I nodded excessively and stretched a wide smile onto my face. “Yes, it’s me!”
“It’s been a long time. How are you?” he asked in a business-like tone.
I kept trying to wrap my arms around him but with each step forward, he took one step back.
“I’m great now I’ve found you,” I replied. At his curious glance I realised I must look a mess after all the crying. I gestured to my face. “Oh, I just had lunch with my sister and, whoa!” I made a fanning motion with my hands, “the amount of chilli they put in the meal, you wouldn’t believe.”
“So what have you been up to lately?” Grant asked, checking his e-pad briefly and I winced as the woman next to him slid her hand into his.
I looked up at the sky that was trying and failing to compete with the attention of the crowded high-rises. “Wow, where do I start?”
I held up my hands and let them fall back to my thighs with a slap. I wanted to tell him everything and tell him not to worry, that I would be back in the past soon enough and we could be together again.
What would be happening in the past, right now? Would my birthday be happening without me? Maybe Grant had filed a missing persons report. Or maybe some other version of me was there, living out the day as planned but without my awareness. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. I had to choose my words carefully, even though they were all lining up at the door of my mouth, ready to barge through like customers in a Boxing Day sale.
“I woke up this morning, shocked to find that I’m fifty years old and…”
“Oh, it’s your birthday?”
I felt like saying: ‘Of course, you beautiful idiot! You were with me last night,’ but bit my tongue. “Yes.”
“Happy birthday,” Grant said with a nod of his head. His companion shifted on her feet and looked longingly at the direction they’d been travelling in before my intrusion.
“Thanks! Anyway, my son gave me a bungy jump for my birthday, can you believe it? So I actually did it and then I met my daughter for the first time, er … in a week, and after that I had a facial that was better than sex … oops, I mean, not better than you of course, but, well, it’s just a gimmick sort of thing, you know …” Damn. Said too much, and now the woman was carving my eyes out of their sockets with her laser glare.
Her glare shot towards Grant. “You … slept with this woman?”
Grant’s cheeks flushed pink and I could see the veins throbbing in his neck. “No, of course not! I mean, not recently …”
“What?” The woman planted her hands on her hips and stamped a sharp high-heeled foot onto the sidewalk, possibly triggering a catastrophic earthquake or tsunami somewhere in the world.
“What I mean, honey, is that I was with Kelli a long time ago, when she was young.”
When we both were young. Why were women seen as young or old and men were just seen as … men?
The woman’s hands relaxed a little. “Before we were together then? And before your … other wives?”
Grant gripped her shoulders. “Yes, as I said, a long, long time ago. It was nothing, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
She nodded and raised her chin as she slid an arm territorially around his back.
It was nothing? Other wives? The gap between Grant and I widened, and I wished there was something nearby to hang onto as my legs became jelly. Well, at least now they matched my belly. How could he say our relationship was nothing? He was … is … going to propose!
But in this life—this weird, warped, ridiculous existence that was the life of Kelli McSnelly—Grant had lost his way. He’d become, by the sounds and looks of it, a millionaire photographer with a history of marriage and divorce to rival Ross Geller’s from Friends. Only I bet he didn’t marry a lesbian and I bet he didn’t say the wrong name at his wedding, or marry his friend in a drunken haze in Vegas.
Grant wasn’t like that. Couldn’t be like that. He was my generous, affectionate, caring soon-to-be-fiancé and we were soulmates. Now I wanted to get home more than ever, not only to see my dad, but to marry Grant and stop him becoming this, this … imbecile who’d been searching for me in every woman he met and never finding true happiness because the woman he loved was married to William McSnelly. How did the universe get this so wrong?
“Sorry, Kelli, I should have introduced you two. This is Charli, my fiancé.”
Charli Schmarli. She was just a possibility in this future, a hologram projected onto this existence by some giant e-pad controlling the universe. They’d got it wrong. When I got back I’d be able to change the future and Charli would play no part in it. Even her name was close to mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if his other wives had been Kyli, Karli and Karali. In the real future, I’d become Kelli Mills, his one and only wife.
We tentatively shook hands and I turned to Grant with a smug smile. “I know you and I will be together again, Grant. You wait and see. I know you still love me, but don’t worry, when I travel back to the past I’ll make things right. In twenty five years it’ll be you and I standing here arm in arm.”
A shrill laugh escaped Charli’s mouth and if she hadn’t been holding onto Grant, I was sure he would have fainted with embarrassment as she looked at him and said, “You were actually with this loony?”
“Ah, Kelli, I think you ought to go home and lie down, okay?” He held out two hands, palms downward, as if he was trying to calm a wild animal and stop it from coming any closer.
I just smiled and said, “I’ll see you soon … honey.” Then I winked at him and turned away. It was kind of fun teasing him a little and scaring the daylights out of Charli, but I knew Grant wouldn’t remember this when I really did see him again. Because it would be from a future that would never happen.
Liliana! I suddenly remembered that I’d planned to go back and see her. She might be able to shed more light on my relationship with Grant and possibly even pass on a message from Dad. As I crossed the road, back towards the shopping centre, my e-pad rang and I pinched and pulled the virtual cord to my ear. “Hello?”
“Kelli! Where the hell are you?” a young female voice asked in a whispered yell. “It’s 3:35! Will is doing his best to keep Mr Turrow entertained but we need you here right now!”
Oh God. The meeting! I’m late, I’m late, I’m …“Arghh!”
In a cruel twist of fate, I tripped on the chair leg at the table Grant and Charli had been sitting at. As I fell forward onto a large middle-aged man with his shirt untucked, I was bombarded by an unsightly bulge of fat and an inch of bottom crack in my face. Unbalanced by my unfortunate momentum, he fell forward, sandwiching a teenage boy between himself and the pavement.
“Get off me, poof!” the boy said.
I struggled about trying to find my feet again and hoped the coral curved hem of my skirt didn’t ride up as much as it felt like it had. “I’m sorry, so sorry!” I said to the man and the innocent bystander who was flailing about underneath the mass of flesh.
I held out a hand and it took all my effort to help the heavier man up. Eventually he made it, his shirt now even more untucked but thankfully hiding the revolting bottom crack. The kid ran off like it was Attack of the Living Dead and I turned my attention to the voice on the phone.
“Kelli, are you alright? What’s going on?”
“I just tripped in the street, that’s all.”
“In the street? You’re not even in the car yet?” Her voice escalated in tone but remained a whisper in volume, obviously trying to stop people nearby from hearing her. “Right, I’ll tell Mr Turrow that you’ve been caught in an unfortunate traffic incident that’s out of your control and you’ll be here in about ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can!” I raced back inside as fast as my old legs would carry me and found my way back to the car. Automatically reaching for non-existent keys in my non-existent handbag, my hands then flew to my cheeks. How do I unlock the car? Not only that, but where in the name of Dior is this bloody meeti
ng?
Chapter 11
Three Hours and Twenty Minutes to Go
“The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.”
– Lucille Ball
Think, Kelli, think! How did Ryan open the car earlier? Okay, okay. I circled the car, while memories from this morning circled around my mind … the e-pad, he did something with his e-pad. I held my e-pad out and scanned it along the side of the car, hoping for a scanning device, or a miracle. Nothing.
Maybe it just opens the normal way? I glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then, hoping I wouldn’t set off an alarm, lifted the handle on the front door. The door stayed closed, but a slight beep sounded. I bent over to get a closer look at the door handle. A thin red laser protruded from underneath and I held my e-pad to it.
Click! I opened the front door and slid into the driver’s seat with relief. Problem one solved. Now, to drive this thing properly and find the location of the meeting. I tilted my head and looked to where the ignition would normally be and of course, in its place was a small round scanning device. I held my e-pad to it and the engine purred. Geez, what would stop someone from stealing my e-pad and then my car?
Something flashed on the dashboard: Please activate approved driver fingerprint recognition.
Huh? I glanced around for somewhere to roll my thumbprint onto, but nothing appeared to be for that purpose. I placed my hands on the small steering wheel and the words disappeared from the screen, replaced by: Welcome Kelli McSnelly. Oh, why thank you.
After a few moments of getting my mind around all the controls, making sure I knew where the brakes were, the car spoke to me: “Where would you like to go, Kelli?”
Twenty five years into the past? I felt like saying. “KC Interiors.”
A map formed on the screen, little flag symbols popping up. “There are five results for that location. Can you be more specific?”
“Um … KC Interiors …” I tried to think of something more specific than that. That was all I knew about where the meeting was. Hang on, five results. That must mean KC Interiors stores. Huh! Maybe I have franchises scattered around the city or something. This little business must be doing alright.
“There are five results for KC Interiors. Could you be more specific,” Miss Car repeated.
Of course, duh! I slapped my forehead. “KC Interiors Head Office,” I said.
“Calculating route …” I thrummed my fingernails on the steering wheel. “Estimated travel duration: nine minutes and forty seven seconds.”
About half an hour late. Damn! I was about to put my foot on the accelerator and veer out of the parking spot when I realised the car was packed in tight. When Ryan drove into this spot the car moved directly sideways. I turned the steering wheel as far as it would go to the right and ever so lightly pressed my foot down, but it began to move diagonally. Not enough to ease out of the spot.
Bugger! I thrummed my fingernails again, my eyes scanning the car’s interior for a solution. There was a button on the dashboard with an arrow pointing to the right and another to the left. I pressed the right arrow and the car moved by itself out of the parking spot. Awesome!
But it looked like the rest was up to me. I followed the arrows around to the other side of the lot, careful not to over-steer the steering wheel, as it seemed to have super-sensitivity. I approached the exit and while I waited for the gate to rise up, I leaned over and wrapped my lips around the straw I’d used before and warm coffee ran down my throat.
“Turn left,” Miss Car said.
Okay, this wasn’t too bad. I was doing it. I was driving the car of the future. Young Grant would be so jealous! I continued to follow the car’s directions, opting against auto-drive along a straight bit of road, preferring to keep control.
Nine minutes and forty seven seconds later, I arrived at another car park, this time underneath a tall building. The car manoeuvred into a parking spot and I stepped out, automatically turning to point my key and expecting the characteristic high-pitched beep of the lock. Oh, the e-pad. I held it underneath the door handle and it beeped twice, which hopefully meant it was locked. Not that it mattered. It appeared that you needed to be pre-approved by fingerprint verification in order to drive the car.
I scanned the lot and a sign up ahead said entry. I went to push open the door but it sensed me and opened by itself into a narrow foyer. I spotted the information desk against the back wall of the room. I couldn’t exactly ask the young man at the desk where the KC Interiors head office was. He might recognise me and wonder why I didn’t know where my own office was.
It had to be upstairs somewhere, so I’d walk up the stairs until I saw a KC Interiors sign. Hopefully we were not the kind of posh business that identifies itself by some sort of wordless symbol.
I lifted my foot onto the first step alongside the information desk, but the young guy peered over at me with a frown. “You’re not seriously walking up thirty flights of stairs are you, Mrs McSnelly?”
I removed my foot. “Oh, no of course not. Well, I could if I wanted to …” I puffed out my chest and tensed my non-existent arm muscles defensively. “I bungy jumped today you know. I’m not as old as I look, either.” I spoke like a proud child who had just learned their ABC’s.
“Oh that’s right, happy birthday!” he said.
“Thanks. And I don’t even feel forty.”
He eyed me in a way that suggested he knew I was well over forty, but at least I didn’t lie. It was true. I didn’t feel forty. Heck, I didn’t even feel fifty, more like sixty two or sixty three, but probably only because there’d been such a sharp jump in age from yesterday to today.
“Well, I’ll just take the elevator,” I said, swinging my arms in anticipation and also to detract from the fact that I didn’t know where it was. All the walls were stainless steel, it was as though I was lost in a maze of blurry mirrors. Until … Ding! A curved part of the wall opened up and out stepped a woman in a red suit. “Hold the elevator!” I held up my hand and dashed inside the circular capsule.
“Hey, hon. Happy birthday! I’m looking forward to tonight. See you there!” The woman winked at me and sashayed her voluminous butt out into the foyer, where she embraced another woman entering the building.
I wondered if she worked for me. Nah, she wouldn’t have called me hon if that were the case. Unless I was simply the world’s best boss, which was totally possible of course.
“Which floor?”
I jumped at the sudden voice as the door curved closed. So elevators talk too. Nothing new I guess, they sometimes said ‘Going up’ or ‘Women’s Apparel’, or at least that’s what I remembered the most.
The guy had asked if I was walking thirty flights of stairs, so it must be on level thirty. I touched the number on the screen. Moments later the door opened again. The ride had been so smooth and fast. Ding! I stepped out of the elevator and there it was: KC Interiors - Everyone deserves to be surrounded by beauty. Ha! I bet I came up with the tagline. I’d barely entered through the glass door that swished open, when a young woman launched herself at me.
“Where have you been?” she said in that whispered yell I remembered from the phone. “It took you twice as long to get here! Mr Turrow is on his third cup of coffee and getting jumpy!”
“Sorry, there was … car trouble,” I said.
“Here’s your presentation,” she said, shoving some kind of remote control into my hand. “Now get in there and give it your best. You’ll have to be brilliant to make up for your lateness, now go!” She pushed me into the meeting room.
William was in there and his face turned from white to pink in relief as I walked through the door.
“Glad you’re finally here,” he said, giving me a quick embrace. “Lucy told us there was a streaker running through traffic on Main Street. Was anyone hurt?”
I stifled a giggle. That was the traffic incident she was going to mention as the reason for my lateness? A bit crazy, but
at least they bought it and now I had an excuse if I appeared a bit flustered during the meeting.
“No, a few near misses and general chaos, but the police eventually escorted him away under a blanket.” I faked an amused chuckle and turned to the short bald man next to William, who was rising up and down on his toes. “You must be Mr Turrow,” I said, taking his hand and making every effort to appear charming.
“Indeed, and what a pleasure to meet you, Mrs McSnelly.” He sandwiched my hand between both of his and shook it to the point I thought it might fall off. “Well, let’s get started. What have you got to show me?” He took a seat and clasped his hands together on the table in the centre of the room and William followed suit.
Tell me and then we’ll both know … I looked at the device in my hand. Your presentation, Lucy had said. Okay, so I’m giving a PowerPoint presentation or something. Shouldn’t be too hard, I’ll just read everything on the screen.
“Right … well, firstly, I’d like to welcome you to KC Interiors and what an absolute pleasure it is to have you in our office, Mr Turrow.” I hoped the pleasantries would buy time while I figured out how to use this device. I waved it about as I gestured and complimented him on his lovely tie (which was an awful tangerine colour) and the shirt that brought out the green tinge in his eyes. He looked rather flattered, but soon his expression became business-like again.
“Why thank you,” he said. “But I’m looking forward to seeing your presentation.” He pointed to the blank wall in front of the table.
There wasn’t any projection screen, projector, or a laptop. Just this device in my hand. I pressed a round button and pointed it at the wall, and a square shaped blue screen appeared. Phew! Okay, it was similar to a TV remote. I pressed an arrow button and a soothing piece of music drifted through the room, followed by the KC logo.
Right. This shouldn’t be too hard. Except, I still didn’t know who Mr Turrow was and what I was trying to achieve with this presentation.
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