Midnight at the Fountains of Bellagio

About midnight and the evening is so hot and windy desert that it makes me wish I had done a third show with Cirque de Soleil tonight, the aching muscles should be discarded. At least that way I would be in the pool. But I promised my father that I would meet him after work, and it was just a short trip to Caesar's Palace.

"Are you ready?" I always thought that I would be helping my mom cope with my dad's aging, not the other way around. He is a source of Bellagio resources, and is a line chef at Nobu, making lobster tempura and wagyu gyoza for high rollers.

"Are you okay? No." He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, which upsets me because he has worked so hard to stop. "I hate to see her like this."

"I brought the vase."

"Maybe tonight you will agree to use it." My father held on to the hope that we could save him. Any container can work, but Dad insists it should be this vase: a mirror with mirrors carved with intricate patterns of flowers and birds — hummingbirds and pigeons, nightingales and swans. The mother loves her spring but sometimes speaks harshly about finding ducks.

Bellagio's springs used to hold 22 million gallons [22 million L] of water. There were shows every 15 minutes from 8 pm to midnight - 240 feet water jets in the air, a water spectacle with lights and music. After all, my mother danced. Visitors stopped by on their way to the restaurants. Women wearing French designer clothes paid half a million dollars to press a button that started the show, all to impress their friends. It was an exaggeration, but despite her fame, my mother always took the time to dance with me when I was younger.

There are only a few inches of water now, and there are no shows. Water is too precious to waste, and a well loses up to ten million gallons [12 million L] a year. My father and I went down the maintenance stairs. When we got to the ground, Mom appeared, deep in the ankle of the glistening lake. Her hair is thin and white, and she looks thin and thin.

Dad takes his hands.

“It smells like ashes,” said Mama. "I can't cure lung cancer, it could take away all the water I have left."

"There is still time," my father told her. "Nadia can take you to the indoor swimming pool where she does her shows. I know it's not the same, but it's a big pool--"

My mother looks at me suspiciously. He has never liked women, and he can see that I am part of the naiad. "This is my source, you can't stay here. I'm not going."

He doesn't even know it. At first, he did not want to get into the van because even half of the empty Bellagio springs were better than his other methods. He is now far from remembering his family.

I may deceive him perhaps, but should you save someone who does not want to be saved?

"Give me a vase," said my father. I handed it to her, and she sat down with her back to the edge of the well, unaware of the water coming into her pants. "Do you remember the night we met?"

My mother does not answer, and my father keeps talking. "It was midnight, dancing at the well. I jumped in to save you, and you told me without hesitation that you do not need to save." He laughed. "You were right. I was the one who needed to save, and you had the magic to do it. Thankfully, I would bring you flowers every morning for a whole month, in this vase."

"I remember." The mother's voice is soft.

Dad holds up the vase. "There is a pool in the Embassy Suites with ducks."

My mother picks up the vase, and for a while, I think she might use it, but instead, she shakes her head. "This spring I am. If you move me to a swimming pool or another place, I will not be me. I do not need to save. But you still need to."

He draws all the remaining water into a bowl, and the hundreds of gallons are thrown in just a few inches, circling the inside of the glass. "Nadia. Remember me when you dance, take care of your father."

Held the vase in one hand and placed the other on his father's chest. You wash away the damage to the cigarette. "No more smoking darling."

All his water is evaporated. All his power is needed to heal him.

Disappeared with the last water. For a while, the vase stays hanging where it was holding it, and then it breaks into empty concrete. My father bends over to pick up the pieces of glass that have been placed on the mirror, but for me, the vase is broken, nothing to do with my mother, it is not.

Somewhere, the clock strikes midnight.

There used to be shown at the Fountains of Bellagio, every 15 minutes from 8 pm until midnight. I think the sources as they were and my mother as they were. I remember that glorious moment, I started dancing.