Broken Resolutions

Chapter Eight

Emily watches Andrew. He is making himself another drink. She hates it when he drinks. He is always so loud, so obnoxious, almost as if he were an entirely different person. She thinks about her father. He was the same way. Loud. Obnoxious. And one more thing that Andrew is not—mean. As Andrew pours his own drink, she remembers the dishes crashing against the wall, the broken furniture. Her mother locked outside in the rain while Emily and her brother sneaked peeks through the windows at their mother sitting in the family car while their father stomped from room to room breaking more dishes, more furniture. Emily tries to think of something else, but it is several moments before she can erase the memory of her mother, soaking wet and in socked feet, seeking refuge in the car parked in the driveway.

Andrew is laughing about something. Emily focuses on him. What did he say? Probably some silly joke. She loves him so much, but she can hardly even like him when he is like this. Why can’t he just be himself? Then everyone would see why she loves him, how much he loves her. He just hasn’t been the same since last February. Almost a year.

She looks at his face. Why is his cheek so red? All red and blotchy. It looks almost like a handprint. She looks more carefully. It looks very much like a handprint. She feels a sinking sensation in her stomach. She looks around the room. Had to be Amber. Didn’t it? Or Hannah. What is with her tonight? That short black dress. And why is she drinking so much? She never drinks more than one or two drinks. And what was all that talk about in the kitchen earlier? Hannah had joked about her and Andrew having an affair. Is Hannah trying to tell her something?

Andrew sits back down beside Emily, accidentally spilling some of his drink on her thigh. He does not notice.

A little after eleven o’clock, it is almost time to open the presents. Rita discretely hooks a thumb into the waist of her slacks and gives them a tug. This girdle is killing her. Sitting beside her, Billy drapes an arm over her shoulder.

Hannah stands and retrieves a small cedar box from the fireplace mantle. Sitting back down, she opens the box and pulls out six pieces of folded white paper and a handful of ink pens. Two of the pieces of paper look new, but the other four are worn with age. She pulls them out, opens each paper to read it, gets up, and hands a piece of paper and pen to each couple.

“I started a new one for you and Amber,” she tells Max. “And another new one for you and Billy,” she tells Rita.

She sits again before speaking. “I guess I should explain for Billy and Amber. During our first New Year’s Eve, December 1984, each couple made a New Year’s Eve resolution and wrote it down. We promised we would get together the following New Year’s Eve, check to see if we had accomplished that resolution, and make another one. So, you are looking at over 25 years of resolutions.”

Amber pulls the piece of paper from Max’s hand and reads it. “Aww, this has my name on it. Thanks for including me in on your tradition, Hannah,” she says with a sincere smile.

Hannah avoids looking in Rita’s direction. “You’re welcome. So, what we do is we read our very first New Year’s resolution from December 1984, and then we read last year’s resolution and tell whether we kept it, and then we write down a new resolution for the coming year.”

Andrew begins, “Well, in December of 1984 I didn’t know Emily and I wrote, I am going to start my own business. And, of course, I never did. Bill Gates beat me to it.” Everyone laughs at this. “Last year, Emily and I wrote, Have a baby, which we are working on right now.” Emily smiles in his direction and he smiles back.

Max continues. “Well, I don’t remember what I wrote that first year…”

“We wrote that we were going to get married in 1985, which we did,” Rita interrupts.