Auld Lang Syne
Night fell behind the tall buildings like an omen of fate. A crisp scent of fresh snow hung in the air. The city resembled a story book picture where the yellow glow from behind frosty windows spilled magic on the sidewalks. And the breeze whispered a new year’s prayer of hope as Harvey stood just outside The Bowl o’ Soup Café.
He tightened his shoulders and tucked his hands inside his coat pockets to keep warm and leaned close to the window for a peek inside. She hadn’t arrived, yet. Steamy puffs of breath formed circles on the glass. What if she doesn’t make it? Edna taught school in Illinois; he lived in New York State — traveling back and forth was not always possible but they had promised each other to always start the new year together.
It seemed such a long time ago, but it had only been three years since they met at a practice baseball game. It was during their last semester in college in the spring of 1937. He’d noticed her sitting on the bleachers nearby and found himself shamelessly admiring the shape underneath her brown knickers and green sweater — funny way for a girl to dress, he grinned — unique. Suddenly she turned toward him as if having felt his stare.
“Hello there,” her blond curls fell softly around her face.
“Hello there,” he stammered. “Do you always come to the practice games?”
“My brother plays.”
“Oh... ah... may I sit next to you?” Harvey asked, not really waiting for an answer; his gaze fixed on her blue eyes.
“Be my guest.” She smiled and moved over a bit on the bench.
“Harvey Clay.”
“Edna Wilson.”
“What position does your brother play?”
“Outfield.”
“You seem familiar. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so. I’m a student here — teachers college. What do you do?”
“I study aeromechanics — got my pilot’s license last summer. So... you want to be a teacher?”
“I have a job promised to me starting this fall. In Illinois.”
“Why Illinois? Why not New York State?”
“Cause I found a job there,” she said, firmly.”New York has too many teachers.”
“What if an airplane mechanic should want to see you?”
She looked at him with a smirk: “It’ll be a while before semester’s end, we have all summer, and I’ll be home for holidays.”
Even on a first meeting, something about her told him this was the girl. He still had an eerie feeling of having known her before. Maybe he’d just seen her around campus. The crazy notion to follow her to Illinois crossed his mind, but Harvey had his own career plans.
* * *
His fascination with flight began as a boy when his father Edmund, who was a flight instructor, took him up in the American Eagle, Model A-129, the model used for flight training by the academy.
Most Saturdays, he and his father would go to the park and play ball; sometimes they would catch an afternoon movie. However, on one special day, Harvey was in for a surprise. They had visited the airfield often enough and watched the planes take off and land from a distance but Harvey had never seen one up close.
“You can close your mouth, son, before the flies get in.”
“Oh boy... can I touch it?”
“Sure you can.” Edmund picked him up so Harvey could reach.
“It sure is big...”
“How would you like to go for a ride?”
“You mean up in the sky?”
“Yep. Up in the sky?”
“Can we go through clouds?” his voice cracked with excitement.
“We’ll go through clouds.”
“How about the sun? Can we go to the sun?”
Edmund laughed: “That’s too far, son; got to be back in time for supper.”
“Okay.” But he was in for another surprise: His very own pilot’s helmet.
After that first flight, he and his father would go flying on Saturdays forsaking ball games and early movies.
While still in grade school, Harvey began reading about the history of flying and thought it a pity the first to make a solo flight across the Atlantic had to be a girl. He decided he would be a test pilot but kept that notion to himself. After high school, he followed his father’s example and enrolled in aeromechanics school. He began to take flight lessons.
* * *
After their first meeting at the ballpark, Harvey and Edna would see each other frequently. They enjoyed the movies and taking long evening walks. It was during one of those walks that he took her hand and finally popped the question: “How’d you like to take on the sky with me?”
“You mean... ah! Flying!”
“Yes, I mean flying. What did you think I meant? How about Saturday morning?”
“In your plane?
Harvey rolled his eyes: “No. I’ve been busy designing a set of wings, you see? We could stand on a rooftop and flap them real hard and...”
“Oh stop it! I’d love to go flying.”
He saw hesitation on her gaze.”Do you trust me?”
“Oh sure I do. It’s just that... we need to be back in time for the ball game. I never miss a game.”
“We’ll make it in time.” The ball game was for her. Harvey looked forward to time with her after the game when they’d go for a walk and a kiss, or two, and then dinner at The Bowl o’ Soup.
“I wonder why they call it The Bowl o’ Soup. It’s a restaurant; they don’t just serve soup,” she said, bringing the glass of wine to her lips.
“Who knows... could be a family thing.” he shrugged a shoulder.
“Who cares, right?” she smiled.
“Who cares?” he nodded, then reached across the table and took her hand, massaging the top of it gently with his thumb.
“Did you enjoy the flight?”
“Yeah! I have to admit being a bit scared at first...”
He squeezed her hand: “We’ll do it again.”
Serving food in a timely manner is necessary to good service. Finding the proper time to interrupt, an art no waiter has ever mastered and Benton was no exception.
“Are you ready to order?” he said in as casual a tone as he could.
“We’ll have the steak dinner — medium rare,” Harvey said. Their feet touched under the table and a devilish grin came over their faces. Benton could have been the man from the moon, for all they cared.
“Soup or salad?” Benton pretended not to notice.
“Soup?” Harvey asked.
“Soup,” she agreed.
Benton thought to refill their glasses but under the circumstances, opted to leave it up to them.
“Your hand is soft,” he whispered from across the small table.”Mine must feel rough.”
“You’ve got working hands — strong. I like the way they feel.”
* * *
One morning during that summer, she showed up at the airfield. He’d just gotten his commercial license and she thought to surprise him. He had landed his plane and was walking across the airfield when he lifted his eyes to see one very attractive silk stocking covered leg hanging sideways from the front seat of a 1935 Jaguar. He followed the leg up to the blue hem revealing just enough knee to make him gasp for air. Further up and above a provocative open collar red silk blouse, covering a perfectly shaped bosom, he found a very sexy neck, two blue eyes framed by wild blond curls, and two very sultry red lips.
“Are you hungry, Ace?”
His mouth opened as if to speak: “Ah...” his eyes traveled down to the high heel shoe and back up to the red lips.”Ah...” he gulped.
“I’ve got a picnic basket inside the trunk. I thought we should celebrate your new flight status.”
“Ah... lunch! Yes!” he laughed, but too late to hide his blunder.”I am just surprised to see you... I’ll have to wash up... change my clothes — be right back.” He was backing away from her as he spoke and leaned against the metal door as some one opened it from the inside landing him flat on his back.
“Take your time, Ace.”
It was a hot summer day and the lake seemed a perfect spot for a picnic. They stopped the car and walked a small distance to the water’s edge. Harvey carried the picnic basket, Edna carried a blanket.
“This is perfect,” she spread the blanket on the ground.”Put that basket down. I’m famished — mind if I take off my shoes?”
Harvey sat across from her. His eyes were on her red silk blouse.”No. Don’t mind it at all.”
“My shoes, Harvey. My shoes.”
“Oh! Yeah, go ahead,” he smirked.
She kicked off her shoes, opened the basket and took out a small container with fried chicken, a bowl of potatoes salad, a couple of plates, two glasses and a bottle of wine, and threw a napkin at him: “Dig in, Ace — quit smiling so much. Are you happy, or something?”
“Yes. I’m happy.”
“Good,” she leaned against the tree and bit into the chicken leg.”That’s the way it should be.”
A cool breeze swept amongst the trees surrounding the lake, bringing to shore a pleasing scent of fresh water. It was a perfect summer afternoon.
They finished eating and Harvey moved next to her. That statement she’d made: That’s the way it should be, so clearly defined her. Edna never expected life should be any different.
She turned around and laid her head on his lap. He raised his knees to bring her close to him and run his fingers through her hair.
“You and I must have met in another life, I think,” he whispered.
“Where does that come from all of the sudden?” she took his hand and kissed it.
“Some times, special times like today, I feel like I’ve always known you. The things we say to each other — the way we act, we’re like kindred spirits.”
“Some things are meant to be.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes I do.”
“Do you believe in an afterlife?”
“I don’t know whether I do, or don’t, Harvey. What’s come over you?”
“I don’t know. Some times, and I know it sounds crazy, but some times when I’m flying and feel myself in between this life and the next, I can’t conceive of endings. I think you and I will keep on meeting each other.”
“You’re right, Ace. It sounds crazy and highly improbable, but I like the idea.”
* * *
It had been a good summer, indeed and although Harvey knew from their first meeting she had a job waiting out of state, autumn came around sooner than he had wanted it to. He accompanied her to the train depot, regretting not having been able to convince her to stay. He kept his arms so tightly around her, Edna began to wonder if he would ever let go.
“Train’s waiting, Harvey.”
“Can’t you tell the people in Illinois you changed your mind? Tell them you decided to stay in New York.”
“I want to teach. That was the only job I was offered — we’ve been through all that.” Though now she was beginning to doubt if all that mattered or if she really wanted to leave.
She would be back during school breaks, and certainly for the Holidays and they had promised each other they would always start the new year together.
“That’s until we’re married, then we’ll always be together.”
“All aboard!” The conductor’s voice interrupted.
They kissed again and she started to walk away, then turned abruptly: “Is that a proposal, Harvey Clay?”
“You bet!” he screamed.
“I thought that’s what you were going to ask the night you asked me to go flying with you.”
“What would you have said, then?”
“Yes.”
“You tell me if you can’t make it by the new year and I’ll come to you, okay? I’ll fly to you; whatever it takes!” He yelled watching her climb the train, then waited anxiously — hands in and out of his pockets, until he saw her head appear out of a window. He stood by the train holding on to her hand.
Steam spread through the platform and the whistle blew its warning. He walked along side the train as it began to move forward squeezing her hand tightly until he absolutely had to let go but kept running alongside the train for as long as he could.
“I love you!”
They would miss each other though the separation was never long. As planned, Edna came home during school breaks and they always made the most of their time together. On New Year’s Eve of 1939, they gathered with friends at the Bowl o’ Soup. There were reasons to celebrate: Edna had agreed to work just one more year in Illinois. They would get married in December of 1941.
* * *
Harvey was called to active duty early in 1940. Don’t worry, he wrote, I don’t think the U.S. will go to war. But they both knew the U.S. was already involved, supplying Britain in 1939; and by September of that year, Russia and Germany invaded Poland. The war spread through Europe like a plague; how long before we really get into it? Edna wondered.
Harvey was sent to the Pacific in May of 1940. Nothing to worry about darling, he wrote. We’ll see each other by New Year. No war will keep us apart.
* * *
On this New Year’s Eve, in 1940, Harvey stood outside the café looking into the window, remembering the moments lived with her, stealing time during school breaks and holidays, letters exchanged, and promises made. His toes were beginning to numb and he decided to step inside.
The place was redolent of good food and drink. It brimmed with the warmth of festivity. He saw happy people talking, laughing, and toasting the new year. Their usual table was already for them; down to their favorite bottle of wine as if they were expected. He took off his coat and hung it on the coat hanger near the swinging doors by the kitchen when he heard the front door trick the bell. He turned to see through the frosted glass, it was Edna. She made it!
The music of Guy Lombardo played softly in the background.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come,” he told her.
“I wouldn’t miss meeting you.”
“Come here,” he opened his arms.
Edna threw her arms around his neck; he reached under her coat and pressing his palms against her back, brought her close to him. She placed her hands on the back of his neck and they kissed as they swayed to Lombardo’s tune.
“I miss your lips...” she whispered, and kissed him again.
“I miss you, Edna. Oh God, I miss you.”
Again, as if they had been expected, food waited for them on the table. Two steak dinners medium rare and soup. They sat across from each other and he filled their glasses with wine.
Time was slipping by. They both wanted to hold on to that moment for ever. Auld Lang Syne played in the background. It was midnight already. So soon... he thought.
“To us,” he said, raising his glass.
“To us.”
Then the chatter of patrons stopped and the lights dimmed through the café, isolating them into their own reality by just a single table lamp between them.
“I love you,” was the last thing they said to each other.
* * *
So soon... so soon... Harvey stood outside the window watching the scene unfold as the table lamp dimmed and it all darkened before his eyes.
Nineteen-forty was the year he didn’t make it. Edna was there to keep their tradition alive.
Harvey stood facing the empty lot, his head hanging low, still whispering the words to the old song: Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?
The blue and white lights of an approaching police unit flashed through the empty lot.
Sergeant Hoffman saw him and decided to stop.”The guy must be drunk, or crazy to be standing there in weather like this in a dark corner lot in New York,” he said to his partner. Hoffman pulled to the curb.”You okay there, soldier?”
Harvey turned at the sound of Hoffman’s voice. He had left his vehicle and was approaching followed by his partner, officer Medina.”Did you celebrate a bit too much tonight, soldier?”
“No sir,” and he turned his back to Hoffman as if dismissing him. He looked to the empty lot again: “This is where the old Bowl o’ Soup Café, used to be...” and sounded disoriented.
“Aren’t you a bit young to remember that? I’m fifty, and I don’t remember it. That was a famous place. Before my day, though; burned to the ground on the early hours of 1941. There were no survivors — quite a tragedy. What’s your name, sir?”
“Private Harvey Clay, sir.”
“Private Clay, it’s ten below zero — you must be freezing without a coat.”
“Oh... I left it...” and he turned his head in the direction the café used to be, but couldn’t finish his sentence.
“Look. We can’t leave you here. Can we help you get somewhere?”
“Back to my base, sir.”
“We can take you to a bus depot. Where are you stationed?”
“Pearl Harbor, sir.”
The two officers exchanged glances.
“I’m an airplane mechanic, sir. Got to keep them in good shape. There’s talk about us getting into the war.”
Sergeant Hoffman eyed Harvey’s uniform.”What war would that be, soldier?”
“The big one, sir.”
“Sure you haven’t had a little too much to drink? Maybe you need to go sleep it off somewhere, eh?”
“No sir.”
“You have some ID?”
“Eye dee?” Harvey repeated with a puzzled look.
“Identification. You have any identification on you?”
Harvey reached into his wallet and handed the officer his drivers’ license.
Sergeant Hoffman examined the license.”What are you trying to pull? This is dated 1941. Where’d you get it? One of those collectible shops? What’s your real name, now... and no more games.”
“I am Harvey Clay.”
“Well, I have a hard time believing that and unless you can convince me of it, I’m taking you in. You look a little confused to me. That uniform isn’t Army issue unless you were in Korea or something. The Army hasn’t worn that stuff in over fifty years. So who are you?”
Harvey stood silently.
“You don’t want to answer? Fine. We’ll have to take you in and find out who you really are.”
As Sergeant Hoffman reached to take Harvey’s arm and escort him to the police cruiser, Harvey vanished.
A chill wind swept through the empty lot. Bewildered, the two police officers agreed: they were never there.
* * *
The streets were dark now. Alleys and abandoned buildings housed vagrants under filthy blankets and old newspapers. The city smelled of suet and gasoline fumes. But for one brief moment suspended by the delivery of a promise, there was a crisp scent of fresh snow in the air, and the yellow glow behind frosty windows spilled magic on the sidewalks, and the breeze whispered a New Year’s prayer of hope for two kindred spirits whose love for one another defied the realm of probability.
And on every New Year’s eve, while passing that corner lot, some still swear they have heard Guy Lombardo’s band play Auld Lang Syne.
Copyright © 2006 by Bewildering Stories
on behalf of the author
