Sophie Moore and Charlie Packett Talk

I’m glad you finally came for dinner.

Yeah, me too.

We’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t we?

We have. 

Did you enjoy the spaghetti? 

It was incredible, Sophie. Did you really make it yourself?

Why do you sound so shocked?

I’m not shocked. It’s just the pasta was delicious, I truly can’t get enough of it. 

Oh, well, thank you. Yes, I did make it myself from scratch. I think I might drop everything and become a chef.

I say do it and I’ll be your assistant chef, or whatever it's called. 

It’s a plan. 

It’s definitely a plan. Anyways, are you free for lunch next week? We hardly ever meet nowadays. 

I’ve got work.

What about Friday?

I’ve still got work, Charlie. I work from nine to six every day. So if meeting for one hour by the office during my lunch break is convenient for you, let’s do lunch. 

Okay, umm…that works for me, I guess.

I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m…very snippy nowadays. It might be a side effect of working a nine-to-five. 

Nine to six, right?

Yeah, but it’s just a saying—nine to five. That’s what people say. 

Okay.

I’m sorry, that was me being snippy again. I can’t do this job! I. Just. Can’t.

Calm down, don’t take it out on the spaghetti.

Right, sorry. I’ll just put this fork down before I accidentally stab my hand. Although, it’s almost like I already have, Charlie.

How so?

My entire life is gone, you know? The sharp pain lingering inside me must be like the pain I would feel if this fork went through my hand. From early morning to when I get home in the evening, my life isn’t even my own. The life I’m living right now is of this other person who doesn’t need a brain. It’s pure agony. 

What do you mean you don’t need a brain? 

I mean it’s boring, Charlie! It’s crazy monotonous. I’m Sisyphus rolling a rock up the hill, except I think rolling an actual rock for eternity might be better.

That bad?

It’s not for me. I need to find a rock that is for me.  

I don’t follow, Sophie. 

What I’m saying is, that almost everything is monotonous. An author writes a manuscript, edits it, publishes it, and then does it again. Everything, in a way, is repetitive. Since I hate everything I have to do at my job, the weight of that rock I’m rolling right now is too much to bear. 

What do you want to roll up the hill, then...Sophie? Sophie?

What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.

I’m saying, what do you like so much, you could do it on repeat?

I don’t know…I really don’t know. You studied your dream, Charlie, and now you’re part of an incredible dance company. The rock you’re rolling up the hill is your calling. I, Charlie, don’t have a calling. 

There must be something you like. Everyone has interests. 

Not everyone, but yeah, sure, I have interests, as you put it. Let’s see; I like watching movies, running, and visiting museums. None of these can turn into a career!

I’m sure they can.

Right, Let me try to become a professional runner.

You never know, maybe you have what it takes.

Okay, enough mocking, Charlie. Anyway, I’m glad you liked the spaghetti. Would you like some tea now?

I would like some tea, thank you. And please let me help clean up, you already did all the cooking.

No, you’re the guest, I’ll bring the tea and you can get comfortable on the couch.

I feel awkward for not helping.

Well, if I ever come to your place, you can do all the work. Then we’ll be even.

Sounds like a plan. 

Which tea would you like? Green or black?

Black tea sounds good. Can I have one of these?

One of what?

These jam-filled biscuits you have here on the table. 

Oh yeah, have as many as you want! I’ve been obsessed with jam lately. I’m like Joey from Friends.

I haven’t watched Friends, I’m afraid. 

What do you mean you haven’t watched Friends? It’s my absolute favourite show! You need to watch it. 

I might, so many people have told me to. 

And now I’m one of those people! You need to watch it. 

I will and once again, thank you for the tea. Where is your mug, Sophie? 

I’m just getting it. 

Right, right. 

Oh wow, I’m tired, I felt it while sitting down. 

Well, you’ve had a long day at work. You should get some sleep soon. 

I’ve sort of had a repulsion to sleep lately. I spend nine hours at work. Then add two hours to commuting, bringing me up to eleven hours each day of barely living my life. Then it’s another hour to prepare dinner. So, my day only starts at eight in the evening.

Right.

Sorry, I’m rambling on and on about my miserable life.

No, it’s okay, you need to talk about this.

Thank you. I’m happy you came and I’m sorry I’m nowhere near done with all this rambling. 

That’s fine, Sophie. Don’t sweat about it. 

Okay, then adding to what I was saying, if I slept by eleven or even by midnight, I only lived for three or four hours. Imagine only having three to four hours of your life per day. So, now, I’ve developed a dislike for sleeping. I stay up as late as I can watching movies, reading, baking, or being out. I need to try to live my life! 

Wow, you really are frustrated. 

What was your first clue?

Why don’t you quit, Sophie?

I can’t exactly quit, I just started. It’s going to look bad. Plus, I need to make a living. 

Look bad? To who? 

I don’t know. The world!

I don’t think the world cares. 

Thanks. 

No, Sophie, I meant that in a good way. And I don’t think you need to make a living. I need to earn money for a living, you don’t. 

That makes me wonder what’s the point of doing all this nonsense, you know? Sometimes, I sit and wonder about all our systems. All of these fabricated systems. They aren’t even real. We are beating ourselves up to live the lives that fit into our imperfectly made-up world. 

I’m lucky to be doing something that doesn’t feel like work. I don’t feel the so-called system as much.

You are one of the lucky ones. I see all these faces on the tube in the morning. Forlorn, lost, longing for something more. Now I’m one of those faces. I can’t have this be my life in five years. 

Five years is a long way away, I’m sure you’ll find something by then. 

Is it a long way away, though? I’m scared I might blink and five years will go by, but I’m still stuck at a job I loathe and living a life that is barely my own. It’s completely possible and highly, no, extremely likely. I hear people say they’ve been working for five years in a particular job and when I ask how it’s going, they say it’s work. Work is work for me right now and for so many out there. I don’t want work to be work. 

Yes, but—

I know what you’re going to say, Mr. Packett. 

Okay, Ms. Moore, what am I about to say?

Every job will feel like work sometimes. Yes, every job will feel like work when you have to do things you aren’t particularly fond of, but I need days when I feel alive at my job. I need to love what I do despite it being work and despite the bad parts. 

I must give it to you, that was what I was about to say. I’m currently working on a performance where the dance is barely challenging and unbearable at times. But at the end of the day, I love dance and I’ll pull through the hard parts because the good parts are rewarding. 

Exactly, Charlie, exactly. Umm…

Sophie? You look lost. 

I…want to do something with you.

What do you want to do, Sophie?

Oh, don’t sound scared. It’s nothing outrageous; I can’t remember which book or movie this is from, but I want to lie down on the floor, facing opposite directions, with our heads side by side. We’ll just stare at the ceiling and talk. 

Okay, that isn’t outrageous, but a little strange, even for you.

I know, I know, but can we do it, please? 

Yes, let me take the last sip of my tea and then we can lie down…on the floor. 

It’s carpeted. It won’t be that bad. 

I didn’t think it was going to be bad. Actually, now that I’m lying down, it feels nice. 

It does, doesn’t it? I feel alive. My head feels clear this way. Heavy, but clear. I need to start thinking about my plans. What should I do next, Charlie?

 You always talk about going to the mountains. If you do, I’ll come with you.

I do, don’t I? Maybe I’ll finally go to the mountains because I’m not enjoying this life. 

I feel nervous when you say things like that, Sophie. Don’t say things like that. 

Don’t be nervous, I’m okay. I just hate my job, nothing out of the ordinary. I’m just ordinary.

We all are.

Well, not all of us. Some of us are extraordinary and some people, like you, might feel extraordinary by doing something they truly love. I think we all have this idea we will become something great. I know I did, but now I wonder if it will ever happen. What if my whole life goes by, and all I have in the end is thirty dreadful years doing a job I hate and paying a stack of bills every month?

Don’t go there yet. You still have time to figure things out. 

Nothing comes to mind. All I see is a bleak future. 

Well, I know this is out there, but you enjoy cooking and baking. Why don’t you take a leap of faith and go to culinary school?

Charlie, you know I was joking about becoming a chef.

I know, but even by saying it as a joke, means, somewhere deep down inside, it’s something you desire. 

Wow, look at you studying the psychology behind my joke. 

Now you’re mocking me. 

No, I’m not! Okay, let’s say you’re right. Do you suggest I just throw away my business degree and start from scratch? 

Why not? 

I do like the sound of baking all day and inventing new recipes. 

My mouth is still watering from dinner. Even your tea tastes different. I think you can do it.

Stop, you’re making me blush! And my tea can’t possibly taste different. 

Okay, fine, it doesn’t, but my point is, you’re good and, let’s just say to make my point, even if you don’t become a Michelin star chef, you’ll still be much happier than you are now. 

Maybe you’re right. 

Just maybe?

Just maybe for now. But given how much I hate my job, maybe might be enough. 

It’s Friday evening, so put a pause on hating your job for the weekend. 

True, two whole days to myself. At least that’s something.

Take it for now. 

I guess I have too. Hey, Charlie?

Yes.

Have you ever read Peter and the Golden Thread?

That was out of the blue. 

I know, but I had to ask. 

I think you know I haven’t.

I know, I know, but I asked just in case you might have.

Thank you for your kindness.

Oh, Charlie, why the sarcasm? Anyway, Peter was a boy who was gifted a golden thread. Every time he pulled the thread, his life skipped forward to a particular moment he chose in his life. In the story, Peter kept pulling the thread and, eventually, lived his whole life without being truly present for the important moments.

Okay—

Wait, I’m not done, I haven’t made my point yet.

Sorry, sorry, go on, Sophie.

As a child, I wondered why anyone would want time to go faster. I hated the thought of growing old faster than I needed to. But now, I understand. I really do. If the golden thread were given to me today, I would tug on it every Monday for the week to go by quickly. I’d live my life on the weekends and when Monday arrived again, I would pull the golden thread. And just like that, my life would be gone in a blink. 

The thread isn’t real Sophie, you’re life won’t go away in a blink. 

Charlie! I know the thread isn’t real. But the way my mind perceives time nowadays, the thread might as well be real. Throughout the week, I constantly think about Friday, when I can finally turn off work for the next two days. It feels like I’m pulling on that thread in my head.

 You should get some rest, Sophie, you’re tired.

I told you, I don’t like sleep anymore. I can’t miss the little time I have by being in bed. I know you said you needed to leave by now, but would it be too much to ask if you could stay a little longer?

Sure, Sophie. I’ll stay.

Thank you.

 I must say, I’m really enjoying lying down on the floor like this. 

I knew it would feel nice, Charlie.  

What do you wish time was doing now?

I wish it would stand perfectly still.