New Year's Eve
(in Waikiki)
"Wow! That was a good one. Did ya see that, Donny?" Gilligan asked. The bright colors in the sky dissolved with a whistle and a bang, and the smell of sulfur drifted down to the onlookers in the park.
"Oh, man," Donny exclaimed. "That was great." He was bouncing in his seat and clapping his hands. His enthusiasm couldn't help but make the others laugh.
The small gathering of friends was seated around a small campfire crackling in the little yard by their apartment building just at the edge of Kapiolani Park. It was New Year's Eve, and they were watching the Waikiki fireworks.
Gilligan's best friend, Scotty, was there, as well as Sharon and her son, Donny, who lived in the apartment below Gilligan. From the other side of the apartment building were two new tenants, Jason Matthews and his sister, Wendy.
Gilligan approached the picnic table and rummaged through the remnants of their feast, searching hopefully for any last delicacies he could munch on. Keeping an eye on the sky, he didn't notice as Wendy approached him at the table. Eighteen year-old Wendy was a rather awkward girl, with thick glasses, a scattering of freckles and her hair in pulled back in a tight bun. She watched Gilligan wistfully.
"Here, Will. Can I call you Will or do you prefer William?" she asked as she handed him a small bowl of pretzels.
"Huh?" He looked back at her perplexed. "Mostly, everyone just calls me Gilligan," he answered with a shrug, as he took the pretzels. He heard the whir of more fireworks going up and spun back to watch the sky. Wendy sighed and went back to her seat between her brother and Scotty.
Keeping his neck craned and his eyes upward, Gilligan backed towards his chair. As he plopped down, he was rewarded with green dragon eggs crackling across the sky, followed by a huge boom. There were "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd around him.
"I like those ones best," Donny hollered. Then, running over to Gilligan, he wrapped his arms around his friend's neck and squeezed. "Gilligan, can we have a show-down tomorrow?" he asked.
"Donny! Donny, I can't breathe," Gilligan gasped. He fell backwards and his feet kicked up. As he somersaulted backwards out of his chair, pretzels flew through the air.
Donny threw himself down on the grass next to Gilligan. "Let's watch them like this," he suggested as he took a pretzel from Gilligan's chest and ate it.
Gilligan looked over at his young friend. Donny had just turned twelve years old and had down syndrome. Gilligan often babysat for Sharon and would take Donny to a nearby ice cream shanty, where they would race to eat their ice cream cones in a shoot-out show-down fashion.
Grinning, he answered, "Sure, we can have a show-down if it's okay with your mom."
Sharon looked over at the boys lying on the grass and smiled. "All right, Donny, but not until after lunch."
Wendy Matthews watched the antics with a shy smile on her face. After moving into the building just last week, it hadn't taken long for her to develop quite a crush on the young sailor. While Gilligan was oblivious, her brother was not.
Jason and Scotty exchanged glances. Jason scowled as he turned back and looked at Gilligan, and Scotty covered his mouth with his hand to try and hide the smirk that was creeping across his face.
Everyone's attention was quickly drawn back upwards, though, as their senses were bombarded with brilliant flares and an array of colors, sparkling and popping across the sky.
Donny laughed and covered his ears as the finale picked up steam. Gilligan and Scotty whooped and hollered.
When the barrage finally fizzled away and the last tendrils of smoke drifted towards the open ocean, the scattered crowds burst into applause. Gilligan and his friends stood and hugged each other, all wishing a happy new year to their friends.
As they started to pick up the blankets and chairs in the little clearing, Gilligan heard the shrill ringing of his telephone coming through his open living room window. He bolted up the back stairs, through his door, fell over the back the couch and grabbed the receiver.
"Hi, Dad," he said with a cheeky grin. "Happy new year."
"How did you know it would be me?" his father asked with a chuckle.
"Who else would it be?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure Skipper went to bed hours ago."
"Yes," he said laughing. "You're probably right. Well, your mother and I just wanted to wish you well." Then he added in a whisper, "You are still coming home for your mother's surprise party, right?"
"Sure, Dad. Skipper already said I could take the time off," he answered. "Hey, is Danny awake?" he asked.
"I don't know," his father said. "He's not here; he went to a party over at the Mulligan's. Why?"
Gilligan shrugged. "Oh, I was just going to tell him about our cruise coming up on Sunday afternoon. Guess who bought a ticket."
"I give up. Who?" his father asked.
"Well," Gilligan said slyly. "According to Sparky, the clerk in the office at the docks, Ginger Grant is going to be there."
"Who?" asked his father.
"Dad, you can't be serious. Ginger Grant. GINGER GRANT," he yelled.
"Do we know her? Oh wait, didn't she go to school with Bridget?"
"No, Dad," Gilligan said, shaking his head. "She's an actress. You know her. She's got red hair and was in a bunch of movies. Don't you remember The Hula Girl and the Fullback? Sing a Song of Sing Sing? Belly Dancers from Bali Bali?"
"Oooohhhhhhhh, riiiiiiiight. Belly Dancers from Bali Bali," he said. "Wasn't she wearing . . . "
"Yesssssss," Gilligan said with a grin. "That was her. Sparky said that her agent called, and she's going to be on the Minnow on Sunday. Tell Danny I'll try to get my picture taken with her."
Patrick Gilligan laughed. "Well, good luck with that, son. You have fun on your cruise and say hello to Skipper for us. Don't forget, I'll send you the flight information when we get closer to Mom's birthday."
"Okay, Dad," Gilligan answered with a smile. "I'll see you in a couple of months." He started to reach over to hang up the phone, but heard his father calling out.
"Wait, William – one more thing. Danny wanted me to tell you to bring his red shirt back. I believe his exact words were 'You tell that thieving little weasel to bring back my red shirt or I'll snap his arm like a twig."
"Yikes!" Gilligan squealed. "Just for that, I'll make sure I'm wearing that shirt when I get my picture taken with Ginger Grant," he said with a sneaky smile.
"See you soon, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me."
Gilligan hung up the phone and picked up the picture on the small table by his couch. It was a picture of the Gilligan family – Patrick and Ellen, and their three kids, Bridget, Danny and William – at the entrance to the Philadelphia Zoo. Gilligan remembered that they went there after his high school graduation, and just a week before he left for the Navy.
He set the picture back on the table and hoisted himself over the back of the couch and back out to the yard to finish picking up with his friends.
The sounds of laughter and firecrackers still drifted across the park as the celebrators found it hard to wind down. Gilligan and his friends picked up the last traces of their cook-out and folded up the lawn chairs.
Fifteen minutes later, Gilligan said good night to his friends and stumbled back into his apartment juggling dirty dishes and empty soda bottles, which he dropped unceremoniously into the sink. Just before he shut off the light, he glanced one more time at the family picture.
"Good night, Mom," he whispered with a small smile. "See you soon."
