New Year's Reunion
Celine
I don't feel like getting out of bed today, even with the alarm screaming at me. Instead, I glower at my alarm clock. December 31st is supposed to a be a promise of drinking, changes, and an end to everything ridiculous in the year. It's a promise of change with all the shining hope we have for the future. Groaning, I jerk the blanket over my head. Instead, I can already see it being another year without Rene. Las Vegas was supposed to be a year, at most. Rene, on our long phone calls and any letters had always ended with "hoping to wrap this up soon. I want to see you". I'd lost track of how any times he promised to visit in a slow period. I'd lost hope he'd ever come through on those words. They were like a period to a sentence. Meaningless. He'll either come back and prove me wrong, or ... Or I am the biggest idiot in the world. I'm the hopeless romantic, the young woman led astray by the older man she'll never have again. Perhaps I'm everything Mama worried I'd be when her sharp eyes noticed my interest in Rene. No matter the future outcome, there is nothing to celebrate for me today. I jerk the fluffy duvet over my head and turn to mumble into my pillow. My day is clear in preparation for celebrating later, which means I have nothing to take my mind off Rene. Closing my eyes, I hope for sleep, but only plunge myself into my own longing. Overthinking is a habit I can't quite break. As far as I'm concerned, my year won't start until I see him again. Until then, why can't I sleep, relax? Take a vacation maybe and enjoy being the un famous version of myself? I set my alarm clock for noon and try to find a comfortable sleep, one that eases my worry. The sleep I used to get before I revealed myself to Rene, before I felt his touch, before he left. The sleep I got as a child that refreshed and rejuvenated. Heavy warmth settles around me in the seclusion of the blanket, but sleep doesn't. I'm not sure how long I lay there, faking sleep and wanting it to be real, letting time pass as if time hasn't troubled me for the last three hundred and seventy something days. The phone rings, shattering the silence I craved so much, and I groan. I kick the bed once, then give in, tossing off the warm blanket to grab the telephone and put it to my ear. "Hello?" "You should be celebrating, Celine." Mike's voice is always light. I smile slightly and roll my eyes. "Not until the sun's down. Who celebrates New Years this early?" He chuckles. "Come on, sis. Tonight, wraps up a year. At least try to be happy that we survived it." "You called me. I don't have to pretend, do I? Or are you really a fan in disguise." "Don't make me come over there." Mike's tone changes, sounding more like a parent than a brother. I roll my eyes and give up on getting back to sleep. It's obviously not in the cards for me right now. "Fine. Talk to me." He chuckles. "Are you wallowing?" "I don't have any idea what you mean." I try to keep the conversation light, to avoid the fact that my room has a steadily growing stack of pizza boxes and that my pile of dirty clothes has been taking up more and more space. "I was out all night partying." "Sure." "And you woke me up. Not everyone is an early bird." "Of course." "And you still haven't told me why you're calling. Which is why I'm frustrated." "I'm your brother and I haven't seen you in a week. I'm not allowed to worry?" "Not when I'm an adult." "You're nineteen, not a full adult." I snort. "I was a full adult at eighteen. I don't live with Mama, I work, I make enough to support myself." "You can't drink legally. Let me know when that changes." He chuckles. We sit in silence for a moment, before he sighs. "How do you always manage to get me arguing with you, Celine? All I wanted to do was invite you to lunch." "Lunch?" My stomach gurgles eagerly, like it was just waiting for the mention of food. "I guess I can deal with you for lunch." "That's a huge confidence boost. Thanks." He says sarcastically. "Where would you like to meet, Michael." Still, I hear the smile in my voice. Mike's impossible to resist when he's playful. He's been able to make me feel better no matter how bad the situation seems for as long as I can remember. Michael gives me the location of a coffee shop we've gone to more times than I can count and we hang up. With that expectation in the air, I decide I have to start my day. I get through a shower, take my time getting dressed in something nice, but not flashy, then brush out my thick hair before sitting on the couch. The clock mocks me. I still have two hours to wait, two more hours that I could have stayed in my warm sleepless state. Instead, I'm here, hoping Rene will call despite the time difference. Despite the fact he's been busier than ever in the last two weeks. I manage to pass the hours by trying my hand at lyric writing. Every line is depressing. I ball up the page I'm working on and run my fingers through my hair. If I could just get my mind on anything else, I'd be fine. When Mike tells me he's here, I've only made a bigger mess of my apartment and have no songs to bring up at the next business meeting. Mike waits outside his car and hugs me tightly, as if all I need is my big brother to remove the weight of the world from my shoulders. "You look like a real human, Celine. When did that happen?" "Compared to what!" I jab him lightly. "Compared to a bump on a log." He teases, opening the door for me. Once he's in the car, he beams. "Cheer up, it's New Year's Eve." I know what day it is." I grumble. "Are you pouting because your manager is giving someone else attention?" "No." Yes. Yes, I am. Because I want his attention and the insinuation that our last night together was a fluke and nothing else haunts me. I've felt stupid, used, even taken advantage of this year. While that's not Rene's fault, it still strings. To think that we shared something so powerful and pure just to have to put it on the back burner because he doesn't have time for it kills me. I'm worried that by the time we come back together, he will be taken, the feelings we felt will be gone – unable to stand the test of time. At the coffee shop, Mike keeps giving me a look like he's waiting for a prank to come through. I wrap my hand around my coffee and roll my eyes at him. "What do you have planned?" "I don't know what you're talking about." He shrugs and takes a long drink of his coffee. "I'm waiting for you to tell me about your life." "You know my life. Everyone does. It's on magazines and I know Mom talks to you more than dad." He chuckles. "I don't know the important things. How are you really, Celine?" "Ready to go back to bed and enjoy a few days off, Michael. How are you?" He checks his watch, then looks at the front door with a smile. "I'm happy that I have plans for today. I'd hate to be stuck in bed alone on New Year's." "Everyone says that New Year's is so great. I don't get it! It's just another day." I snort. I haven't had much interest in holidays other than as a chance to sleep for a while. Why would I be happy to have time off for holidays that are all about spending time with people you care about, when a person I care about is always missing? I sip my coffee, then Michael turns to speak to someone. "You're almost late, you know that?" I don't bother to look over. Mike knows everyone in New York. Anywhere we go, he gets stopped to talk – almost more than I do even. I take a longer drink, hoping some of the scalding coffee can warm me up and make me ready for another day of fake smiles. "May I join?" I set the mug down and stare at Mike, watching his lips curl upwards. He stands. "You can have her all to yourself for all I care. She's in a horrible mood." Turning, I stare at Rene. It's not possible. All at once, there's no sound, no Michael, nothing but him. He can't be here. But it's him. Those are his sparkling eyes, his familiar frame, a suit dressing him with cuff links I'd gotten him last Christmas. Even though he has no business being out of Las Vegas until the end of the month, he's standing here as if he's never left. I swallow and look between my brother and Rene. The next thing I know, I'm in Rene's arms, clutching him tightly. My nails drag against the fabric of his sports coat as if I can glue myself to him right here and now. I press my face into his chest, wanting to memorize his smell. My eyes water and I shake my head. This isn't possible, but I don't want anyone to correct me. I'd rather be the crazy person normally found in the subway, clutching a stranger, than for this moment to end. Instead of being shoved away as expected, Rene's hand slides down my back, rubbing in slow circles. "Hello, Celine." "How is this real?" I pull back to look him over. It's not real. It can't be, but his smile only belongs to him. "How are you here?" "It's New Year's Eve. How could I spend it anywhere else?" "But all your work!" "Sit. Let's talk." He motions back to the booth I jumped out of. I sit just as Mike stands. He winks at me. "Told you today would be good." I slug his arm. "You set this up?" "Hey, I had a part to do and I did it. I can't stand you looking like a kicked dog every day." He taps my temple, as if he can force some smarts into my head, something he's done since we were kids. Then he offers Rene his hand. "Take care of my sister. She's missed you more than you can know." My mouth parts slightly. Does everyone know about my crush on Rene? Rene doesn't mind, he just smiles. "Of course, I will. "Rene takes Michael's spot, sitting across from me easily. My brain wants to think it's always been this way. That every phone call between us was really us here, talking across a table rather than talking over multiple time zones at times while we're both focused on other things. Rene reaches across the table and takes my hand. His coarse thumb strokes across my knuckles slowly. He opens his mouth, but the waiter arrives, takes his order, and then he nods to Mike. "Thanks again." "Of course." He winks. "I'm going to leave you two kids alone. I have friends to see and things to do." I watch Mike leave. They had this planned? I look to Rene, waiting for an explanation. His eyes rake over me again. When he looks at me, I hate the table between us. I hate the people around us. I want to feel his touch, want to make the most of every stolen moment we have together. "Mike knows?" I ask instead, choosing what I hope is the easiest question. "Apparently he's brighter than you think." I laugh, I can't help it. Despite the tears lingering in my eyes, it feels like the most natural laugh I've had in a year.
