Page 80 of Five Years
EIGHTEEN
New Year’s Eve.
The last day of the calendar year. The world was split in two on the most epic night of the year. Some people chose NYE as a night to move forward and kick a year of hell to the curb; others chose to celebrate, welcoming another year of good fortune. There was nothing more iconic than the Times Square ball drop. It should be experienced at least once, if ever—a tradition dating all the way back to 1907. The one ton of confetti would soon shower down over the streets of New York and despite the best efforts of the sanitation department, small remnants of confetti would loiter for days and weeks to come, a memory of the event that had the world watching.
Was it worth it?
Well, Leah was in two minds. An estimated one million people would soon gather in Times Square; it was an anxiety-fuelled event with a buildup almost unworthy of a 60-second countdown. Leah already spotted the viewing areas filling up on her way home, a 12-18 hour wait could be expected for those who wanted the best seat in the house. A 12-18 hour wait without a toilet, one might add. If you were hoping a few alcoholic drinks might help the excessively long wait in the cold, think again—it was forbidden to drink alcohol on the streets of New York.
Leah lit some candles, poured herself a large glass of red wine, and switched the TV over to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve show. If she cranked her head enough to the left she would be able to see a decent amount of fireworks in the warmth and comfort of her own home—perfect.
She didn’t feel like venturing out, despite the invitation from her father, a work colleague who took pity on her, and Grace’s offer to spend New Year’s with her in Michigan. All of which would provide her with a unique experience, but none of whichwould take away the ache in her chest and the overwhelming need to be alone in her desolate state.
She considered a boat cruise on the Hudson River, the skyline of Manhattan bright with colourful firework displays that could be perfectly admired whilst sipping a glass of champagne, but alone?
There was no way she could stoop to such woeful levels. At least if she remained in her apartment, nobody else would witness her misery, she could pretend she had friends over, she could pretend she saw the New Year in with a bang, countless bottles of bubbly, and an epic firework display from the top of her apartment building that Gregory from across the hall spent all year planning—according to the building concierge anyone was welcome.
Leah didn’t know Gregory. She occasionally passed him in the hall; he held the elevator door open for her once, he wished her a Merry Christmas, he seemed like a sweet guy. Apparently, the fireworks display started as a way to entertain his family and friends in an evening of remembrance after his wife passed away from cancer eight years earlier. The building residents loved it so much that it became a staple event. The pre-drinks started in Linda and Judith’s apartment, and the after-party continued in Gregory’s apartment.
There was, of course, the offer from her father. A long-standing business partner had invited him and his girlfriend to a swanky New York apartment in Tribeca. It was a low-key black-tie event, the invitation wasn’t categorized as that, but the calibre of people in attendance and the extravagance of the venue made it so.
She considered going, but what would she wear? She mentally ran through a series of outfits, using her camera roll as an itinerary. She surprised herself sometimes—her fashion sense had taken years to curate. Now she looked back at picturesand found them inspiring. Sometimes, she even envied her own outfits.
The idea of removing herself from the comfort of her sofa on a night with sub-zero wind chills and an imminent blizzard warning didn’t exactly have her running for the shower. She turned the channel over, hoping some NBC correspondent would tell her that “tonight was a night to stay home.” At least then she wouldn’t feel like she was missing out.
The forewarning of a potential snow storm gave her the perfect excuse to confidently say no to her dad, leaving her no choice but to drown her sorrows with the latest romance novel from the pitiful sapphic section of her local bookstore, whilst listening to the wonderful sound of Nina Simone pouring from her newly purchased record player.
Sorry, dad, I can’t come tonight, I have to stay indoors, the weather report is not favourable—at all.
There was no way around it. No way for him to make her feel guilty for not going. No way to make her feel like she was committing some sort of cardinal sin by not going out on NYE, and not spending the valuable time with her father, or in this case the man she saw every day at work. She loved him, copious amounts, but still, she believed there was such a thing as spending too much time with your parents.
Just as she watched the final drip fall from the wine glass to the tip of her tongue, her almost wine-hazed bliss was shattered. She considered sending it to voicemail through sheer avoidance, but the last time she ignored more than one phone call from her dad, he flew out to Michigan in the suit he wore for work that day, laptop in hand and a paper bag from the local grocery store filled with ice cream, chocolate, wine and grapes—he was prepared for all eventualities. He could be intense.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he chimed.
“Hi, dad.”
“Have you thought about what you might wear tonight?”
“I told you already, dad, I just don’t think I feel up to it.” Leah flicked to another channel, come on, there must be a severe weather warning somewhere.
“Oh, honey, come on, it’ll be good fun. Lionel is a wealthy guy, if anything just come for the expensive booze and the ridiculously fancy food.”
The expensive booze was a factor that swayed her more since she was officially in the post, post-breakup phase—whatever that meant.
“Will there be marmalade-glazed pork belly squares?” Leah mumbled.
“I don’t know,” Douglas laughed.
“That could be a deal breaker.”
“Come on, kiddo! What else are you going to do tonight?”
“Stuff.” Leah said, unconvincingly.
“Oh, yeah, like what?” Douglas teased.
“I have options.” She scoffed.
