What was the worst thing that could happen on December 31?
Newt ever thought that it would be that dramatic. He just bought the chocolate box set that supposed to be used in the New Year's Eve party, which was held by his girlfriend and their mutual friends, in the dessert shop in downtown, and then when he drove himself home, he received a MMS from her. The smile froze on his face as he opened the message. That was probably the most embarrassing moment in his life, the smile on his face turned into the most vicious mock, even though there was only he himself in the car. The man that his girlfriend kissed with passion in the picture was not him.
Newt knew that he couldn't drove back home like that. He parked his car by the pavement, and he called her five minutes later. He listened her tears and apologies on the phone calm and quiet, but he didn't allow her to explain. Finally, he told her that he wouldn't attend the party tonight. He cut off the line before she responded, and he waited another five minutes before he started the engine.
He didn't know if it was his problem or the girl's, or maybe it was just the bad luck once again. He had been with three different girls, and all the relationships ended up like this, the girls cheated on him. The childish puppy loves in high school were easy to forget and forgive, but this one—this last girlfriend in his past two years in the collage—was different. He never been this serious about anyone. They were be together for more than two year, Newt even thought about going into the marriage. However, the reality had told him that he thought too much.
The most awkward thing was not the betrayal. It was the marriage that he had imagined. Apparently this girl didn't care him as much as he did her. The relationship between them was not balanced, at least not in the past few months. Newt felt his cheeks burning.
He made a detour to the nearby supermarket and bought two dozens of Heineken. He wasn't the biggest fan of alcohol, but today, only today, the day his heart broken and the coming New Year's Eve, it seemed like there wasn't any better day to get totally drunk. The clerk in the supermarket assumed that he was about to hold a party, but Newt even didn't bother faking a smile. He only felt exhausted. All he wanted to do was to get home, drank all night long and passed out for the rest of the next day.
When he reached the apartment he rent with his friend, the two locks on the door were both locked. Alby, his roommate, was not home. He was there when Newt headed out, so he didn't have any idea that where did he probably go. It was better, he thought, the way he looked right now was way worse than pathetic. He'd never wanted Alby to come upon him unawares as his tears dribbling down incautiously.
He set the chocolate box and the beers on the table, took off his coat and muffler, and sank himself into the sofa. He turned on the TV, and deliberately left the light turning off, letting the room lit up by the TV screen.
He smiled when he sat down. The scene was too classical, too old-school—the heart-broken classic. He didn't know which part hurt him most—the love he gave out blindly, or the wounded pride of his. Yet the two things were almost the same right now from his point of view.
The channel was broadcasting the live show of the New Year's Eve parties all over the State. It wasn't even dinner time, and the parties in all major city were progressing. Newt changed the channel to the live-broadcasting show in New York even though he was in California. He always wanted to see the big apple in the Time Square, and the kissing and hugging between every couple after the countdown. He definitely wanted to see that this year; he would love to catch every joyful smile on their faces, he thought viciously. Because he wouldn't be one of them this year.
The band on the stage right was a band he never heard their name before and with no special skills. The drum was too loud and the boy's yelling sound was too noisy, he would hate this kind of music in the normal time. But today, he only found this satisfying.
He peeled off the lid of one of the bottle and took a gulp. He almost choked on it, but he forced it down his throat all the same. He wasn't used to the taste of the beer, his eyes stung by the alcohol, but he took another mouthful. And then the third, the fourth, till the liquor smoothed in his mouth; his cheeks and neck was surprisingly hot.
He finished the first bottle in speed. And he opened up another. He unwrapped the chocolate box and threw the trash on the ground. He wouldn't do such things at all in normal days, but he had a feeling that he had the right to do this today. Today was the day he could let go of himself. Two dozens of beers. It was the craziest thing he'd ever done.
When the door was pushed open, Newt had lost the count of the bottle he'd finished and the track of time. His head felt dizzy, so the Alby went into the room was swaying. Alby apparently frightened by his appearance, stopping by the door for a few second.
"Shit, what the hell are you doing?"