New Culture, New Year, New Love

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

TRENT Rose shivered again as he sat huddled in his chair even though the heating was turned up and he was wearing a thick sweater. He didn’t know what he’d done to piss someone in the company he worked for off, but it must have been pretty bad to be sent to this godawful place. He’d started working for a large, globe-spanning bank straight out of college and had worked his way to an international management position. It meant he got to travel and had seen some amazing places, probably more than others saw in their whole lives. But it seemed that it also had its downside. He’d been in Hong Kong for just over three years, working as a Regional Relationship Manager, when he’d been told that he was to be uprooted again to help oversee a

“merger with” – by which they meant “takeover of” – another smaller bank. In Edinburgh, Scotland, of all places.

And so here he was, and had been for a couple of months now. He’d had to leave in early November, so he’d missed the Thanksgiving celebrations usually held by him and the other American expatriates, and of course, they didn’t know about the holiday in Scotland. There had been a celebration at the end of November, Saint Andrew’s Day, but it hadn’t been the same and had only made him feel like more of a foreigner, not being immersed in this new culture yet. He missed the people he’d known in Hong Kong and 2

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

especially missed the warmth. He was a Florida boy by birth with Hispanic roots, for crying out loud! It was
glacial
here.

And it started getting dark at four o’clock. Four in the afternoon! What kind of country got dark that early? The sun didn’t start rising until later, either. There was nothing worse than having to get up and go to work in such freezing darkness. He’d never travelled to such a cold climate before.

And it seemed to rain constantly, so it was cold, dark,
and
wet. It had rained in Hong Kong too, but at least the rain there was fairly warm. But if he had survived black rainstorms and typhoon warnings, he could survive this. He could hope only that this placement wouldn’t last too long and he would be moved somewhere else, preferably to a location below the equator.

He was debating fixing another hot drink, which meant moving from his comfortable chair, when the phone rang. He picked it up, wondering who would call him this late, when he realized it was only 5:40. He muttered curses at the early setting sun again. As if his body clock hadn’t been thrown off enough by the travelling; although by now, he’d learned to adjust fairly quickly.

“Hello, Trent, how are you doing?” His boss’s rich, genteel Scots voice came through the earpiece.

“Fine, thank you sir.”

“Och, I told you, there’s no need to call me sir,”

Norman Vere said. “Listen, when you had said you’d been 3

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

alone for Christmas I wondered if you had any plans for Hogmanay?”

“I’m sorry, Hogma-what?”

The older man gave a hearty laugh. “Hogmanay, lad.

New Year’s Eve. Have you not been told about how we celebrate here?”

“Um, not really no.” He’d heard a few people talking about Hogmanay, but hadn’t realised what it actually was.

He’d assumed it was some obscure Scottish thing. “And I didn’t exactly have any plans, but –”

“Wonderful. My wife’s family’s holding a ceilidh on the 31st; you’re welcome to come along.”

They were holding someone called Kaylee? No, that couldn’t be right. “Well thank you sir, but um, uh....” He didn’t want to seem like an idiot asking what the hell his boss was talking about, but, well, he had no idea what his boss was talking about. His uncertainty seemed to come through anyway.

“Oh, a ceilidh’s like a sort of party,” Mr. Vere explained. “There’ll be food and drink, traditional Scottish dancing; it’s good fun.”

“Right, okay,” Trent replied, relieved he hadn’t had to confess his ignorance. “Well, thank you very much for thinking of me, but I don’t want to intrude on your time with your family.”

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New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

“Don’t be daft! I’m inviting you, it’s no trouble. And I had more than enough time with them already over Christmas. Annie has a big family, and there will be others there, friends and so on. And don’t worry; it won’t be full of old folks. A lot of my nieces and nephews are about your age.”

“I – but – I don’t know any Scottish dances.”

Mr. Vere laughed again. “We won’t be asking you to do a Highland Fling, don’t worry! The band calls the dances, takes everyone through the steps and makes sure they can follow along; it’s easy. So can I say you’ll be coming?”

Trent considered it a moment longer. He
had
spent a quiet Christmas alone, catching up with friends and calling his family. He hadn’t really settled in enough to meet anyone besides those he worked with, never mind getting a social life yet. He’d spent Christmas alone; spending New Year’s alone as well would be really shameful. At least this would be something, even if it was his boss giving the invite.

“I won’t have to wear a kilt, will I?”

He heard the man’s throaty chuckle. “Only if you think you’ve got the legs for it, son. I’ll e-mail you the information and see you there. Oh, and don’t forget to try and get to the torchlight parade going through the town on the 29th. It’s quite a sight.”

“Got it, I’ll remember. Thanks again.”

5

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

HE stood with others on Princes Street, the main street in the capital city of Edinburgh, waiting for the procession. It was dark, of course, and bitterly cold, but everyone seemed in a festive, expectant mood, wrapped up warm. He stood facing the shops with the vista of the Gardens, draped in shadows, at his back. Edinburgh Castle crouched on its steep incline in the distance behind him, ablaze with lights, and the screams from the carnival rides not too far away reached his ears. There came another sound, as he stood shivering and stamping his feet, the high, bracing wail of the bagpipe music, and he could see the multitude of lights heading towards them.

At times like these Trent was always happy to be tall, getting a good view of any spectacle in a crowd. First there was a Viking ship being dragged along, about the length of two small cars, its sides decked in colourful shields, flanked by men dressed as Viking warriors, some carrying flaming torches or even axes. A few shouts and cheers sounded in the air, with the pipe and drum music, growing to deafening volume as it followed the boat. It stirred something in Trent’s blood, making his breath catch. Hundreds of torch bearers came after the players, bearing their lights aloft; they looked a bit like round wooden swords with the tip in flames.

The many points of light formed a glowing river that streamed past him, the sea of faces smiling and looking happy, though a few were beginning to look tired by this 6

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

point. There seemed to be all number of races and nationalities, all wanting to take part in this unusual celebration. A few cries of “Happy New Year!” were being shouted out already. It had an ancient, mystical feel to it, this burning flow of many fires striking back against the gloom of winter. At the end of it all the black sky above was blazing with booming multi-colored fireworks streaming and sparkling in the air. It was indeed a dramatic sight. Trent only wished, as he tore his eyes away from the show to glance at the crowd around him – couples cuddling close, parents with excited kids – that he had someone to share this experience with him.

He sighed. That was always the problem, wasn’t it?

His constant travelling made relationships difficult. He was starting to get tired of casual dating and quick fucks; he was starting to want something more meaningful. Maybe he was getting too old for this sort of thing. He was in his early thirties, but he was starting to feel old. Maybe he was just feeling lonely, still unsettled after his move, still not really knowing anyone yet. The people he worked with had been friendly and welcoming, but they all had their own plans over the holidays.

He still hadn’t been here long enough to find the kinds of places he wanted to go to, either. Did Edinburgh even have a gay culture? Well, of course it must, practically every country in the civilized world did, whether they would admit it, but it wasn’t like he could go up to someone and ask,

“Excuse me. Could you tell me where a good gay bar is, 7

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

please?” And anyway, that could lead back to unwanted short flings and one-night stands.

He started to move through the other revellers, wanting to find a place to eat once the procession ended.

Edinburgh was indeed a beautiful city, with its ancient history, its cobbled streets, its castle, and the Scott Monument, which looked like some sort of Gothic space rocket. Even the modern day shops were in old, elegant buildings. He would have felt strange trying to find a gay nightclub in such a setting, though he knew Edinburgh’s night life was vibrant, and he was sure they existed. But he thought it would be out of place, like finding out a proper, elderly matron wore scarlet silk knickers and black fishnets under her ankle length tweed skirt and white petticoats.

Maybe his New Year’s resolution could be to find a good man, though he still wasn’t sure how to go about it if the nightclubs and so on were out. It wasn’t like one would just turn up out of the blue.

WELL, Edinburgh certainly knew how to bring in the New Year. He had gone out with some others from work to a

“Night Afore” party, again held in the city center, somewhere called the “Grassmarket” in the Old Town. And now he was getting ready for this Scottish dancing night with his boss and his family. He could only hope he didn’t make a complete fool of himself. He fussed again with his curly black hair, his deep brown eyes squinting in frustration as 8

New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

he tried to get it just right. He’d settled for a smart outfit, deciding against full Scottish regalia. He hadn’t been there long enough to go so fully native yet. Instead, he wore an evergreen shirt, top button undone, with comfortable black trousers in case he was roped into dancing. He took a deep breath and made sure to wrap up warmly for the short trip from his door to the taxi, remembering at the last minute the narrow, long bag he needed to take along.

He’d been told to arrive between six thirty and seven, which was when the dancing would start. He got to the sports hall where the dance was being held in good time and saw as he entered that it was already quite busy. The hall was brightly lit with some colored lights around the edges.

There was a table covered in various buffet foods, and circular tables with chairs spaced out close to the walls, allowing a large area in the middle for dancing. A small stage was at the far end, with musicians setting up instruments and other paraphernalia on it. He was relieved to see that, although there were quite a few kilts scattered around, he was not the only male in the room wearing pants.