Authors: Juliet Madison
Pages and pages of results showed up, but I clicked on the main website. It repeated what I’d told Mr Turrow in the meeting, but also had a gallery of pictures of all our products and information on upcoming designs that were currently in production. There was a listing of all our stores, as well as stockists of some of our most popular products. Our latest news section revealed that beginning the following year we would be implementing an in-home decorating consultation service and there was a form for people to register their interest.
There was also a photo of our head office staff; a smiling team of fourteen—including yours truly. Diora was in the photo too and scrolling down to the staff profiles I discovered that she was head of the marketing team—a surprise, but it made sense considering her personality—and was currently on maternity leave. No surprises there. Ryan wasn’t in the photo, so he obviously spent all his time bungy jumping and making—ahem—music.
Maybe I could get back in touch with designing when I got home to the past. I mean as well as the modelling. I still wanted to grace those catwalks and revel in the familiarity of flashing lights. A woman could do both, couldn’t she? Especially now I knew I could do it.
Maybe Grant would invest in the business with me? He could take all the photos of the products and bring out the best in them, like he did with me. But would the business have the same success with Grant a part of it? Would he even want to be a part of it? My mind flashed back to Will at the meeting and how nervous yet eager he’d been. How happy he was afterwards on winning Mr Turrow over. KC Interiors was his life, his passion.
I closed the website and the door on my thoughts, and tried calling Selena. Met once again with voicemail, I typed her name into Foogle and clicked on images.
Holy cow! I was surprised to see what she now looked like. Still beautiful, but … well, you could tell she’d had some work done. Her lips appeared stung by a bee and her eyebrows were in a permanent state of surprise. I clicked on one of the pictures which led to an article titled:
I should have Stopped after Three Surgeries
, where Selena openly confessed regretting the fourth procedure, saying it had gone too far. I also found a video of Selena accepting her Oscar and felt a twinge of pride at her achievement. In the video her eyebrows were about half an inch lower than the post-surgery brows and I agreed she should have left it at that.
A text message beeped and flashed on my screen, followed immediately by another one. The first was from Ryan.
When will u be back? Hope u have enough time to get ready. R
.
I texted him back with:
On my way now
.
The second message was from CareLab:
This message is to confirm your appointment for a mammogram at 9am on Tuesday
.
Oh joy! So there’s a fancy brain scanning device available in the future but nothing so advanced for boobs. Wonderful.
I brushed specks of dirt from my clothing and walked to the car, but not before glancing back at the graves, now sheltered from the setting sun by the tall tree to the left. Its branches cast skeletal patterns across the stone, just like the timber in the houses Dad used to build. “See you soon, Dad.”
“Life is just one damned thing after another.”
–
American proverb
Thankfully, Miss Car remembered where I lived and safely helped me navigate home. If I’d gone into the past instead of the future I would have had no hope, unless there were carriages driven by horses with photographic memories.
Despite living fairly close to the city, my house was situated in suburbia heaven. I pulled into Bellbird Drive, welcomed by rows of round, silver encased lights forming a dotted edge along each side of the road. I frowned on noticing there weren’t any power lines. None at all. Maybe everything was solar powered, or maybe someone—my sister, probably—had discovered an unlimited source of renewable energy and electricity had been given the flick. I chuckled at the thought.
I drove into the driveway of number nine. A middle-aged woman in leggings and a top too tight for her figure stopped trimming her rose bushes to wave at me from next door. The garage was closed and I didn’t know how the heck to open it, so I parked on the driveway and stepped out of the car.
“Hi Kelli,” she said.
“Hi …”
strange woman I’ve never met
.
“Nice evening, eh?”
I nodded. “Sure is.”
“You got a party on tonight or somethin’?” she asked with a frown, gesturing to the house with her hedge clippers.
A low hum of music drifted from inside and a van marked
Big Night Caterers
was parked alongside the house. My guess was my lycra-clad neighbour was a bit miffed that she wasn’t invited.
“Ah, just a small family gathering,” I replied, edging away from the side fence in case she was planning on using her gardening tool as a weapon. “Well, I’d better get inside. Have a good night!”
I walked on before she could reply and pushed open the unlocked door. The kitchen and living room had been transformed from an average family home into something resembling a movie set. An animated movie set. Which didn’t really make sense because they didn’t have sets for animated movies, did they? It’s all done on computer screen, but anyway, it looked cartoonish. Brightly coloured paper flowers hung from the ceiling with glossy balloons, long streamers hanging from wall to wall and fancy multi-coloured lighting. Delicious savoury smells wafted past my nose as I looked towards the kitchen where four people in white chef outfits scurried about like elves, busying themselves with food preparation.
“Mum, you’re here! You better go and get ready, but first, let me take you on a quick tour of my creation.” Ryan, dressed in some ridiculous outfit, flourished an arm towards the living room. When he turned, I almost tripped on a tail-like thing attached to his back and dragging along the floor.
Was this the kind of clothing young people wore these days? How bizarre!
“Over here we have the Bliss Garden, where guests can sit down on one of the pods and enjoy a drink and relaxing conversation,” Ryan explained, as he pointed to the far corner where giant origami lotus flowers lay around the seating pods, similar to bar stools but lower and shaped like cylinders with a little round cushion on the top. Origami butterflies dangled from the roof and tiny lotuses floated in a birdbath.
Ryan led me outside, the summer night air sharpened by a hint of cool. “Out here on the patio is The Galaxy, an out-of-this-world space for fresh air and warm food.” A grey cushioned outdoor setting took up most of the space, above which hung tiny fairy lights that resembled stars. A colour-changing, heat-radiating lamp took centre stage, casting a sinewy rainbow on the tiled floor and holographic models of the planets floated in mid-air, powered by a small device attached to the wall.
“And the main area where guests will mingle,” he said as he led me back inside, “is the Party Hub, hence all the streamers and balloons and bright stuff everywhere.”
“Wow, you’ve done a really great job!” He had. Selena and Grant would love this!
“Well, I have to get as much practise as possible before I launch KC’s in-home decorating service next year,” he replied. “Plus, the photos I’ve taken here will be awesome for my final year university portfolio.”
Ah, so he did work for my company, or at least, would be once he finished his studies. A family business indeed. I looked at the time on my e-pad. “Well, I’d better go and get ready, huh?”
Ryan shook his head as though waking from a dream. “Oh yes, sorry I got carried away with my new world.” He pushed my lower back with his hands, walking me to the hallway near the kitchen. “Can’t wait to see what you’re wearing!” he said with a smile.
Wow. Not many twenty-something sons would give a flying hoo-ha what their mother was wearing to her birthday party.
I moved past the caterers—who were moving about like little robots—and entered the sanctum of my bedroom. Mine and Will’s bedroom. An image of us sliding underneath the covers together flashed in my mind. Almost as quickly, I shook it out.
Okay, now … what to wear?
I slid open the wardrobe but didn’t hold out much hope for a decent outfit. Not after this morning’s search produced only the coral-coloured atrocity. I flipped through the clothing hanging on thin metal hangers, silently scolding myself for allowing my fashion collection to be hung on such flimsy structures, instead of curved wooden hangers that kept the shape of the outfits, preventing that tell-tale pointy shoulder edge. Didn’t KC Interiors do coat hangers?
In frustration I sighed and leaned against the frame of the wardrobe, when suddenly the clothes began moving by themselves. They slid sideways on the rack, before curving around and disappearing into the wall behind. New clothes gradually appeared on the other side, coming out of the wall and curving around to the front. A rotating wardrobe!
Eventually it stopped and I had a whole new selection of clothes to choose from. These ones were much nicer, although a little mature for my taste and I flipped through the choices. My lips formed a pout as I remembered the red dress I’d bought and was planning on wearing to my twenty-fifth birthday party and now couldn’t. I’d even bought matching underwear; a cute balconette bra with sequined straps and lacy bikini briefs. Well, hopefully I’d still get to wear them.
I continued appraising my options, pulling a few from their rack and holding them up to my body in front of the mirror, momentarily shuddering at my smudged make-up and artificially windswept hair. Scrunching my lips, I put the outfits back on the rack and looked through the selection again. A protective slip hung on the rack and I lifted the bottom of it to reveal what it was protecting.
My red dress! I’d kept it all those years! I lifted the slip off and slid the dress from the hanger, holding it up in front of me. The sequins adhering to the soft figure-hugging fabric twinkled under the bedroom lamplight and I smiled, pleased to have something with me from the past. Something to remind me that my old life wasn’t just some dream fast disappearing from my consciousness.
I held the dress up against my body and looked in the mirror. My smile sunk downwards as I eyed my dress—and then my body.
I lay the dress on the bed and examined it with my hands. It was stretchy, it might fit. I could possibly squeeze into it if I had some sort of figure-squishing support underwear underneath. Or even a portable liposuction machine.
I pulled open the drawers of the dresser and rummaged through each one, quickly closing the first one when I came in contact with Will’s underwear. The third one housed various singlets and stockings … and voila! This looked promising! I pulled out an unopened cardboard package with a picture of a slim woman wearing a skin-coloured support suit on it.
SlimFX Magic Suit - drop a dress size and reveal your slim inner Goddess
!
It must be related to the YouthMagic Facial, I thought, as I peeled off the plastic and withdrew the beige suit, which looked tighter than the red dress. I might need support underwear to be able to fit into the support underwear and that could go on and on. I’d be my own Russian doll.
I turned the package over to see if there were instructions for the suit, but all it said was to lift it over the head and roll it down the body like so. A diagram showed a woman—who clearly didn’t need the suit—happily putting it on. It also said to put on the bonus SlimBriefs before putting on the dress-shaped magic suit. I tipped the package upside down and shook out the hidden briefs. They looked like they might just fit a seven-year-old.
Okay, here goes
. I was going to fit into this dress if it killed me.
I kicked off my shoes and took off my curved hem outfit, opting to leave my bra on even though it wasn’t exactly employee of the month in the breast support department. I stepped into the briefs, the fabric stretching to three times its size and pulled them up towards my hips where they abruptly stopped like a car in back-to-back traffic on the highway, or in this case, the ‘thighway’.
“Ugh,” I grunted in effort, pulling the briefs upwards. They only moved a smidgen, so I grunted and pulled some more. Bungy jumping would have come in handy right about now. “Ugh,” I continued, jumping up and down on the spot in the hope of forcing the briefs over my hips, probably causing the hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen to spring up and down on their platters, while the robotic caterers watched in confusion.
“C’mon!” I pulled harder and the briefs shot up over my hips and squashed my jelly belly into oblivion. Well, apart from the upper abdomen where the rolls billowed out like a giant mushroom. The magic suit would fix that.
“Done.” I breathed a sigh of relief until dread washed over me as I realised each trip to the bathroom would be an Olympic feat. I’d just have to go easy on the drinks and anyway, I only had to survive until cake time.
Now for the suit. I held the tiny thing in front of me and pulled at it. It stretched quite well. I lifted it over my head, fed my arms through it and it sat in a horizontal clump across my collarbones.
Right, step one—check! Now to pull it down over my body. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, quickly pulling down at the suit, but it only went halfway over my breasts. I breathed deeply again and, letting as much air whoosh out of my lungs as I could, yanked it further down my chest, flattening the boobs on the way. I might as well cancel that mammogram appointment as the SlimFX Magic Suit obviously had its own in-built mammogram function.
“Phew,” I said, the suit now clumped across my ribcage.
Step two—check! The last step was to squeeze it down my abdomen and hopefully dissolve the spare tire wrapped around my middle. I shouldn’t have glanced in the mirror at that moment but I did, shocked to see I almost resembled a Christmas cracker; pinched tight at top and bottom but thick in the middle.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I grabbed the suit with both hands and dragged it down my waist, squeezing my torso like a tube of toothpaste and eventually it slid over my hips where it ended just above my knees.