Endings

It was, as usual, a dreary New Year’s Eve.

It hadn’t snowed since the beginning of December, though it had been raining since Christmas. The sky was a morose shade of sleet gray, and the clouds above seemed to gather and mumble as if debating whether or not it was worth it to throw a tantrum of a thunderstorm. They’d been debating it, Tess thought; the winds hadn’t quite been gale-force, but they’d come close enough to sweeping her scarf clean off of her neck that she wasn’t in the mood to use any gentler descriptors. If she were the kind of woman who believed in omens – and on bad days like this, she was – she’d think that maybe the universe was telling her something about the upcoming year.

After all, hadn’t it been similarly sleety and windy and depressing last year, too? Correlation might not equal causation, but shitty beginnings usually beget shitty endings. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the weather’s fault she’d stumbled through three different shit jobs, two new apartments, and a will-they-won’t-they almost-boyfriend-whatever-thing over the course of twelve tiny little months, but it certainly hadn’t rung the year in with cheer. If Hannah were here – which she isn’t, because she’s at the party that Tess had hastily made excuses not to attend nearly thirty times over the past month – she would say something about how when one expects things to go wrong, they do.

Maybe, Tess, it isn’t that shitty beginnings beget shitty endings, she’d say, but that shitty attitudes beget shitty circumstances.

    Maybe there was a kernel of truth in that. Tess wasn’t in the mood to be positive, though. She was in the mood to get pleasantly tipsy in her tiny apartment and watch the ball drop in New York and maybe, possibly, scratch down a few resolutions before the night was over.

    First, though, she needed chips.

    So here she was, trudging down the block in the grimy, melancholy, wind-whipping cold, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, scarf tucked somewhere around her nose, making the heroic journey to the tiny convenience store two streets over. She didn’t pass many people, or she didn’t think she did; it was hard to tell with the aforementioned scarf pressing into her field of vision. They probably all had plans. Big, family, friend, date-y, party plans.

    The bell above the door chimed as she stomped in, trying to shake off the chill that had snuck in-between the flaps of her coat. The store was small, just a handful of shelves and one wall of refrigerators and a bathroom she knew better than to use; just like any other, except this one was hers. It had been her safe haven ever since she’d moved in here back in October – a steadfast, warm, familiar place that had everything she needed at the cheapest of prices. Chocolate. Off-brand ice cream. Tiny white boxes of powdered donuts.

    Chips.

    She pulled down her scarf just enough to see as she headed for the right section, the heating already chasing away the cold-sweat feeling that had begun to cling to her skin. As she picked up the bag and stared down at it, a strange feeling of deja vu swept over her.

    Last year, she had been standing in a different store, laughing with Hannah as they replenished party supplies. They’d loaded up a whole basket with booze and snacks, talking about their plans, making a game of listing the most ridiculous resolutions they could think of. Become a movie star, as they tossed in a jumbo pack of some candy bar. Play violin in Vienna, nevermind the fact that Tess hadn’t played since band in high school. Become a world-famous pastry chef, while the tired cashier rang up their processed cupcakes. 

She hadn’t cared about the shit weather, or the possible unhappiness in the year to come. She’d put on her favorite dress and a stupid themed headband that made her skull ache and screamed the countdown to the new year with all of her most-favorite people.

    So maybe good beginnings could beget shitty endings, too.

    And maybe that means the opposite can be true, Hannah murmured at the back of her head. If you let it. 

    Tess scrunched her nose down at the chip bag. It crinkled in her hand.

    She looked back up at the convenience store, at the dirty tile floor, the battered black mat hanging on by a thread in front of the door. The little bell. The tiny shelves. She thought of her apartment, of the whole lot of nothing waiting for her there, and about snowless Christmas and rainy New Year’s and how many days she will get the chance to stand right here, buying junk food to comfort herself.

    One day wasn’t going to define her entire year – good or bad. She could go home, slump on her couch, and have a perfectly crummy evening. She could even be content with that. A lot of life was filled with crummy evenings. Everything wasn’t going to mystically change for the better if she didn’t do that. She would still be single – which was fine, she didn’t want a relationship right now anyway, even if it would’ve been nice to have one with Liam – she would still be in an apartment with a leaky roof and heating problems, stuck in a job she didn’t like, wildly questioning all of her life choices. The year would be new, but that was it.

    She screwed up her lips. The bag crinkled again as her knuckles tightened around it, a terrified squeak that added a nice amount of drama to her determined stomp up to the counter. The cashier blinked at her, beanie pulled low over his brow, and she wondered how much it had to suck to have to ring in the new year here. She wondered if he had anyone waiting for him at home.

    When she stepped back outside, it had begun to rain. By the time she arrived at Laney’s, she was drenched. But when the door opened to the grin on Hannah’s face, Tess couldn’t help but smile back.

    “Happy New Year.” She held up the bag. “I brought chips.”