Fireworks

The holiday season is always difficult for me, but this year was worse. My family’s gone, my friends are far away, and this city is filled with no one but strangers.

And yet there I was, nursing an overpriced, colourful drink in the corner of a crowded bar, sitting at a table far too large for one. As I watched people celebrate I wondered how did I get here?

Well, actually, I knew the answer to that. You know when your apartment stops becoming a haven from the outside world and instead turns into a constant reminder of your isolation? You run out of shows to watch, the books have all been read, and the walls seem like they get closer and closer every night.

That night they were suffocating.

That’d been my life for–well, for much longer than I cared to admit. A dull, rote monotony of work, eat, exercise, sleep. Work, eat, exercise, sleep. Work, eat–actually, I might skip the exercise today–sleep.

But it wasn’t always like this. When it was new, this city once held so much promise. And I was a boundless, crackling ball of energy ready to ignite. To spark new relationships and share my light with new people and places.

But gradually that light dimmed, threatening to leave nothing but ashes of my dreams and desires, of me.

And that led me to that night. New Year’s Eve. The flame guttering, the walls closing in. I needed air. Just a breath to bring that flame back to life.

It’s ironic then that the fire would find new life with the serendipitous splash of a drink.

I flinched as something cold spilled down the back of my shirt and shocked me out of my reverie.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

I shook out my shirt. “It’s fine,” I said, not looking up.

“It was an accident; I got pushed and it was a full drink. I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s okay, I-” Now I did look up. She was gorgeous. Bright red lipstick, dark hair, tattoos down her left arm, and eyes of what seemed like neverending depth.

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face because her look of contrition quickly turned into a bright, playful smile.

“Truth be told, I prefer to get to know someone before I get them wet,” she said.

My mouth dropped agape and, speechless, I could do nothing other than release an awkward laugh.

“I’m Grace,” she said.

I held out a clumsy hand. “Riley,” I said, bemused.

She grabbed it and sat down on the edge of the seat next to me, forcing me to shift along to give her enough room. I reached across, trying not to touch her–which it turned out was impossible–and grabbed my drink from where it was sitting on the table.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I said. Grace just laughed and shifted a little closer. I tried to edge further away but I was now hard up against the edge of the booth and Grace was uncomfortably close, her thigh brushing against mine.

“What’s someone like you doing here all alone?” Grace asked, taking a sip of her own drink.

I kept my eyes firmly on the table in front of me. I raised my glass and took a big gulp before chancing a glance at Grace. She was looking at me, genuine curiosity on her face. The liquid courage failed. I quickly averted my gaze.

“Oh, you know. It’s New Year’s Eve,” I said to the table, leaving it at that. Before she could ask more, I said, “What about you? Are you here with anyone?”

“Are you trying to ask me if I have a partner, Riley?”

“No, no, of course not,” I stammered, my face growing red. “I just meant … I mean, I don’t know what I meant.”

Grace laughed, flicking her hair away from me and over the other shoulder. She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, slightly leaning forward so she could catch my gaze. I couldn’t avoid it anymore, I slightly turned my own head until I was looking at her, that endless depth of her eyes pulling me closer and closer.

“No, I’m here with my work colleagues,” she waved an arm behind her. “Actually, I just started a new job recently and this is the first time they’ve taken me out. They’re nice, but a little boring if I’m honest. I was thinking of leaving and then I spilt my drink on you.”

I raised my eyebrows and said, “And that made you stay?”

“Of course. You’re very cute, Riley.”

I blushed again. “Oh, well, thank you. You’re … I mean, you as well. Like, you’re not bad, I mean.”

“Well, if that’s not the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me, I don’t know what is,” she said mockingly.

“Okay,” I said, lifting my glass and tossing the rest of the drink back. There was nothing left but half-melted ice cubes.

I awkwardly lifted my empty glass in Grace’s direction. ”Excuse me, do you mind if I get past?”

Grace took her time sliding out of the booth. I tried not to look at the graceful curve of her neck, the way her hair fell across her shoulders, or the hypnotic movement of the smooth back muscles revealed by her almost transparent shirt.

I thought that maybe I would pretend to go to the bar, before losing myself in the crowd and slipping out. This was all too much. I needed to return to that place where I felt safest, where taking a risk was only something I told myself I would do, and not something I actually did.

As I edged out of the booth, my decision to leave made, Grace rested her hand lightly on my arm. She looked me in the eyes, the smile gone, something of a serious expression on her face as if she knew what I was planning.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she said. “See you soon.” With that, she turned and joined the conversation of the group next to us.

I edged through the crowd of people chatting, laughing, and dancing. My head was spinning, the music too loud in my ears. I reached the bar and looked back to see Grace chatting animatedly with the person next to her.

Even from across the room, she stood out from the crowd. She was like a bright stage light in an otherwise dark theatre, drawing the eye, illuminating what was once hidden in shadow.

What made me change my mind? Truthfully, I can’t say. It was almost like with that touch on my arm, Grace passed on a little of her spark, slightly flaring the ember that lay dormant inside me.

But I did walk back, drinks in hand, to join Grace and her friends, who now surrounded the table where I had sat alone.

I handed Grace her drink. She thanked me and pushed away the person next to her before patting the cushion gently, asking me to sit down.

As I did, she said, “I’m happy you didn’t leave.”

I looked at her, smiled slightly, and took a drink.

The next few hours passed by in something of a haze. The only thing I remember other than the noise, laughter and drinking was the constant presence of Grace at my side.

Later, we stood alone. I didn’t recoil at her closeness, although I was still reluctant to touch her, as if I feared I might get burnt.

She looked out across the partying people and then turned her attention back to me. She leant slightly forward, her voice raised to speak over the noise of the crowd.

“Isn’t this time of the year just great?” she said. “We go into the unknown, but there’s so much possibility and opportunity. A chance to meet new people, to do new things. Everything we could ever want is just ahead of us.”

I slightly shook my head. “Truthfully, before I came here tonight I had felt the complete opposite.” 

“Oh?”

I took a deep breath, the alcohol working, and said, “If I’m honest, it’s been a tough year and I didn’t think I had much to look forward to. Once, I might have felt the same way, but I don’t know, I guess I lost it this year.”

Grace nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “There’s always something to look forward to, Riley. You just have to work to put an end to all the bad stuff and start again.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Oh, my God,” she interrupted, glancing at her watch which showed 11:59 p.m.. “Look at the time.”

She grabbed my hand and ran to the door, dragging me behind her as people spilt from the warmth and comfort of the bar into the freezing street, snow falling lightly from the sky.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

Grace said nothing. She just lent into me, her teeth chattering from the cold. I put my arm around her shoulder, somewhat awkwardly I thought, but as I did she laughed and huddled closer.

The crowd started chanting, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six ...”

She brought her face around, flecks of snow melting in her smile, and breathed gently in my ear, “Here’s to new beginnings.”

“Five, four, three, two …”

And on one, she kissed me.

Fireworks.