The Ghost of New Year’s Night

Corinne O’Connor

When p.m. shifted to a.m., when the old year broke into the new, I stood alone in a crowd of familiar strangers. The sharp crack of fireworks polluted the air. Fifty people fought for space in my cramped apartment, and I couldn’t name all of them. 

They jumped and cheered and blew confetti over the hardwood floor. Their dull roar and chatter rolled over me in choppy waves; it was getting difficult to stay afloat in the noise. The glow of the television lit up everyone’s face as the announcer said, “Everyone here in Times Square is ringing in the New Year.” The image cut to an interview with a doctor I recognized from work, stuck in the crowd. 

Josh and Niya, my two cousins, turned up the volume to hear the TV’s cheers. A couple of college friends tried to out-drink each other, never growing up from the last time I saw them. I, however, stood rooted in place. 

Casey stumbled into me, sloshing the champagne out of my glass. They looked surprised for a second to see me; to be fair, they were tipsy, disoriented, and just got done making out with their boyfriend. I’d acclimated to how Casey acted when drunk over the four years of being roommates in college. 

Casey grabbed a hold of my arm like a lifeline. “Luuucy,” they said, drawing out my name. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?” 

The truth of that is, I hadn’t thought of one. I’d resigned myself to a new year of the same old stuff: 12-hour shifts at the hospital that I didn’t-hate-didn’t-love, going to yoga once a week, and hunting for more TV shows to binge. Nothing else would happen beyond that. 

The chatter from the crowd washed over me again. It should have been warm, but it felt like plunging into freezing water. I surrounded myself with people, but the loneliness remained no matter what I did. Who did I talk to all night? What did I do- stand in the corner at my own party? 

I forced my red-stained lips into a smile. “Meet new people,” I replied. A safe answer. Everybody wants to meet new people. Besides, we meet new people everyday, so it’s a resolution I could accomplish with ease. 

But for some reason, my safe answer made Casey pull their oh, honey face. In the background, someone switched my party playlist to a Mariah Carey song. All my blood boiled to the surface. No one here respected me, clearly. They all thought I was a joke. The room spun, Casey’s face morphing in on itself. 

Then I was falling. Not in any particular direction---not forward or backward, up or down. The softness of my pillow greeted me as I opened my eyes. I was back in my bedroom, covered with a thick duvet. A soft glow cut through the darkness of my bedroom: the TV showed footage of people flooding Times Square, shouting and- 

“-ringing in the New Year,” said the announcer. 

That sense of déjà vu crawled across my skin. A shiver wracked my spine. Dazed, like I’d woken up out of surgery, I glanced at the clock. 12:03 a.m. - New Year’s. 

But the party and the people---where’d they all go? Casey was about to lecture me on getting out more, and I’d laugh it off, and-- 

My phone started ringing. Every year, like clockwork. “Hey mom,” I answered, trying to rub the sleep out of my voice. 

“How’s your New Year’s going? Are you okay?” my mom asked, a little too loud into the speaker. 

That was the familiarity I was looking for. 

“I’m okay,” I said, unsure if I was trying to convince her or myself. 

“Did you invite anyone over this year? It sounds quiet on your end,” she responded. 

My stomach clenched. She had a way of making me realize everything I felt bad about. The silence echoed in the room, punctuated by the sounds of my new neighbors moving furniture around. “Yeah, I just stepped into the bathroom to answer your call. All of my friends are in the living room area.” 

The lie soothed both of us. She gasped in relief; I imagined her clutching her heart like an old Southern woman. “Thank goodness. Oh, I won’t keep you then. Happy New Year’s, honey.” 

“Happy New Year’s,” I whispered back. The click of the phone call ending brought me out of my stupor. I shoved the woven duvet back, wiped my face for the collected drool, and stumbled into the cramped half-kitchen. 

A lone bottle of champagne, filled to the brim and unopened, sat on the counter. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to drink tonight, and I wouldn’t mind something to cheer me up. I walked over and picked up the bottle, examining the label. Spirits Champagne, it read in a gold, looping font. 

I attempted to take the cork out, but the smooth bottle slipped through my sweat-soaked fingers. As if in slow motion, the bottle smashed to the ground, shards of glass flying at all angles. A sharp pain blossomed at my ankle where a shard cut through. 

Out of the shards rose a puff of smoke that multiplied and multiplied. I backed away, grabbing for my phone to call the fire department. There must have been something else on the floor that it was reacting with or- 

The puff grew to a large wisp of blue-white. It was shapeless, iridescent in the lowlights of the kitchen. “Hello,” the wisp said. 

I scrambled back further, gripping my phone as a lifeline. Who do I call for this, whatever it was? 

The wisp grew again, now about my size. “I’m here to help,” it said, as if sensing my racing thoughts. 

It moved forward, to which I shouted, “Stay back! I don’t know what you are.” 

The wisp stayed in place, a stasis. My breath hitched; we were stuck in a standstill of who would move first. “You humans have a lot of words, but not one for what I am. I suppose you could compare me to a ghost. Or a genie, though I like ghost better.” 

I blinked back. An odd numbness settled over me; I wasn’t outraged or disgusted or in disbelief. My instincts told me its intentions were good, but they didn’t tell me whether or not it told the truth. “Why are you here?” I asked. 

The wisp shrunk in size, in a constant state of change. It shifted its shape and size every few seconds, pulsating. “I am here for one night and one night only. By daylight, I’ll disappear. I am here to correct things. To grant one of your biggest desires. Think of it like a head start on your New Year’s resolution.” 

Before I had a chance to ask what that meant, a knock sounded from the door. I looked at the wisp. “What--” 

“Answer it,” the wisp urged. “You’ll thank me for it.” It shrunk back to the point of disappearing, and suddenly the glass shards glued themselves back together, jingling together until the champagne bottle was whole again. I checked inside; it was full of champagne again. 

Neat party trick. 

The sight managed to jar and impress me, but one more knock reminded me what it wanted me to do. I prepared myself for every possibility from a murderer at the door (hand clenched in a fist, ready to hit) to my family (ready to receive bear hugs). I opened the door to the faces of complete strangers, one man and one woman. The man had a scruffy beard and wire-frame glasses. He stood tall in the doorway. His companion, a woman with short dark hair and warm brown eyes, seemed half his size. Both were in their mid-twenties, about my age. 

The man began talking. “Hello, we wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Victor Eastman, and this is my wife, Alisha. We’re your new neighbors over in 304. I know it’s New Year’s but if you’re not busy we’d like to invite you over for… for…” He struggled for words and looked at Alisha for help. 

“For drinks and company,” she finished in a voice that sounded like a bell. 

I looked over my shoulder, expecting the wisp to guide me to the answer. But it wasn’t there, not even a trace of smoke. This was my greatest desire? What was that damn thing playing at? 

I met their smiles with one of my own. May as well go along with it. “Yes, that sounds nice. My name is Lucy Allen, by the way. You can come in here- I have an unopened bottle of champagne that I couldn’t get through by myself.” 

They laughed at my joke and stepped into the apartment. I became all too aware of its messy state; I hadn’t had to clean for guests in months, and I preferred the apartment cozy and messy to rigid and neat. “Where’d you move here from?” I asked as I poured each of them a glass of champagne. 

“We’re originally from Baltimore,” said Alisha. She stared at my few possessions lining the counters, from photos to old mail, though it didn’t feel intrusive or scrutinizing. Her eyes were wide with curiosity. 

“Must be a big change to move to Brooklyn,” I replied. I was aware of the stupid small talk, but it was filling. As if I’d been on an empty stomach for years and now I was getting crumbs. I could work my way up from crumbs. 

Victor sipped from his glass. He didn’t strike me as a champagne person, but he seemed to enjoy it, already half-done with his portion. “We moved here for our jobs. Alisha’s a registered nurse. I’m taking over my family’s restaurant now that my parents are retired.” 

The recognition reverberated in my skin. I leaned forward as the excitement bounced off me. “You’re a nurse? So am I. What hospital do you work at?” I reached for anything to bond over and talk about. 

Alisha’s eyes lit up. “I’m starting at New York Presbyterian next week.” 

Like a warm blanket covered me, I relaxed and smiled. Alisha gave me one more solace. “That’s the one I work at. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

A work friend. I had a work friend. I suppose she was also my outside-of-work friend too, then. A scrap of hope built up and up. This night was turning out better than I expected. 

A knock broke us from our conversation. “Were you expecting guests?” asked Victor, setting his empty glass down on the wooden countertop. 

“No,” I replied. Who else could it be this late at night? Maybe another neighbor’s drunk family member getting the apartments mixed up. Nevertheless, I opened the door to find Casey draped over their boyfriend Peter, and another girl trailing behind them. 

Casey’s face was red, meaning they’d definitely had something to drink already. Peter’s white shirt had a stain on it, though I couldn’t tell what it was in the dim lighting. Some sort of alcohol, considering the night. I didn’t recognize the girl. She was tall, enough to be level with Peter, with blonde hair pulled back in a braid. It took me a moment to notice the blue streaks in it and how it coordinated with her blue gloves and coat. 

Upon seeing me in the doorway, everyone’s face exploded into a grin. Casey wrapped me in a tight hug before I had a chance to greet them. “Luuucy, I missed you!” they sang. 

They pulled away. “We were just at Times Square, and it was a bitch getting out of there to come here. Absolutely flooded on the trains. But since we were in the area, we wanted to stop by.” 

Peter glanced into the apartment and caught sight of Victor and Alisha. “You have guests? Maybe we should go-” 

“No!” I said. The group gave me an odd look. I wasn’t known for being insistent. Even out of context it was a strange outburst, like I’d been possessed. I adjusted my demeanor and said, “I mean, you guys can stay and we can all chat for a bit. It’s not too late past midnight. I have a bottle of champagne, too.” 

Casey grinned. “You know I can’t turn down champagne.” They scooted past me and into the apartment. 

Peter followed and gestured to the girl. She was close to our age, maybe out of college for a year or two. “This is my cousin Adelaide O’Malley, but you can-” 

“Just call me Addy,” she finished for him. Addy was pretty, a strong jawline now that I could see her in the light better. Both her and Peter followed me into the kitchen, where Casey had already introduced themself and gotten comfortable with my other guests. They left a trail of confetti as they went; the gold shimmered nicely on the floor. They had a habit of doing that, bringing entertainment wherever they went. 

Automatically I gathered glasses from a cabinet and began filling them with the champagne. A part of my mind was swimming, an overload of unexpectedness. Here they were, everyone I wanted and more in one room. I wasn’t destined to be lonely, at least for tonight. 

I passed the glasses out like party favors. Casey had dipped into a comedic story of the time they overslept their final in junior year and I had to wake them up. I sipped on my champagne and let its bubbles multiply by the thousands in my stomach. Alisha and Victor chuckled at a snarky comment Peter made, which made the entire table join in on the laughter. 

I kept glancing at the bottle as if it would shatter once more and bring this fantasy crashing down. There had to be some sort of trick to this, but everything indicated it was real; the coolness of the glass against my fingertips, the buzz of the lights overhead, the stickiness of the floor under my feet, and the uproarious ribbing back-and-forth told me otherwise. 

Whatever the wisp had done, I refused to question it. I continued sipping on champagne and jumping in on the conversation as the night danced away from us. 

The bright light woke me from my slumber. It streamed in through the blinds as I wiped my eyes, trying to reorient myself to the surroundings of my room. A small headache worked its way through the base of my forehead, but an ibuprofen or two would take care of it. 

It took me a while to remember the events of last night. Had I imagined it all? The wisp, the company- it all seemed too much. I couldn’t quite remember what we’d all talked about, just the feeling it gave me: like I was glowing from the inside out. 

I glanced at my phone- 8 a.m. And a text from a new number: Hey, it’s Alisha. We left a bit after Casey and Peter crashed on the couch, but we had a lot of fun! We can go to dinner later in the week like we talked about last night. 

The glowing started up in my stomach again. 

I got up and shuffled to the kitchen. Despite the text, dread curled in my stomach as I entered. If all of this turned out to be a harsh dream, I’d curl up and cry. I begged for the warmth I felt last night to be real. 

The dusty hardwood of the kitchen floor shined with champagne and gold confetti, remnants of reality to calm me. Even more damning was two figures tangled on the couch, limbs intertwined, and one more figure curled up on the armchair. I had to stand back and admire for a moment or two. Their shapes fit so well, like they were made to be there. 

Casey stirred, their long, gangly limbs stretching into space. They untangled themself from Peter, somehow managing not to cause a stir as they left his side. They caught me staring from the kitchen and walked over. “Morning,” they said. “Sorry for crashing last night, but we fell asleep before we had a chance to catch a train back to Babylon.” 

I waved off their concern. “It’s no problem. I’ve been looking for the company, anyway.” 

Casey’s face morphed into something similar to their oh, honey face, except something about this one seemed less pitiful. “I thought you were kind of lonely up here, and it’s partially on me. Peter and I have been so busy with moving into the house that we-” 

“You don’t have to blame yourself. That’s stupid,” I replied with a thin heat behind my voice. “I didn’t reach out much either, so that’s on me.” 

Casey opened their mouth to say something, probably to argue, but they stopped. “Well, you’re going to see a lot more of me and Peter now. We’re almost all done with renovations, and we were thinking that now that that stress is over we should spend a day or two on the weekends visiting you and Addy.” 

A weight lifted off on me. My expression must have given my excitement away because Casey chuckled. “I knew you’d be happy about that,” they said. 

I pulled Casey in for a hug so they didn’t have to see the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. “I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered. 

“I know,” they replied in an equally soft tone. “I have too.” Casey let me hang on for as long as I wanted without poking fun at my sudden attachment. They were good like that. 

I hadn’t had contact like that in so long, it was difficult to measure how much I reveled in it now. I could feed myself for years off this. Something else made contact with my back. Peter poked his head into our little huddle, and Addy wasn’t far behind. 

“Group hug without me? I don’t think so,” said Peter, wrapping his arms around both of us. 

Addy’s fingers splayed across my shoulder, pulling me in tight by my hoodie. 

I could glow as bright as the sun at that moment. It didn't last long; an alarm rang out from across the room. Peter extricated himself from the tangled mess of the four of us, the rest of us following in suit. “That’s my alarm to get up,” he said, turning off his phone. “I have to go into work in the afternoon, so it’s probably best if Casey and I leave soon.” 

Casey sighed and nodded. “Alas, we must leave,” they said, making sweeping dramatic gestures. I giggled; they knew their dramatics always cheered me up. “The trains are going to be a bitch this morning.”

The three began gathering their things, putting on jackets and folding blankets they’d stolen from the storage closet. Casey put their wallet in their back jean pocket while Peter made sure his phone was in his coat. Addy fixed her hair in the mirror. As Casey and Peter walked to the door, saying their joint goodbyes, Addy flagged them down. “I’ll stay back and help clean up,” she said. 

I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me. “I’m not leaving you to clean up the mess,” said Addy, arms crossed. 

“Best not to argue with her,” said Peter, the door half open and one foot out. “She’s difficult to convince.” 

Addy gave me an I-told-you-so look as the door shut behind Casey and Peter. 

I didn’t remember much from last night. The conversation meandered from jobs to college stories (Casey was going to get it for telling everyone about my drunk escapades in sophomore year) to pets. Throughout the night, I couldn’t get a good read on Addy. She flowed from reserved, cradling her drink without much to say, to bursting with words, shouting to get all of them out. We didn’t talk directly to each other at all. 

Unsure of what to make of her offer, I went into the storage closet and grabbed the broom, dustpan, and Swiffer. We got into a silent groove, neither of us knowing how to be with each other. I swept confetti from under the rug while Addy removed the sticky champagne spots from the floor. 

“You know,” said Addy, looking intently at the spot she was scrubbing, “I don’t live too far from here. I’m in Queens, only about ten blocks over. In case you ever need company or something. I don’t live too far away.” 

She refused to meet my eyes. But then I understood her like she was an extension of myself. Addy was lonely in the way I was lonely; that’s why Peter and Casey brought her here. That’s why the wisp brought her here. Addy was here to take a spot in my life- and a spot on my couch. Another person to bring me warmth. 

“You’re always welcome here,” I said, and meant it. Life was looking up. No more watching the same shows every night, no more turning down plans, and no more thinking I had no one to turn to. 

I set aside the broom and dustpan and scanned the counter. Something was missing. “Where’s the champagne bottle?” I asked as suddenly as the thought came into my head. 

Addy looked at the counter too, her thick eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know. I remember I put it back on the kitchen counter last night before we all went to bed.” 

I went over to the counter, as if it would appear. Something else caught my eye: the cork. I picked it up and turned it in my hand, running my fingers over the dips. 

Like the wisp promised, it was gone by daylight. I supposed if it knew what my greatest wish was, it had granted me that, too: an apartment with people, glowing with warmth and overflowing conversation. 

Perhaps the wisp had never been there to begin with, but I struck that from my mind the second the thought crossed it. It was too difficult to consider that it had been a figment of my imagination, not when the proof stood right in front of me. 

Addy stepped beside me, taking the cork from my grip with her gentle hands. “You good?” she asked, her warm brown eyes searching mine. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.” This time, I wasn’t trying to convince anyone. It was simply the truth. 

Corinne O’Connor (‘25) is a Genetics and Counseling Psychology Major from Bay Shore, NY. Poetry and writing have always been a part of her life, and she is happy to be a part of this year’s volume of Pitch!

Natalie Binder is a senior psychology major and the secretary of the Psychology Club. This is her first time submitting work to Pitch and she is very excited to see everyone’s work!