Prose Scene 15

When Alex gets home from his trip to Cuppa Joe’s to pick up a letter, preparations for the party are in full swing. Waiters in their penguin suits are rushing around filling champagne glasses, and Dad is bellowing orders at anyone who will listen. Desperate to escape the whole thing, he heads up the stairs, but Rachel calls after him.

“Hey, while you’re going up there, could you check on Elisabeth? I don’t want to get anything on this dress.”

Alex just grunts to show he’s heard. He collects Elisabeth from her room, where she’s only half-awake despite the commotion, and brings her back to his own room.

“We’ll just sit here and let them have their stupid party, right?” he asks. He smiles a little. Even though he doesn’t want to admit Zoe was right, it is nice to have a little sister who so obviously likes him.

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Zoe’s family is crazy, and she loves them. There is never so much noise and energy and cacophony in her house as there is on New Year’s Eve. It’s not even that they throw some huge party; it’s just the eight of them and their annual cutthroat, no-holds-barred game of Pit. They can make enough noise playing that to equal Times Square.

Her focus is shot, though. She’s usually pretty good, but all she can think tonight is, Man, Alex would hate this. Although, given how competitive he is, he might fit right in.

“Snooze and lose, cuz!” Gina hollers at her, reminding Zoe that she hasn’t called for any cards in about half a minute. Belatedly, she jumps back into the game, but there’s no way she’s winning this hand.

“One minute to midnight!” Rae shouts shortly after Gina is crowned the winner for the third year running.

“Winners get champagne this year, right, Mama?” Gina asks Rae with a sly wink.

“Are winners 21?” Rae asks.

“At heart,” Gina assures her, and everyone laughs. It’s the same every year, and they all know that, yes, Gina will be allowed a glass of champagne come midnight, but that’s the script.

____

Alex looks up a few minutes before midnight. Zoe’s letter this time had very specific instructions. He’d read it with Elisabeth curled up in one arm, fast asleep, and it was a nice feeling. So nice that he’d almost fallen asleep, so he switched on the TV he almost never used, and flipped over to the prerecorded Times Square broadcast. He still hadn’t quite stayed awake, but the sound of the crowd starting to roar with excitement brought him back to full consciousness, luckily a few minutes early.

Elisabeth is still fast asleep, so he carefully sets her beside him to stand up. Then, thinking better of just leaving her there, he takes her back to her own room and crib for while he’s downstairs. He gently tucks her in, and she murmurs a little in her sleep, grabbing on to his finger for a few moments, and then letting go. He can’t help but smile.

He decides to take the back staircase down to the kitchen, even though it’s technically the long way. If he goes down the stairs right here, he’ll end up in the middle of the party, in his sweats, and all of his dad’s work colleagues would want to know everything – how he was, what he’s doing, where he’s going to college, what he’s going to major in – the questions would be endless, and he’d never get a glass in time.

____

“Zoe, my dear?”

With a smile, Zoe takes the plastic flute Joe hands her and fiddles with the stem idly while watching the numbers count down to thirty on the TV screen. Suddenly, she realizes she’s missing something. Setting her drink on the coffee table, she sprints for the stairs.

“Zoe! Where are you going! The ball’s going to drop!” Cate yells after her.

“I’ll be right back!” Zoe shouts over her shoulder. In her room, she makes a beeline for the wooden treasure chest her grandmother gave her ages ago — for your most special keepsakes, Zoe can still hear Nana saying whenever she pulls it out. It’s where she’s been keeping Alex’s letters, mostly so the girls won’t find them and snoop. Snatching his most recent one from the trunk, she folds it and shoves it in her back pocket. They’re old thoughts, but she wants to have them with her when she lifts her glass.

____

The kitchen is empty, so Alex tries to find a champagne flute for himself. Eventually he gives up – they’re all probably out being used for the party. He gets out a plastic cup from a pizza place. It’ll do, and even though it’s probably not what she meant, he doesn’t really want alcohol anyway. He pours a couple inches of water in the bottom, and sleepily stumbles back upstairs.

On the TV the countdown has begun. He sits gingerly on the edge of the bed, and watches the ball drop.

10… 9… 8…

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7… 6… 5…

Zoe rushes back into the living room and takes her glass while ignoring the knowing look from Allie in the corner.

3… 2… 1… “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Everyone in her family shouts it at the same time, grinning and laughing and hugging, Zoe too, but instead of immediately clinking her glass with Cate’s, as usual, she turns back toward her bedroom, thinks of Alex, and lifts her glass. Happy New Year, Alex, wherever you are in this city. She tries to imagine what he’s doing right now. Raising a glass to her, hopefully, if he had time to get her letter, but she wants to picture it, even though she still doesn’t know what he looks like.

___

Alex takes a few little sips from his glass of water, and then switches the TV off. It was a nice idea, Zoe’s suggestion, but it feels a little… empty. Not in the sense that it doesn’t mean anything, but that something is missing. He sighs softly. He can hear the sounds of the party beginning to break up downstairs, though the last stragglers will probably stay till morning. Elisabeth is breathing heavily through the monitor – he never knew babies could snore until she came home. He’s exhausted, so he turns off the light and climbs into bed, rolling over so he can gaze out the window at the few stars visible through the competition of the city lights.

___

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never come to mind . . .”

Cate starts the singing, like she’s done every year since she learned about the song, and one by one, they all join in, singing these strange, half-forgotten words to the best of their ability. Cate and Allie and Rae and Joe have gorgeous voices, so the rest of them sing quietly and let the others carry the melody.

Usually, Zoe loves this tradition, but tonight, for some reason, the song is filling her with . . . melancholy, she supposes is the right word. As the song dies down, and the games are cleaned up, and everyone prepares for bed, Zoe slips out onto the porch, needing to be alone for just a little.

She skips down the side steps, just like she did when she read Alex’s last letter. She pulls the letter from her pocket and sits, leaning her head against the white porch railing and looking up at the stars.

Her fingers brush the edges of his letter, and she remembers what she wrote to him. I wish you could feel the hug I wanted so badly to give you. She felt so connected to him last time around, and she wanted to feel that again, but the toasting fell a little short. Possibly because she was surrounded by her family, possibly because she didn’t know which direction to toast in. But here, on the porch again, that connection feels stronger somehow.

She smiles up at the stars and sighs softly. “Happy New Year, Alex,” she whispers, and somehow, the words feel more likely to reach him this time.