by James Bates
cranberry juice
The band finished a kick-ass version of Tangled Up In
Blue and Ben and Jenny clapped enthusiastically, along with the rest of the
crowd at O'Donnell's, a popular bar in downtown St. Paul.
"That
was great," Ben said, grinning and taking a sip of his drink.
"One
of my favorite Dylan songs," Jenny said, drinking from hers.
Maybe
it wasn't the most romantic song but neither of them cared. They still liked it.
They liked Dylan's music and they like each other, too. A lot.
Jenny
reached over and rubbed Ben's arm. It was New Year's Eve and the crowd was
getting boisterous. Ben looked at his cell phone. "Nearly
eleven-thirty."
"Yeah,
kind of late. Want to go? Beat the traffic."
Ben
nodded and smiled. "Absolutely."
They
finished their drinks and headed out into a cold Minnesota night. Ben and Jenny
lived together in a small brownstone apartment of Lyndale Avenue in Minneapolis.
The drive took over forty-five minutes. It was five degrees below zero and Ben's
heater in his old Toyota wasn't working well so they wrapped up in blankets. His
radio didn't work either, but that was okay. They remembered most of the words
to Tangled Up In Blue, so they sang in the new year together, not caring if they
were off key. There was hardly any traffic on the road. It was like they were in
another world.
It was
another world, one they were still getting used to. They walked up the stairs to
the third floor and entered their tiny, one bedroom apartment. It was all they
could afford, but at least it was theirs. And, more importantly, at least they
were together.
Once
inside Jenny turned on one lamp on an end table and lit a stick of sandalwood
incense. Ben fixed them each a drink, like they'd been having at O'Connell's, and
they curled up on the couch. Then they toasted each other. They'd been together
nearly a year, having met at an alcoholics anonymous meeting earlier that
January. They'd become friends first, then lovers and then had taken the next
step, a big one for each them; they'd moved in together. They'd been living
together for nearly six months, and it had been the best six months of the best
year of either of their lives.
"Here's to us," Ben said, toasting Jen with his glass of sparkling
water.
"To
us," Jen smiled, raising her cranberry juice.
"And
here's to a happy, sober new year," they both said together, laughing and
flirting a little, unused to not being drunk out of their minds on New Year's
Eve.
Later
that night they made love. Twice. When they awoke the next morning it was still
bitterly cold outside, but they didn't mind. They had clear minds and each had
the day off and were looking forward to spending the entire day together. They
might even listen to Bob Dylan and sing along to Tangled Up In Blue. They
couldn't think of a better way to ring in the new
year.
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