Next Year

“28, yes, this year that's you, could you take care of 1 please? You can use the practice! Thanks.”

“Get on with the toast!”

“36, take it slow with the gin, okay? Remember you have to watch 8.”

“Oh, come on, 35 can handle it.”

36 took another swig.

“Dammit 36, you know the rules. Watch him.”

“Fine, 49, play the rules then. Get on with the toast.”

“I will, once you get 8 away from the cake, alright?”

8 quickly shuffled behind the cake, as if that would make us forget he was there. 9 and 11 too were eyeing their chances. 36 pushed himself off the chair, walked over to 8 and, with the trained grip of a father, pulled 8 back to the table. 11 turned back to me, but it took 9 another three or four seconds before he noticed my stare.

“Sorry,” 9 said. Then he sat down too.

Somewhere in the background 2 and 5 were laughing. Those young days. How the hell did they just pass by without a trace in my memory?

“Guys, can I start?”

“Sure!” 17 shouted, like I had done back when I was his age.

I sucked the air deep inside my chest. It had always looked so easy from the other side, but now, with all those faces staring at me, it felt very differently.

“Okay guys. Guys!”

The room settled and even the laughter in the back stopped. I smiled. Another breath.

“I know most of you heard this speech quite a few times before. But I know that, if you listen, you too will discover again something for yourself; something that reflects on your coming year.”

“Oh, get on with it!” shouted 36.

He was even more visibly drunk. 8 was back there again, like every year. Until 36 noticed the empty chair and turned and cursed until the cream-covered fingers froze and slowly pulled away from the cake.

36 should have known. But somehow we never learn it. Somehow we always just watch ourselves and the others just don't quite feel real. Especially not 49, not the old one, not the one standing up there, speaking, because he will never return.

“If it has all worked right this year you have learned some lessons. And in a few minutes we will have some time to share those lessons, each one of us with the younger ones. And with all the questions that no one else wants to answer – well, come to me.”

A step forward.

“This life, our life, it has been wonderful. Every one of you, I am jealous of every one of you. Even you, 36.”

36 spoked and the younger ones did not hear, but the older ones, we all knew that he called me a “fuckwit.” We all had done it once.

“You know there are certain rules we have to follow. We have to pass the numbers on, each year to the previous one, don't forget that, okay? Else one of us might actually have to work as a cleaner or something, alright?”

They laughed, like every year. But no one would forget. No one ever forgot.

“18, this year is your lucky year! You'll get your first win and they'll print an article about you in the local press. But keep it modest, okay? Don't show off. And don't say a word about this. I know most of you know that already, but if we were to break the silence this all would break, okay? Don't tell a soul about this day.” I looked at 18. “Not even Angelika from the front row once she starts noticing you, okay?”