December 31st, 1984, and Eddie Blake wasn't sure how he would be spending the night. Ever since '77, he hadn't been invited to Times Square as the Comedian, but there had been a few years that he'd gone as himself and stood in the crowd as if he were one of them. Sometimes he'd chat up some wasted young woman so that he'd have someone to kiss at midnight and, more often than not, she'd end up at his apartment that night.
And back when he was younger, back when heroes were more welcome, he'd often make an appearance as part of the festivities in Times Square. He was typically the only hero to do such a thing; no one else was willing to sell out like that, but since the hero thing was his job, the people who signed his checks would make him go. Now, however, there was no place for heroes much of anywhere. A shame, really.
He could have gone, and stood there, and watched the countdown, and make out with a stranger, but he had turned 60 the previous year. As healthy as he was, he knew he was getting old, and Times Square on New Year's Eve was something for young people. He had been too old for a while now, and it was time to face that.
Not to mention the fact that he didn't think he'd mind a peaceful night in for once. Yet another sign he was aging, but he didn't really care. He'd had a more fulfilling life than most; he was a war hero, had accomplished more at age sixty than most people did in a lifetime, and if Nixon had anything to say about it, this year would be full of even more of those accomplishments.
He was alone, sure, but was that anything to complain about? Throughout his life, he hadn't played well with others. His brief stint in the Minutemen was proof enough of that. His failed relationship with Sally even more so, but he had reached a point in his life where he didn't bother feeling sad about that anymore.
It was over and done with. He hadn't seen her since the Crimebusters fiasco, and she had made her feelings for him pretty clear then, and he had had nearly twenty years to get over her anger. All he could do now was remember the good times, the very few good times that they had had. Those early Minutemen days, when they had been friends and he had thought she was interested in him, or the nights they would meet up, when she was married to another man but sharing her bed with him.
He had lost all of that now, but he had those memories, and that was enough. After losing her again and again, those memories were enough, and that was what was on his mind while he waited in line at the convenience store, buying a six pack that he knew would not last the night, and that was what he thought about at home, drinking in front of the TV while he watched a movie that he'd never heard of but that was enough to keep him entertained.
And he thought of Laurie too, of course. The daughter he never knew, the daughter who had flirted with him the first time they met because she had no idea why an older man she had never met before was complimenting her so openly, the daughter who hated him and had every right to, and would only hate him more if she knew the whole truth. The daughter who was somewhere else right now, all grown up without him, who was better off because of it.
He did still get sad about that one, he couldn't help it. It was easier to remember the good times with Sally because he actually had them. He had never had that chance with Laurie and he would never stop missing what he hadn't had, or forget the hate in her eyes the last time he saw her. It was true that he had accomplished more in his life than most, but when he thought of the family that never was, he was left only with regret.
It was just as he was telling himself that there was no point in regretting now, that it would only spoil the evening, that he heard a knock at his door. He couldn't think of anyone that would have any reason to visit him on a night like this and considered pretending not to be home. But the knocks did not stop, so he groaned and stood up, opening the door to reveal Sally Jupiter.
She was a hell of a lot older than the last time he had seen her. Her hair had gone completely gray and there were more wrinkles, but she was still dressed luxuriously, in a fur coat and expensive heels, and she was still beautiful enough to take his breath away. Now he knew he had to be getting old to think that, or maybe he was just being sentimental.
"Sal?" he asked, dumbfounded. "The hell are you doin' here?"
"I spent the entire flight wondering that. I still have no idea," she replied. "But here I am."
"Here ya are," he echoed, then stepped back to allow her in. She walked in, but did not say anything else, so he said, "Seriously, Sally, what's this about?"
"I told you, I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I started...thinking about you on Christmas. Laurie didn't stay very long this year. She doesn't need to, with a boyfriend who can send her anywhere at a moment's notice, so I was alone for most of it. I got drunk as hell and next thing I knew, I had a plane ticket to New York for New Year's Eve."
"And ya actually came?" The answer was obvious, considering she was standing in his apartment.
"I didn't want to let the ticket go to waste," she said, as if money were an object to her anymore. "I thought about not coming by. I've been all around the city, and I thought about going anywhere but here tonight, but...I guess I'm just tired of being lonely."
"Hell, Sally, I got tired of being lonely a long time ago, but I got used to it. The last time I saw you was twenty years ago, and ya gave me a telling off like no other. Somethin' tells me just bein' lonely ain't what brought you here."
"Don't give me that shit, Eddie," she snapped. "You know just as well as I do how complicated things are with us. Maybe I don't have a good reason to come see you, but I came to see you. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"So, what, now ya wanna be with me? Now that we're both old and our daughter's off on her own and I missed out on everything?" He didn't want to raise his voice at her, but he couldn't help it. There was a resentment there that, no matter how much he still loved her, nagged at him.
"Maybe I just wanted to be with someone who made me feel beautiful for a change." She was teary-eyed now, but he didn't fully sympathize. "I mean, you always said I was, even after I retired and everyone said I'd let myself go."
"I see, it's all about you, then?" He shook his head. "You never change, Sally. I tried to be in your life, again and again, but ya wouldn't let me. S'not my fault you're alone now, alright?"
"You think I don't know that? You think that's never crossed my mind? But what was I supposed to do, Eddie? I was scared. You know I was scared, scared of what would happen to me and my baby, and I panicked. Maybe staying with Larry for so long wasn't the right choice, but being with you didn't look like that good of a choice either."
"How many times did I apologize for that?"
"Does it matter?" she replied with a bitter laugh. "No one would blame me if I never forgave you for what you did to me, and anyone would think me stupid for going beyond just forgiving you. I didn't want that and when I found out I was pregnant, well...that just sealed the deal. What happened when you met Laurie...I was scared again, okay? I didn't want you to tell her, or for her to figure it out on her own. She still has no idea and she would hate me. Well, more than she already does, anyway." Again with the bitter laugh.
"I just wanted ya to stop carin' what other people though," he said, though he couldn't say he didn't understand, and he knew getting mad at Sally for the past wouldn't solve things. She had come to him now, and if it was too late, he wouldn't let it be. "Look, let's not...I don't care about any of that."
"I understand if you hate me," she said, "but you have to understand why I did what I did too."
"I do. And I understand why ya came here. It's crazy as fuck, but I understand, an' if ya need someone to make ya feel beautiful, I'm your man." He held his arms out, welcoming her for an embrace, but she went straight for his lips. She had been the one to make the first move during their brief affair, and even now, she was the eager one. Back then, he had been afraid to get too close to her after what he had done in the past and now, she hadn't even given him a chance to consider it before going for it.
That night, neither of them noticed the clock ticking to midnight. They brought in the New Year together, but they were too wrapped up in each other to notice. When morning came, no different than any other morning except that it was 1985 now, she had to go back to the airport. There was no talk of any future visits, but Eddie wasn't really surprised by that.
He did hope, however, that he would get to see her again that year. He hoped that this was the first step on the road to making things slightly less fucked up between them and he hoped that he might even get a chance to talk to Laurie about things. Perhaps this year would be different; perhaps this year would be better.