Just You and Me on NYE

It began when I was six. The New Years Eve walk that started at our house in Altadena, California. That had us walking out of our door and onto the Hahamongna trail, where we would hike up and down dirt roads, over sometimes treacherous terrain, one year almost falling off a cliff. It used to be him, my brother, and me, but once my brother moved to college, it became just us. And if we’re being honest, and what’s the point of being dishonest, he and I were always closer. A parent isn’t supposed to have favorites. And neither is a child. It’s wrong, right? It’s wrong. But I’d be lying if I said that he isn’t my favorite. And I think I’m his too. Or was. Is. Was. He’s not dead. He’s just forgetting who I am.

NYE 1990

I’m six years old and I open my eyes.

My brother is snoring in the bed above mine.

I get up and put my face close to his face.

“Jose,” I whisper, “Wake up.”

My brother moans, turning away from me.

“Jose,” I whisper again, “It’s time to get up. It’s NYE!”

“Shut up,” my brother growls.

He opens his eyes just a smidge and then shoves me away.

“It’s still dark out Luz,” he snaps at me, “Let me sleep some more.”

I sigh in exasperation.

“It’s NYE Jose! Aren’t you excited?”

Jose shoves me again, harder this time.

I get the hint and leave our bedroom.

I follow the scent of coffee into the kitchen.

When I walk in, my dad is at the table reading the newspaper.

“Luz,” he says, “You ready for your first NYE walk?”

“You bet your butt I am,” I say dancing my way over to the table.

“Don’t talk like that…in front of your mother,” he says, winking at me.

My dad and Jose had gone on a NYE walk the year before, but my mom said I was too little and that I had to wait at least one more year. Well, that year was this year and I am more than ready.

“What’s going on in the world?” I ask my dad, reaching for his coffee.

He slides the coffee out of my reach saying, “Lots of things.”

“Like what things?” I ask.

“Like, economy stuff and foreign affair stuff and-

“Boring stuff,” I say nodding.

“Boring stuff,” he agrees.

An hour later, me, my dad, and my brother are on the trail. I say hello to everyone that passes us by which annoys my brother.

“Stop saying hi to people,” Jose grumbles, still not fully awake.

“Why?” I ask, waving to a couple with a dog.

“Because no wants to say hi to you,” my brother snaps.

“Let her say hi to people,” my dad says, taking my hand.

Jose groans but says nothing.

The trail behind our house is mostly dirt and I’ve walked it many times before, and have ridden my bike up and down this small hill. But today we go further. Today we go into new territory. The trail gets smaller, and the trees get closer and taller and thicker. And I can’t quite see what’s beyond them. We have to walk in a line instead of all together.

“What do you think is out there?” I ask.

“Animals,” my dad says.

“Yea,” Jose says, “Animals that can eat you! Witches live there too.”

“Witches?” I say, gasping, squinting my eyes to try and see past the thick leaves and branches.

“There are no witches,” my dad reassures me.

But I stay close behind him anyway.

We turn left and hike up a rocky incline and eventually come back down the other side.

At some point we hit a river and we have to use the rocks to go across it.

We get to the other side, walk up and down some more inclines, walk through another path filled with thick trees, and suddenly we’re near the Rose Bowl in Pasadena.

One quick turn and we are in a whole other world.

No rocky inclines. No more dirt roads.

My dad sees the look on my face and smiles down at me, “Cool, huh?”

“Cool,” I agree.

NYE 1995

I open my eyes.

I can hear my brother snoring through the thin wall next to me.

Two years ago, my parents had the wall built to give us both some privacy.

I get up and open the door that connects to Jose’s room.

I look at his peaceful, sleeping, open-mouthed face, and have the urge to yell and wake him up.

But I value my life, so I just close the door, leave my room, and follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen where my dad is sitting, reading the paper.

He smiles up at me, “Luz, you ready for the NYE walk?”

“You bet your butt I am,” I respond, dancing my way over to the table.

I reach for his coffee, and he lets me take a few sips before gently taking it back.

“Oh, come on,” I say, “I’m old enough.”

“Maybe next year,” he responds.

“So, what’s going on in the world? What new problems await us for 1996?”

“Um, a recession-

“A what?” I interrupt.

“Boring stuff,” he says.

“Boring stuff,” I agree, although now I know it’s not that boring. But it’s still stuff I don’t want to hear yet.

An hour later we are on the trail.

The dirt road we walked on years ago no longer exists. It is now paved with concrete. But we still take essentially the same path, over the hill and into the thick groups of trees.

Some of them have been cut back. There is now more room on either side so that we can walk beside each other, instead of in a single line.

I stare out past the trees, looking for witches even though I’m mostly convinced that they don’t exist.

The river is dried up so all we have to do is walk across.

Except when we get across, the rest of the path is blocked by a fence with a sign that says, “No Trespassing.”

“Where do we go now?” Jose asks.

My dad looks at us then with an almost evil glint in his eye.

“Are we climbing it?” I squeal with excitement.

“We’re climbing it,” my dad agrees.

“Uh,” my brother starts to protest.

“Don’t be a wuss,” I say, already following my dad up the fence.

We get to the other side and continue on the trail.

Everything seems normal and I’m starting to wonder why they built the fence in the first place, when suddenly the trail stops.

My brother pulls me back onto the path before I plummet to my death.

Ahead of us is a drop.

A big drop.

And there’s no way around.

To the right of us, is a very small trail.

Not even a trail really, just the edge of the cliff.

“Ok,” my dad says, “We’re going to edge along this way, VERY carefully and that’ll take us around the cliff and into the rose bowl.”

“Can’t we just go back?” my brother asks.

“We’ll have to go back to the beginning,” I say.

“At least we’ll be alive,” Jose responds.

“We can do this,” I say, “Come on, Jose, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“That’s the spirit,” my dad says, patting me on the shoulder.

“If I die, I’m haunting both of you,” Jose says, turning pale.

I grab his hand and squeeze it in reassurance.

We slowly make our way along the edge of the cliff.

My dad holds my hand, and I hold my brother’s.

After what feels like forever, we eventually make it around the cliff and find the trail again.

We climb over a second fence, walk through a thick group of trees, and find ourselves right near the Rose Bowl.

“Cool!” I yell.

“Cool,” my dad agrees.

“Whatever,” Jose says mumbling.

NYE 2000

I open my eyes.

I put my hand against the wall next to me and wonder if my brother is still snoring in New York city.

I get up and follow the scent of coffee into the kitchen, where my dad is sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

Across from him is my own cup of coffee, waiting for me.

He looks up and smiles, “Ready for our NYE walk?”

“You bet your as-

He gives me a look and immediately I say, “Butt I am.”

“It’ll be weird without Jose,” he says looking at the newspaper.

“Yea,” I agree, “But we’ll still have fun.”

He nods, “We will.”

“So, what’s going on in the world?” I ask him, drinking my coffee.

He shakes his head, “Nothing you want to know.”

“You’re probably right,” I agree.

An hour later we are on the trail.

We walk up the paved road and over the hill.

There is no more path with thick trees. The trail has become a lot more tame as the years have passed.

“Think the witches have stolen any kids this year?” I ask my dad.

“Only the bad ones,” he replies.

I laugh but I find myself still looking through the trees that are left, a part of me still wondering if the witches are out there since some childhood fears never fully go away.

We make our way to the river that once again is full of water. We use the rocks to get across, talking of new years' resolutions.

“I think…I think I wanna be a little…stronger,” I say.

He looks at me, raising his eyebrow in question.

“I…At school. There’s this girl. Naomi. She’s…different. I don’t know how else to say it. She’s just different. And the other girls make fun of her. A lot. The next time they do it, I want to be strong enough to say something,” I say, not looking at him. I don’t want to see the shame in his eyes.

There’s silence for a while as we walk.

And then, as we reach the end of the dirt trail and find ourselves near the Rose Bowl, he says,

“Luz. It can be hard to speak up sometimes. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means that you recognize that it’s scary. But I have to tell you, when you do speak up, especially for the right reasons, it’s the best feeling…I think it’s a really good resolution. And I have 100% faith that you can do it.”

I look at him and he’s smiling down at me and his eyes are a little wet.

“You, ok?” I ask him.

“Yea,” he says, “I just think you’re pretty cool.”

I smile back at him and look out towards the Rose Bowl, “You’re pretty cool too, dad.”

NYE 2005

I open my eyes, for a moment forgetting where I am.

It’s been a minute since I’ve spent the night at my parents’ house.

I get up and follow the scent of coffee into the kitchen.

My dad is sitting reading the paper, drinking his coffee and across from him is my own mug.

He looks up and smiles, “Ready?”

“You bet your ass I am,” I say, dancing over to the table.

He winces at my cussing, but says nothing.

“Want to know what’s going on in the world?” he asks.

“I know what’s going on in the world, dad, and I don’t like it,” I respond.

“Well, welcome to adulthood,” he says raising his cup of coffee in a toast.

An hour later we are walking on the paved road. My dad is asking me questions, but my mind is elsewhere. I am bubbling up inside wanting to spill my guts, but am so terrified by what his response is going to be.

“Hey,” he says, “Remember when we came across that big drop?”

“Oh, I remember,” I say.

“That was stupid,” he says, “We should have just turned back.”

“We survived,” I say.

“Yea…I don’t even remember where that was,” he says, looking around.

“Wanna try and find it?” I ask, nudging him playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he says, nudging me back.

“I had sex,” I blurt out.

He stops and looks at me, mouth open and I can feel my face get incredibly hot. We’re staring at each other not moving and I want to reach out, grab the words and shove them back into my mouth, but obviously I can’t.

“Why…why…what?” he sputters.

“I…ok, listen,” I start.

“I mean, look,” he interrupts, “I figured you had already, but have you not, are you telling me that you’re a virgin, I mean you didn’t have to tell me anything you know, I-

I put up my hand to stop him.

“It’s not just that I had sex,” I say, looking up at the sky so I don’t have to look at his face.

“Ok,” he says, his voice still shaking, “What is it? Oh my god, did someone hurt you, did-

“No, no, no,” I say, “I…I had sex with a woman.”

I can see him looking at me through the corner of my eye, but I can’t look at him just yet. I’m too terrified I’ll find disappointment in his face.

“Luz,” he says.

“What?” I ask, still looking at the sky.

“Luz, look at me,” he says.

I do. And he’s smiling.

“You think I didn’t know?” he asks.

I feel a tightness in my chest but also something releasing. A weight I didn’t know was there.

“Does mom know?” I ask.

He nods, “We both suspected but neither of us wanted to assume or say anything. We wanted to wait for you to do it.”

“And, uh, it’s ok?” I ask, looking at the trees again, needing confirmation.

Instead of answering my dad walks toward me and pulls me into a hug.

“It’s ok, Luz,” he says, kissing the top of my head, “It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re good to you, your mother and I don’t care either way.”

I hug him back and wipe the unexpected tears from my face.

We continue to walk.

I tell him about Sol. How we met and what she’s like. How I want to introduce her to him and my mom.

As we get to the Rose Bowl he says, “She sounds cool.”

“She is,” I agree.

And then I look at my dad and playfully shove his arm, “You’re pretty cool.”

He lightly shoves me back, “So, are you.”

NYE.

I open my eyes and look over at a snoring Sol.

I quietly get out of bed and head to our small kitchen, make myself a cup of coffee and read the NYTimes on my phone. Well, glance at it really. There’s not much happening that I want to pay close attention to first thing in the morning.

I get dressed, get in the car, and drive five minutes from my apartment to the Spingsdale center. It sounds like a fancy country club, but of course it’s not. It’s a place I had to put my dad when I couldn’t take care of him anymore. When it got to be too much. But me and Sol visit him all the time and my brother comes home to see him as often as he can too.

And of course there’s NYE, which is still just for us.

I drive up to the center, walk in, and wave to Nancy at the front desk.

“How is he today?” I ask.

“He seems ok, but he’s always in better spirits on New Years Eve. I think a part of him knows,” she says smiling, patting my arm.

I smile back, even though I know she’s lying. He’s not always in good spirits on New Years Eve, and the ‘part of him that knows’ is gone. I know it’s gone. But it’s still nice to hear Nancy’s lies.

I walk into my dad’s room and he’s sitting in his wheelchair, looking out the window. He looks up at me as I walk in.

I can see the question in his eyes and even though I’ve seen the unknowing so many times, it never really stops stinging.

“It’s Luz,” I say, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Luz,” he says, nodding, the question still written on his face.

He looks out the window and then back at me.

“It’s New Years Eve,” he says.

“It is,” I say.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asks.

My breath catches in my throat and my chest tightens. For a few moments I can’t breathe. I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my chest.

“You want to go for a walk?” I ask, my voice tiny and small.

“Yes,” he nods, “Is that…is that ok?”

I search his face and see something. An almost knowing.

Trying not to get too excited, I put a beanie and scarf around his neck, and wheel him outside. I take him to a small path that goes around the garden.

“Do you…do you remember NYE?” I ask him.

He’s quiet. I look at him and wince against the confusion on his face, but I keep going, telling him about our walks. The conversations we had, the landscape and the trails that grew and changed year by year, the big drop, the ritual of me and him.

When I stop talking, we are near a little bench. I stop and sit, and we both look out at the lawn that almost looks like the Rose Bowl.

He looks at me and there it is again. That almost knowing. That reaching for something.

“We…did all of that?” he asks, “You and me?”

I nod, too pent up with too much feeling to answer.

He looks back out at the lawn.

“That sounds pretty cool,” he says.

“It was,” I whisper, “It was very cool.”