Dawn Walker was an interesting woman. How I had come to this conclusion, I did not know. Between her refusal to watch anything on a screen that is more than four inches deep and the weekends she spends throwing neon-glitter-alien parties, I had plenty to choose from.
This was not enough to stop me from loving her, however, no matter how many crazy 2020s themed parties I got dragged into participating in, I always stuck around. Curse my tender-hearted nature.
“Harita!” Dawn calls my name, holding up a sparkly blue dress. “Try this on!”
Making my way towards her, I take my time tackling the obstacle course of model UFOs and purple streamers. The less time I must spend in that hideous dress, the better.
If only I had the ability to teleport. Or time travel. Will they be able to do that in the future?
Maybe Dawn is onto something.
“What do you think?” Dawn asks me, her eyes analysing the blue dress. I can almost see the cogs in her brain turning, most likely comparing the dress to those that she had seen in movies, or maybe she was wondering what it would look next to her silver suit? Either way, I have approximately six seconds before she comes to her verdict.
“No.” She mutters, scowling at the dress, “What was I even thinking?”
If only I knew.
“How about a body suit?” She asks, already rummaging through the clothes rack, “Maybe something more…Simple?”
“That sounds great.” I say, before she can change her mind, “Simple is good. Maybe it’s time that we switch things up?”
Dawn nods, holding up a rose gold body suit. Unlike the dress, the bodysuit was not covered in glitter. Instead, it appeared to shimmer under the blue ceiling lights. White lines are designed over the shiny material. There is no pattern or order to the lines. I think it’s lazy; the designer clearly wasn’t bothered to create an orderly pattern, yet Dawn describes it as futuristic.
“What do you think?” She asks me, “How about this? We could pair it with white heels, and you could wear a silk scarf! What colour…”
I sigh, approaching Dawn. I love her- I really do, but sometimes she can be really draining. Her creativity is both incredible and terrifying.
Tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, I say, “The guests will be here in twenty minutes. I still need to get the cookies out of the oven.”
She nods, still contemplating the body suit. My foot taps against the wooden floor, my hands fidget with the hem of my oversized t-shirt.
“Okay,” she finally says, “You do that. I’ll put your outfit together.”
I gently place a kiss on her forehead, before departing to finish preparing the refreshments. I know how much these parties mean to Dawn. This is her way of expressing her true self- sparkles and aliens- and I love her for it. I love how invested she is in space and aliens and fashion. I love how she lives her live as if we were forty years into the future- as if it were 2020- a year that we, almost certainly, will not experience.
Upon entering the kitchen, my eyes scan the room. The light purple tiles, the neon yellow LED lights, the sketches of aliens hanging from the walls.
The things I do for that woman…
Slipping the brightly-coloured oven gloves onto my hands, I open the oven door. I carefully grip the sides of the tray, wincing as my wrist touches the side of the oven. Once the cookies are out of the oven, I close the door.
I sigh contently, taking in the smell of butter and vanilla. Maybe this lifestyle isn’t all bad.
My eyes flicker up to the Saturn shaped clock hung on the wall.
Scrambling frantically around the room, I search for the hairdryer. Hopefully, by 2020 they’ll be robots that can track down missing items for you. I swear that I have spent over two-thirds of my life searching, whether that was for missing items, well-paying jobs, or the logic behind Margaret Thatcher’s policies.
Relief flooding my veins, my hands lock onto the orange hairdryer.
With only fifteen minutes left, I hurriedly plug the hairdryer on and begin using it to cool down the oddly shaped cookies.
Now, I know what you may be thinking: Harita? How can you airdry cookies? Surely that would ruin them.
And to answer your question: Yes. Yes, it would. But if these cookies are served without neon coloured icing and googly eyes, Dawn will have my head. So, with all due respect, stuff it.
I reach over, picking up a bag of bright green icing. Praying that I don’t mess up, I carefully decorate the freshly baked cookies. Working as efficiently as I can, I ice the cookies, being sure to switch colours and patterns every time I move onto another one. Once the first layer of icing is applied, I scatter sprinkles and edible glitter over the top. Only after I am satisfied with the decorations, I transfer the cookies onto a sparkly platter, ready to be served.
Checking the clock, I rush over to the fridge and take out the cans of pomegranate gin, quickly tipping the liquid into uniquely designed glasses. As I fill the final glass, I sigh with relief. Just in time.
As the hour hand hits six, the doorbell sounds. I exit the kitchen, meeting Dawn in the hallway, as she welcomes the guests, all of which are wearing brightly-coloured and glitter-covered alien costumes.
“Love, the cookies are ready,” I tell her, my forearms resting on her shoulders, my hands connecting behind her neck.
“Thank you,” she smiles, her lips finding mine in a short, but sweet, kiss.
She pulls away, shoving the bodysuit into my chest. I nod, taking the clothes and turn around to leave, a smile finding the way onto my face.
Dawn Walker was an interesting woman…