Don't Forget to Write

New Year's Eve

We walked out of the church and into another sacred place - Bob's. There were so many people inside that we couldn't even see the bar until we shimmied our ways through the horde. Bob and Karen were hustling behind the plank, red in the face, and gleaming with sweat as they simultaneously took orders, made drinks in one hand, and counted money in the other. Karen saw us, gave each of us each a high-five, and asked "shots and beers?" We nodded. She came back with the drinks and was gone without a word to the next customers.

Diane joined us, and so did a bunch of boys from the team, including Moose, Sammy, Matt, and Ben. We drank heavily in a corner of the bar reminiscing on the season and catching up with each other. I didn't yet have the heart to tell them I wouldn't be back for the next season, and I realized in that moment that I had forgotten to talk to Coach Armando. So much had happened in the past few weeks it had slipped my memory. My mind existed in so many different and broken realities, the recent past had been chaos, and every door I went through just led to another dark room where nothing quite made sense. I couldn't wait to live a life of sensible uncertainty, welcoming the troubles of a nomadic life rather than the unprecedented surprises of this one.

Most of the team left the bar to watch the ball drop elsewhere, so it was just me, Bruno, Moose, Diane, and a crowd of strangers. When the countdown struck zero, me and Moose hugged each other, and Bruno and Diane had a long romantic kiss. Karen came around the bar and jumped on us, forcing everybody into a group hug, and gave me a kiss on the cheek before disappearing behind the bar again. Bob poured us shots, we each shook his hand to wish him a happy new year and returned to drinking.

The three of us were of the last few in the bar as the year's first sunrise crept closer. Bob came over with three beers and five shot glasses. His cheeks were glowing red, partially from how hot he was, but more so from how much he had been drinking. "Last call gents, this one's on the house." He turned his head, "Karen! Get over here lass, enjoy yourself a shot." Karen scurried over to us, red-faced and sweaty after a day of nonstop hustle. Bob raised his glass and said, "May we all still be here, by this time next year". Then he cleared away the shot glasses and leaned up on the bar towards me.

"So, the boys tell me you are going on some cross-country road trip, eh?"

"That's right."

"Enjoy yourself lad, I never learned so much in my life as I did from travelin'. Safe journeys. When do you leave?"

"Soon, either tomorrow or the next day."

"Well, in that case, we need to do another shot!"

"I won't say no to that."

Bob poured us five shots again. "Give us another old Irish saying to cheer too," Moose said.

"Alright, this one isn't Irish, but it's from a Hemingway book. I quite like it.

I had an inheritance from my father,

It was the moon and the sun.

And though I roam all over the world,

The spending of it's never done.

Safe travels, Petey-boy"

We finished our beers, pushed in our barstools, left large tips, and shook the hand of Bob - the finest publican in Manhattan - and thanked him for an excellent night. Karen gave us each big hug goodbye, and the four of us stumbled to the apartment.