The week passes slowly, only because the thought of going out for my birthday is more exciting than actually getting married in the first place. Finally Saturday comes around and although Chris has to work, everyone pops in during the day to wish me happy birthday and bring me small gifts. Just before lunch Lily pops over carrying a huge box.
“Happy birthday, lovey,” she says as she struggles through the door with the box.
“Thanks, Lily. My God, let me help you with that. What’s in there, an elephant?”
“No. The dog next door just kept yapping and yapping day and night. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I jumped the fence and snapped its neck. Now I have to get rid of the body before the owners come looking for it, can you help me?”
Silence.
“What? You’ve got a dead dog in there? Lily, are you crazy?” I splutter.
She ponders this question for a moment.
“Define crazy.”
“Lily?”
“Jules, you are just so unbelievably gullible. I love it. You were fun before, but now you’re a scream. No, it’s not a dead dog, although the barking is enough to drive me to insanity at times. This is your birthday present. Go on, open it up. I’ve been dying to give it to you.” She puts it on the table and stands back. Her face is glowing as though it’s Christmas day and Santa left this box for her.
I take the top off the box and carefully lift out the most beautiful powder blue silk dress ever created. It’s a cocktail dress with a cowl neck and full skirt that reaches down to the knees, fully lined and intricately beaded with shiny, pale blue beads around the neck and shoulders.
“Oh…Lily, it’s so….” Tears well up in my eyes, which seems to be happening a lot lately.
“So you like it then?” A sky full of stars couldn’t twinkle brighter than Lily when she smiles.
“Lily, it’s….exquisite…I…” No words are appropriate. “You made this?”
“Yes. I’ve been working on it for a couple of months. It kept getting stashed away when you came over because it was a surprise.”
“Lily…I’m just… so touched. It must have taken you hours and hours.”
“It’s your birthday and wedding anniversary, Jules. The one night a year you and Chris get to go out and be alone. You really needed a new dress this year.”
“Thank you so much. It’s just the most fabulous dress ever.”
“Go try it on, let me see you in it. Go on,” she says, as she pushes me out of the kitchen.
I put the dress on and stand in front of my mirror in awe. It hugs every curve and hollow of my body, accentuating my long, elegant neck and toned arms, defining my waist and then gently caressing my hips and bum. It doesn’t drag or grab anywhere; it drapes my body and moves with me. It has a flow of its own. I look like a movie star. I feel like a movie star. It fits me perfectly, even making my boobs appear larger that the tiny mounds they actually are.
Lily knocks at the bedroom door and comes in, cocking her head to the left and then over to the right as she looks at the dress and how it falls. It’s as though she’s critiquing her own work rather than admiring it. Then she looks up at my face and smiles as a tear comes to her eye.
“Jules, you look…as beautiful as I’ve ever seen you. You give that dress life.”
“I make the dress come alive? No way, this dress has resuscitated me. I just don’t know how to thank you enough.”
“Thank me by having a fantastic night. Now take it off and make me a cup of tea, I’m stuffed after all that beading.”
Gran comes in so that I can go off and have a bath, shave my legs and take my time in getting ready. This is so luxurious. After all my facials and beauty treatments in my own life, who would think that a simple bath could be so wonderful?.
Chris will get home and take five minutes to get ready — men are so lucky like that. All they have to do is shower, shave and put on a suit and they look hot. Women take hours to get ready, have to constantly maintain themselves during the occasion and then take about half an hour to take it all off at bedtime. No wonder women are so tired, that’s a lot of work.
After an hour it’s time to get out of the bath and attempt to make myself worthy of the dress. Although how this will be achieved is beyond me — seeing as there isn’t any of my usual hardware, like hairdryer, tongs or fully qualified beautician.
Lily comes over again to make sure the dress is alright, and brings with her a pair of white elbow-length gloves, a diamante bracelet, a white clutch and matching stilettos. Thankfully, she’s brilliant with a set of hot rollers and goes to work on my hair. It looks like I could pick up radio signals from Mars with all these metal pins sticking out of my head. But the end result is worth all the torture and soon the dress and I are a perfect partnership.
My makeup is subtle and feminine, with luscious red lips and long false eyelashes framing my jade eyes. My hair is swept up into a small French roll and held by a long diamante clip with stray tendrils of hair framing my face. The clip-on earrings are also diamante, small and delicate so as not to overwhelm the dress or detract from the intricate beading. The gloves and dainty bracelet complete the outfit.
“Transformation complete, Princess Juliette.”
I don’t even have to look in the mirror, because I have never felt so beautiful. But, the full-length mirror is right in front of me, so why not take a peek? Before me is a glamazon. Elegant, sophisticated. This is the best moment of my life.
Chris is waiting in the lounge room and the look on his face flatters me more than anything he could say.
“Juliette, you look…stunning.”
“Jules, look at you. Oh, my girl you bring a tear to your grandmother’s eye,” Gran says. “Chris, you’re a lucky man. You will be the envy of every man there tonight.”
“Mum, is that you?” asks Ethan. “You look like a movie lady.”
“You look beautiful, Mum,” Will smiles. “Really beautiful.”
“Let me get a photo of you two,” says Lily as she clicks away.
“Chris, would you get a photo of Lily and I please? I want a photo to remember this day for always.” My birthday, my wedding anniversary and the day my best friend gave me something from her heart.
Lily and I stand together, arms wrapped around each other, smiling like a couple of Cheshire cats. Then she gives me a kiss on the cheek just as Chris takes another photo. Perfect. If nothing else happens tonight, if we get snowed in or a cyclone hits, my day has already been perfect. The best birthday ever.
We take a tram and arrive at the Savoy after a relaxing walk through the gardens nearby. In my own time, the Savoy is an old hotel that serves high teas and is in need of a facelift. But here, it is the epicenter of glamour. Young couples swarm through the doors as though arriving at the Oscars, dressed for the red carpet with a vibration of pure fun. What a treat to see this grand old dame in her heyday. We are shown to our candlelit booth and enjoy a meal of steak and vegetables and share a bottle of wine as we laugh and talk, enjoying each other’s company. The only time we are not holding hands across the table is when we are eating.
Every part of me feels womanly, and it’s not just because of the dress. It’s because here men open doors for women, pull out chairs and even get out of their own seat when a lady leaves the table. What a shame most of this has gone by the wayside in my own lifetime. Bugger celebrity parties or campaign launches; this is the buzziest atmosphere imaginable.
Numerous women come up and comment on my dress and ask where they can buy one. Pride swells in me like an over-inflated balloon as I reply, “My best friend made this for me. The dress is almost as beautiful as she is.”
Everything is perfect. I am in the middle of a romance novel where the heroine is romanced to the point of unconsciousness by the hero. Then the big band in the corner starts playing and everyone takes to the floor. The music is loud but not deafening and everyone lets themselves go and dances like there’s no tomorrow.
Dancing? Shit! I can’t dance. My feet have no rhythm and I haven’t drunk anywhere near enough to get any ‘groove’ going. Dance moves like these can’t be faked, it’s not freestyle or a bunch of drunken uni students swaying nauseously to modern dance music with a doof-doof beat. This is proper, choreographed dancing. Apparently my dancing skills are so good that I was an instructor, but how the hell am I going to fake this?
Terror rises in time with the music as we approach the dance floor and increases exponentially the closer we get until my body freezes on the spot. Will this all unravel here and now? I’ve tried so hard to fit in and not arouse suspicion. I’ve cooked, cleaned, looked after kids, suffered through poo-fests and lunches with Chris’ family, and have gritted my modern, liberated teeth in an attempt not to tell Chris to go and get stuffed when he asks me to do “woman’s work”. And now, tonight, when my only wish is to be out with my husband in this fairytale dress, it will all come to a head and tomorrow I’ll wake up in the looney bin waffling on about time travel.
“What’s wrong Jules? Have you forgotten how to dance since last year?” Chris laughs.
My stomach and head spin together and my only response is a scary smile and feeble attempt at a giggle.
“Come on, love, nothing to it. Your feet will remember, just give them a chance,” he says as he pulls me onto the dance floor and we are caught up in the huge swirl of couples moving in perfect unison with one another. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling as though I’m being swallowed by a storm on a raging sea, gasping for breath as my feet hit the floor and rebound off again, trying to keep my head above water. Moving together, our energies synchronise and the feeling of drowning disappears.
My eyes open to see Chris smiling at me as we move effortlessly around the floor. It’s as though my legs are possessed by a magic beat that pulses through my entire body. I have no idea of what’s happening, or how it’s happening, but happening it is. I am Ginger Rogers and Chris is Fred Astaire and together we set the floor on fire. This is great! I feel so free, so exhilarated. My body has detached from my mind and is reveling in the sensation of dancing, of physical and mental freedom. Limbs of liquid, adrenaline surging through every cell. My feet are graceful, full of light, my arms floating like kites on a windy day. I haven’t stopped smiling the whole time.
We dance for over five hours, only stopping when the band has a quick break. I’m having so much fun that I don’t want to stop, ever. This moment could last for an eternity and still not be long enough. We reluctantly leave the floor to return to our table for some desperately needed water. I’m so dry I could exhale sand.
“See, I told you your feet would remember.”
“Chris, why don’t we do this more often?”
“Remember those three children we have at home? They sort of spoiled our social life.”
“Maybe Gran could babysit a bit more often?”
“Sure, but you can be the one to ask her. Come on, let’s get back to it. The band finishes soon.”
We take our place back on the dance floor and continue to dance the night away. Girlish excitement is a drug and every part of me is overdosing.
At half past midnight the band plays its last song, a slow one. Chris’s body heat wraps around me as I nuzzle into his shoulder, feeling his heart beating against my breast, his lean legs pressing against my hips and the strong hands of my tradesman husband holding my waist with such tenderness and warmth, my next desire is to get this man home and into bed.
Once inside our front door he slowly unzips my dress and lowers it down past my hips while kissing and running his tongue over my throat and ear lobes. The journey home was extremely long, for a five-minute taxi ride, because my mind was filled with everything I want to do to him. It feels as exciting as the first days of our relationship, where butterflies overtook me each time we met. That giddiness that goes along with a new love. But this is not a new love. This is even better.
I loosen Chris’ tie and unbutton his shirt to expose his muscular chest and arms, the sight of which makes every part of my body hypersensitive; everything is zinging with excitement, anticipation, heat. The touch of his bare skin against mine is almost unbearable. The desire to wrap my legs around his hips and bring him into me is almost as strong as the desire to slow down and enjoy every single second of this precious moment in time. But there’s no hurry, we’ve got all night.
We giggle like teenagers, finally able to make as much noise as we want because there are no children in the house. After years of a sad sex-life in my own time, I had forgotten how exhilarating it is to have loud, crazy sex, the kind we used to have prior to Ethan. We even re-christen the lounge room and kitchen, as well as the shower and laundry. It’s lucky the kids aren’t home until after lunch, because we will both be exhausted.