Rose Perfect

Rosanna Harlow was drunk. Not falling down, gut-spewing drunk though. More like happy, glowing, in love with the world tipsy. The sort of tipsy that made her cheeks glow red and her green eyes dance with happy enthusiasm. Tomorrow, of course, her face would be pale and her eyes red but that was okay. It was New Year’s Eve 2005. Rosanna had a lot to celebrate. She had no job and no man in her life. Add to that a broken big toe from her latest renovating disaster and the fact that she was in debt up to her eyeballs and she was doing just swell, thank you very much. Rosanna Harlow’s life was just one big celebration of madness. She was glad to farewell 2005. As far as Rosanna was concerned, 2005 had been crap. Queen Elizabeth, the second, had had her annas horribilus. Rosanna Harlow, the first, was happy to drown 2005 in alcohol.
“Woo hoo!” Rosanna howled at the moon as she staggered around the backyard pool with a glass of champagne in one hand and a ridiculous shiny green party hat perched jauntily on her head. No one at the crowded party noticed her specifically. Everyone else was in varying shades of alcoholic happiness and having just as good a time at the party. It was the second one she and her best friend Prue had attended that night. They would go home soon and collapse. But for the moment Rosanna felt invincible, broken toe and all. She laughed out loud as Prue echoed her call.
Rosanna heard beeping and reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her mobile phone. She squinted down at the display. “I have a message,” she announced out loud just because she could. Prue cheered drunkenly. Rosanna smiled as she accessed her message with uncoordinated fingers. “Archer? Who the hell is Archer?”
“William Tell was an archer,” Prue informed her in a drunken slur as she barely missed stumbling into the pool she was drunkenly trying to navigate her way around.
“William Tell left me a message?”
“Actually, I think he’s dead.”
Rosanna looked at Prue. “Why would a dead man send me a message?”
“Maybe he’s lonely.” Prue laughed out loud at her own inane comment.
“You’re drunk.”
“As a skunk.” Prue slumped down on a nearby deck chair.
Rosanna giggled and shook her head. She squinted down at the display again. “I’ll meet you 1st January 2006—caller Archer time 11:58pm date 31/12/2048” 31/12/2048? What? Someone was calling her from the year 2048? Ah huh. Either her mobile was on the fritz or she needed to stop drinking now. Preferring to think her mobile was the problem, she slipped it back into her the pocket of her jeans and staggered over to follow Prue. The effects of the alcohol and the pain of her toe were finally starting to register. Okay, maybe there was something to be said for not mixing pain medication with alcohol. She slumped beside her friend on a neighboring chair.
“2006 is going to be the best year ever!” Rosanna yelled up at the night sky. The stars twinkled down at her noncommittally. They had heard it all before.
“Yeah, we have nothing and no one!” Prue yelled in response.
“Here’s to having nothing and no one!” They both cheered out loud then giggled at their own silliness. Once their mirth subsided, they lapsed into quiet reflection for a moment, wondering what the following year would bring to each of them. Both were aware that they were responsible for their own destiny and choices they made in the year to come. Although 2005 had been a bitch of a year for Rosanna, she could blame no one for the events that dragged her down. Job loss, subsequent unemployment and bad choices were all a part of life. And life just happened. Mainly when you least expected it to. But Rosanna was resilient. Experience had made her so. Life could get better. Surely the worst was over?
Prue broke the silence. “I have every intention of getting ahead.” There was a quiet determination in her voice that went essentially unrecognized by Rosanna. Later, Rosanna would think back to this conversation when the changes started to affect both their lives.
“You’ve already got a head, Prue. Why would you want two?” Rosanna pictured a two-headed Prue and laughed. It was like something out of a 1950s schlock horror film.
Prue slapped her friend’s arm playfully. “No, silly, I intend to get rich this year.” There was a calculating gleam in Prue’s eye that Rosanna was too befuddled and caught up in her own thoughts to notice.
“Oh yeah, how?” Either Prue intended to win the lotto or marry a rich man. The first option appealed to Rosanna. Winning money was always a great option. The last one didn’t. She didn’t see the point of marrying even if it was for money. The thought of having to deal with your own problems and that of another’s seemed too complicated to Rosanna. Besides who needed a man? She was quite capable of messing up her own life by herself. She was proof positive of this.
“I have plans.”
Rosanna Harlow had never had a plan in her life. She was thirty-five years of age and she had stumbled her way through life without a clear destination. She kept waiting for a destination to register in her mind but so far nothing checked in. Maybe one day all the pieces would fit together but she wasn’t counting on it. “I’m thinking about getting a goldfish. How’s that for a plan?”
“Damn fine plan!”
“To goldfish!” Rosanna toasted as their glasses clinked together.
“And to gold!” Prue added softly. “And however you can get it.”
Rosanna pulled her mobile out of her pocket again and looked at the time displayed. Two seconds after midnight. 2005 no longer. A new year had dawned. A year that was to be the turning point in her life. Just how that would happen she wasn’t sure. But positive vibes and good intentions had to count for something surely. “Happy New Year, Prue.”
“Happy New Year, Rosie.”
Rosanna flicked back through the messages on her mobile. “And Happy New Year to whoever the hell you are, Archer in 2049.”