Hope and Dread

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“It’s nice though, isn’t it?”

“If you enjoy frostbite, I guess.”

“It’s just… so loud in there.”

“That’s kind of the point of a party, yeah.”

“Well, I wanted to get away from it all for a bit. Why’re you out here, anyway, if it’s so freezing and pointless?”

“Saw you out here looking all sad.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“I’m Mina, by the way.”

“Oh, Laurie’s talked about you. Noelle.”

“Festive; very fitting for this time of year.”

“Yeah, my parents think they’re hilarious. My younger sister’s Holly.”

“No Carol?”

“I’m sure there would be if I had any other siblings.”

“Tragic, then; you could have had a group large enough to go caroling.”

“Hah. So you work with Laurie, right?”

“Same company, different department. Her corner of the building has the best coffee maker, though, so we’ve spent a lot of time bonding over it.”

“She’s always been a coffee snob. It’s pretty fun to rile her up about it.”

“And you?”

“Huh? Oh–childhood friends. We fought over the basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac until a new family moved in; then we teamed up to keep it from them.”

“Solidarity, I like it.”

“Yeah, we were sort of jerks about it. Got over a decade of friendship out of it, though.”

“Want another drink? I’m about to grab one for myself.”

“Nah, I’m at the perfect level of buzzed. You don’t have to stay out here, y’know.”

“Where else am I going to hear stories like the ones about your parents’ obsession with Christmas or your childhood gang? You’re interesting, Noelle.”

“More interesting than the drunken babbling indoors?”

“Infinitely. Be right back.”

“That’s quite the drink.”

“Probably more sugar than alcohol, but it’s a Friday night.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“Close enough that if need be I can stumble home.”

“And not die of hypothermia?”

“Suppose that’s still undetermined.”

“I’m sure Laurie would let you stay over.”

“Probably, but I’m guessing she’ll have enough passed out people in her house.”

“It’s amazing how little control some have around alcohol.”

“That a jab at me?”

“I’ll see how you fare with this drink and get back to you.”

“I’ll make a point not to chug it, then. So, what are you up to when you’re not sitting in the cold or ignoring people at parties?”

“I’m not ignoring you, am I? And I guess… what everyone else does–eat, sleep, pass the time with a hobby or two.”

“It’s almost impressive how boring you make life seem.”

“But I’m not wrong, right? You pass the time until something exciting happens, then go back to waiting for a future event; it’s always ‘I have a package coming next Tuesday’, or ‘in a week it’ll be Halloween’. And the next event takes the place of the last one.”

“Nothing wrong with looking forward to things.”

“Of course not. It makes it difficult to look at the days as anything more than a means to an ends, though.”

“I’m sure there’s some prescription for that.”

“Hah. Do you think that’s how people felt centuries ago? Just waiting and waiting as time passed them by?”

“Waiting for what? Amazon packages?”

“Funny, Mina. I don’t know–progress, results, happiness.”

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“What, thinking about the past means I’m drunk?”

“No, but thinking about the lives of people who died generations ago is a bit of an odd conversation choice.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to choose your own topic or go inside and leave me alone.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Odd’s not bad, it’s just–odd. Keep going; now you’ve got me curious.”

“A bit of pressure now that I’m on the spot, no?”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hmm. Well… I wonder if they thought of the future with hope or dread.”

“How so? Doesn’t it depend on the activity? I tend to feel more dread than hope when I visit the dentist. Well, suppose I hope I don’t have any cavities, but I dread the prospect of it.”

“I don’t mean the immediate or near future. I mean decades, centuries later. What they thought you and I would be like, or think, or say. If their visions of us were comforting or not.”

“Very philosophical. Does it matter?”

“You accuse me of waxing philosophy when you’re skirting existentialism.”

“Am I? Never took philosophy in college.”

“The point is, it’s not about whether it matters or not. It’s about, well, connection. I wonder if people from so long ago sat in completely different spots during completely different times and felt the way I do.”

“Hopeful?”

“Sometimes. I think of what the future might bring distant generations, and I hope it’s good; I hope they have better than we do now. Other times? I’m a bit… jealous. Why can’t we have that now? Why is it just not in the cards for us? And maybe that’s just what the people before us thought. And that makes me feel not as alone.”

“Not to be pessimistic, but the future might be worse. Maybe we’re living it up now and Timothy in 200 years from now is going to look longingly at our lives.”

“It’s a possibility. Still, I hope in 200 years things will be at least slightly better, even if I won’t be there to enjoy it.”

“If?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Would you want that? Like, if you had the opportunity to live long enough to see what happens–ignoring any aging beyond say, sixty or so.”

“No.”

“Really? Your words seemed to imply otherwise.”

“I don’t think I’d be satisfied. I’d probably just be thinking about 200 years later.”

“So then what’s the point of hoping? If you’ll never be satisfied?”

“It’s human nature, isn’t it? We always look for a bright spot amidst the darkness. Life would be miserable if we didn’t.”

“Or you could just be satisfied with the present. Hey!–don’t laugh, Noelle. I’m serious.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Maybe I’m not meant to be satisfied. I think some people just aren’t.”

“Sounds a little depressing.”

“Does it? You could argue that it takes off the pressure of striving for an impossibility.”

“You could. You could also argue that it’s bringing about a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“You could argue a lot, if you had the time. Maybe I’m satisfied being dissatisfied.”

“Are you?”

“Who knows. Maybe someone in the future will be able to tell.”

“As interesting as this talk has been, I really am freezing my fingers off. We can keep chatting inside?”

“I think I’ll stay out here another minute or two.”

“I’ll stay too, then.”

“Even at the potential loss of your fingers?”

“They’ll survive a few minutes. So you’re really content to be dissatisfied? I know I already asked, but, it’s a weird conclusion to come to. And it makes me kind of sad; you deserve to be happy.”

“That might be the alcohol talking. Maudlin drunk?”

“I prefer empathic.”

“Don’t fret over my musings, Mina. It’s one in the morning. We’re all a little crazy at this hour.”

“I want to give some brilliant speech that convinces you it’s worth being satisfied. But I can’t come up with anything.”

“That’s sweet. You just sitting here is probably better than any speech, though.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment about my company and not an insult to my orating abilities. That’s what you meant, right?”

“Maybe. You coming inside? It’s cold, and I think I’ve reached my limit on ruminating.”

“Haven’t we all, my friend?”