When Oliver Dropped the Ball

“I don’t really get why we can’t celebrate this year,” Eliza sighed, dropping defeatedly onto the couch and turning her eyes to the blank television in front of them. “We can’t even watch the Ball Drop?”

“No chance,” huffed Oliver, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He was sitting quite stiffly on the other side of the couch, his legs outstretched to the coffee table and his gaze drifting absently to the frosted window of his apartment. On the bustling street eight floors beneath them, hundreds of eager, desperate, and perfume-drenched partygoers waited in chattering lines outside of bars, clutching their pathetic coats closer to their bodies and waiting to hand the bouncer their $10 cover. The whole thing made Oliver sick to his stomach.

“Can’t we just watch it? It’s barely celebrating." Eliza pressed, reaching for the remote. Oliver reached over and swiftly slapped the back of her wrist. She winced and fell back into the couch with all of her weight, miffed as she’d ever been.

“I told you,” Oliver mumbled. “Since New Year’s Eve is day that Beth and I likely would’ve spent together had she not, well, you know, I cannot in good spirit subject myself to a night of celebration when I feel so much the opposite.”

“Yeah, I get that, but you guys broke up in September.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot heartbreak comes with an expiry date. Will you give me a minute? I just have to go call my grandma in the other room so I can tell her to stop grieving her husband. It's been six weeks, so, you know.”

“That’s different and you know it,” Eliza said, and he knew it was. The microwave timer sounded from the kitchen and she hopped up eagerly to go to it.

“It is not different at all,” he lied. “We both lost the loves of our lives and it is tragic in both cases. What are you making?”

“Popcorn,” she popped open the microwave door and took the steaming bag delicately in her hands. She pretended she didn’t hear Oliver huff from the living room.

“That seems like a celebratory food if you ask me,” he grumbled. He was quite miserable to begin with but had become especially insufferable since Beth had broken his heart four months earlier. He’d only been dating her for five months and twelve days, but he couldn’t help it if they were soulmates and Beth was a love demon who ate innocent men for breakfast, as he earnestly reminded his friends about eight times a week.

“Okay, so we can’t have popcorn, we can’t go to The Mandarin or the zoo because you went there with Beth, we can’t dress up as The Ghostbusters for Halloween because Beth reminds you of Slimer, and we can’t celebrate New Year’s,” Eliza huffed, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Anything else you want to prohibit, Big Brother?”

“Yeah, chewing with your mouth open.” Oliver snapped, snatching the bag out of Eliza’s hands and tossing it onto the table as she sank into the couch beside him. “When are Todd and Hannah getting here?”

“I don’t think they’re coming. They said they had tickets to some Gala or something.”

“What? Are you serious?” He scoffed.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Are you surprised? It’s New Year’s Eve. Most people want to celebrate with their friends. Also if more people than just the two of us show up then it would become a party, and that would be celebrating, wouldn’t it?”

Oliver mumbled something nonsensical and rude to himself and then glanced down at his watch. 11:53. Seven more minutes until this horrible night was over, and then he could go back to refreshing Beth’s LinkedIn page every twenty minutes in peace.

“Hey,” Eliza grabbed Oliver’s wrist and studied his watch closely. “Didn’t Beth give you this for your birthday?”

“Yeah, so what?” he spat, ripping his arm from her grasp, but he felt a twinge of guilt deep in his stomach. 

Eliza stood from the couch, which Oliver found to be a bit dramatic, and peered down at him dangerously.

“So you just get to pick and choose what things remind you of Beth?” Her hands were on her hips, which was a bad sign.

“It’s a nice watch.” Oliver shrugged.

“So I gave up celebrating New Year’s Eve with our friends so I could hold out in this stuffy apartment with you because a holiday you never spent together reminds you too much of your ex-girlfriend, but you’re wearing something she literally gave to you on your wrist like it means nothing?”

"Well, it sounds bad when you put it that way."

“It is that way,” She snapped. “She got your anniversary engraved on the back.”

“Well it’s not going to be an anniversary is it, Eliza?” Oliver was standing now and so they were both being dramatic.

“Oh, my God,” Eliza sighed exasperatedly, holding her head in her hands. “You guys dated for like, four months.”

“Five and a half!” Oliver yelled.

“Who. Cares?” Eliza yelled back, standing so close to his face that their noses were almost touching. They stood there like that, seething, each feeling betrayed by the other.

“Well,” Eliza offered slowly after some time. “I’m going to go to the bar then.”

“Have fun. Maybe you could hang out with Beth, seeing as you both love to abandon me, evidently.”

“Maybe I will,” she whispered, storming across the apartment to find her coat in the front closet. Oliver was quiet as he plopped back down on the couch, facing the television, but looking at nothing.

Eliza’s hands trembled angrily as she ripped her grey, woollen coat off its hanger and carelessly shoved her arms through the sleeves. She stuffed her feet into her black boots so haphazardly that the canvas material meant to cover her ankles folded under her heels. She’d fix it outside. As she laid an unsteady hand on the doorknob to leave, she turned over what deeply cutting, unforgivable thing she would turn to spit at Oliver before slamming the door behind her. Maybe she’d say something like Have fun ringing in the new year with your dust bunnies! Or maybe Glad to see you’re spending New Year’s, as well as the whole New Year, alone. But she thought neither of those would deliver the sting she was hoping for when she said them out loud, so she settled on a simple I hate you.

“I-,” she turned, but Oliver was sitting so pathetically on the couch that she couldn’t finish. He was turned away from her, and he sat so rigidly that Eliza thought he might be afraid of breaking something if he moved from exactly that spot. He stared vacantly at the dark television in front of him, and when Eliza glanced in the reflection of the screen, she saw his face twisted into a deep and painful grimace, like he was trying not to cry.

Sighing gently, Eliza kicked off her boots and let her jacket fall to the linoleum floor beneath her. She stepped quietly across the apartment and without saying anything, sat down beside Oliver.

“It’s hard being alone on the holidays,” Oliver offered quietly, still staring at nothing. 

Eliza nodded. Oliver glanced down at his watch as it flicked from 11:59 to 12:00. Neither of them said anything to each other, but they privately looked forward to the next December 31^st when they would sit alone in this apartment again and pretend that the world was still around them.