It’s finally snowing, which is undeniably stupendous. And once I am home and my heart is allowed time to slow and breathe easy having braved the newly iced roads and a friend’s less than reassuring driving, I can finally appreciate it. I stand outside on my driveway, my friend Mr. Deathwish squeals away and out of sight.
Everything is white. Snow will do that. And I am so happy it does.
There is a streetlight across the street that illuminates the passing flakes within its small bubbly orange glow. Cars are covered, bushes are covered, the neighbor’s dog taking a dump in our front lawn is on his way to being covered. I throw a snowball at him and miss. He finishes up and trots off.
I stand still, no need to make any unnecessary footprints, and take out my phone and quickly place a call.
Voicemail, as expected. She’s working until ten. It’s not even eight thirty.
Hey, uh… I couldn’t tell whether or not you were kidding last night, but just in case you weren’t… I don’t think I am going to tag along. It’s just, uh… it’s not really my scene. And I don’t think that—well, I’m just gonna stay home. So… have a good night, and a Happy New Year’s Ever, and it’s pretty icy, I almost died about six times on the way home here and you are a horrible driver so… be careful. Alright. Talk to you later. Don’t die. Bye.
I hang up and breathe in quickly through my nose. Winter air is the best. It just smells and feels well near the exact opposite of awful.
I dust the snow off my head and shoulders and head inside. The family is scattered around the house and I sneak downstairs.
I smell like chicken and armpits. Work will do that. And I am so bummed that it does. But I have nowhere to be and nobody to impress so I take a seat and hop online.
Time passes.
I look at the clock. It’s nearly eleven thirty. I’m bored.
She’s been off work for an hour and a half, and though I told Her I didn’t feel like taking Her up on last night’s offer I half expected to at least receive a call trying to convince me otherwise. I’m surprisingly bummed that no such call has been placed.
But then my mother suddenly yelps down the staircase at me. I can’t quite understand her. So I yelp back. She comes downstairs and lets me know who it is.
I slap my hands onto my face and make a disgruntled groan.
Do you not want them to come down?
No no no no no, I’m cool. It’s just, I told her not to come over. And she did come over. And I smell like chicken and armpits.
She comes downstairs. She has a friend with her, even. That’s nice. They tell me to get ready, midnight is in one half of an hour and the party is waiting for us.
The words “no thank you” and any variation there of escape me, and I trudge to my room and change my shirt and grab a coat. I do nothing about the smell in spite. And my pants remain unchanged. That’ll show ‘em.
She lets me know as we climb the stairs that she figured… though she knows I didn’t want to go, it is icy outside, and she is an awful driver, so… I could at least make sure she didn’t die.
As they head towards the front door, I dash to the laundry room to grab my shoes. When I return her friend is still putting on long, black, high-heeled boots that eat up her legs all the way to the knee. I become more scared of these than I am of the dark. Or heights. Or jellyfish.
We get into the car and as I decipher directions we make our way to the party sans dying. Whoa Boots follows us close behind in her own tiny car.
The party is lame. Most of the people are from her old high school. I stand in the corner and look tired while she and Whoa Boots mingle.
As it gets closer to midnight, everyone begins to get very excited. Drinks are poured, and people stand in a large mass in the middle of the room in front of the television. I’m standing off the edge of the mass and have no drink. I grab a box of Cheez-Its.
The countdown begins.
5 – I remember the midnight kiss.
4 – Am I supposed to kiss her?
3 – Is she expecting me to kiss her?
2 – This is the first time we've seen each other in over four months.
1 - I don't know what to do.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! – I stuff my mouth full of crackers and crunch crunch crunch as everyone else screams and smooches and drinks and smooches and laughs and smooches and smooches. I focus on the crunchy cheez explosion inside of my mouth and avoid eye contact.
The moment passes and everyone sits down. I follow suit and place the Cheez-Its aside. They were reduced fat. Barf.
The party’s attention turns to an awkward game of Charades. I lie down and fall asleep.
I’m awoken by someone tripping over my feet as they try to grab their purse off a table. Whoa Boots trots over, apparently already having taken the time to hike on her intimidating footwear and lets me know we are ready to leave. I hobble upstairs, get on my coat and slip on my shoes and we leave. Whoa Boots dashes off by herself, and I am left alone with Her. It is oddly bright out for one in the morning. It has stopped snowing but is very chilly. We head to Her car. Whoa Boots wizzes by us, waving through the frost covered window of her small window. We wave.
No words are exchanged the whole ride home. I get out of the car and head towards the garage. I hear her door open and turn around. She walks up to me.
Goodnight, she says. And she hugs me. Happy New Year.
