Chapter 4 - The New Year's Eve Lockdown
New Year’s Eve arrived with a biting, sub-zero frost that turned the bare tree branches outside our windows into brittle glass.
In past years, December 31st meant a mandatory, agonizing gathering at my parents' house—a formal dinner where we sat around in stiff clothes, forced to listen to my mother recount everyone's achievements and failures over the past twelve months, culminating in a toast to "family continuity."
This year, our living room looked like a fortress of comfort and defiance.
We had built a massive blanket fort in front of the fireplace. Oliver was currently wearing a plastic astronaut helmet he had gotten for his birthday, complete with a flickering LED light on the visor, while he meticulously organized a fleet of Lego spaceships across the hardwood floor. Jess and I were sitting on the couch, drinking hot spiced cider, wrapped in wool blankets, watching a classic sci-fi marathon on low volume.
At 11:45 PM, my phone—which had been blissfully quiet for days—suddenly vibrated against the wooden coffee table.
I didn't jump. I didn't rush to pick it up. I simply looked down at the screen.
It was an incoming call from a number I didn't recognize, but the area code was local.
"Is that them?" Jess asked quietly, pausing her movie stream on her laptop.
"Could be," I said, picking up the phone and letting it ring.
It went to voicemail. Ten seconds later, a notification popped up: New Voicemail from Unknown Caller (1) .
I hit play and put the phone on speaker, keeping the volume low so Oliver wouldn't notice.
My mother’s voice filled the quiet living room. It didn't sound angry anymore. It sounded sharp, incredulous, and laced with a brittle edge of panic that she was desperately trying to mask with authority.
"Thomas. It is nearly midnight on New Year's Eve. Your father and I have waited for you to come to your senses, but this juvenile game has gone on long enough. You have cut off your brother, you are ignoring your father’s calls, and you have locked yourself out of the family portal like a stubborn child. Call me back immediately. If you think you can ice out your family and survive without our support, you are sorely mistaken. Happy New Year. Fix this."
The message cut off with a sharp beep.
Jess looked at me, a brilliant, fierce smile breaking across her face.
"She's sweating," Jess whispered. "She actually thinks we're waiting for her permission to exist."
"She doesn't know how to operate in a world where people don't obey her," I replied, setting the phone face down on the table.
At that exact moment, the television broadcast in the background began the countdown to midnight.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Oliver dropped his Lego spaceship, scrambled up onto the couch between us, and grabbed our hands. His eyes were bright, wide, and filled with absolute, unclouded joy.
“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”
Outside, distant neighbors set off a flurry of crackling fireworks, painting the frosty night sky in flashes of red, blue, and gold.
I pulled Oliver and Jess into a tight, crushing hug.
"Happy New Year, my brilliant boy," I whispered into his hair.
"Happy New Year, Dad," Oliver beamed, adjusting his astronaut helmet. "Can we stay up until the sun rises so I can see if there are sixteen of them?"
May you like
Jess and I burst out laughing—real, chest-deep, unburdened laughter that chased away every lingering shadow of the past week.
"Not quite sixteen, buddy," I smiled, looking out the frost-covered window into the silent, beautiful night. "Just one. But it's going to be a brand new one."
