Page 46 of Fast Forward

Wow, this woman had literally pushed her dreams aside for her family. She was practically a saint, but her sunken smile and tired eyes told me this wasn’t something women should aspire to. What good was she to others if she wasn’t totally happy with her own life? Women should go after what they want, and surely there were ways to manage a family and a lifelong passion. I’d done it, hadn’t I? The future me, I mean.

“It’s not too late, you know. What’s stopping you from opening that restaurant or cake shop now that the kids are older?”

She flicked her hand towards me and chuckled. “Oh, not this conversation again. I’m just too tired now to start anything new.”

“But if you’re passionate about something, surely that passion would feed your energy?”

“Maybe… ah, I don’t know. I should probably just let things be. I’ve got a good life, a healthy family. I shouldn’t complain. Anyway, tonight’s about you, so when are you opening your presents?” Elaine’s face changed to a somewhat forced expression of excitement and I felt sorry for her. I almost wanted to give her my birthday cake and tell her to make a wish that would send her back in time.

“I’m not sure, I guess Will or Ryan will tell me when it’s time for that. They seem to have everything under control.” I attempted a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Elaine asked.

I squirmed a little. “Yeah, it’s just that I’m wearing this…” I leaned in close to her ear, “support underwear and it’s a bit on the tight side. Plus I really need to go to the ladies room.”

Elaine gave me a knowing smile. “Why do you think I wore this ghost costume tonight?” She laughed and I tried to join in but that only put more pressure on my bladder. “Well you better go now while the guests are preoccupied with each other.” I shot her a worried look and her eyes widened. “Do you need me to… help?”

“Oh, God no.” Was she serious? I mean, I was used to changing into different outfits with a small audience around me, but that was when my body easily slipped in and out of things. Now it would be like sumo wrestling with myself – not something I particularly wanted an audience for. “I mean, I think I’ll be fine. If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, maybe you could come and check on me?”

“Deal.” Elaine winked and I wandered off towards the bedroom en suite, which was the only bathroom I knew the location of in the house. As I passed the kitchen, a caterer cut a bunch of fresh chives with scissors, sprinkling the green flecks over mini pancakes topped with cream cheese. I walked over to her.

“Excuse me, could I borrow those for just a few minutes?”

“The chives?”

“The scissors.”

“Oh, well of course. Just give me a second.” She cut up the remaining chives then washed the scissors and handed them to me, curiosity on her face.

I gestured to my bedroom. “Just remembered something I forgot to do earlier. Have to, um… cut something.” I scooted off before I sounded more ridiculous and the fact that earlier she had seen me half naked and in the midst of being strangled by rip-proof fabric meant she knew exactly what the scissors were for.

I was really bursting now, so I quickly closed the bathroom door – but didn’t lock it in case an emergency rescue was necessary – then eased the dress up towards my hips. It didn’t need to be all the way up, just enough that I could get at the support suit with the scissors to cut a strip either side to free things up a bit and be able to wriggle the knickers down enough to do the deed. Getting them back up again… well, I’d deal with that when the time came. If absolutely necessary, I could wait for backup to arrive in fifteen minutes.

I held on to the fabric and positioned the scissors on each side, before pressing down to snip the suit. Only it didn’t snip. I tried again, but the scissors only slid sideways as though blunt, which they weren’t because I’d distinctly heard the sharp snipping sound when the caterer used them.

Bloody, bloody hell.

I tried stabbing part of the fabric with a sharp corner of the scissors, but it only stretched the suit, not even unravelling a single thread of the triple-woven-rip-proof-piece-of-crap-weapon-of-mass-destruction. If I ever got this suit off, it could be rolled up to double as the heavy duty stretchy rope that William had wanted from the hardware store.

I tried and tried and tried to break through the fabric, but the material was obviously cut-proof as well, at least in terms of regular kitchen scissors. Maybe I needed a surgical scalpel. I even considered hollering out the bedroom window to my Lycra-clad neighbour to ask if I could borrow her garden clippers, but I needed to go to the toilet. Now. I put every ounce of strength I had into lifting the support suit to the minimum height necessary and after beads of sweat moistened my forehead and track marks appeared on my thighs from my fingernails, I did it.

I took as deep a breath as I could and reached my arms underneath to start attacking the support knickers and if it wasn’t for my strong desire to go, I would have given up. Eventually they cooperated and I managed to create a small channel of freedom to comply with the anatomical requirements of the situation.

A minute later I met with relief, until I had to reverse the movements for the second time tonight, but at least I only had to go part of the way. To humour myself I tried the scissors again, which was a complete waste of time, although that didn’t really matter because it meant I would be slightly closer to the elusive birthday cake/happy birthday singing/make a wish time of the evening.

Despite probably needing some dressings – or perhaps skin grafts – on my fingernail-induced wounds, I emerged relatively unscathed from the bathroom, discarding the pathetic excuse for scissors in the kitchen on the way back. Before I turned to walk back to the living room, aka, Party Hub, a large white cardboard box standing on the kitchen bench took my eye. The caterers were busy facing the other bench, so I sneaked behind them and gently lifted the lid on the box just a fraction.

My birthday cake!

I couldn’t make it all out but it appeared to be a model of a water fountain, with twinkly decorations dangling from the top like sprays of water. One large candle protruded from the top and my eyes lit up as though candles themselves. If I could just light it, I could make a quick wish and this party, this life, would be just a memory. In minutes I could be waking up in my fresh organic cotton sheets, stretching my limber arms and sauntering to the bathroom to smile at my twenty-five-year-old face in the mirror…

“Mrs McSnelly!” The caterer I’d stolen the scissors from flicked the lid closed and I blinked and jumped back in surprise. “You go back and enjoy your party, you mustn’t be in the kitchen. No more peeking, okay?”

I dipped my head in shame like a schoolgirl caught skipping school and with the help of her gentle yet firm hand on the small of my lower back I scurried back to the party where Elaine looked anxious.

“I was about to go in after you!”

“It’s okay, I survived, but the damn thing is scissor-proof!”

---