micro-fiction monday: jan 13

Part One is here

PART TWO 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne.

In the corner, stood a woman in a party dress.  Her dark wavy hair was half-up half-down, and she wore a NYE headband. 2015. Surrounded by strangers, I recognized her. Preet.

She took a deliberate step out of the corner, humming.  I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn my head to look at the people around me.  To see if they were seeing her too. She shouldn’t be here.

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne.

She walked straight up to me, grabbing my hands.  I didn’t resist.  She brought the cup to my lips, and tipped it back.

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

She walked over to a man, sitting on the couch in a burgundy sweater.  He had tight-coiled hair and dark skin.  Preet pulled him to his feet, and led him over to me, linking our hands together, and then holding them still.

I was beginning to remember things. This man’s name was André.

Around me, the apartment began to transform.  The walls crumbled, and suddenly the sound of a kitchen being gutted and appliances being trashed filled the apartment.  My ears rang as the world collapsed and rebuilt itself around us. I felt under a spell, like I could only move if Preet allowed it. With my eyes locked straight ahead, I started to recognize the space taking place in front of me.

Bree.  We were at Bree’s apartment. December 31, 2014.

All of our friends were here.  Preet, Kelsey, Andrew, Joel, and Bree.  

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

Joel’s arms were cradling, as if holding a ghost. Preet looked into both of our eyes, before resignedly walking over to slot herself into his embrace. Completing the midnight tableau.  

I was beginning to remember things.

Joel had drunkenly kissed her, and Preet had decided to leave right after. That was how it had began.

I'd immediately volunteered to drive her. I could sacrifice the evening if it meant letting Joel come to his senses and not fuck the friend group up any further with his stupid crush.  I slammed back the rest of my drink, and told Preet to lead the way as I walked unsteadily to the front door.

Bree’s hand clamped down on my bicep.

“Matt, get a cab.”

I shook them off.  I was fine.  When the next morning came, I wouldn’t remember this conversation.

It wasn't far from The Village to St. Clair West, and Preet's place was en route. It only made sense that we would drive her.

The cool night air was like a slap to the face.  I was awake, alert, ready to go.  Preet, however, was looking a little sick.  André offered her the front seat, consoling that it wouldn’t be a long drive.

Davenport is a strange, oddly dark, and winding road in a city that was built on a grid. It made it the perfect street for a shortcut to the north end of town. Strike one.

Ironically, André was the one who ended up getting sick.  Preet had unbuckled herself in an attempt to more quickly pass napkins back to him. Strike two.

Davenport also meant passing by Casa Loma, with their beautiful light display.  Someone who’s faculties weren’t all there could get caught up in looking at the lights instead of at the road.

Strike three.

André and I both had our seatbelts still buckled.

I was beginning to remember things.

When the front of the car smashed into the tree on the hill, the inertia sent Preet’s body out the front windshield.

I’d like say that I’d forgotten how Preet’s face looked with the left side of her skull dented in.  I’d like to say that I’d forgotten holding her hand while André called for EMS.  I’d like to say I forgot that she was crying.  We both were.  We all were.

André told the cops that he’d been the one driving, his BAC miraculously below the legal limit.  He told them there’d been a deer in the road and he swerved to avoid it. I nodded along silently.

I had gone through this all before.  Talked to this cop a hundred times, revisited this conversation again and again.

From across the street, Bree looked on at the mess, their hand covering their mouth, tears cast in red and blue flashing lights. Bree was not supposed to be here. I did not remember this.

In the time it took me to tear my eyes away from Bree, Preet sat stock straight, then got to her feet slowly. Her sideways ankle crunched on the snow as she walked towards me, then pushed past me on her way to Bree, the traffic squealing to a halt for the dead woman walking.  Bree was not supposed to be here, Preet was supposed to be dead already.  I did not remember this.

Preet took one of Bree’s hands in hers, the other cradled Bree’s face.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, in the days of auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for the days of auld lang syne.

And in a snap, in a moment, André and Bree and I were all back. Bree’s hand went to their face, the ghost of Preet’s hand now gone. André looked down at the confetti cannons in his hand.

THREE

TWO

ONE

HAPPY NEW YEARS