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Much like Christmas, New Year’s Eve was a holiday that Bernie was used to spending by herself. Most of her classmates would be having a party she knew she wasn’t invited to and her mom would be out doing who knows what, which probably included getting wasted with whoever her current hookup was— at some point, Bernie had stopped asking names. So she had grown accustomed to keeping herself company and tried to keep her mind occupied, ignoring the impending dread of yet another year approaching. The new year was supposed to represent fresh starts and new chances, the hope that somehow things were going to be better. But they continued to stay more or less the same year after year, no matter how hard Bernie tried to change that.
She’d attempted to make New Year’s resolutions before, telling herself that if she could just be someone different then maybe she’d be more accepted. Don’t be so weird, she had written. Try and fit in more. Don’t talk so much. Join a club. Find a new hobby. That last point had proved to be more of a challenge than Bernie anticipated. While she’d dabbled in everything from baking to photography, and even attempted to learn the ukulele, she hadn’t been able to find something that really stuck. Anything that had to do with movies, fashion, and true crime remained her biggest obsession. Those were topics she could spend hours researching, ones that made her eyes light up and her brain buzz with excitement. When she was alone, she would often get lost in creating designs and immersing herself in stories as an escape from her own sad reality. But this was only a temporary reprieve, a momentary euphoric high she’d always come down from, and sometimes she just didn’t feel like it was enough anymore.
That’s why last year, Bernie had made just resolution, one that she was so sure she’d see through she’d written it in permanent marker and underlined it:
Make this my last one.
It was a statement that had felt pretty much inevitable back then. Even a few days ago, she just didn’t see the point of changing it to anything else— and then Winnie had suddenly come along and done the impossible. She’d made Bernie believe her life was actually worth something. And now here she was beside her on the couch, the two of them once again sitting in the living room of Winnie’s house, as they prepared to ring in the new year.
New Year’s Eve was a fairly casual affair for the Carruthers, at least compared to the all-out festivities that had been Christmas. There was a silver banner that read “HAPPY NEW YEAR 2024” hanging up, and Winnie and her family wore themed headbands for the occasion. A bottle of champagne sat on the table next to some sparkling cider and party poppers, with the television turned to the channel that would soon show the iconic ball drop in Times Square.
Bernie was wearing another one of her custom creations, a top with streamer-like fabric that had been unfinished and displayed on her dress form when she’d first invited Winnie into her room. As for Winnie, she wore a sparkly red top and flared jeans, a cute look completed by a glittery silver headband declaring ‘Happy New Year’.
“Do you have any New Year’s resolutions, Bernie?” Karen asked. She and Gale were seated to the right of Bernie.
“I haven’t really thought about it yet,” Bernie said, toying with the hem of her sleeve. The silver ‘2024’ stars on her own headband bobbed from side to side as she spoke. “Maybe just to survive the year?”
She smiled earnestly, and Winnie—the only person in the room who truly understood the weight those words carried—gave her hand a gentle squeeze. And while Bernie had thought about her original resolution many times over the past several months, she hadn’t gotten as far as considering a new one yet.
“That’s a good one,” Karen said. “I think I’m going to try and focus on gratitude.”
“My resolution is to stop leaving things to the last minute,” Gale chimed in as she topped up her champagne flute. “Like making resolutions.”
“I’ll cheers to that,” Karen said, raising her own glass, which was half full. “We all know your aunt Gale isn’t exactly the most organized one in the family.”
Winnie laughed. Gale did have a bit of a reputation for bringing her own personal brand of chaos to the party.
“Mine is to make my family proud,” Jimmy said with a grin. “And I know you guys are gonna say I already do, but helping Dad out more with the business means taking on bigger tasks.”
“Well you know what they say,” David replied. Then he put on a deeper, dramatic voice. “With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Just like Spider-Man!” Bernie exclaimed, recognizing the reference. “But without having a cool costume and a secret identity to hide.”
David made a finger gun gesture at Bernie, which she awkwardly returned.
“See? She gets it,” Winnie’s dad said with a smile.
“And we are proud of you,” Judy added, reaching over to ruffle Jimmy’s hair. The eldest Carruthers sibling made a face.
“I used to be obsessed with New Year’s resolutions,” Winnie said. “Like, I’d have a whole list written out on the morning of January 1st to show my parents and everything.”
“It’s true,” David replied with a chuckle. “She even used these glittery gel pens to do it.”
“What happened?” Bernie asked.
Winnie glanced from Bernie to her parents, aunts, and brother, taking a deep breath before she continued.
“Whenever I didn’t achieve my resolutions… I felt like a failure,” she admitted, looking down and biting her lip. “I felt like I’d let myself down, and I wished I could just go back and start over again. So eventually I stopped making them.”
“Oh, sweetie…” Judy started. Her eyes were sympathetic as they met her daughter’s. “You’re not a failure.”
“Yeah, Win,” Bernie said, putting a hand on Winnie’s shoulder. “You’re pretty great.”
Winnie looked around the room at the people who surrounded her—people who loved her just as much as she loved them—and couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, reaching into her pocket. “I almost forgot something.”
Winnie got up from the couch and started walking towards the kitchen, motioning for Bernie to follow her. Once they had a moment of privacy she pulled out a small gift wrapped box, which Bernie regarded with a curious expression.
“Merry Christmas,” Winnie said, handing the present to her with a sheepish grin. “Or, uh… happy New Year, I guess?”
Bernie carefully tore the wrapping paper off and slid open the box. Inside was a necklace— a small brass locket with a heart on the back. Two simple words had been engraved in fancy script: you matter . Bernie’s insides became flooded with warmth as she remembered Winnie saying those exact words to her in two realities, tearing up as she delicately traced the letters with her finger. Then she opened the locket and saw a cute photo Winnie had taken of the two of them together on Christmas, one where Winnie was kissing Bernie’s cheek.
“I bought it at the Christmas market,” Winnie explained as Bernie turned the locket over again. “But I had to wait a little longer to give it to you since I wanted to make it extra special… something that would always be a reminder.”
“It’s perfect,” Bernie said quietly, tearing up at the thoughtfulness of her unexpected gift. “I love it, Win.”
Winnie beamed, giving Bernie a tight hug. The embrace lasted for a moment and then Winnie helped her put her new necklace on, fastening the clasp securely around her neck.
“It’s almost midnight!” Gale shouted, waving a party popper in the air. Winnie and Bernie ran back into the living room, returning to their spot on the couch.
“10… 9… 8…” the countdown on the television screen began as giant numbers flashed, marking the final moments that would pass between this year and the next.
“7… 6… 5… 4…”
Winnie, Bernie, and the rest joined in with the chanting, holding party poppers of their own in hand. The light-up ball in Times Square had begun its slow descent, now just seconds away from signaling the end of 2023.
“3… 2…1…” they shouted in unison.
“Happy New Year!” the announcer on the television screen exclaimed.
As it hit midnight and the ball dropped, the explosions of colour that burst into the sky on the television screen weren’t the only fireworks in that moment. Winnie pulled the string of her party popper and then leaned in to kiss Bernie, a shower of confetti falling around them. While they’d kissed before, there was something about this one that felt extra special. Maybe because it was the first time it had been in front of Winnie’s family. And maybe it also had something to do with the magic of the new year, the possibility and potential for new beginnings that it offered— something Bernie found herself feeling excited about for once rather than dreading.
It was then Bernie mentally amended what she had once thought would be her final resolution. Tomorrow she would take out her notebook and permanent marker and add another word to the end of it, changing the entire meaning of the words that were already on the page.
Make this my last one alone.