Speckled Vision

The chipped mirror reflected back speckles of anxieties. Beads of sweat formed on Milo's forehead, but it wasn’t alcohol beads. He blinked, the dancing specks remained, multiplying even in the harsh glare of the mirror's lightbulb frame. Not this again, he thought, rubbing his eyes. 'I need a drink,' he opened the mini fridge. 'No, no, no, what's wrong with you, you simple-minded creature? My pills, I need my pills.'

"Where the hell are my pills, Lennie?"

Lenny's eyebrows rose as he set aside the book he was reading: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. "Milo, you took those pills an hour ago. Once a day, remember? Like the doctor said." Lenny, a stocky man with a receding hairline and a black-and-white eyepatch over his right eye, sat on the brown leather sofa. He was more than just Milo's manager; he was his lifeline and only friend. His looked up at Milo, "You look pale, buddy. Are you alright?"

Milo forced a smile. "Just a few pre-show jitters," he lied, "and this damn heat." 

"Nah, pre-show jitters aren't your thing. Something's going on." Lenny's eyes searched Milo's.

"Gertrude!" Milo poked his head out the door.

"Mr Murphy!" Gertrude crossed her arms before her chest, "I've told you before, I'm not your personal assistant, and you're not the only performer tonight. If you need something, work it out with your manager; that's what he's for." She did not appear impressed with being summoned. 

"Gertrude, why is it so hot in here? Can't we turn the temperature down? Look at me! I'm a human waterfall!" Milo swept the back of his hand over his forehead.

With a heavy sigh, Gertrude threw her hands up in an 'I don't know' gesture.

"Gertrude, please, I'm begging you! I can't go out there like this. Just a little cooler, that's all I ask." Gertrude pursed her lips, picked up the remote device on the table next to the orange recliner, and passed it to Lenny.

"Fifteen minutes, gentlemen," she said, her voice firm, but a speck of concern slipped through. "The audience deserves your best, Milo. Don't let them down." She gave Lenny a pointed look as if to say, "Get him in line."

"This is stupid, Lenny," Milo rasped, his voice sandpaper dry. His slender hands, usually nimble instruments of comedic expression, were now twisted into damp knots in his lap.

"What do you mean 'This is stupid'? What is stupid?" Lenny's voice was sharp, cutting through the fog of Milo's angst.

"This show. This Place. This Evening. Me. I don't know." Milo's hands trembled slightly as he took a sip water, the glass feeling heavier than usual. The cool liquid did little to quench his thirst, a thirst that went deeper than dehydration.

"Oh, twitter balls, Milo!" Lenny's eyes widened. "Did you start...?" He lifted his hand to his mouth, mirroring a drinking motion.

"No! Of course not." Milo's response was swift, a knee-jerk reaction after months of sobriety and heartache. The image of his Calla Lilly, bloodied and broken like red porcelain, flashed through his mind, along with the burning sense of regret, guilt, and sorrow.

"Then where's this coming from?" Lenny pressed, even though he knew the reason behind Milo's anguish. "You're Milo Murphy, the King of Comedy!" He spelt the words in the air, a manager's desperate attempt to revive Milo's confidence and save the show.

"Ten minutes, gentlemen." The stage manager announced.

Milo offered a feeble smile. "I can't shake this feeling, Lenny. Like I'm standing on a tightrope, and the net's disappearing. And these speckles are like vultures, circling closer every day." He slumped onto the recliner opposite Lenny, pressing his hands hard against his eyes. 'These damn speckles,' he groaned. 

Lenny leaned forward; his eyes fixed on Milo. "Tightrope, huh? Sounds scary. But Milo, you've walked that tightrope a hundred times before. You even fell off once or twice, but you got back on." He paused, letting his words sink in. "These speckles... the doctor said they're temporary, right? Just an annoying side effect; they'll pass. But you must take control. You have to walk this rope tonight."  

"What if they never go away?" Milo threw his head back against the recliner, resting his forearms on his head. "Oh, Lenny, a darkness is dawning on my horizon!" He sat up, his eyes wide with mock horror. "I can't remember my jokes, Lenny! What if I go out there, and all I can do is squawk like a demented bird?"

"I thought you couldn't remember your jokes. Now cut it out, Milo! This self-pitying isn't going to get you anywhere." Another managerial attempt to save the night. "What's the worst that can happen? So you forget a few lines, you'll get back on track; those people out there, they would pay to see you trip over a microphone stand."

"Gertrude!" Milo summoned the stage manager, who had already explained to him twice that she was not his personal assistant.

"Yes, Milo. Five minutes."

"Gertrude, how many microphone stands can we fit in on the stage? I'm going to have to trip over them tonight."

"Never mind him, Gertrude. Sorry for the interruption." Gertrude rolled her eyes. Lenny closed the door quickly behind her. "Milo, get it together! You're a comedian; being funny is in your DNA. It's a blessing!"

"It's a thin line between a blessing and a curse." Milo took a seat in front of the mirror. "A jester trapped in his own comedy".

"Yeah, but if you cut all your demons, your angels might die too," Lenny observed his friend. "Milo, look at me." He gently turned Milo's chair to face him. "Right now, I'm not your manager; I'm your friend. And as a friend, it breaks this old ticker to see you like this. He took a deep breath, his eyes searching Milo's. "Comedy is your gift; it is in your DNA, but I've been pushing you too hard, and I'm sorry."

Warm, salted tears started carving a path through the stage makeup. Milo rested his head in his hands.

"I think we should cancel the tour after tonight's show. It's been a damn tough year, and you need time to grieve properly and process everything. We both do." 

"Grief," Milo whispered, "Is that what this is?"

Lenny nodded slowly. "Yes, my friend. And it's okay to not be okay; you need time to heal. I shouldn't have pushed you tonight."

Milo's shoulders slumped as if the puppeteer had cut the strings. He was free. He reached out and grasped Lenny in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

"There we go." Lenny patted Milo on the back. "But we still have tonight's show, so let's do a quick warm-up to get the juices running. Common, tell me a joke." 

Milo sighed as he stood up and straightened his purple-striped jacket. "What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fsh!"

A beat of silence followed. Lenny frowned and pulled the left corner of his mouth upwards. "Okay," his voice uncertain. "Hit me with another one." 

Milo closed his eyes, "What do you call a deer with no eyes?" Silence. "No idea." He peaked at Lenny through a half-opened eye.

Lenny stared at Milo, his brow furrowed with concern. "Oh, twitter balls," he said, but before he could say anything else, Gertrude appeared at the door.

"Milo, you're on. Hurry up!"

"My jokes are fragile at the moment; you could at least pretend." Milo winked at Lenny before he disappeared through the stage wings.

"Haha. You almost got me. Now go get 'em, Milo." Lenny let out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

#

"Alright, alright, settle down, everyone! I know I look like I just lost a staring contest with a caffeinated goat, but trust me, the jokes will be way more interesting than your current existential crisis."

#

Milo emerged from the stage wings, sweat-soaked but smiling. His gaze met Lenny's, and a silent understanding passed between them. "You did it, you crazy bastard! You danced on that rope." 

Milo squeezed Lenny's shoulder. The warmth of friendship filled the space between them. It was the beginning of a new chapter, an uncertain journey, but one shared between friends. 

As they passed Gertrude, Milo turned around. “So long, and thanks for the fish.” He fist-pumped Lenny on the arm, “I read books too, you weirdo.”

“42, Mr Murphy, 42.” The three of them shared a laugh before Milo and Lenny disappeared into the night.