Page 20 of Out of the Dark

"It’s not that Idon’tdrink," I correct, feeling bold. "It’sjust that Ihaven’tyet."

"Well, do you want some then?"

I pause for a moment, considering the offer. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m in a safe environment with someone who I trust not to take advantage of me. "Sure." I get up and follow him to the kitchen.

"I suppose you don’t have a preference," he says.

"Not really. Probably something sweet and not too strong, though."

He nods as he grabs a bottle of white wine and pours a small amount into a glass. "Try this."

I take a sip and am surprised by how much I like it. It’s sweet, bubbly, and light.

Mark takes my expression as all the confirmation he needs and fills the glass about halfway. "Be careful," he warns. "It tastes good but it’ll hit you harder than you expect if you drink it too fast."

"Okay."

He hands the glass back to me and his fingers brush mine. I try to ignore the jolt of electricity his touch sends through my body.

Mark pours his own drink then settles on the couch next to me, not too close but close enough that I can’t stop thinking about how, if either of us moved just a few inches, we’d be touching. What would it feel like to lean into him, to let him wrap his arms around me?

He picks up the remote and starts the movie, the black and white picture displaying the opening credits.

I take another tentative sip of the wine.

As the movie plays, I find myself drawn in immediately. It begins with angels speaking to each other amongst the stars, so I see where Mark says there may have been a religious elementto it. It tells the story of a man whose life gradually gets worse through a series of unfortunate circumstances, but he manages to stay positive throughout. But when a massive mistake puts him in dire circumstances, he almost ends his own life before an angel intervenes.

Something about it resonates with me in a way I can’t quite articulate. While I’ve never considered taking my own life, I know what it feels like to wonder what the world would be like if I didn’t exist. Would anyone actually miss me, or would they just miss the role I filled in making their lives easier?

More than halfway through the movie, I realize I’ve finished my wine, and when Mark pauses the movie and offers to refill the glass, I accept. My head feels light, but it seems to alleviate the constant pull of worry in my mind.

Mark returns to the living room with a refilled glass for both me and himself, and he sits back down on the couch. I can’t help but wish he was closer.

"Why are you spending Christmas alone?" I ask, surprising myself with the question. It was in my mind, but I didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Mark’s expression shifts, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. "I don’t really have any family anymore."

I want to ask more, but something in his tone tells me not to push. "I’m sorry."

He shrugs, brushing it off. "Last year, and most years, I spent Christmas with Shane. But he and Dani decided to go somewhere tropical this year. Trying to make the final decision about their wedding venue, I think."

"I see." I’m not sure how else to respond. I don’t want to pry and ask about his family situation. Well, I do, but I won’t, in the same way he doesn’t pry about mine. "It’s peaceful here,though. Watching the snow and city lights from so high up but staying warm inside. Nobody to impress or appease."

Mark’s expression softens when his eyes meet mine. "Yeah. That part is nice." He resumes the movie, and I turn my attention back to the screen and watch the situation play out.

The movie makes me think in more ways than I expected it to. While it depicts angels, it’s not in the typical biblical sense, which is likely why my father wouldn’t show it to us. But I like the idea that there may be a guardian angel out there for me like Clarence—one who’s kind but has a sense of humor, who would intervene if I ever got to that point of desperation like George does as he considers jumping off the bridge. Even if I’m not sure what to believe now, it would be nice to think that there’ssomethinglooking out for me.

I sip my wine and ignore the feeling of Mark’s gaze on me, watching the screen as George struggles with his situation then makes his wish. This time, his words are ones I identify more with.

What would happen if I’d never been born? It’s not like I’ve made a significant contribution to society. I’ve had a lot of lonely nights in my car the past few weeks to ponder what life means to me now that I’m not a blindly devout follower of religion. At home, they were all adamant that life was solely about following God’s word, even if the things they did seemed to directly contradict it at some points.

But now that I don’t really believe in God—at least in the way they do—what meaning is there to ascribe to life?

Maybe this is all there is to it, though. I’m here with someone who cares about me, warm and comfortable and relatively happy. Everyone wants something to give their life meaning. I’ve lost the thing I was supposed to find meaning in, so now I have the freedom to find it wherever Ichoose. Maybe it is simply about these little moments of connection and joy. Would it really be so bad if that’s all there was to live for?

As the movie continues, my heart grows heavier as I follow along and learn the same lessons George does.

By the time the movie ends with the townspeople singing Auld Lang Syne, tears are streaming down my face and I’m sniffling in attempts to not sob. I don’t know why it hits me so hard, but it does. The sudden burst of hope, the joy of a community coming together in kindness and love. It’s something I’ve always craved, but I’ve never felt or seen it in this way.

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