‘Please, have a seat.’ The receptionist gestured to the chairs behind me, the ones that at the flick of a button sprang to life and massaged you while you waited for your actual massage. Amber was sitting in one looking at her phone, so I made sure to choose the one directly opposite her. Needing an excuse to talk to her, I picked up the remote for the chair and pressed some of its buttons randomly.
‘Sorry, hi,’ I said, and she immediately looked up. ‘God, I’m so useless at technology. How do you turn this thing on?’ I smiled sweetly and dumbly.
She smiled back. ‘I was confused too, so many buttons. But it’s this one.’ She showed me on hers.
‘Thanks.’ I pressed the button and the chair began to vibrate. AndGod, the moment it started kneading my back, tapping on my shoulders and squeezing my calves, I realised just how tense I was. Had my spine always felt so stiff? Had my shoulders always been fused to my ears like this, and my calves, had they always been so tight?
Shh, let go. Surrender to the relaxation, Lizzy, I thought I heard the chair whisper.
I sank deeper into the soft, plush leather and let my brain melt into a state of utter, blissful, mind-numbing nothingness.
That’s right, just let go, it whispered again, as if it knew I belonged here.
Maybe I did belong here, actually. Maybe this was my destiny. To abandon my responsibilities, shrug off the silly shackles of reality and live out the rest of my days reclined in a chair that seemed to understand me on some deep, dare I say psychic and spiritual level.
You’re doing so well, Lizzy, the chair encouraged me. I breathed in the jasmine air and listened to the imaginary harp again, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. My eyelids fluttered shut and my brain continuedto power down. Thoughts no longer reached the conscious part of it, except for one, which seemed to be stubbornly shouting at me.
Ignore it, Lizzy, the chair whispered, but I couldn’t. The thought persisted, continuing to nag at me.
My mission. What was my mission again?
Why was I here?
You’re here to relax, Lizzy, the chair cooed melodically.
Shit! And then the thought broke through the haze and I opened my eyes and sat up. I would not be lulled into submission like this.
Nice try, chair. But I’m on to you, I said in my mind.
‘Amazing, right?’ Amber said. ‘I’m going to get one for my house.’
‘Oh my God, that’s such a good idea. I’m going to get one too,’ I said, putting on the sing-song voice I’d practised, though now that it was coming out of my actual mouth, it made me want to laugh, cringe and cry all at the same time. And then I did something very deliberate; I crossed my legs pointedly, making sure my shoes caught the overhead lights.
‘Bestie, snap,’ Amber said excitedly, extending her own foot.
‘Wow, no way!’ I stuck my foot out further. Our garish golden sandals glimmered in the soft lighting of the salon.
Amber leaned in, looking suddenly conspiratorial. ‘How uncomfortable are they, though?’
‘Yes!’ I leaned in too. Uncomfortable was an understatement; these shoes felt like they should be in a museum that housed medieval torture devices, right next to the rack. ‘But what do they say about beauty and pain? Besides, I’m literally obsessed with them.’
‘Obsessed,’ she echoed.
‘I’m Lily, by the way,’ I said.
‘Amber.’ She smiled at me, and then her eyes drifted upwards and she froze. ‘Oh. My. God,’ she said slowly. ‘Are those the new D&Gs?’ She was looking at the glasses perched very deliberately on top of my head.
I pulled them off casually, held them in front of me. ‘My fiancé bought them for me, but . . .’ I tilted them this way and that,scrutinising them, ‘I literally don’t think they suit me. Like literally.’ Wait, why was I sayingliterallyso much,literally?
‘Put them on.’
I did what she said, and posed. ‘I don’t know, I think my face is too oval for them,’ I said, and yes, I’d googled which glasses suited which face shapes, to make sure this experience was as authentic as possible.
She eyed me, tilting her head from side to side, and then back and forth, examining me in the most serious of ways. ‘I mean . . .’ she started, then stopped. ‘Like, no offence, girlie pop, but I think you’d look better with a smaller pair.’
‘Right!’ I gushed enthusiastically –what the fuck was a girlie pop?‘That’s totally what I thought.’ I took them off and glared at them, as if repulsed by their very existence. ‘I guess I’ll just have to chuck them in the bottom drawer . . . No, wait!’ I looked at Amber very purposefully. ‘These would lookAMAZINGon you.’ I stood up and walked over to her. ‘Try them on.’
‘Seriously?’
