Page 21 of Fast Forward

Thanks, Diora. Talk about mother-daughter mind reading. And forty people, huh? So that’s how many friends I had in this life. Not bad. I wondered who they could be and if I would recognise them. But I wouldn’t have to wonder, because tonight I’d be seeing my closest friends for a classy dinner, followed by Grant’s proposal. I had to keep that in the forefront of my mind. The image of him on one knee (he was used to that, being a photographer and having to get into weird positions to get the right shot), popping open a velvet case and dazzling me with a shiny ring that could be seen from the moon.

“What are you thinking about?” Elaine asked. “You’re smiling like you’ve just, you know…”

‘Huh?” I snapped myself out of my visualisation. “Oh, I was just thinking about the man I love.”

“Aww, how sweet. Will is so lucky to have such a caring wife.”

“What makes you think I’m talking about William?” I snapped.

“Mum!” Diora shot me a fierce questioning look.

Oops. William was her father and I couldn’t upset a pregnant woman. “Just kidding!” Not. “Of course I’m thinking of your father. He’s so… nice,” was all I could think of to say.

“He’s better than nice. That man’s been an absolute winner of a husband in my opinion,” Elaine said. “I wish I’d married him instead of Peter. Sorry, Diora.” She laughed.

She could have him as far as I was concerned. The only man I wanted was Grant. Barb combed some gooey product into my hair.

“Oh well, there’s no turning back time,” Elaine mused. “Peter gave me three beautiful children and we did have a good marriage mostly. We just… grew resentful, I guess.” Jilly slid a straightening iron over Elaine’s hair, forcing her curls into submission. “If I hadn’t given up my dreams for him so he could have his career, maybe things would have been different, who knows?”

“It’s not too late to follow your dreams now, Elaine,” said Barb.

“I’m fifty-three, love. My boat sailed out years ago.”

“I’m fifty-six. And I think you can always catch another boat,” Barb said, tipping my head forward and attaching a clip to the top portion of my grey-black head of hair.

“Hear, hear,” Diora agreed. “Most women live to one hundred these days and men to about ninety-two, so there’s plenty of years left in you yet,” she reassured Elaine, while Karina rubbed something into Diora’s feet. She’d opted for a pedicure instead of a hairstyle, since she apparently hadn’t been able to reach her feet for the last two months and they’d been unacceptably devoid of coloured polish for far too long.

I almost told them about my plans for an international modelling career, but bit my tongue. That boat sailed out twenty-five years ago, but as soon as I could get back, I’d be on it, steering that boat to the future I wanted and no way in hell would I let any icebergs get in my way.

“There, what do you think?” Barb asked when she’d finished my hair.

My lifeless strands had been converted into a voluminous mass of windswept hair, brushed back from my face like I had a permanent high speed fan in front of me. It was an improvement and obviously the latest trend as I’d seen other women with a similar hairdo, but not what I’d choose for myself. Anyway, bring on the make-up.

I asked Barb to turn my chair around from the mirror so I could be surprised when she finished. If this worked, I’d be looking back at the real me in the mirror and Diora and Elaine would either not be there or would simply be strangers who’d come into the salon for a makeover like me.

I closed my eyes as Barb brushed the soft eye-shadow coated bristles of a make-up brush across my lids and then expertly slid an eye pencil across the junction between my eyelids and eyelashes. She applied some sort of gel to my cheeks and they tingled. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I swear I could feel my cheeks lifting and the crow’s feet around my eyes walking away.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Barb stated.

“Sure am,” I replied. I was in my element. I was no stranger to having strangers create art with my face and I breathed a sigh of contentment.

After cooling my lips with a coat of moist lipstick, Barb had me close my eyes and she sprayed my face with a cool, refreshing mist. This had to be it. It was happening. I could feel it. The droplets of mist tingled like snowflakes on my face and I imagined them to be tiny fairies casting a spell of youth on my skin.

Finally, Barb spun my chair around to face the mirror. My youthful reflection smiled back, but then I realised my eyes were still closed, so I opened them. Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it. A swirl of helplessness spiralled from within and a splutter escaped my throat. Then another… and another, until I was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Kelli, Kelli, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy with the result?” Barb gripped my shoulders. Elaine came over and placed an arm around my back. Even Diora manoeuvred herself up from the chair and waddled urgently towards me.

“I’m… it’s… why?” Words jammed in my throat and I longed to tell them, to scream from the top of my lungs that I was really twenty-five and didn’t belong here. But I couldn’t. They would send me to a facility for sure. That would be worse, because they’d make me wear an awful hospital gown with an exposed back, or a pair of orange overalls or something else hideous and if I kept insisting I was Kelli Crawford and had travelled a quarter of a century into the future, they might even call in an exorcist.

No. No matter what I did, I was stuck in this warped fairy tale and no Prince Charming would be coming to rescue me. I had to pretend. I had to come up with something, some reason for my outburst. Besides, Diora had given me this as a birthday present and I couldn’t bear to upset her. If I did she might start having more of those Braxton thingies and she might have the baby in the footbath!

I forced air into my lungs and steadied my stomach muscles, resisting the involuntary pulsing that had overtaken me a moment ago.

“Mum?”

“Kel?”

“Kelli?”

---