micro-fiction friday: dec 27

cw: drinking, unreality, amnesia

happy whatever and merry new year

PART ONE

TEN

Andre’s house wasn’t too far from where we lived. Maybe a fifteen minute drive. Still, my leg bounced nervously. We were a bit behind, and Andre was a type-A kind of guy.  He said to be there at 10:30, and it was approaching 10:35 now.

“Are we out of touch? Is that what it is?” Martina shifted closer in the back of the Uber.  “I mean, who is this?  I never even heard of these guys!”
I craned my neck to look on her phone screen.
“I know we’re old, but we’re not that old, right?”
I tilted her chin up.  
“Time marches endlessly on, my dear. Another year gone. Every day we get farther out of touch with the youths,” I teased, planting a kiss on her forehead. She groaned in response.
“You’re the worst.”

Living with Martina was taking some getting used to.  She was less neurotic than me, which was a good thing.  Mostly. But it also meant that I had to account for her in my own neuroses, which was also kind of a good thing. As much as I fell in love with her carefree, laissez-faire attitude, my anxiety disorders did not. It was what had made André & I such a terrible, well-suited disaster.

André had slid from roommate to boyfriend and back to roommate status, all within a few months.  We both the same level of Type-A neurotic in our cleaning rituals, so he was a dream to have as a housemate.  We were both queer.  We liked each other’s company: it seemed like a match made in heaven.  But then the negative side of the shared neuroses reared its ugly head.  The paranoia, the jealousy, the anxiety about our future after university, it all became too much and the relationship blew up in our faces just as quickly as it had begun.

NINE

Clearly it hadn’t blown up too badly though; we were still close friends to this day.

EIGHT

Je’Shawn, Andre’s soon-to-be fiancé, opened the door with a big smile. 10:42. Je’Shawn probably hadn’t noticed, and neither did Martina, embracing him immediately in a hug.  André had been talking a big game the past couple of weeks on how he was planning to propose to him on New Years with all his favourite people. I couldn’t wait.  I knew he’d say yes; they were so madly in love that it was almost gross.

SEVEN

I looked down at my watch. 11: 24. I tapped it twice, staring meaningfully at André. After, he mouthed at us. I knew that he knew what time it was. If I was honest, I was sure that he had his romantic moment planned down to the millisecond.

SIX

“I feel more and more out of touch every day, I don’t even know who Of Moose and Men are, and they’re the headliners,” Kelsey laughed.
“I was just saying that in the car, like really? Is this the best we can do?” Martina laughed back. “Can’t we get Lights back or something?”
“Kind of a killer name though,” Pat chimed in.
“You’re so easy,” Bree rolled their eyes, “You’ll love anything as long as it’s some form of dad joke.”
“C’mon, Of Moose and Men?  That’s funny,” Je’Shawn argued.
“Twenty bucks says they’re from Alberta,” said André.
“I’ll take those odds, I know an East Coaster when I see one,” Pat replied.
“You’re on,” André laughed.

FIVE

We watched the headliners take the stage. It was a bunch of scrawny 20-somethings.  I think Martina had clocked it right: we were getting old.  They had a strikingly large audience, though I guessed that was to be expected, being the biggest NYE event in Canada.  

As they started their first song, and the idea that they were secretly a Of Monsters and Men and an Of Mice & Men blended cover band were dispelled. It was a pop group, clearly with aspirations of being seen as a “real” rock band. The bassist head-banged in slow motion to their dream pop, shoegaze-y theme.  Honestly, it was easy listening.  Good for this party, though I couldn’t imagine getting very hyped up for a countdown to it in minus-3 degree weather.


FOUR

“Anyone else need a drink top up?” Je’Shawn called from the bar.  “Last call before the countdown!” I jogged over with an empty glass to polish off some more of André’s good whiskey.

THREE

On the T.V., their lead singer swayed during a prolonged instrumental break, the image of them sidled somewhere between an interpretive dance and passing out. The camera closed in on them, their eyes locking with the lens.

TWO

“Take the popper, take the popper,” Andre insisted, shoving some confetti cannons into our hands. 
"Heard that one before, ayo!" Je'Shawn called back.

ONE

Martina saddled close, smiling up at me.

HAPPY NEW YEARS

Confetti and streamers rained down to the pop of a champagne cork. I leaned in for my New Year’s kiss as the familiar song drifted over the airways…

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

I drew back, looking into the eyes of my love. Bright hazel eyes. Eyes that widened as my eyes met theirs.

Whose eyes were these?  I was just kissing… My brain scrambled to assemble a picture of the person I loved.  The person I had just moved in with.  How could I not remember his name?

I stumbled back, chuckling nervously as I scanned the room.  Where was my host?  Who was I supposed to know here? Others stared back with the same confused alarm, as if I had materialized into this party from out of the blue.  It wasn't me who had moved though; I recognized where I was.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne.