“One more year, baby.”
“One more year, Mommy.”
Helena appears in front of us, holding her three-year-old grandson in her arms.
“Come on, stand up, it’s time for the count.”
There are about fifteen people in this small room. The host on the TV screen starts counting backward.
Ten . . .
Dani’s laughter . . .
Nine . . .
Carlos’s foolishness . . .
Eight . . .
Yoshi’s nerdy arguments . . .
Seven . . .
Apolo’s innocence . . .
Six . . .
My mother’s disappointment . . .
Five . . .
Ares’s hurtful words . . .
Four . . .
Ares’s sweet words . . .
Three . . .
His beautiful smile when he wakes up . . .
Two . . .
The deep blue of his eyes . . .
One . . .
I love you, Witch.
“Happy New Year!”
Everyone is shouting, hugging, celebrating, and I can’t help but smile, even though thick tears are streaming down my cheeks.
I miss Ares a lot. He’s spending Christmas and New Year’s on an exotic beach in Greece because, apparently, they have family there. I couldn’t help teasing him about the Greek gods going to Greece. Ares asked me over and over again if I wanted him to stay, but how could I allow myself to take time with his family away from him? I’m not that selfish.
My mother hugs me, bringing me back to reality.
“Happy New Year, beautiful! I love you so much.” I return the hug. Our relationship is still a bit broken, but we’re working on it. Of course, I haven’t told her yet that Ares and I are dating. I’m taking it one step at a time. Ares called me hours ago to wish me a happy New Year, the time difference taking its toll.
After a few hugs, I sit on the couch. I have nothing to do—the reality of it takes me by surprise. After welcoming the year, Joshua would always come for me, and we would go out and wish happy New Year all over the streets, with everyone awake and celebrating. I glance at my phone at the opened note on forgiveness that I haven’t finished.
Joshua has always been by my side, and these last few months have been hard without him because we have so many of our own traditions. We used to go out to play in the first snowfall of the year, welcome the kids in scary costumes on Halloween, have marathons of our favorite series, and buy different books so that when we were done reading them, we could exchange them. We had board game nights and bonfires with horror stories next to my house. We even set the yard on fire once, and Mom almost killed us.
I smile at the memory.
What am I doing?
I may not be able to trust him so easily, but I can forgive him. There’s no room in my heart for a grudge.
Without much thought, I grab my coat and follow my heart. I run out of Helena’s house and the cold of the newly arrived winter hits me, but I run down the sidewalk, waving and wishing happy New Year to everyone I meet along the way. Christmas lights decorate the street and the trees in the gardens in front of the houses. There are children playing with sparklers and others making snowballs to throw. The view is beautiful, and I realize that sometimes we get so focused on our problems that we don’t see the beauty of simple things.
Hugging myself, I start walking faster. I can’t run through the snow, I don’t want to slip and break any bones; that would be pathetic. My foot gets buried in a pile of snow and I shake it off to continue, but when I look up, I freeze.
Joshua.
With his long black coat, a black cap, and his glasses slightly fogged by the cold. I say nothing and just run to him, forgetting the snow, the problems, the emotional scars, I just want to hug him.
And I do, linking my hands around his neck and pulling him tight against me. I smell the scent of that soft cologne he always wears, and it fills me and soothes me.
“Happy New Year, you idiot,” I growl against his neck. He laughs.
“Happy New Year, Rochi.”
“I miss you so much,” I murmur.
He presses me against his chest.
“I miss you too. You have no idea.”
No.
That’s not what happened.
No matter how much I wished that had happened, it won’t change the reality.
Reality is me running through the snow with tears on my cheeks, with no coat, and clutching my cell phone so tightly in my hand that it might break. My lungs burn from the cold air, but I don’t care. My mother runs after me, yelling at me to calm down, to stop, to put on my coat, but I don’t care.
I can’t breathe properly.
I still remember how quickly my smile faded when I got the call. Joshua’s mother sounded inconsolable.