Luck Asks For Directions

Bubble // Bulle: Editor's Pick

Author’s Note: What might it mean to be in a bubble at a crossroads? My wise and wonderful friends, having floated in and popped many of their own bubbles of early adulthood, have helped me to answer that question. This story is dedicated to them.

Pieces of this story are pilfered from several mythologies. Were we to spend more time with them, Didi, Gogo, and Zaza might come to resemble the Norns or Fates. They might also resemble two-faced Janus, a grand figure of doors and crossroads, or Heimdall, gatehouse keeper of the Bifrost, a flaming rainbow road. (Aren’t bubbles a sort of rainbow?) I borrowed most from the crossroads tale par excellence, Samuel Beckett’s "Waiting for Godot."

—We were going Somewhere, of course.

—No, I’m sure we were going Elsewhere.

—I’m afraid you’re both totally wrong; we were going Nowhere. You’ll see—we’re dreadfully late in arriving, and you’re holding us up quite rudely with all this bickering.

As they had for some time, Didi, Gogo, and Zaza stood at the crossing of nine roads, encased in a gossamer dome in which light flickered every color of the rainbow. They saw themselves reflected in those rippling flames.

Here in the middle of their quarrel, each stood her ground. Though, that is not to say that Didi, Gogo, and Zaza were standing next to each other, since they were standing in one single spot and faced away from each other. If Zaza stared Didi down, or Gogo rolled her eyes at both, it was done through their reflections; for they stood their ground on the same feet, in the same body. It should be said that they shared one head, if not the same attitude.

From far off—was it squinting Didi who saw first, with her keen eyesight? Or perhaps was it Gogo, always glancing around suspiciously?—a figure stumbled down one of the paths. Hard to say which one.

All three watched as Luck shuffled closer, draped in an ill-fitting suit, one hand raised in a toast to some unheard joke,

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind—”

She sang terribly off-tune. Champagne sloshed out of her glass, as if to escape this private concert.

—New year’s eve! Out of one time, onto the next—you know what I mean? Well actually, I’m not sure I even know what I mean. The one or the next, it’s all a bit fuzzy to me… but that may well be the drink!

Luck raised her glass to Didi, Gogo, and Zaza. They gazed back in a kind of solemn bemusement.

—I’m going... Well, I’m not sure where! Mind giving me directions? asked Luck, topping up her glass, then raising the bottle to her lips.

The three faces responded in chorus:

—Which way are you going? asked Gogo, slow and stern.

—And where did you come from? Didi wondered, her voice sharp.

Zaza only sighed. [Zaza sighs loudly]

Luck tilted her head, brow furrowed in playful puzzlement.

—Well, I’m moving on, don’t you know?

—You’re awfully loose with direction, sniffed Gogo. No wonder you’re lost!

—I thought maybe you’d be able to orient me, since you seem to have been here a while—haven’t you? Luck swayed, one eye half-closed in a tipsy squint. Where’d you come from, then?

—Behind me, replied the three heads at once.

Luck, facing Gogo, looked also at Didi and Zaza through their shimmering reflections when she replied,

—Goodness, said Luck. Behind who, exactly?

—Behind me! replied all three.

Luck grinned, tipping her bottle in a grand, messy toast.

—Behind, before, betwixt… It’s all the same to me, sweeties!

She tipped her bottle over as if to empty it and out tumbled a key, a tarnished little thing that wriggled like liquid metal, shimmering just like the air around them.

—This old thing!

With a careless flick of her wrist, Luck tossed the key over her shoulder, where it vanished with a faint sizzle, leaving nothing but a gossamer haze of heat.

—Why did you do that? Gogo asked, her voice tinged in reproach.

—Oh, I won’t need it anymore! Luck replied, shrugging. It won’t open any doors where I’m going.

Luck laughed, loudly, a little mournfully.

Didi, Gogo, and Zaza exchanged glances, casting expressions of disdain, disapproval, dismissal at their unexpected guest.

—Anyway, Anywhere is where we were going, I’m quite sure of it, said Zaza, crossly.

—Somewhere, Didi insisted, with a pointed glare.

Luck shook her head, these notions little more than grains of sand slipping through her fingers. She waved the bottle grandly before her.

—I’m going… ah! In front of me! Yes, that’s it!

The three heads stared at her, their eyebrows raised in shared disbelief. In front of me? That isn’t a direction at all! It’s simply… there. Who would choose to walk toward there?

Luck didn’t wait for a response, though. She turned, without a glance backward, her voice floating back in scraps of song.

—Would you like to go there?

Didi, Gogo, and Zaza scoffed in unison.

—Of course not! We’re going… [The subsequent lines are also simultaneous]

…Somewhere!

…Elsewhere!

…Nowhere!

—Well loves, see you next year then! called Luck, her voice fading. Same place as always, yeah?

Luck strutted down one of the nine paths. Hard to say which one. It’s difficult to orient oneself when one is always looking in three different directions. Didi, Gogo, and Zaza stood still, and continued bickering, as they have for some time.