"Daddy, What are you doing on New Years Eve?" Ruth asked. We were eating breakfast on the twenty-sixth of December. I had survived Christmas and felt pretty good, until Ruth asked about New Years. Her question made me face the next holiday without Mary.
"Honestly, I've been trying not to even think about it." I answered. Mary had died early in February and I had been trying to ignore most of life ever since. It didn't work. Ruth, our twenty-five-year-old daughter, kept prodding me into life. She could even get me to smile occasionally.
"Well, I want to have a few friends over that night." She said.
A list of concerns popped into my thinking. I asked, "How many friends?"
"No more than ten. We'll pot luck the party and we'll mostly keep the noise down, not that the neighbors would complain." Our nearest neighbors were a quarter mile away. We were close to the city, but the land was zoned agricultural so the pieces were a minimum five acres each. Plenty of space and not many visitors.
"Drinking? Drugs?" I asked.
"Not even pot. Some drinking, but no drunks. To keep everyone safe I'll have them all bring sleeping bags and stay. That way no DUI arrests or worries."
"You aren't inviting a date for me, are you?" She had done it twice. It wasn't pretty.
"No Daddy. I'm probably the oldest person I'm inviting and I'm young enough to be your daughter!"
I smiled. She knew how to brighten my day. I nodded and said, "Well, Ok then." She took her plate and mug to the sink, kissing me as she went. She said, "Thanks Daddy" and disappeared.
Ruth came home, transferred to a college closer to home and took care of me after her Mom died. At the time I made noises about not needing to be taken care of, but fortunately Ruth didn't listen. Now she was a semester from graduation. The subject of "what then" had not been voiced, yet. I was conflicted about it. I wanted her to be on her own and I knew she was good for me. I wanted her to date, mingle and find someone to love and build a life with and I missed her terribly every time she left the house.
It didn't help that Ruth looked a lot like her mother. Not the way Mary looked her last eighteen months, haggard, too thin, in pain and bald, but the way Mary looked before she got cancer. Mary looked a lot like Mary Travers when we met. Straight blond hair, conservative dress of sweaters and slacks. Ruth looked like that and dressed like that except for favoring jeans instead of slacks.
I was sent to the stores to get things for the party. I got hooked into cooking for the party. Ruth had always liked the foods I cooked. My learning to cook as an eighteen-year-old had happened under the watchful eye and hand of a wonderful Cajun woman in Mississippi. Ruth asked me to make jambalaya and BBQ ribs. The other young people coming brought everything else. On New Years Eve our kitchen was full of food.
I met all the kids and held my own in some of the early conversations. The four boys were competitive, not so much with each other but with me. They played "One Ups" often. Since I wasn't competing for any of the young women, I let them win.
I started cooking at nine in the morning. Ribs need lots of slow cooking to be good. I started soaking wood chips the day before and at nine I lit the fire in my Bar-b-que. The meat went on the fire at ten-thirty in the morning. About once an hour after that I checked the ribs and at three hours I flipped the racks.
After people started arriving at about six they dropped by my pit to be sociable and some asked questions about cooking BBQ. Two of the young women hung with me for a while, talking about cooking. Both helped prepare the jambalaya and seemed to enjoy the project. One was a very shorthaired blond who dressed like an ad for J. Crew. She wore a blue button-down collar dress shirt, chinos and penny-loafers. Her name was Sue. The other woman was a strawberry blond about five-foot-eight who wore a white dress shirt under a blue UCLA sweatshirt and wore Lee jeans. Like many young women she wore her hair in a ponytail pulled through the hole at the back of her baseball cap. She also wore western boots. Expensive western boots. Her name was Lynn.
When everyone made noises like they were hungry I served up the ribs and jambalaya. Lynn helped and so did Sue. People loaded plates and sat down all over the house to eat, watch TV, talk and enjoy getting to know each other. Lynn sat near me. Sue went off looking for someone to connect with. We talked about Lynn's classes, her possibilities after graduation and she probed me about my life. She didn't ask anything about Mary. I wondered why Lynn was spending so much time with "the old guy."
When we were finished eating Ruth came and took Lynn to meet some people and I went into the kitchen to start clean up. Ten people eating and cooking make a lot of washing and cleaning necessary. When I got the mess manageable and most of the pots, pans and carrying trays cleaned I went to the TV room and watched the festivities across the world. I met two more of Ruth's friends who joined me watching the ball drop in New York and then Chicago.
At twenty minutes to midnight local time the TV room started getting crowded. I noticed Sue kissing one of the other women and them laughing and wishing each other a Happy New Year. Then I saw more kissing and more kissing as the countdown continued. I missed having Mary there to kiss. I noticed Lynn standing near a wall watching people and watching the television.
As quietly as possible I snuck out of the TV room. I meandered through the house and slipped into my bedroom. I closed the door. I kept all the lights off except my bedside lamp. I sat on the end of my bed and watched the countdown on my small TV. When the count hit zero I raised one hand and twirled a finger in the air. I whispered, "Happy New Year Mary, wherever you are."
I undressed, showered and followed my ritual consistent for the last thirty years. I shaved. For thirty years I had shaved twice a day. I shaved in the morning for my job. At night I shaved before bed. I shaved so I wouldn't have a sandpaper face when I kissed Mary.
It was just after midnight and I was shaving, even though I knew I wasn't going to be kissing anyone, especially Mary.
As I got out of the shower and dried I noticed a few tears. I said, "It's a New Year. You can't mourn forever. Mary would want you to love again." I hung the towel on the rack and went to bed.
I still had the bed Mary and I slept in together for the last five years of her life. I still slept on the side of the bed farthest from the bathroom. I got in, pulled the covers up, shut off the lamp and listened. I could hear the muffled sound of the TV in the TV room, the noises of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses or beer bottles.
I drifted to sleep. When I opened my eyes it was still dark in my bedroom. The digital clock three feet from my face read 0442. Almost five in the morning. I needed to pee. The instant I started to move to get up I realized I wasn't the only one in bed. My mind screamed, "Mary!" and I flipped over to face her.
Even in the dark I knew it wasn't Mary. It was Lynn. Her eyes were open and she looked afraid. She whispered, "Please, don't make me go."
"Stay. I have to go, but I'll be back." I got out of bed embarrassed because, if she could see, she'd see I was bare. I peed and came back to bed. I got in facing her. All that was uncovered was her head.
I whispered, "You didn't bring a sleeping bag?"
"I brought one. I wanted to be with you."
"I'm old enough to be your Dad!"
"Actually, you're a year younger than my Dad would be."
"Would be? He's gone?" I asked.
"Yes. We're both missing someone. I'm sorry."
"Me too." I paused. "Listen, I have to ask. What are you wearing?"
"Same as you. Skin. Do you want me to put clothes on?"
"Coming to bed with me was more than wanting a comfortable bed. What's going on?"
"I'll tell you the whole story, but I need to tell it my way, Ok?"
"Ok."