The Afternoon Tea Club: 2015

New year's eve

New Year’s Eve

Written By: ShellytheFairy.

If you asked my friends to describe me in a word, they would scratch their heads pondering how to squish me into the English vocabulary. Ninja, they’d say. I bear the burden well by using my teleporting skills to sneak up behind them, doing high kicks that are the envy of Chuck Norris, and basically being a pain up the ass. But all of my skills seem to evaporate when I go anywhere near my father’s side of the family; Auntie Ingrid, The socialite; Uncle J, (James. I call him Grey. I’ll explain later.) The intelligent entrepreneur, Bella, the stunning twenty year millionaire, and Ben, the hilarious English boyfriend. Oh yes. Exactly like the power couples. Royalty. Gods. The Leverriers. To say the least, I feel like a fish out of water, worthless, awkward, and clumsy compared to them. Heck, it’s been a saying ever since I first started eating with them: “It’s not a proper meal unless Shelly’s spilt her drink.” And it still happens fifteen years later. Every. Single. Time. The weird thing is that it only ever happens with them. It’s a curse, I tell you.

Anyway. New Year’s Eve. 2015. A warm, cheery atmosphere with the stars twinkling above as we all totter onto a motorboat, chattering and joking. The boat’s owner (John? Joe? Let’s call him Schmitt.) Begins driving us past all the gorgeous waterfront houses alight with Christmas lights. We take selfies with people on other boats and swap our sparklers for their glow sticks as we travel through the warm night towards our final destination.

We anchor at eight o’clock, shout Merry Christmas to the surrounding boats, and then settle in to wait for the fireworks. On the other end of the boat, (very) fancy food is brought out, tzatziki, triple creamed goat’s cheese, olives stuffed with feta, you name it. The beers start flowing as everyone begins to get merry (tipsy). I awkwardly sit at the front clutching my Solo watching everyone begin to sing the Christmas songs on the radio when suddenly Ben pipes up.

“Guys. I really need to take a piss.”

Grey smirks. “Do it off the side of the boat. Don’t worry, we won’t be listening. Red, don’t look.” (Red. That’s me. I will explain the Red/Grey thing, just wait.)

Randoms, including Schmitt, also pipe in encouragement. I blush profusely and turn away to survey the water. The flow of urine begins.

We all listen as Ben’s tinkle went on… And on… And on…

After about thirty seconds with the flow still going strong, comments begin.

“Jesus, Ben!” Bella comments.

“Hey, when I have to pee, I pee.” He replies. Then adds, “None of that half-assed shit here.”

We continue to listen for another long period of time. Many comments are made.

“You’re making me want to pee!”

“You’re just pouring your beer in now, aren’t you?”

“I wish girls could just pee off the boat like that.”

It finally stops. Then it starts again. We all laugh. Then it finishes for real, and he sits back down with a sigh. He looks at me, grinning.

“Shelly, I’m hungry now. Could you go grab the plate of food?”

I nod silently and scuttle off, nearly tipping over when I unbalance on the small boat, Uncle J catches me and pushes me on to complete my mission. I steal the plate of fancy food, then run back placing it on the ice box between us. I decline what they try to offer me, but Ben and Uncle J start force feeding me feta olives. When it turns out I actually like them, they take them away because they want them. I suddenly become aware of the time and look down at my iPad.

“Hey guys, it’s three minutes past nine.” I comment, just as a loud bang splits the atmosphere, with a splash of red light colouring all our excited faces. Everyone erupts into cheers as we all settle in to watch. Many oohs and aahs are made. There were ones that blew up, then somehow blew up again, ones that left long streams, like a comet, and ones that left glittery dust falling back to the ground. Those were my favourite. It was incredible, so close I could almost reach out and touch them. We all cheer as the lights begin to shoot up from the bridge in a frenzy, filling the entire night sky with red, green, purple, and then, quite literally, it ended with a bang, and everyone honked their horns and shouted their Happy New Years.

Oh, you thought the story ended there. I wish it did. I really do. But remember the curse with me and my family? It would have been fine if it was just water, but oh no. Fate decided that wasn’t good enough anymore. No surprise factor. So as I settle myself in for the ride back, I stick my leg out the slightest bit, and it knocks something. No, not just the ice box. The whole friggin’ fancy food tray.

Time seems to slow down. I watch in horror as the feta olives, stuffed capsicum, triple creamed cheese, weird avocado mix and the tzatziki all seem to float in the air, flying upwards in a beautiful feat of defying gravity. Then they all tumble to the ground in a death spiral. It splatters all over Uncle J’s legs, and he jumps up in surprise.

Silence. In those moments I feel even more singled out and loser-ish-than ever.

Finally, he says.

“Now you’ve done it, Red. I was just about to comment about how well you were doing!”

Everything speeds up again as I’m set the task of scrubbing the mix of ruined food off the floor. Grey dunks his legs in the water, then emerges still coated with olive oil. I felt so guilty and it must have shown on my face because Ben makes a comment.

“Hey,” Ben says, “You had to end the year with a bang.”

I laugh, going bright red. Everyone begins to talk again as we head back. We pick up speed just as I sit back down. Another boat speeds by and everyone yells at him to slow down as we get rocked side to side by the wash. Naturally, a spray of water manages to make its way over the boat, and somehow only manages to splash me. I shriek and jump up, shaking off the drops like a dog. A second splash soaks me head to toe, and some lands in my open mouth. I lean over the side, coughing and trying to spit it out while everybody laughs. I suddenly realise I am the center of attention and hope they don’t realise my face has been replaced by a tomato. They do, of course.

“You’ve gone red, Red!” Grey laughs.

Bella speaks up “What does karma taste like, Shell?”

I wrinkle my face. “Tastes like Ben’s piss.”

Okay, Grey calls me Red because I’m a ranga. I call him Grey because he has grey hair. There. Problem solved.

Happy new year, everyone! Have a good one and don’t go spilling tzatziki everywhere.