A Last Time of Sorts

The new year was approaching and Duncan didn't have anyone to kiss. In his nightstand he kept a little black book with phone numbers and girls' names. He liked the personal touch. But leafing through its pages he realized he might not receive personal touches of any kind this midnight. The connections were either too brief, too long, too painful, not painful enough. Out of the four dozen or so he only called about six and received just as many rejections.

"Rita, you have to help, you must know some girl who doesn't have a New Year's date."

"Oh my god, New Year's doesn't even matter, Dunc."

"Yes, it does. I'm not going into next year alone." She said that we were all going into next year alone, which didn't really help matters much.

Rita's almost-fiance Hup was hosting the shindig, and Duncan figured he would probably know a decent amount of people there. To him this gave all the more reason to be as nervous as he was. Everyone was pairing up and pairing off and talking about mortgages and the ungodliness of the inevitable suburbs. He felt as though this would be a last time of sorts. So he needed a filly, and he had called Rita, and it sounded as though Rita would pull through. Her friend, June, would be there. There was no need to pick her up, buy her dinner, do anything except show up, refill her drink when necessary, and not act like an ass.

He tied and untied his tie probably a dozen times. And after shining his shoes and applying just enough cologne he only had time for a few mints before heading out the door, not wanting to be too late. Plus his nerves still shook him. His nerves shook him something awful.

Walking on his way it struck him that he should pop into a bar for a quick nip to calm those nerves. He ducked into one that didn't seem to be too crowded, took a seat, and ordered a bourbon. A comely girl set down a glass before him.

"Meeting someone here?"

"No, on my way to a place," Duncan said. "Just thought I'd have a quick one." She smiled, nodded, attended to some other customers. After finishing the drink quicker than he meant to he ordered another. "How's my tie look?"

"Looks good from where I am." She was going to get a big tip. And then, like she had that special sense, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, nothing at all." He ordered a third and she poured it. "What would you say if a guy like me would come up to you tonight and kiss you? I mean at midnight. Would you let it happen?"

She laughed, but just a little. "I suppose I would, sure. You're cute." It made him feel so good he ordered another bourbon. His nerves were almost completely gone, thank heavens. He made his way to the jukebox to see about something to play. While the discs flipped from right to left he saw the girl, his server, in the corner of his eye. She was putting on her coat, grabbing her purse, meeting a tall and dark and handsome gentleman at the side door. They kissed. Duncan left his money in the juke for someone else, downed his drinks, threw some bills and left. It was snowing now.

Hup answered the door. "Did you fall in the snow?"

"It's snowing," Duncan said, brushing himself, shaking like a mutt.

"I know. Where's your coat?" Had he really not worn a coat? Did he leave it at the bar? He couldn't remember.

All the people blurred together and he squeezed through them until he saw Rita. "Where's... where's...?" She did not look happy, not that the fact lodged with him at the time. It looked like her mouth was opening and she was about to gesture to the young woman next to her. You couldn't really call it making a decision because that would imply that certain faculties were in play, but nonetheless he lunged for the girl, trying to force his mouth on hers, bending bending bending forward as she limboed. What was he doing wrong? Come on, chicky baby! Get into it! It's New Year's!

He woke up on the couch and Hup was making coffee. "I made you a to-go mug. You should scram before Rita gets up." Duncan somehow found the strength to not only get off the couch but also to remain upright. If only all resolutions were that simple. He reached for the mug and saw a note on top.

"What's this?"

"I don't know how it happened but it's that girl's number. You know, the one you tried to eat."

He squinted into his memory and every horrible detail came back; the drinking, the lunging, the limbo. "What?!" The exclamation made his head throb. He was throbbing, every part of him was throbbing. He took the mug and note and left. Snow blinded him. Escaping coffee burned his hand. His nails dug into the numbers. This year was going to be all right.