Year of Resurgence

To be honest, I never really understood the point of New Year’s Eve. I know that’s probably cynical, maybe a bit cliché, but to me it’s the truth.

Who cares about party poppers, or fireworks? What’s the point? For that matter, what about that tradition from my family about stuffing twelve grapes into your mouth at midnight for luck?

Why did that matter?

In the end, one year just bleeds right into another, as long as you’re fortunate enough to be alive to see it.

I suppose that was the draw - a new year means another chance to be a new you.

Whatever that really meant.

You can’t better yourself without baring yourself to new challenges, I’ll admit that much.

Even so, I spent too much time reflecting on my past as it was. I hardly needed an incentive to mull over it any more than I already did.

“Hey.”

A voice, chirped politely from my side, caught my attention.

That’s right, you’re at work. Don’t get distracted. You offered to come in and take the shift, after all.

To be fair, I had offered to take a coworker’s shift, since they had wished to ring in the New Year with style.

I, on the other hand, had no such plans.

So it wasn’t that big of a deal for me to offer to take the shift.

Although it was inconvenient, in some ways.

We were a small shop, similar to a grocery store, I guess. But given that we also sold a small variety of party items for this specific date, it wasn’t a shock to have customers throughout the day discussing their plans.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized, hoping the customer in front of me wouldn’t rant about my incompetence like some others had done just hours earlier.

The customer in question, however, didn’t bat an eye. Smiling, he shook his head the slightest bit.

“No, I get it. I work retail. Sometimes it’s not easy.”

“You got that right.”

It was meant to be a muttered comment under my breath, but judging from the way he guffawed suddenly, he had to have heard it.

Shockingly gentle for someone that was still laughing his head off, he placed a pack of party poppers and a bottle of wine in front of me.

As he dug through his wallet, presumably to pay, I huffed a soft breath through my mouth, exhaling.

In my opinion, those two things should probably not go together. In any circumstances, truly.

Slightly curious, I met his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him as I scanned the items, taking care to double-bag the bottle.

Still grinning, though looking a bit abashed, he shrugged.

“Party, ya know?”

I shook my head.

“You aren’t going to one after your shift?”

He seemed almost appalled, and I supposed that the reaction was normal. I had been getting that same reaction, more or less, every time anyone found out that I didn’t celebrate New Year’s.

His jaw dropped open, and remained that way even as I took his card and ID, charged him for his items, and handed everything back to him. It was only when I proceeded to hand him the bag itself that he shook himself and started with a chuckle.

“Well, I guess it’s not required, huh? Still, it’s a bit surprising, you know? Everyone goes to parties for this.”

He seemed genuinely confused, though he had dropped his look of affront, which I was grateful for, honestly.

The confusion was fine, but the look that said he had been personally wounded seemed a bit dramatic if you asked me.

Again, I just shook my head, and glanced at the time.

Ah, look. It’s almost ten at night. Good, shift’s about up.

Seeing my gaze shift, he turned to glance at the clock himself.

“Oh, it’s getting late, huh? Well, I should probably be going, and I hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

He gave another smile, opting to wave politely as he reached for the door.

I nodded, gave a half-wave in return, and impulsively called out to him.

“Be careful,” I nodded, and he paused, noting the warning. Smiling again, he nodded back, and disappeared out the door.

And with no other customers currently in the store, I set about attempting to close it to get a head start home.

Without being able to lock the door yet, I couldn’t really mop the floor or anything, of course, but I could straighten up products and such.

Passing by the party items, a weary exhale ripped from my mouth before I could stop it.

Luckily there weren’t any customers in the store that might chastise me for that attitude, and I was the manager, so I didn’t have to deal with that at least.

But really, what was the point of celebrating New Year’s if you were going to dwell on the past?

Sure, you probably won’t heal by constantly ripping your past wounds back open to look at, but you can’t get any worse by attempting to fix anything either.

When the clock struck ten, I locked the door and set to work straightening the remaining items. Mopping the store and having to clean most of it would take a while, especially inventory, since I was by myself. Then I had to count what was in the till, too.

I didn’t begrudge the work, since everyone else went out to party. It didn’t even matter to me that it would take me another few hours to complete.

So for the most part, I was pretty shocked that I finished just a few minutes after midnight. I was more surprised by the fact that I hadn’t actually heard any screaming, or fireworks.

A loud bang, which caused me to wince.

Ah. There they were.

Pulling on my coat and grabbing my keys, I left the store after cutting all the lights. Locking the door behind me, I dropped my keys into my pocket.

I had opted to walk home anyways, since it was likely that the buses near my apartment wouldn’t run on a holiday like this. It was too crowded in this city for the buses to even attempt to run, really.

As I turned the corner from the shop, it was mostly just a straight shot home for several blocks, so I allowed my mind to wander slightly.

The fireworks and screaming from people excited over the new year was a bit distracting, but not in a good way.

There were simply too many noises out here.

I couldn’t think straight.

“Hey, it’s you!”

Considering I was the only other person on the side street of the apartment complex, they must mean me.

A sigh, and I begrudgingly turned to talk to the individual that recognized me.

He gave a bright smile, holding a drink in his hand.

“Do you live here too?”

It’s the guy from the store.

I nodded, opting to stand with my hands in my pockets as he approached me to talk.

Needless to say, the holiday wasn’t my favorite, nor was I a genuinely talkative person in the first place.

Judging from the way in which he stopped outside of my personal space, I would guess that he got the subconscious message.

“So you’ve really been closing the store until now, huh? There wasn’t anyone else working with you?”

Oddly enough, while I had planned on responding to his words, my eyes caught on the drink in his hand and wouldn’t let go.

“I thought I told you to be careful,” were the words that left my mouth.

Alright, that wasn’t very tactful.

My words actually came off as possessive or violent, I think. But I couldn’t think straight like this, with the noises and such.

He followed my gaze down to the cup in his hand, and gave a small smile, one almost subdued.

“Oh.”

He held the cup out to me, offering it.

I shook my head so hard I swear I could feel my brain rattling.

Insistent, he held the drink a bit closer.

“Hey. It's just water, yeah? I wouldn’t poison you.”

His grin was mischievous, but even through my shock I could see something else reflect in his eyes.

It looked an awful lot like concern.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“The bottle of wine….”

He seemed to catch where I was going with that train of thought.

“My friend asked me to pick up a bottle for her. She was hosting this party, and was too busy to go get one herself.”

Suspicious, I gently wrapped my fingers around the cup he still had outstretched. He relinquished it with a nod, as if he had expected me to take it.

Holding it up, I sniffed the cup of liquid. Yeah, it was clear, but that didn’t mean anything.

But he wasn’t lying.

There wasn’t any smell to the drink whatsoever.

“See? I don’t drink.”

He smiled wider at his comment, and shrugged.

My eyes were suddenly blurry, and I heard the sound of plastic hit the ground.

That’s funny, that sounded like the cup.

“Hey, are you alright?”

The man stepped closer, gently reaching to touch my arm.

I noticed that I must have dropped the cup after all, since I wasn’t holding it.

“S-sorry….”

His concern from earlier returned, evidently, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gently led me into a door that, when I actually recovered slightly, I realized was a stairwell door.

It was empty, and blessedly quiet.

After a moment, I looked over to where the guy was still standing. He sat down near me on a step, a small quirk present on his lips.

“Do you feel a little better?”

I shook my head.

“Sorry I dropped your drink.”

He shrugged.

“It was just water, no big deal. Do you want anything? I can run upstairs to my friend and get you something.”

“No,” I denied, a little sharper than I had intended.

“I don’t drink either, anymore.”

He didn’t really seem surprised, but nodded anyway, and accepted that answer.

Shocking myself, I opened my mouth.

“I don’t celebrate this holiday because of something I’ve done.”

He did seem confused at that, as I would have been. Some random stranger was sharing a life story after midnight, when he could easily be partying upstairs with his friends.

Still, he nodded politely, and held my gaze when I met his.

I kept going.

“I don’t feel like I have any right to celebrate becoming a new me. I don’t deserve that chance.”

His hand gently touched my shoulder in what I can only assume to have been a gesture of camaraderie.

“I used to drink pretty heavily a few years ago, and all my friends and I would go out and party on New Year’s Eve.

“One year in particular, we all headed out to a local bar. I also drank a couple of glasses, like all my friends, but I drank the least that night. Technically, I was still in the legal BAC amount. It wasn’t that I couldn’t drive.

“But I shouldn’t have. I had the keys, and set to driving us all home that night, when the sudden noise from fireworks scared me. I think that, combined with the fact that I wasn’t completely sober, made it happen.”

“Hey, it’s alright.”

The guy interrupted me, hand on my shoulder squeezing like a vice.

For the first time, I noticed that my face was wet.

I’d been crying.

“You don’t have to say anymore. I get it.”

“Can I though? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading this onto you. It’s just been so long.”

He nodded.

“Have you talked with anyone else about it?”

Struggling, I ran a hand over my damp cheek.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I went to therapy all the time for it. But this time of the year just makes it worse.

“I can’t believe it happened. Any of it, at all. One minute, we were fine. The next minute I woke up being pulled from the car. It was on fire. My friends….

“Well. Even if the car wasn’t on fire, they wouldn’t have lived.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head at his words.

“As I wasn’t blackout drunk, I remembered everything, except for my brief spell of unconsciousness. And they didn’t arrest me, either. I thought they would.

“Turns out, even though it was technically vehicular homicide, the person setting off those fireworks had set them off too close.

“I had a marvelous defense attorney, and I owe everything to her. She said the one setting off the fireworks was at fault, that the noise wouldn’t have made me swerve had they been less severe. It probably helped my case that the fireworks guy had been too drunk to remember anything at the time, and that witnesses revealed that the fireworks were definitely too close to my car.

“Still. What right do I have to celebrate being another newer, better person, when my friends will never get that chance?”

He sighed, a weary thing.

“It wasn’t your fault, you have to believe that. I know you’ve likely heard that so many times, but I believe that. You weren’t doing anything illegal, you had been sober enough to drive. What the man with the fireworks did, that was his decision. His decision caused a reaction from you, and it was a terrible accident.

“But that’s all. It was an accident. You never meant to hurt your friends.”

Dropping my head, the only thing able to support it were my hands. I could feel, even through my sudden shaking, the arm on my shoulder wrap itself around me to hold my other shoulder.

“You don’t have to believe me right now, but maybe give it some thought? I know you hold guilt over it, even though you don’t have a reason for it. So at least consider that it wasn’t totally your fault?”

Well. That was a pretty accurate summation.

Though it took several moments, I did manage to nod my head weakly.

The grip on my shoulders tightened, before releasing.

“Do you want to go home, or do you want company?”

Shrugging, I lifted my head tiredly, tear streaks still present on my face.

“Would you rather go home and have company there?”

Again, that was a shockingly accurate deduction of my thoughts.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

I shook my head at that one.

“I don’t want to bother them. They’re either celebrating, or even asleep.”

“Look, I know we’re still new acquaintances, but I could stay with you for a while, if you’d like? We can stay here if that’ll make you more comfortable, there’s no noise here.”

Did I know him? No, not really. Not at all.

But then again….

“Sure, I guess. But I don’t want to keep you from your friends.”

He grinned, and moved a little closer, nudging me with his shoulder.

“Nah. I stepped out anyways because they were getting a bit rowdy. They can wait a few minutes. And honestly, after midnight, I wouldn’t object to some peace and quiet.”

I shook my head, though I could feel the slightest smile pull at the corners of my lips, and it seemed that noticing my amusement had only served to encourage him.

“You know what you need? Here. My friends and I run a standup comedy gig whenever we aren’t working. Take this, it’s my number. I’ll text you whenever we’re having a show, if you want? You look like you could use some bad jokes on a daily basis.”

Despite that obvious call-out, I rolled my eyes, and allowed myself to nod.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong.

I didn’t have to change myself to live my life.

I didn’t have to forget them, either.

But maybe it’s time I stopped drowning in my own sorrow and started to try to pick up the pieces of my life.

And if I needed a hand to do that, well, I didn’t think that it was necessarily a bad thing.

If his help would get me out of this slump, I’d gladly accept it.

Maybe, in a few more years, I wouldn’t find myself hating this holiday quite so much.

At the very least, maybe I could tolerate it.

Maybe I could celebrate getting my life back together, one small year at a time.