New Year, New Possibilities

“Have you ever wished you could go back and change an event in your past?” Corey asked with a cocked eyebrow.
         Jerry thumped the glass onto the soft wood counter, years of patrons’ use dulling its once shiny veneer surface.  “Sure I do,” he dragged out the words slowly, winking at the young man.  “Like needing to ask ya’ for your id when all you wanted was a soda.”  Jerry chuckled and moved down the counter, collecting empty bottles and glasses.  Corey sipped his soda trying to think of what to say next.  He sighed and ran his fingers through his buzzed hair.
         “Awfully quiet in here for New Year’s Eve,” was all he could come up with.
         Sadly, Jerry’s eyes roved the poorly lit space ending with the uniformed young man on the stool.  “Yup, it is. Ever since that new place uptown opened – well, let’s just say I’ve got a lot more time to watch the sports channels.”
         Corey nodded at several signs hanging over the bar.  “I’m sure they have something to do with how slow business is.  How can you stay open with that kind of policy?”
         Jerry shrugged.  The two-drink limit signs throughout the place had been his way to soothe his conscious when he first opened the place.  Jerry changed the subject.  “What’re you doin’ in a place like this instead of hittin’ one of the hot spots?”
         Corey swallowed some more soda while searching for an answer.  “I’m looking for someone.”
         “Well this wouldn’t be the place to find her,” Jerry huffed a laugh. “So I’m guessing you’re a new recruit.”
         “Not too new, but I’m shipping out tomorrow for my first tour.  I was hoping –“ 
          This kid was really concerned about something.  Well it was his job to put some cheer into the kid’s life before he shipped out. 
         “How are you at dancin’?”  Corey’s head snapped up at the question.
         “Not with me, you dope,” Jerry quickly added.  “Becky, the girl who helps me out in the kitchen, is moping around back there cause she just got dumped.  Maybe you could cheer her up a bit.”
         Jerry felt as if he wasn’t getting anywhere with this idea.  Corey still looked at him as if he’d drank a bit too much of his own product.  He tried again.  “I don’t mean anything’ll come of it.  Just two kids havin’ some fun on New Year’s Eve.  Whadda ya say?”  Jerry plopped a handful of quarters on the counter.  “My treat.”
         Still not sure what the barkeep was up to, Corey nodded, picked up a few of the coins, and headed to the ancient jukebox in the corner.  At least it would take up some time while he tried to figure out what to do.  He grimaced.  No telling what this “girl” was like.  Coarse and loud were the first two words that came to mind.  He flipped through the titles.  Fast or slow? 
         “Jerry said you needed to ask me something?”  A smile slowly curved his lips.  Her voice did not fit in these surroundings.  Slow. 
         Corey enjoyed the next hour, nearly forgetting why he had ventured into this particular place.  The two spoke with an ease that comes to strangers who believe they will never see each other again.  It was comfortable and enlightening.  By asking the right questions, he learned much about their matchmaker, things he would never have discovered by conversing with the man himself.  Things that confirmed his reason for coming. Just as they settled into a booth, Jerry appeared carrying two glasses filled with some festive looking liquid.  With a grandiose gesture, he placed the drinks on the table.
         “Compliments of the house for a soldier on his last night on familiar ground.  And since ya’ both are teetotalers, I made my own special concoction usin’ only non-intoxicatin’ ingredients.”  His smile proved how pleased he was with himself.  “Everybody needs something to toast the New Year.”
         Back behind the bar, Jerry continued watching the two.  He hated New Year’s Eve himself.  It brought too much time for reflection, too many memories, too many hurts, too many regrets.  He thought again of the boy’s question from earlier.  There were many such events he wished he could undo, but two stood out prominently – leaving his wife and child and choosing to open this bar.  Every day he entered those doors deciding to close the business.  Every night his cowardice taunted him as he locked the doors on one more day.  As he reached for his wallet, the televised countdown began.  10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – the picture in his palm carried him back to the last New Year’s Eve he had ever seen the woman and child.  He gently replaced the photograph. – 2 – 1 – and it was a new year.  The few patrons joined the television mob in singing Auld Lang Syn.  It was several minutes before Becky joined him.
         “He’s a nice guy, Jerry.  Thanks for thinking of me.  He had to leave, but he asked me to give this to you.”  She blushed.  “I’m going to write to him while he’s away.”  She stood on tiptoe to lean across the bar and brushed a kiss on his cheek.  “Happy New Year, Jerry.”
         Jerry looked in surprise at his full name written on the envelope.  How did the kid know his last name?  Tearing open the thick envelope, he glanced through the words which didn’t fully register until he began leafing through the papers.  Copies of a marriage license and birth certificate;  a funeral announcement clipped from newspaper; articles about the new bar in town with a serving limit.  Understanding washed over him.  He leaned against the bar and read the first page again.
         “I didn’t know what to expect  when I came here tonight.  I just thought you would want to know these things.  I  want to thank you for making this soldier’s last night here a most enjoyable experience.  I don’t expect anything, but if you want to write, Becky has my address.  Your Son, Richard Corey Osterman”