Chapter 175:
Midnight Conversations
Megan’s POV:
Moon shone lightly over the city as I lay still on my bed, unable to sleep. My head was pounding like a carousel of worries and uncertainties and, not more like quiet, the tone of the night was muted but calming and worrisome, adding an excess of restlessness. I rose to make hot water on the stove in my room, hoping some tea would calm my frayed nerves.
As I entered the kitchen, the pale light in the living room caught my eyes. It only heightened my curiosity, so I entered to see how Max was, sitting on the couch, drawing something intently. The sight of him like that in that light was consoling.
“Hey, Max,” I said softly, a bit timidly, so as not to startle him. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”
Max looked up, and his eyes cast a weak reflection because of the close-by lamp. “Hey, Megan. Nope, not really. Just couldn’t stop working on this.”
Following his words, I moved over to see the sketch myself. It was all beautiful, with such fine details of a cityscape, under the moonlight. “This is amazing,” I commented, really impressed. “You are true to your talent.”.
“I thank you,” Max replied, and an amused curve seemed barely visible. “I think it helps clear my mind, especially with being able to sleep.”
I nodded understandingly, for the sentiment I felt only too deeply. “I’ve come for some tea. Would you like some company?”
Max flashed his best smile. “Sure. I could use a break from this anyway.”
I tiptoed to the kitchen and set out to make some tea. “Isn’t it so weird, this night quiet? It’s like the world called time out, while in my head, sh*t keeps on happening.”
“I know,” Max said, pulling himself up and taking a stand beside me at the worktop. “Sometimes it’s like whatever you’re trying not to think about becomes loud because of all the silence.”
I nodded and poured the steaming hot water equally into both the mugs. “Exactly, you know, it’s like all the thoughts and worries come out of their hiding when everything else is asleep.”
Max chuckled softly. “Isn’t that something? You’d think the silence would be soothing, but, more often than not, it’s an invitation for looking inward.”
“Yes,” I answered, giving him a glass. “I guess it’s really in these silent moments that we sum up depths of our thoughts and the intensity of our feelings.”
He sipped his tea and heaved a dissatisfied sigh. “Good to have someone to chat with when it’s like that, you know? Makes the silence less overwhelming.”
“Fair enough,” I said, pulling out a chair from across him and taking a seat. “I have been doing quite some thinking of late, regarding life choices and paths taken. Been on my mind-by a bit.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Max gently inquired with a smile. “Sometimes, sharing helps.”
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “In my life, I’ve made so many mistakes. some of them are hard to run from. Sometimes it’s just hard to stop thinking about them, especially when I’m all alone in my head.”
At this, Max’s tone softened. “I really believe that everyone has moments when they regret having done something or other. It’s being human. But, then again, an error is part of the learning and growing process.”.
“I know,” I answered, sipping my tea. “It’s really quite hard to see it that way sometimes, isn’t it? I mean, when you’re right in the middle of it all and it feels like you’re stuck in some cycle of regret.”
Max leaned forward, his eyes locked into mine. “But sometimes that cycle can be broken. It’s trying to find a way to move on even when it feels like the past is yanking you back.”
“I would love to think so,” I answered, and once again the small flicker of hope lit up inside of me. “It’s just that sometimes, it feels like the past is always right there, just waiting to pull me back.”
Max didn’t waver in his stare, offering silent reassurance. “The past doesn’t need to be the dictator of your future. It’s a part of your story, but it’s’s not the end. You do get to decide what comes next.”
With heavy acceptance, I gave in. “Thank you, Max. It means a great deal to hear that; I’ve been aching about letting go of my regrets and moving on.”
Max took another sip from his tea and paused. “You know, I’ve had my own share of regrets and challenges. It’s a process to come to terms with them. But talking about them, finding perspective-it all helps.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What are your regrets?
Max looked thoughtful. “I’ve spent probably far too much time flying below the radar, playing it safe. Sometimes I think maybe I missed an opportunity because I was afraid to take a risk.”
“You’re such a good artist,” I said, regarding him with a little respect. “Are you doing yourself justice by staying out of the limelight?
Max sighed. “At times. Except, it’s not only regarding the chances. It’s even about the dread of failure, not rising to the occasion. That’s a hard one.”
We sat in silent comfort for a little while, each lost in his thoughts of pain and regrets. It got so quiet that it seemed like nighttime, making confessions and reevaluations of the soul easier to accomplish.
“Did you ever feel like you were living your life for somebody else?” Max blurted out.
“Yes, absolutely,” I seconded him. “I think there’s just this constant pressure to be so perfect, to live up to the awesome image that people perceive me to be. And it’s tiring.”
“That’s hard to break free from. But sometimes you just gotta find your own way and not weight your success depending on people’s perceptions.”
“That’s a lot easier said than done,” I said wryly, smiling gently. “But I will work on it.”
Without saying anything, Max just returned the smile. “It’s a journey. And talking about it, facing it head-on-that’s a big part of making progress.”
Here was a cathartic conversation, where I could somewhat relate to Max. Now, the midnight hour was a zone of shared vulnerability and comprehension.
Gradually, the wind began to take small sips of tea, turning tepid with the advance of the night, yet we did not stop talking even as night turned over to dark. The night’s silence was really not unbearable but comforting-providing room to wander in thoughts with enough strength, that comes from sharing experiences.
It wasn’t until the talk was over and the first light of the dawn began pouring shadows in the room that I knew really how much it meant. Not that it would mean a lot of regrets and challenges, actually, but it is no less than the connected assurance one secures through being open and honest.
As we packed our stuff to get back to our room, I said, “Thanks for staying up and talking, Max. I needed for this to happen.”
Max smiled reassuringly at me. “Anytime, Megan. It’s good to have these conversations. They remind us that we’re not alone.”