New Years Eve: Year Ten

James walked into his closet to get dressed. It was an obvious choice; not for lack of other choices, but because it was his annual New Year’s Eve outfit. The Outfit, as his family referred to it, was a flannel shirt of muted tan, blue and two tones of orange, paired with dark wash jeans, brown suede chukka boots, and a belt.

Ten years he’d been wearing this exact outfit to the family’s annual company New Year’s Eve party. Well, not the exact outfit. He had to buy a whole new outfit after his final growth spurt the year he turned 19. It was difficult to find an exact match, but he was so close that no one noticed, or maybe they did notice and just didn’t care to comment. The latter was more likely since that year had marked the 5^th time he had repeated the outfit.

The yearly comments went roughly like this, respectively:

Didn’t you wear that last year? Why are you wearing it again?

OK, you definitely wore that the past two years. Why?

James, Why? Is this a character thing? (referring to one of the many books he perpetually had his nose in) Are you being superstitious? Is this a bet? Do you wear the same underwear? Seriously, why? You could at least have picked a better look.

When he failed to provide a sufficient answer, the years following didn’t draw much attention. Maybe an eye roll or “wouldn’t be New Years’ Eve without some flannel” or something similarly small and passing. James didn’t care if they joked or got annoyed or thought he was doing it for attention or didn’t pay any attention at all.   

Across town Chelsea and Marie were getting ready in their shared two-bedroom apartment. Marie had worked for Gamblin & Gamblin law firm for close to four years and had attended the annual New Years’ Eve bash since she started. Her sister Chelsea moved to the city two years ago and had been Marie’s plus-one the past two years.  

Chelsea finished her hair and make up then carefully pulled on her sequin top and tucked it in to her black pixie pants. She slipped on her low-heeled, pointed-toe slingbacks and chose a few pieces of jewelry. Her look was festive with the sequins, yet sleek, understated, smart. And, most importantly, exactly the same as last year.

This might be a really stupid idea, she thought. But then again, why did it matter if it was stupid. It’s just one night and if the joke fell through she could just move on unbothered for the rest of the year.  

Marie and Chelsea arrived about 9:30 and the party was already well underway. The band played, people were dancing, drinking, mingling. They said some hellos, found a table with some of Marie’s coworkers and sat down.

After a few minutes of getting settled at the table, Chelsea headed to the bar. The bar was a better location to observe the crowd. Not only did she thoroughly enjoy people watching, she was thoroughly uninterested in mingling with people she didn’t know, plus she was curious if the flannel guy would be in attendance. She’d seen him the past two years and assumed based on the interactions she’d observed that he was one of the Gamblins. She had decided that anyone who dressed like a lumberjack every year in a law firm family of gold and glitter and nails and eyelashes and extensions and polished shoes and suits and ties and dresses and no doubt lots of cosmetic surgeries had to have a very good sense of humor. Well, she hoped anyway.

James watched Chelsea approach the bar. He recognized her immediately from the previous year. He stalled for a few minutes while she ordered and received her drink, deciding what to say when he approached her.  

“Who inspired your look tonight?” James asked as he sat on the barstool next to her.

Chelsea’s eyes widened in entertained surprise as she turned toward him. “A lumberjack”, she answered.

He laughed out loud. “You don’t look like a lumberjack.”

“Yes. Well, I am only inspired by the lumberjack’s sense of humor and brave consistency, not his actual outfit”

“His sense of humor? His brave consistency?” He looked genuinely surprised.

Chelsea explained that anyone who is brave enough to repeat this outfit (waving a hand up and down in James’ direction) every year in this (more hand waving) family has to be very brave and have a sense of humor.

James nodded in understanding. “I have no idea if your observation is true or I’m just boring and stupid, but I’ll consider it a compliment and gladly accept.”

“I’m impressed you even recognized me. I figured I would need to approach you tonight, bragging that I too can wear the exact same outfit for consecutive years.”

“I have a pretty good memory, but I also probably cheated because of your hair.”

Chelsea instinctively reached up to pull any loose strands behind her ears. Her hair was gorgeous- dark, thick curls barely tamed by product. When she was young, she hated her hair. Hated! Now that she was older she liked that it set her apart, but she still wished she had a little more control over it.

“Yes, it’s hard to sneak by with this mop. Good job either way. And why have you been wearing the same outfit? Is this always your party look?”

He explained to her that this marked the tenth anniversary of wearing the same outfit and it was pretty much equal parts convenience and personal genuine curiosity. James told her that he started it with no future plans, but each year he grew increasingly more curious and simply kept it up to see what, if anything, would come of it all. Maybe he’d learn something, realize something- about himself, his family, society?

“Ten years!?” Chelsea nearly yelled. She clasped her hand over her mouth and looked around, aware her reaction may have been a little too much. James shrunk inside at her reaction. Saying it out loud sounded so lame. Why had he told her? What had he expected? Again, he hadn’t thought about it too much; he was just moving forward as a type of experiment.

“Hey!” A voice came from behind as an arm wrapped around Chelsea. They both turned to see Marie.

“You OK over here, Chels?” Marie asked as she gave her sister a look of I can get you out of this if you need.

“We’re good. We are just about to toast. Want to join?”

As Marie flagged the bar tender for a drink, James looked to Chelsea curiously. Chelsea just winked at him. The anxiety James had felt only moments before completely dissipated as he realized that he had completely misread her reaction. While they waited for Marie’s drink, introductions were made after Marie thrust her hand out to James.

They raised their glasses and Chelsea said, “To us and the rest of the at-TEN-dees of this party; may we all enjoy the evening!” During the stressed ten, Chelsea looked at James and subtly raised her eyebrows to him.

Marie looked confused for a moment, but brushed it off pretty quickly. She took a swig of her drink, kissed Chelsea on the cheek, and said she’d circle back around in a little while.

As soon as Marie left, James and Chelsea laughed at the ridiculous inside joke. Chelsea told him they needed to celebrate this ten-year milestone. In fact, this party was now for him and no longer a celebration of New Year’s Eve. Chelsea challenged James to a toasting duel. The rules were that the word ten must be in the toast in some way, no repeats, and they had to witness each other’s toasts or it didn’t count. If the rules were followed then one point was awarded to that person, but if not then one point was deducted.

The score Chelsea- 1, James- 0.

James argued it wasn’t a fair point, because they hadn’t yet established the rules of the game or even the fact that there was a game. Chelsea looked at him with mock sympathy and told him he was wasting precious time as she stepped away to a nearby couple and raised her glass to them.

Chelsea- 2, James- 0.

During the next hour and a half, Chelsea and James aggressively vied to toast with every person in the room. It was much easier for Chelsea since she didn’t actually know anyone at the party, but James had to abruptly end anything past a pleasantry, not to mention suffer the embarrassment of delivering a moronic toast to people he actually knew. It was bordering on rude at times, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you for turning your at-TEN-tion to me! Have a great evening, and drink merrily!”

“Choose a number between one and Ten, in that month you’ll see a hen.”

“May we all start the new year under wonderfully ambitious pre-Ten-ses!”

What the toasts lacked in actual celebration or purpose or even intelligent speech, they made up for in enthusiasm and randomness and a strong sense of competition.

“It grea-TEN-s me gladly you are all here tonight. Cheers!”

“Let’s end this year with lots of cheer and think of it fondly and of-TEN.”

They were so enthralled in their competition that James and Chelsea were caught off guard by the countdown

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

Kissing and Auld Lang Syne swirled all around them, streamers and balloons fell from the ceiling. They both paused, looked around, then at each other. What were they supposed to do? Neither knew. They hadn’t been flirting, they barely knew each other, but they had just spent the past two hours together, laughing and having fun. They stood there.

Chelsea’s mind was racing. Don’t be awkward. Say something. Don’t be awkward. Say something.

She stepped forward; arm out stretched for a handshake. “Good game.”

James shook her hand and asked, “who won?”

Chelsea held up eight fingers as she stepped backward. “I did.”

James feigned disappointment.

“James, even though you lost tonight, you played a good game.” Chelsea said as she held her hand to her mouth with an imagined microphone, “And tell us! What have you learned tonight? What have you learned in these ten years? What will you take away from this experience?” She held her hand out or him to speak into the microphone.

James laughed good naturedly. What had he learned, he wondered?

He had been such a good sport with her ridiculous, immature, nerdy, awkward antics all night. Chelsea realized in that moment how much she appreciated him. Over the past couple of hours, she never once felt like she was embarrassing him or that she was too much for him. He had gone right along with her joke, and the silly competition she had introduced.

“Well, I’ve learned that wearing the same thing, like a uniform, makes things very simple.” He answered. “And on the contrary, society’s drive for materialism, status, impressions, etc. makes wearing a uniform a weird thing. Specifically, tonight I’ve definitely learned that some people, really know how to have fun.” He paused and shook his head. “Man, neither of those answers hold much weight. I feel like I should have a better answer and that I need to think about this.”

Just then Marie came hurrying over and threw her arms around her sister, “Happy New Year! Wow, this year has passed so quickly.” Marie turned toward James, “Happy New Year!” she said with a big grin. “Before we know it, we’ll be back here celebrating again.”

 Marie was pulling Chelsea away from James, it was time to head home.

“Well, you have all year to come up with a better answer. See you next year? Same bat-time, same bat-channel?” Chelsea called out to him as she walked away, winking at him.

“Definitely.” He said and waved good-bye.