Fifteen Minutes to Midnight

11:45 p.m.

Natalie walks through the litter of silver streamers and discarded discount beer cans. The sky is strangely bright for midnight, the wind whipping in the frenzy of a potential storm. The dark part of her hopes it rains. That the water floods the street, drowning the party mood of the city around her. Why should they be happy when she's not?

She was supposed to get off of work at eleven, but the closing host, Skye, had an emotional breakdown and had to leave early. Amazing how Skye's fragile soul only ever seemed to fall apart on holidays and weekends. It's not like Natalie cared. What else did she have to do?

That's what she's known for. That's who she is. "Have Natalie do it." the managers say. After all, she's got no life.

She not even bitter, truly, because she made the active choice to not chase friendships. To never fall in love. Relationships are draining and hard to maintain. There's no jealousy in her eyes as she watches a gaggle of girls giggle as they cross the street. The crosswalk's red. They're too drunk to notice. Natalie feels a pang of guilt for hoping a car would speed through them.

Short glittered dresses and heels to high to walk in. For a moment, Natalie ponders where they might be headed. To a fabulous party on a yacht in the harbor? No, more likely, they're off to seek more simple thrills. A late night bar, an after party. A night so basic, they'll have to use creative photography to make their Instagram stories exciting. There's no envy at all. It sounds horrible.

If she's not jealous, then why does she care? Why does it bother her so much? Why does she seethe at the cozy couple in the window booth as she passes a local cafe? She's chosen to be alone but she never chose to feel lonely. And there's the truth of it all. If she could will herself, she'd make her heart turn steel. She'd wrap herself in her independence. But her stupid heart is sensitive, and despite all of her arguments to the contrary, she cares what people think.

Natalie wraps her jacket instinctively closer around her. She can hear the echoes of life. A bar somewhere down the street is loud with the cheers of anticipation.

New years is a pretty over rated holiday, if you were to ask Natalie. What's so special about another year? Another day turns over. Another sunrise. Another year older, all too much closer to the closing chapter.

Wow, she'll be thirty this year. There's a thought to hold on to. Where did the twenties go? Did she fall asleep for a decade? Thirty and still working two jobs. Still struggling to get by. Natalie curses her mom for being right.

Her mother was the one to tell her not to move to the city. "You can't afford it" she exclaims. "You'll be back home within the year." To Natalie's credit, three years had passed and she never turned to run. Even through that awful first year without an apartment, sleeping on buses and bathing in dirty bathroom sinks. When she first arrived, the skyline took her breath away. New York in the autumn, a beautiful sight to be seen. No one tells you how the city breaks your heart.

Hotel by day, restaurant by night, all so she can say she's working at being a writer. But just trying to survive doesn't leave much time for the craft. Being a loner helped in the beginning. She could use it as an excuse. After all, she barely has time to focus on herself. How could she make brunch plans or go on dates? It was better, she thought, if no one else could witness her blinding failure.

When her mother calls, she lies and says things are going great. She's always "this close" to signing with a literary agent. She'll get a book deal any day now. Sometimes she sounds so convincing, she almost makes herself believe it's the truth.

Natalie was an optimist once.

She didn't always believe New Year's was bullshit. There was a time when she hung high hopes on the promise of resolutions. "This year I'll finish the great American novel." she'd say, "This year, I will finally make it." Wasted energy, as fickle as saying, "I'll go to the gym more often." She never had strength enough to follow through. That's her real problem. The new year failed her. And the next. Or maybe she failed the year. At this rate, who could say which is true?

But here she is, New Year's Eve, in the same place as she started. Well not literally. She’s not living on a bus anymore, thank God. But in her heart, she feels no different. Just as far away from where she thought she’d be. For a split second she allows herself to think of that illusion. She’s sitting in a spacious loft in Soho, working on her third best seller. Perhaps somebody is there that loves her. For just that moment, she allows herself that dream.

11:58 p.m.

She can see her apartment building in the distance. Where has the world gone to? The streets seem suddenly abandoned. Litter dances in the kicked up wind, but she's the only around to see it. Alone and lonely, just like always. Did she truly expect anything else?

A violent crack of thunder pulls her out of her dark thoughts, and makes her pick up her pace.

Her hands have gone numb, and it takes her several tries to unlock her front door. She nearly collapses in, as the lock finally gives way. She is greeted by her surly cat. He merely grumbles, and disappears into a darkened corner. She can’t believe her luck when she hears the rain begin to pour. It makes a melodic sound as is dances across the window pane. Just in time, she thinks.

12:04 a.m.

Well, maybe not. Oh well, a little late like always. Natalie looks around the darkened room. They say what you're doing at midnight is how you will spend the rest of the year. And for the first time in a long time, she hopes that that's not true.

She hopes for, and she fears it all the same.