrounded me. I looked to my side, expecting to see Ryan on the ground next to me, but I was alone. I heard someone yell my name, but it seemed far away. I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t let me. In a panic I looked down at my wrist, knowing that I would have to watch the last grain of sand fall through. But it had stopped. Time stood still.

I heard my name again, this time closer. I couldn’t tell where it came from, but it sounded familiar. It sounded like Ryan.

“Clear!” The whole world jolted, and my eyes shot open. Where the hourglass had been seconds before, was an I.V. I felt him grab my hand, and I could see every emotion playing out in his eyes, the panic, the fear, the relief. Everything in me begged him not to let go.