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Every year at this time, people across the world make resolutions and promises of grandeur to themselves for their betterment. A New Year is literally minutes away, and my wishes remain the same—to live in a world outside of my reality, in a dream of my own making. As graduation draws near, hope for such a dream gradually plunders. Determination can take a person only so far when the visceral truth of reality keeps rearing its ugly head.
Escaping into a dream is just that—a dream.
“Hey, there,” Foster says as he approaches. “It’s almost midnight.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Do you think you’re ready for the New Year?”
“Probably not, but this one is basically over, so onto the next.”
“Thirty more seconds!” Lilliana shouts with Graham’s arms around her waist.
“C’mon,” Foster says, tugging me toward the group. “Let’s go and join them.”
Surrounded by Foster’s inebriated friends, we count down the remaining seconds until midnight.
When the moment comes where everyone shouts, “One,” in unison, cheers erupt, and people scream, “Happy New Year!” throughout the neighborhood.
We all clink our cups and beer bottles before embracing one another. Whirling around in the crowd, I take in the excitement as couples kiss to celebrate the start of another three hundred sixty-five days.
Time has been reset for everyone.
“Happy New Year, Evelyn,” Foster says close to my ear. Then, he chastely kisses me on my cheekbone.
I tilt my head, connecting my lips with his, and I forget the noise, if only for a second. “Happy New Year, Fozzie.”
Foster’s friends make the rounds, wishing each other well for the impending year. I stay by his side, welcoming hugs from each of them, some even kissing me on the cheek.
James is one of the last of his friends to pull Foster into a hug, laughing about the previous year and some of their many mishaps. When they release each other from their embrace, Foster reaches toward Fiona, James’s girlfriend, with his arms open wide, but he pauses the moment she steps back.
“Happy New Year, Foster,” she says, stiff and cold.
Nodding, Foster lowers his arms. “You, too, Fiona.”
“I’ve decided I’m not going to be angry with you anymore,” she says, James resting an arm over her shoulder. “That’s my resolution—to forgive you.”
“I appreciate that. I hope you know I never meant to hurt you.”
She harrumphs. “Yeah, well, I should have known better. It’s obvious you were using me.”
“We should get a drink,” James interjects, tightening his hold on her.
“Did you even care about me at all?” she asks Foster, ignoring James’s suggestion.
Foster’s jaw goes tight.
“That’s what I thought,” she says. “I really was an idiot.” She spares a look at me as I stand at Foster’s side. “Good luck with him. Just don’t expect much. He’s not exactly emotionally available. Corpses have more feelings.”
Fiona turns within James’s arm to leave, but then she pauses in her tracks, glancing over her shoulder at Foster. “By the way, tell Sasha I said hi. I’m sure she’s happier without you.” Fiona lowers her voice as she says, “I certainly am.”
She then leaves our company with James at her side. Foster remains still, his gaze following after them.
“Ignore her,” Graham says to Foster, coming forth once James and Fiona are out of sight. “She’s had way too much to drink, and we all know her motives for…well, what happened between you two, weren’t really the right ones.”
“She’s a vulture,” Lilliana adds. “An opportunist. She’s nothing but a—”
Bitch?That’s the first word that comes to my mind, but what do I know?
