'A promising New Year'

‘A Promising New Year ’
         
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.’
Bob sang to himself as everyone else was dancing or chatting; he was slouched on a settee nursing his sixth or seventh beer of the night. Morosely he thought this New Year had come in like most before, a brief moment of lively ‘Auld Lang Sine!’,and a great excuse for bumbling attempts to make it with someone too drunk to notice. Then a movement next to him made Bob look up to see a dark-skinned stranger sat beside him.
Bob gives him a lop-sided smile and slurps more beer as the stranger says.
‘Did you keep last year’s promises?
’Course I did, er, what do you mean?’
‘What about the year before?’ then before Bob could reply he added.
‘In fact, can you remember when you ever kept a promise?’
Bob tried to sit up, slopped his drink and asked. ‘Who are you mate?’
‘What is the most important promise you ever made?’
Bob was trying to figure out though a boozy haze why this man was asking such questions. Then a  dull light bulb lit up in his brain.
‘Oh yesh, I once promised to be on time for work, got  an alarm-clock and,  well I’m good now, so yeah I kept that promise. How ‘bout you, do you ever keep your promises?’
‘I’ve never made one, I just do as I’m told.’ came the bland response.
‘Oh come on!’ Bob said trying to gain some high ground. ‘You never made one promise ever?’
‘If I say yes, I do it, If no I don’t, I don’t have to promise anything, but when people do make a promise to someone they under a curse if they don’t keep their word.’
Bob looked closely at the stranger.
‘Never seen you round here before, who are you mate?’
The stranger smiled as he saw the confusion, and rising anxiety within him; his eyes reflected of deep knowledge of Bob, who was beginning to feel uneasy.
‘Tomorrow we will meet and I will ask you again; did you keep your promise?’
A sudden noise startled Bob, distracting his bemused gaze from the stranger, he saw his friend crash over a table, and laughing he turned back again but the stranger was gone.  Somewhat startled Bob looked around and thought he saw a dark shape walk through the wall.
‘Weird bugger’ he said to himself and staggered over to the bar for another beer.

The next afternoon Bob awoke in bed alone.  With a resigned sigh, he sat up as a mallet hammered his brain. ‘Ouch’ he groaned and staggered to the bathroom.  A little revived by a hot shower, he started thinking about the New Year’s party.
‘Must have been a good one,’ he mused, ‘can’t remember anything about it!’
Walking into the sitting room, he picked up the remote and clicked on Sky Sports, hoping a match was on; then went to the kitchen. He was busying himself with tea and toast when a familiar voice startled him.
‘Three sugars please Bob.’
Bob swung round to see the stranger sitting at the table, frightened, he yelled.
‘How the bloody hell did you get in here?’
He winced as his shout triggered another bout of searing throbs.
‘Drink some water and the pains will soon go.’ said the quiet voice.
For some reason Bob followed the stranger’s advice and immediately the throbbing subsided.
‘Toast’s ready, do you have any marmalade?’
As if in a trance Bob got a jar from the cupboard and provided his uninvited guest with tea and toast, then getting his own sat down opposite the stranger.
‘Who are you and how did you get in here.  Did you come home with...., ‘
Bob suddenly had a scary thought.
‘You and I, I mean last night, we didn't you know er end up here together did we?’
‘No Bob, your friends brought you home and put you to bed.’
Palpable relief washed over Bob’s anxious face. 
‘Oh right. Great, but …how do you know how I got home?’
The stranger’s piercing eyes flashed as he said.
‘We met last night and you told me that you kept your promises.’
Bob suddenly remembered their strange conversation. 
‘Oh yeah I remember, but what's your name, and how did you get in here?’

Several uncomfortable seconds went by as Bob struggled to make sense of this man’s unexpected appearance and that he had not answered any of his questions.  Nevertheless, despite feeling uneasy, there was something about him that made Bob want to respond.
‘Ok’ he said brightly.  ‘If you don’t want to tell me your name, I’ll call you, um, Joe Black, how’s that?
‘Bob, are you sure that you want to meet Joe Black?
Bob thought he was being very clever, but his grin vanished as the stranger’s eyes bored into his. Bob laughed nervously; as he vaguely recalled that in the film, ‘Death’ lived within the character of Joe Black.
‘Er no thanks chum er perhaps I’ll just call you Joe, ok?’
‘Joe’ nodded and said.
‘Where were you three years ago on New Year’s Eve?
Startled by the question, he replied.
‘What do you mean? How am I supposed to remem..’.
Bob sat up with a jolt. ‘Who are you?’
Joe finished his tea and stood up.  He walked over to the window and looked out across the town below.
‘You weren't drunk at that party Bob; you told Thembesile you would come back, she cried and said no, but you insisted, you made her a promise saying...’.
‘Get out!’  He stood up. ‘Get out! How do you know? Who are you?’
He staggered towards the kitchen door shouting. ‘I’m calling the police!’ and rushed into the sitting room, he came back with his mobile, fingers poised to press 999. He looked up and his jaw dropped as Joe jumped through the closed window, then he saw huge wings spread, with one downward thrust which sent Joe upwards and in an instant he vanished!  Mesmerised for long moments until a text message trilled on his mobile which broke the spell; he opened the message and stared with astonishment.  It read, ‘You must keep your promise Bob, see you soon, Joe.’

The TV erupted with sound as Manchester United scored; but Bob didn't really notice, as his thoughts wandered back to South Africa.  His gap-year was ending; and he was celebrating with the other students, one of whom was the beautiful Zulu girl Thembisile. His eyes roamed across book shelves for the picture of them together. Longing and self-loathing arose within him.
‘But how can she expect me to give up everything?’
He stood shakily, and walked over and picked up the ebony frame.  She smiled out at him with honey coloured eyes full of promise.  His pent up guilt erupted. He screamed at the picture.
‘But it was just a holiday romance, I didn't mean for that to happen!
He threw the photo to the floor, smashing the glass; with a heavy sigh he stooped, picked it up and pleaded to her picture.
‘It’s not my fault; you shouldn't have made me promise!’
He stuffed the photo into his pocket and grabbing his coat, left the flat. 

An hour and two pints later Bob hit the cue ball too hard forcing it off the Pool table. ‘Damn!’ he muttered, grabbing his drink.  His mate Steve looked at him and said with a laugh.
‘Not one of your best games eh Bob?’
Slamming down his half-empty glass he stormed out of the pub, leaving a stunned friend staring after him.  Walking along the dark streets his mind kept reliving the last conversation with Thembisile before flying home to the UK.  She had told him of her being ‘late’ and Bob, completely out of his depth was overwhelmed by fear; to hide his confusion he pulled her close to him, whispering.
‘It’ll be alright Thembisile, just let me get things sorted out in England.  I’ll be back in a couple months.’
She replied softly. 
‘No Bob, this is my problem, I’ll be fine.’
Holding her at arm’s length, he looked her beautiful face.
‘Thembisile, I promise, it’s my baby too.  I promise I’ll be back.’
Tears fell as she looked at him, searching for truth in her doubts, she gently touched his cheek.
‘I hope you mean that Bob, because your promise binds us unto death.’ 
Her words conveyed something far beyond his understanding, sending a chill down his spine. She kissed him and walked back into the party.

Still haunted by that trusting face, and stricken with remorse, he sat on a bench, when the piercing cries of a baby coming from an open window across the street cut into his self-pity.
‘Oh God, what should I do?’
‘Bob you don’t believe in God; just keep your promise to Thembisile.’
He swung round expecting to see Joe, but no one was there.
‘Stop stalking me, you, you ghoul!’
He screamed at the empty night. Lurching wildly in the darkness, he stepped backwards off the pavement and fell in front of an oncoming car.  He awoke three hours later in A and E. Joe was standing over him; his expression unreadable.
‘But how can I go back to Cape Town, and take care of a family?’

Joe’s compassionate eyes seemed to be searching his very soul; then he touched Bob’s bandaged head, and his broken arm wrapped in a splint.  The pain in his head vanished and he felt his arm click and that too was healed.
‘You must do what is right Bob; I hope we will not meet again for a very long time.’
Bob watched Joe move to the middle of the room and dark wings spread out behind him, then he leapt upwards and disappeared through the ceiling.  Bob sat up and with a trembling hand, reached to the jug on his locker to pour some water when he saw the envelope.  He picked it up and pulled out a one-way ticket to Cape Town, a wad of South African Rand and a note, which read.
‘For Thembisile-your promise keeper, Joe.’

Thembisile means 'she has promised' in the Zulu language