As Midnight Arrives

CW: Language and Death

“Thank you so much to all the first responders out there keeping our country safe and protected. Only an hour folks until the ball drops over Times Square. Make sure to grab your champagne and the ones you love. One hour.”

The tail lights of the car in front of me flash and I slam on the brakes, the bottle of apple juice rolling off the passenger seat.

“Crap.” I hesitate at the intersection and lunge forward to grab the bottle, smacking my head on the console in the process.

Some song plays on the radio about New Years Eve and how great it is, but it doesn’t compare to the loud string of G rated swear words that I yell, rubbing my head. A horn honks behind me and I gun it, watching the anger fade in the driver’s eyes. I turn my attention back to the road and whatever song on the radio ends. I twist the volume nob and the announcer’s deep voice rattles my speakers.

“Fifty minutes, my friends. Fifty minutes. Let’s gather around the fire, candle, or torch. Whatever you have that burns and let’s out heat. The sky is clear but the air is cold. Fifty minutes now.”

I turn the radio back down and run a yellow light, the person behind me slamming on the breaks halfway in the intersection. Choosing not to risk getting clipped, they launch across the road and run the red. Immediately a cop flares their lights and the driver pulls into an empty lot.

“Sorry ‘bout that dude. Hate to get pulled on New Years Eve.”

The telltale sign of the announcer chimes and I crank the sound.

“Forty whole minutes. Kind of obvious. Can’t really have forty half minutes. That would be like… carry the seven, divide by two, multiply by zero. Whatever. Forty minutes. Swallow that bite of turkey leg and cheese. Come on Greg, you don’t need that much cheese my guy. Forty.”

“What is this guy drinking?” I ask out loud. “And who the hell is Greg?” The truck behind me gets really close and turns it’s brights on, so I brake check it, relishing the squeal of lifted tires. “What? No honk? You know what you were doing.” I almost run a red light but make it just in time, the truck getting stuck. “Hehehe. It’s what you deserve.”

“Trece minutos mi familia. Es hora de abrir su vino y tomar un buen sorbo. Y no, no es normal beber de la botella. Para eso está el corcho. Gracias.”

My brain goes blank for a second as I translate what he just said using my middle school Spanish knowledge and all I get is ‘thirty minutes’. The rest is gibberish to the colander that is my memory. The car in front of me slams on the brakes and dips into a fast food place, jerking through the drive-thru.

“I feel you man. I could go for a cheap burger right about now. No time to though.”

“Twenty minutes, listeners. Refill your champagne or club soda and gather around the TV. I’m sure the crowd there is electric. As for me, I’m going to sign off shortly before midnight and head to the nearest bar.”

Hearing this, I step on the gas, looking for the right sign. It flashes by and I swerve to the far right lane, horns and lights flashing in a symphony of shock and rage. The exit lane appears and I take it onto a smaller two lane road, the middle line barely visible in the dark.

“Hurryhurryhurry.” I egg myself on, pushing the car as fast as I can safely go, which is roughly eighty.

“That was a wonderful rendition of a classic Christmas song. Fifteen minutes people, fifteen minutes. Finish that last bite of pizza and scarf down a couple bread sticks. It’s almost ball dropping time. I’m going to sign off, but I have an alarm set for midnight, with an automated countdown. See you all next year! Get it? Next year is in fifteen minutes. Haha. Anyways. Goodnight everyone. Follow those resolutions!” With an audible click, the radio host turns off the lights, a faint ticking coming from the alarm. I swerve to avoid a dead raccoon and a parking lot appears to my right. I cut across the curb and skid to a halt, turning off my car and not even bothering to cut the headlights off. I grab a tote bag and book it to the front doors, and step into the lobby, immediately realizing I forgot the apple juice, I bolt back out, checking the time.

“Of course I forget the apple juice with fourteen minutes to go.” I drop the keys and have to scramble for them, finally unlocking the door and grabbing the bottle, which at this point is so pressurized, it could explode at any minute. Making it back into the lobby, I ask the desk attendant for my wife’s room.

“532 young lady. Better hurry. Ten minutes to go. Elevator is broken, so stairs only. I’m sorry.”

I thank her with a grimace and run towards the stairs, slamming the door open and taking the steps three at a time, the muscles in my legs screaming at me to stop.

“If you losers fail me now,” I say to my aching legs, “I’m going to become an Olympic runner. Won’t complain then, will you?” Magically, they stop cramping up and allow me to make it to the fifth floor. I burst into the hall and look at the sign, which shows 510 through 575 to the right. Of course that means more running. I bolt and end up running past Delia’s room before skidding to a halt like something out of a cartoon and backpedaling to her door. I slowly open it and see her propped up on her pillows. A nurse is in their with her, toweling the sweat off her bare head. Delia sees me out of the corner of her eye and smiles softly, her skin almost the same color as her teeth. She waves away the nurse and he smiles at her before leaving the room, touching my elbow lightly. We make eye contact and he shakes his head no. I widen my smile but something in my heart breaks. He leaves and I shut the door.

Delia lets out a wet cough and groans. She clears her throat and tries to talk, but no noise comes out. She clears her throat again and I take that time to step closer, setting the apple juice on the small table attached to her bed. I give her a second before she talks.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.” I mutter, my eyes tearing up.

“Don’t lie Harper. What did he say?” she grabs my hand with surprising strength and pulls herself farther up the pillows.

“He literally said nothing. Now we have about five minutes. I’m gonna open the apple juice. No alcohol, of course.” My hands shake as I unscrew the cap and pour a shot glass worth into one of those cups they use for pills. Delia grabs it with a slender hand and downs it, clenching her teeth when the carbonation hits her stomach.

“Did you eat today?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“All the hospital food is nasty. I miss the gourmet stuff like caviar and escargot.” she closes her eyes and my heart skips a beat.

I put my hand on her wrist, her bones feeling like a birds. Thin and hollow. “When have you ever had caviar? Or escargot?”

“Never, but they sound good.”

“They sound slimy. Fish eggs and snails?”

“Delicious. All they feed me are stale crackers and cheese spread. The kind in a can,” she shudders on the word can and I laugh.

“Now that sounds delicious. I could kill for a can of spray cheese. Fake cheddar or fake mozzarella?”

“They make mozzarella flavored? I never want to even think about that.” She lets out a small chuckle and gets hit with a coughing fit. I pat her back lightly and she leans back on the pillow, wiping spit off her chin with the back of her hand.

“One minute,” I check my watch. “Any New Years resolutions?”

“I have a list, but it’s in one of the drawers.”

“Want me to grab it for you?” I start towards the cabinet.

“No. Just stay next to me.” She scoots to one side, her thin hips pressing into the bed rail. “Come lay beside me.”

“Can’t really drink laying down,” I joke, but she doesn’t smile.

“Forget the damn apple juice and lay next to your dying wife.”

I jump up and lay next to her, my hands cradling her sides. I run my hand up her back, my fingers pausing on each crest and trough of her spine, so sharp and swollen.

“You aren’t dying, Delia. Just stay strong.” I try, but a tear rolls down my cheek.

“Don’t bullshit me Harp. I know what the doctors are saying. Can we just lay here in silence. We only have twenty seconds left”

My mouth shuts with an audible click and I scoot closer, her skin like marble. Cold and hard. I cuddle even closer, warming her up with my body heat. I look at my watch over her shoulder and start to count down.

“Ten. Nine. Eight Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

She reaches forward and presses her lips to mine, the dried skin like sandpaper, but I ignore it and pull her into a deeper kiss. We break apart and she smiles the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Happy New Year, my love,” she whispers, closing her eyes.