Happy Old Year

"You want another round, Nicky?!" 

The voice behind me repeated itself even louder, a centimeter away from my ear, even though I'd already heard it the first time. 

"No thanks, I've had enough for one year," I told the alcohol-soaked voice.

And yet, I found a drink shoved into my hand by another hand.  

Both the hand and the voice belonged to Jim, my best friend of twelve years.  We were spending our twelfth New Year's Eve together at the same loud and dirty dive bar.  And with a pretty girl clinging to his side, it looked like he was going to spend his twelfth New Year's Eve getting a New Year's kiss, which I had gone my whole life without.  

So, feeling the need to drown my sorrows, I obliged, and lifted the cold glass to my unkissed lips as the crowded bar around me roared the countdown to the end of 2019, as if the calendar's arbitrary designation of days, weeks, months, and years meant anything of substance. 

"5, 4, 3, 2--"

I wish I could tell you what happened next.  But next thing I knew, I woke up in a bed that I didn't recognize.  I turned my head, and there was a woman who I recognized even less. She had short hair, cropped closely and elegantly to her slender head, which matched the slender arms she had draped over my chest.  The room was infected with the smell of cheap liquor and cheaper cigarettes.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, realizing that's exactly what I had drunkenly done.  

I reached for my phone, but it wasn't t on the bedside table.  Instead, my hand slapped onto a radio that was older than anything I'd ever laid hands-- or eyes-- on, except maybe my great-grandfather. 

I muttered something about hipsters to myself as I delicately escaped from the arms of the girl sleeping next to me.  Then I stood on a floor that creaked louder than I expected, and began searching the room for my jeans, which were, oddly enough, nowhere to be seen.  What I did see, as I became increasingly aware of my headache, were two piles of formal clothes: a dress with gloves, presumably for the lady, and a black pinstriped suit, complete with hat and tie, which was presumably for me, even though I owned no such suit.  

I looked around the room some more and was met with old wallpaper, a slightly less old typewriter, and some empty liquor bottles.  There was no TV, phone charger, or any outlet which they would plug into.  

In the corner, I saw a newspaper, which, unlike everything else in the room, didn't look older then a day.  I walked softly across the floor, trying desperately not to wake my apparent companion for the evening, and picked up the paper.  

"Town Prepares for New Year's Eve" was plastered across the front page in black letters.  Then my eyes glance to the corner of the page and are met by the paper's date: December 31st, 1919.

"What the . . ." I say to myself, my voice trailing off.

I hear the shifting of bedsheets behind me.  I turn towards the noise and am graced by the view of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.  Her arms stretch in the air as she yawns.

"Goodness, I haven't slept like that in ages," she says in a voice that radiates elegance.  "But why are you out of bed so early?"

"Um, uh," I struggled to say in response.  "I . . . Needed to stretch my legs."

She shrugged at my answer.  "Fair enough. Well, would you mind stretching your legs to the kitchen and making us some breakfast?"

"Um, yeah.  Yeah sure." I reluctantly turned away from the beautiful sight before me and found my way to the kitchen.  It was about as small and dirty as the bedroom. I opened the ancient refrigerator and, blanking on what people ate for breakfast in 1925, grabbed a jar of mayonnaise and a brick of cheese.  Realizing I needed a plate to put them on, I went over to the cupboard. As I pulled out a plate, my companion's voice threw me out of my trance.

"That's a peculiar breakfast you're making for me," she said.  I whirled around to face her, and she stood there in an elegant nightgown with a smirk on her face.  "Could you at least make me some coffee to wash it down with?"

Fumbling over my words yet again, I stammered out an "Uh, yeah, sure thing" as I looked around for the coffee maker.  Sensing my confusion, she laughed and pulled out a moka pot from an overhead cupboard.  

"So I take it you're not a morning person?" she asked as she filled the pot with coffee grounds and water and then placed it on the stove.

"I suppose you could say that."

"What would you say?"

"I'd say I'm a little out of my element."

"In what sense?"

"In a . . . " I took a deep breath as last minute thoughts of not telling her crossed my mind.  "In an--"

Thump, thump, thump!

I was cut off by an aggressive banging at the door, accompanied by an even more aggressive voice that yelled, "Jennifer, you two-time!  Open this door!" 

The woman whose name was apparently Jennifer's face went whiter than it already was.  I started to say something, but she cut me off. 

"Zip it, Nicky.  Get in that closet.  Now."

I eagerly complied and did all but dive into the closet as Jennifer went to answer the door, which proceeded to slam open.  The slam was followed by thundering footsteps and more yelling. 

"Alright, where is he?!" from the male stranger's voice. 

"Where's who?" fired Jennifer, trying and failing to play dumb.

"The son of a bitch you went home with!  I heard all about him."

It's always nice to be the topic of conversation, isn't it?

"I don't know who or what you're talking about, you pig.  Get the hell out of my apartment."

"Yeah, sure.  Ya know, if you're gonna cheat on me, at least have the decency to hide it better."

Of all the situations for me to have time traveled into, it really had to be this one?  I had to be part of an affair?

"I didn't cheat on you, you idiot," Jennifer replied.  "We broke up, remember?"

"I remember us talking.  I remember saying we were gonna work things out."

"Well I remember telling you we were through.  So get out."

"No!" the man replied, not getting the point.  "I said we're not done, so we're not done! Not until I see the man you two-timed me with!"

"There was no man!"

"Then why did three of my friends call me and tell me there was, huh?"

"Because your friends are idiots?"

"Don't you talk about my friends like that!" the voice shouted as a sharp thud filled the apartment, provoking an "Ah!" sound from me.

"Oh?" the man said, vindicated.  "Sounds like I was right after all."

"Don't you go in there!" Jen yelled as I heard the stomping of feet come closer to me.  Feeling the fear spreading through my chest, I tried to prepare myself for a fight.  

However, nothing could have prepared me for the five-foot-five-inches ball of seething anger that opened the door.

Apparently, the ball of anger was even less prepared than I was, judging from the yelp that jumped out of his lungs as he jumped out of arm's reach. 

"What the hell?!" he shouted. 

"Um, uh, look, man," I stammered, stepping forward and towering over him.

"No, no, man," he stammered back.  "Forget about it, it's alright. I gotta go, bye!" 

With that, he dashed out the door.

Closing and locking the door, Jennifer let out a louder laugh than I'd ever heard.

"Good lord, the look on his face!" she cackled.  "He must've thought you were gonna kill him!"

"No kidding," I said with a sigh of relief.  "What was that all about?"

Jennifer waved her hand dismissively and said "Oh, just a fella I went out with for a while.  Not my cup of champagne anymore."

"Your what?" I said, tilting my head like a confused dog. 

"My cup of champagne," she repeated.  "You know, not my thing."

"Right, right.  It's just, where I'm from, we'd say 'cup of tea,' instead. 

"Well, we prefer champagne here," she shrugged.  "By the way, where are you from?  You avoided that question all night."

The question threw me off.  Was now a good time to mention that I think I'm from a hundred years in the future?  

"I'm, uh, from . . . Ya know what?  I, uh, I think I told you . . . already," I said, being the absolute antithesis of calm and collected.

"No, you definitely didn't," she pressed.  "But you can now."

I was afraid she'd say something like that.

"Well, let's just say I'm . . . Out of my element?" I accidentally said as more of a question than a statement. 

Jennifer raised an eyebrow at me.  "Out of your element in what sense?"

I sighed and responded, "In an . . . ''I'm from the future' sort of sense."

She stood in silence for a minute before she spoke again. 

"Huh.  Somehow you sounded smarter when you couldn't string a full sentence together properly."

"I'm serious," I told her.  "I don't know who you are or where we are.  I don't know how I got here. But I know that your newspaper says that it's 1919, and I'm from 2019.  Although, I suppose it's 1920 now, since yesterday was New Year's Eve."

She shook her head as she walked back to kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee that must have been cold by now.  "Gee, you spend New Year's Eve with a guy and you think you know him. You think he's normal."

"I am normal, Jen, I think.  I'm just a bit lost, and I really have to figure out what's going on.  If you don't wanna help me, I understand. Just say the word and I'll grab that pinstriped suit that apparently belongs to me, and I'll be on my way.  But I would really appreciate it if you could help me out . . . Jen."

We stood in silence as she thought it through. 

"Alright," she finally said.  "At least the year's off to an interesting start."

I breathed a sigh of relief and started to explain.  "Okay, so . . . The last thing I remember, I took a shot for New Year's." 

"Alright, well, why don't you start there?  Take a drink."

"Yeah, right.  There's no way that would work."

"Well, there's no way you're really from 2019, so."

"Fair enough."

"I'll fix us up something," she said as she opened the refrigerator, pulling out some orange juice and champagne.  "You like mimosas?"

"I love them," I said. 

"Alright, then."  She smiled as she poured the drinks into glasses. 

After she finished, she handed me a glass.  "Here's to time travel."

I laughed and clinked my glass to hers before taking a sip. 

"Well?" she asked.

"Well . . . Nothing."

"Go figure," she chuckled.  "You know, I think you might just be crazy, my friend."

I sighed in response, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, don't be like that," she told me.  

"Be like what?"

"Like that, all sigh-y and disappointed.  Maybe it's not all bad."

"Oh yeah?  And how so?"

"Well," she said as she set down her glass and put her arms around me.  "Now you can spend a little more time with me. And that's not so bad, is it?"

"Well," I said as my heart started to beat harder.  "Maybe not."

She got up on her tiptoes and closed her eyes as she lifted her head towards mine, and I bent down to kiss her.  

She had lips like cold glass.  We kissed for a few seconds and then pulled away.  But when I opened my eyes, I didn't see her. And I didn't see her apartment around me.

Instead, I saw the dirty bar, just as I had left it.  Loud and filled with drunk people partying like there was no tomorrow.  They danced and drank, unaware of the heartbreak that had just occurred.