Nightmares come alive at midnight. In the blackness of night, hope dies.

But this time?

“You’re breaking up with me? At midnight? On New Year’s Eve?”

“I figured a clean break, new start. All that jazz. Start off the new year right.”

She hugged me, but it was reflexive, not reminiscent of our romance. “Besides that, Matthew, finding someone tonight to take to bed should be refreshingly easy. Especially for a catch like you.”

“If I’m such a catch, why are you dumping me?”

“Because I’m not.” Her grin caught me off guard. I’d seen it once, maybe twice, in the four years we dated. It was scarier and more ominous tonight. “Look, you are a nice guy, out of my league and, let’s face it, comfort zone, but you are definitely the right guy for that special girl. You need to be free to find her!” All of this, she said, spreading her arms wide, a slight spin in her steps, making her look a little like an angel. But that’s not how it felt. “Matthew, sweetie. I don’t love you. I never did. But,” a wicked grin spread across her lips, “in bed, you rivaled every lover that was there before you. Mmm.” She purred before stepping closer, pulling my face to hers, and kissing my forehead. “Chao, babe.” Sky punched me in the shoulder, soft but firm, unlike a Frat brother punch. More like a punch from your sister. But mine hadn’t talked to me in a few years. That was at the beginning when Sky and I started dating.

Before I knew what happened, and after her punch, she wandered back through the party and out to dance. Somehow, the crowd enveloped her. Sky disappeared from sight. Of course, the tears filling my eyes might have been part of the vision problem.

My phone started ringing. At 12:01. Amanda didn’t call. She constantly texted. If she couldn’t write it, it wasn’t worth talking about.

I didn’t say a word.

“Matt? Hey, Matt? You there?”

I nodded, thinking she’d hear me.

“Matt!”

“Yeah. I’m here.” I wiped some tears from my face. There’s no way I’d hide that from Amanda. She went by Mandi now, but I still called her Amanda. She was my big sister. Big sisters need big names. Mandi seemed to plain Jane. But Amanda? It was big. Bold. Protective. Mandi sounds like lukewarm tea. Yuck!
“Matt.” Her voice softened. “Hey, Matty.” There were only two times she called me Matty. Once, after, she pushed me off a swing, which really wasn’t her fault. I asked her to make me higher. Against her better sisterly judgment, she did. And, of course, I would fall, breaking my arm. Thank God it was my left arm! I did everything right-handed. But she kept telling me, ‘Matty, it will be okay. Just don’t tell Mom I pushed you too hard.” The only other time she called me Matty was after her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend punched me in the gut for calling him an asshole. She dumped him right that second. He stormed out.
“Thank you, Matty.” Her eyes, glassy with tears, were happy. But that was several years ago.

“Matty? Sky with you?” Her voice brought me back from my personal flashback.

“She dumped me.”

“What?” Her tone could’ve strangled Sky from a thousand miles. “On New Year’s Eve? Where are you?”

“I don’t need you to interfere.”

“Not interfering, Matty. Stomping her ass into the ground for hurting my family – on New Year’s Eve?! Um, yeah!”

“Look. I’m fine. I’ll be alright.”

“I’m fifteen minutes away. Don’t leave.” She hung up before I could protest. Now I couldn’t leave. If I did, I’d have to face the wrath of my big sister. And that was something I didn’t want or need. I also didn’t need her to beat the shit out of Sky for breaking my heart. It wasn’t going to solve anything. Not for me.
Scrubbing leftover tears from my face, I made my way to the bathroom. We were at a private party in some famous person’s home. I didn’t care where we were or that it was prestigious. I cared about Sky and that she was no longer with me.