Happy New Year Hank

“Happy New Year!” I hear from the crowd around me. I sit over a tepid cup of coffee at the local 50’s style diner several hours before the ringing in of 2022. The door behind me swings open to issue the biting sting of the glacial winter breeze and an elderly gentleman. The man, in a knee length, slate colored coat and a matching brimmed hat, both of which are dusted with snowflakes, shakes off the cold and walks haltingly into the bustling room. As he approaches the counter where I am huddled from the cold, he waves to people seated around us.

I look up from my cup and observe this older gentleman laboriously walk up beside me. In my head I think to myself “he’s 90 if he’s a day” but I return to my brooding and attempt at keeping warm. What a miserable year it has been, and I just want to drown myself in coffee and hope that the next year will be better.

As he comes up to the stool next to me he asks politely “Young lady might I sit with you?”

I mumble something incoherent about “It’s a free country you can sit wherever you want.” I just want to be left alone. It’s been such an abysmal year and I’m not really in the mood for socialization, but regardless, I don’t try to stop him.

He begins removing his winter garments, nodding warmly to our waitress. I look up to see “Peg” on her dingy name tag. I think to myself, “I’ve stepped back into the 40’s.” There are quite a few older folks in here tonight. Peg is dressed in a vintage World War II waitress uniform to include one of those period garrison caps. The ancient jukebox resonates a jaunty ballad about a yellow ribbon and an old oak tree. Giving me a feeling of being caught in a moment from a time long past.

Peg smiles brightly at the old man and greets him saying “Happy New Year Hank, would you like your usual?”

“Danke Schön, Peg, and Happy New Year. Yes, that would be wonderful. May I also have a fresh cup of coffee for our young friend here?” nodding in my direction.

I notice that Hank speaks with an unusual accent that I can’t really place. It doesn’t really matter. I’m not in a mood for company tonight. I incline my head at Peg and Hank and thank them both for the fresh cup of Java.

While he careful removes and folds his hat and coat, diligently laying them on the stool opposite from us, I catch a peek of what looks like writing on his left forearm. Amused to think of such an elderly gentleman with a tattoo. I speculate “maybe he was in the Navy. Weren't tattoos traditional for a sailor of his era?” The thought gives me a moment of amusement. “Maybe he was the sailor from V-J Day, kissing the nurse in Times Square” I muse to myself.

He sits down beside me as Peg slides him a fresh, steaming cup of coffee and a very delicious looking piece of apple pie. She turns to go, looking back at us over her shoulder she says to Hank “Happy anniversary as well.”

He winks and gives her a genuine smile then turns to me saying “You should try the pie. It is very good. The owner makes them fresh every day. It is almost as good as the piece I had in January 1945.”

Startled and a bit puzzled, I look up and say “1945? Has it been 77 years since you had a decent piece of pie?” “Peg mentioned it was your anniversary, what are you celebrating?”

“Yes, on this night 77 years ago I made a resolution to relish and value every new year.” he says, rubbing his forearm where I had noticed the tattoo.

“That sounds like quite a daunting resolution. I resolved years ago that I wouldn’t make resolutions anymore. They never last more than a day or two after making them anyway So why bother? Have you been able to keep your resolution?” I remark. “That must have taken an enormous amount of will power.”

“Ja, I did. May I introduce myself? I am Hank. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He holds his right hand out for me to shake.

Taking his surprisingly warm hand I reply, “Sorry, my name is Colleen. Pleased to meet you Hank. I guess it was rude not to introduce myself.” Motioning to his order, I insist “I’ll leave you to your pie and coffee. I’m sure you want some peace and quiet.”

He clears his throat and whispers “Danke but being alone is the last thing I wish to be on this evening.” “It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, vermisst Colleen”. “Ja. This evening is the 77^th anniversary of my resolution. In January 1945 I was liberated, set free. Free from a life of brutality, free from certain death. It was then that I determined I would relish every new day, every new year.” 

Somberly he raises his left arm and rolls his sleeve up to the elbow. In its wake I see what I assumed was a tattoo. The remnants of what looks a letter B followed by five extremely faded numbers, a 1, 4, maybe a 7, a 2 and 1. I think to myself “how unusual. I don’t remember ever seeing a tattoo that resembles it.” I hesitantly run my finger across the wrinkled, yet relatively soft skin, then look sheepishly up into his blue eyes.

Abashedly I pull my hand away and mumble an apology “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

Hank rolls his sleeve back down, resetting the button with a steady hand. “Kein Madchen, du musst dich fur nichts schamen.” “Nein, no, no.” “Do not be ashamed.” “It was a very long time ago and I have made my peace with the past. This is a night of rebirth and remembrance.” “Tonight, is a night to celebrate life. Rejoice, be happy. Look to the future and start each day anew. You are free, you are young, and you have your whole life to look forward to.”

“77 years ago, on January 27, 1945, I walked out of hell and into a new world. My liberation from the Nazi concentration camp of Auschwitz was the day I was reborn. 77 years ago, I began my life once more. It was then I decided to celebrate and embrace life, every new day, and every new year. Honor and rejoice in life. That day I underwent a symbolic resurrection. Please, celebrate with me. Eat, drink, and make merry! Tomorrow is a new day and a clean slate, no regrets, and no mistakes. A chance to write your own story. A blank page.”

Mesmerized by his words I nod in agreement. I realize my selfishness. I have been sitting here brooding over how horrible my life is, my first world problems. Too self-indulged to see others’ pain and sorrow. I gratefully accept the piece of pie Peg offers me and smiling humbly, I offer her my thanks.

For the next two hours, Hank and I sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company. Before I realize how much time has past the patrons around us are gathering under the diners' tv in muted excitement. I look up to see that it is moments away from midnight, the start of 2022. Ten, nine, eight… three, two, one. “Happy New Year’s!” ring out from the crowd around us. People hugging, singing, shaking hands, celebrating the joy of a new year and promising future.

I look back to wish Hank a Happy New Year only to find he is no longer beside me, though his hat remains on the stool. Behind me I hear the door swing closed with a gentle sigh, leaving only a ghost of frigid air in its trail. Peg turns from the tv and winks in my direction. I look out the window to see if I can catch Hank, to return his hat and thank him for his conversation. In the brilliance of the new year, I observe only the enchanting snowflakes gently falling on the empty sidewalk.

To the burgeoning new day, I tenderly breath “Happy New Year Hank.”  

Rebecca Overstreet

December 27, 2021

ReedsyPrompt #275: The Night Before