One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 90

9:37 PM

Dinner is over. Our tricycle survived.

"And now we go out," Travis says.

"Yes!" Trix squeals.

"Out? Trixxx," I whine. "Out was not part of the deal."

"Come on! It's New Years! It's not even 10:00 PM." Trix pretends to pout.

I roll my eyes.

It's not that I don't love Trix and Travis or even that I mind being alone with just the two of them. It's tonight. It's how everywhere I look I seem to think of him. I can't unfeel him in the very air around me.

Stupid.

"Ok, OK." I decide to go out. Well, the $200 bottle of wine decides to go out but it is NYE in NYC after all.

We are very careful to avoid the vicinity of Times Square. I can almost feel the ground trembling in that direction, no doubt shaking under the footsteps of one million people all cramming in to watch a giant ball drop.

Sounds pretty miserable to me. Especially considering it's packed with adults wearing diapers and there's an inch of grimy snow blanketing the streets. Trix whines about her heels. I offer to switch and give her my boots. I'll gladly welcome the open-toed shoes. Maybe ice-cold toes will help numb my other senses.

Four blocks later Travis leads us down a side street. More neon signs. A convenience store wedged between two buildings has an ad in the window. My eyes double take when I see it: an orange poster for Ramen noodles.

Fuck. I will not look.

Ramen noodles. Plaid sweaters. Chocolate milk. Friends marathons. More noodles. Mf.

Don't look.

I pull out my phone to distract myself. I watch video stories of people pre-gaming parties, girls dressed in literally nothing. We all try too hard. I scroll through my feed –over picture after picture of dumb things I don't care about. Seriously, why do I follow half of these brain-dead morons? Every now and then I stop to envy the smiling faces or cute pair of shoes. But I push past. I need the distraction.

I scroll so fast past it I have to go back up for my double take.

A diamond ring. A HUGE DIAMOND RING.

It almost glints at me from the picture. Yes, I know it's not possible, but it almost does. But it's not the ring that makes me do a double take.

It's the face of the boy in the picture –the boy with his hand swung around a blonde –the boy kissing her cheek as she smiles so brightly it's competing with the flashing diamond rock. My heart sinks. No, plummets. To China.

I think I may die right here on the street.

I examine every detail in the pic. Her ugly fucking dress. The water behind them. The electric teal cabanas of Star Resort. His face again.

My heart skips.

Then I relax. Then I breathe.

I remember their striking similarities: same hair, same jawline and almost the same height. But he is a little thinner, not as much muscle. Then I don't mind the crystal diamond ring anymore. In fact it looks nice on Lauren's finger.

Then her dress is actually pretty. Brody is actually Brody. I'm actually still alive. The hyperventilating subsides.

"Emmy?" Trix is looking at me funny.

"What?" I say. I didn't realize I had stopped dead in my tracks. Stopped right in front of the Ramen advertisement.

"What's up with you?" She asks, looking like I'm sick or something.

I am sick.

"Are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost." She looks at my phone in my hand to my face again.

"I'm fine!" I blurt out too fast. Man, my voice can get high. "Can't swipe and walk at the same time, sorry."

"Okayyy..." She stresses the word like she doesn't believe it. Like I'm not OK.

I quicken my pace to keep up with her and Travis. It's not helping my heart calm down.

The entire walk I feel like I see him everywhere.

Hysteria is real.

I see him across the street, his head tilted back and laughing, under a street lamp. I see him in the shadows, down side streets, down hidden alleyways untouched by city light. I see him when I close my eyes.

I see him because I want to see him.

We walk two more blocks and then we finally find a spot, a preppy-looking bar with lots of twenty-something's in line waiting to enter –waiting to pay an insane cover for an overcrowded bar and overpriced bar tab.

This place looks so Seattle.

There's hardly room at the sleek bar but I take a seat at the far end that just happens to be directly in the bartender's line of vision. He is friendly enough and heavy-pours my gin and tonic. I appreciate him for this, but not for his overly sympathetic smile.

He's spotted that I'm the third wheel.

11:12 PM

"To the start of a new tradition," Travis says, handing out shots to us.

"Here, here!" Trix shouts and I down what I hope will be the first in a long line of tequila shots.

"This place is so wild. Like packed like a zoo wild," I say.

"What did you expect? It's New Year Eve and it's New York City," Travis laughs at me. "Of course it's packed."

"Well, I like it," Trix says, swinging her arm across my shoulders. "Think of all the new friends we can make."

"If you want me to meet new friends, I need to meet a few more tequilas first. Like Cuervo and Patron and all their friends." I smirk and push my empty shot glass forward.

My third tequila shot finally starts to taste like salty water on my tongue. Trix laughs with her head back and arm swung around my shoulder. Everything is funny.

This isn't such a bad New Year's Eve after all. Sure, it's wildly different than ringing in the roaring 20s 2.0 version, but still it's not so bad. Aside from the Corbel Finn clone restaurant, the Ramen, and seeing Brody get engaged. Aside from imagining Brooks everywhere I look. It's not so bad. The sticky beer on the underside of my boots though –more than making up for it all.

Signs everywhere seem to point to my broken romance with him.

No. I push it from my mind.

Don't go there. Don't even visit there.

Signs aren't real, not anymore.

The universe isn't on your side, Emmy. Get on with your life. As AAR would say, MOVE ALONG.

Hey girl hey to Tequila Shot Four.