In a group text the day before New Year’s Eve, it’s decided that the girls and I will attend the New Year’s Eve party at Brendan Olson’s house. He says it’s going to be small, Ainsley writes.
Mom left that morning for Florida, where she’ll meet up with Aunt Shelley for the cruise. It’s just me, Sam, and Earl for a whole week. Earl says yes, I can go, but that I have to be home at twelve thirty. “Don’t make me stay up late, worrying. I have to work tomorrow,” he says, looking at me all serious-faced before he lets loose a grin.
Sam has invited Josh to stay over. I guess they’re just going to watch movies.
“Can Chita sleep over after? I’m giving her a ride to the party.”
“Of course, if her parents are fine with it.”
I go back to my room and text: Okay, I’m in.
===
Brendan lives in Woodridge, across the river, not too far from where Darla lives. She walks up just as Chita and I park along the street.
“So where are his parents?” Chita asks as we walk up to the door.
“They went to their lake house or something,” Darla says.
So it’s just me and the girls, and Brendan and the twins, Jake and Jackson, and a handful of other seniors on the soccer team. And Donal, who answers the door. “Welcome, lasses,” he says, exaggerating his Irish accent, waving a cup of beer at us. He kind of looks drunk already and it’s just eight.
“Can I get you something?” he asks, looking only at me.
“A water,” I say, the thought of alcohol making my stomach churn.
Through the kitchen window I can see into a large backyard lit with strong floodlights, where some people on the team are playing a pick-up game. This was the idea—soccer, beer, hanging out, pizza, and watching the ball drop in Times Square on TV. Low-key and chill.
Donal hands me a bottle of water from the fridge and cracks open a can of Bud that he pours in cups for himself, Chita, and Darla. Then we head out onto the back deck. It’s only in the fifties or forties, a lot warmer than it had been at Christmas. Chita sets her beer down on the deck floor and joins the soccer players in the yard, and Darla ambles up to some of the other kids milling about on the sidelines. Donal settles next to me, leans against the wooden rail. “It’s nice to see you,” he says.
“It’s nice to see you, too,” I say, feeling embarrassed all of the sudden.
“Christmas was good, with your family?”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking about the presents, the food, the memories. It was good. But hovering off to the side was the news about Russell Hunnicutt. Mostly I could forget it, but at times it was like a physical thing we could spot, briefly, off to the side.
“And your Christmas?” I ask.
“Yeah, just me and the folks. It was good, though my mum misses home this time of year.”
“I bet,” I say. “I mean, it’s such a funny time of year.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, everyone is so happy. But also sad. Like your mom missing home. And I kind of missed my dad. I mean, he called. But we talked a lot about the years past, when we were all together. Before . . . well, before any bad stuff happened.”
For a while, we don’t say much, just watch everyone kicking the ball around.
“I can’t believe this year is almost over,” Donal says. “It’ll be January in a few hours.”
In January, I always thought of Sam. His birthday month. Everyone else always marked it as a new beginning. But for the past few years it was another painful reminder—so soon after Christmas—that Sam wasn’t there to eat birthday cake and open presents. “My brother Sam will be fifteen in a few weeks,” I say.
“How’s he doing?” Donal asks, sounding careful and concerned, knowing that in the past I hardly ever talked about him.
“Fine, I think,” I say. Because what do I know, really? I can’t help thinking back to that night. Make it stop. The way he looked at me, like he was begging for help. But then the way he acted like nothing had happened.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Donal says.
And I smile at him for saying that. But I’m not sure if I believe it.
I set my bottle of water down on the railing. I need to take my mind off of Sam. “I’m gonna go play,” I say, walking down the steps and out into the yard, joining the others so that I can run and sweat and not think about anything.
===
Later, after we gorge on pizza, everyone’s settled in the TV room, watching all the insane people in Times Square. The stereo is blasting, and some people are dancing around a little, acting drunk and silly.
It’s getting close to midnight, so I go out on the back deck again to get some air, to get away from the noise. It’s chillier now, the deck lit only by a dim bulb by the door. A few minutes later Donal comes out. He has two cups of champagne. “Always prepared,” he says, looking at his watch.
“Good thinking,” I say. I guess a little champagne won’t hurt. We clink the plastic cups and eye each other as we both take long sips.
“You having fun tonight?” he asks when we set the cups down and both gaze out at the darkened backyard, up at the blue-black sky, where just a few stars glitter.
“A lot of fun,” I say.
“I’m glad,” he says. Glod. He sort of gently shoves his shoulder into mine, and I gently shove back, and I finally look at him, his blue eyes gazing at me in a way that makes me kind of tingle.
“I’m glod, too,” I say.
Donal laughs. “Still mocking me accent, I see.”
“Nah,” I say. “I like it.”
He lets that sit, then says, “I like you.”
Even though it’s not surprising, I can’t stop smiling.
“I’m sorry if I—”
“Don’t be sorry,” I respond.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. I nudge a little closer to him.
Inside I hear Brendan yell that the countdown is starting.
Donal says, “Do you want to go inside?”
We both turn so we’re facing each other now. “No,” I say.
We can hear everyone shouting out the numbers, counting down.
Donal cracks his beautiful smile at me. “You know what has to happen at midnight, don’t you?”
Inside, the chants: “Three, two, one!”
And that’s when I lean toward him and he leans toward me and I hold on to him and then we kiss, the noise from the party inside like a sound track to this moment. Everyone always says you feel fireworks when you kiss someone. And maybe that’s true. But it’s not all you feel. I feel like I’m alive in a world that’s only about happiness and laughing and exhilaration, everything else blocked out. And I want this feeling.
I want Donal.
“Wow,” Donal says, his eyes closed, smiling in a dorky way that I find sexy. I lean my head against his chest, and he pulls his arms around me. We don’t say anything. I just enjoy the moment, feeling warm and safe and happy.
I feel his hand stroking the back of my head, twirling my hair in his fingers.
I pull back, so I can see him. He still has that smile on his face. Maybe I have one, too.
Finally, I turn toward the house and that’s when I see everyone peering at us through the kitchen window, clapping and cheering and cracking up, and Donal and I break apart, laughing.
“Those jerks,” he says, still beaming, like he’s embarrassed but also glad they caught us.
“Happy New Year,” I say to him.
“Happy New Year, Beth.”
“I guess we should join the others,” I say.
“I guess,” he says, pretending annoyance.
He grabs my hand and pulls me gently back inside the house.
When we walk in, Chita smirks at us until I stick my tongue out at her. Brendan has put on that dumb Prince song even though 1999 was a million years ago, and everyone’s going crazy, and Donal and I join in, dancing and jumping up and down, feeling like the year ahead will bring us nothing but good times. It’s what everyone believes on New Year’s, isn’t it? A fresh start. Hope for better things to come. And I actually do feel it, caught in the moment. But even then I think of Sam. I hope he feels this way, too. A new year in his new life. Moving forward.