"I'm not much of wine drinker," Abraham commented, while taking a long draw of off a section of Kit-Kat as if it was a cigar, "but I have to admit that this chocolate does complement the taste."
"It says on this bottle that it's a 'dessert wine'," Noah said while pouring himself another glass.
"My goodness," Sasha sighed. Everyone turned their attention to her. "I'm just thinking of New Year's in years past, when me and my friends would make resolutions like losing weight or finding the right man… Now I'm thinking that every one of us has pretty much the same resolution – to stay together and to stay alive."
Tyreese raised his glass in a silent toast and everyone joined him.
The group was quiet for a moment until Glenn spoke up. "I never had time to reflect on New Year's Resolutions right before The Turn," he said. "I worked for a delivery restaurant and New Year's Eve was one of our busiest nights….everyone wanted pizzas and barbecued ribs and cheese sticks for their parties." He smiled and added, "On the plus side, I made a ton in tips. Nothing loosens up a wallet like a lot of champagne."
"I haven't thought about mozzarella cheese sticks in ages," Carol commented. "That and jalapeno poppers were our favorite appetizers when we went out to dinner…back then…"
"Now that you mention it," Allison said, "back when I was in college I remember a bunch of us pooling our money and buying one of those huge party submarine sandwiches on New Year's Eve." She paused and reflected. "At the time, I didn't think twice about those folks who were at work making food while the rest of us partied. It didn't really hit home until I worked in the ER at the hospital…New Year's Eve was business as usual. It just meant an influx of patients - shootings, stabbings, firework mishaps. I'm sure no one thought of us, either."
"Well that's one way to brighten up a discussion on what is supposed to be a happy occasion," Merle muttered in an agitated voice.
"I'm sorry," Allison murmured, not quite sure what she'd said that had upset Merle.
"We hardly ever got delivery or carry-out," Maggie said in an effort to distract everyone. "We lived so far away from everything…we usually ate only what we raised."
"Wow," Tara ruminated, "I'm trying to imagine not having a stack of carry-out menus in a kitchen drawer…" She giggled. "Not that we ordered every day of the week, but we got so many coupons and mailers in the mail, well, Mom would sometimes pull one out and tell Dad 'we can get ribs and chicken fully cooked cheaper than for what I can buy all the ingredients at the grocery store'."
Rick looked around the table and silently recalled all the New Year Eves he'd spent working the overnight shift as a Deputy Sheriff. He remembered how often Lori had protested and argued with him, that there were other officers who could cover that shift, and he'd tried to explain that he earned double time – twice his usual hourly wage – for working holiday shifts. Was he wrong to be practical about things? To want to earn enough money to not only support Lori and Carl and pay their mortgage but also occasionally be able to buy some luxury "extras"? Maybe it was his fault that things started falling apart before The Turn, he thought. He drank the last of the wine in his glass and cursed the liquid for dredging up memories he'd long ago buried. Carl's voice interrupted his reverie.
"This stuff tastes OK at first," the young man said while drinking the last of the small portion of wine Michonne had poured him, "but it kinda burns and it's just making me sleepy." He was trying to understand why adults seemed to enjoy liquor. "I think I'll go to bed now," he added, "and I'll take Judith with me." His slumbering sister didn't awake when he picked her up out of her chair, she simply snuggled against his chest and continued to snore.
"'Night, son," Rick said. He was also getting drowsy. "I won't be too far behind you."
"I remember back when I was in the Army," Abraham commented, pouring more wine into his glass. "So many clueless recruits running outside and firing their weapons up into the air to 'celebrate' the New Year. They'd been warned against it, but apparently the penalty was worth the excitement they got for that one drunken moment."
"Bullets fired into the air return back to Earth with terminal velocities much lower than their muzzle velocity when they leave the barrel of a firearm. Nevertheless, people can be seriously injured from the fallout," Eugene said.
"It happened in suburban neighborhoods, too," Sasha agreed. "Tyreese and I grew up in a very nice neighborhood, but every New Year's Eve we'd hear the noises in the distance and couldn't tell whether it was from fireworks or something else…"
"…and then we'd hear on the TV news the next day that someone had died because they'd got hit by one of those bullets fired up into the air," Tyreese finished.
"I thought this was supposed to be some sort of damned celebration!" Merle exclaimed as he stood up abruptly and left the room.
"What's wrong with him?" Allison leaned forward and asked Daryl.
He shrugged. "When it's Merle, who knows?"
‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡
Beth slipped away from the room unnoticed by most of the group as they finished their wine and various discussions. She looked around in the darkness and found Merle standing several yards away.
"Merle?" She asked tentatively. "Are you OK?"
Just the sound of her voice did such things to him. He turned around to face her. "I'm, um, OK I guess…" He was silent for a moment as he caught his breath and collected his thoughts. "Would you please take a walk with me, Princess?"
"Of course," she smiled at him.
They chatted a bit as he led her to a place he'd pictured in his mind some time ago – back when he'd decided he was going to ask Beth to become his wife. It was such a picturesque spot – with the forest behind them and the lake in front of them. He stopped walking and turned to face her. "Princess, Beth," he started to stumble over his words, "I want to ask you something…"
At that moment they both turned their heads at the telltale sound of Walkers approaching. Two of the creatures were slowly staggering from among the trees in the woods. Merle wasn't wearing his "Little Merle" blade, but he pulled his knife from his hip sheath. Beth very deliberately pushed him aside and quickly stabbed both Walkers through the head several times. She wiped her hunting knife off on her pant leg and then replaced it in her "holster". She had streaks of blood on her face and was breathing hard from the effort of having killed two Walkers.
She turned to face Merle and asked with a very intense face, "Now, what were you saying before we were so rudely interrupted?"