The Upside to Mundane

“Mum! What’s for breakfast?” Alex shouts from downstairs as he dribbles his soccer ball down the hall.

“Eggs and spinach are in the pan darling.” Amelia looks herself deeply in the eyes as she recites the same lines as yesterday, to her own intense reflection. These same lines were spoken each morning among the family of four. Each day a slight variation of the last. What’s for breakfast? How’d you sleep? You stopping in at the post office on your lunch break? Mum, can I have some money? Amelia pursed her lips, gave a smile, and then frowned as much as her botox would allow.

“Alex, don’t kick your ball around inside please.”

“I’m not kicking it Mum, its dribbling.”

“You know what I mean Alex.”

“Alex, stop it you’re so annoying!” Katie slaps her brothers’ hand away from her dutch braided hair. She’d woke up early to watch StellaStyles youtube video on ‘how to dutch braid for shorter hair’. As it was her first day as a grade seven senior at primary school, she was determined to make a good impression. Standing on either side of Katie you’d think the job was flawless, step behind her and you’d see the part down the middle of her head wasn’t - down the middle of her head, nor was all of her hair in two braids. Strings of blonde wispy hair dangled out at the back which gave a more ‘slept in, bed head look’. Katie proudly defended her braids from her younger brother’s hair ruffles.

“Alex, leave your sister alone please.” Amelia said over her shoulder as her husband walked into the kitchen. Dressed in a crisp white Amani shirt and pointed Kross leather shoes, Amelia was taken aback to a time when she thought that look was sexy. A time when the smell of sandalwood and ocean breeze on Derick’s neck would make the gaze of her eyes soften, and her lips part ever so slightly. Her face didn’t have the movement to soften nowadays, it definitely hadn’t the freedom to harden between her brows or forehead, thankfully. Amelia had read an article in the Medical Review a year ago, about the emotion-expression relationship and how to influence each other. This overall consensus of the article suggested that if you are unable to express anger or sadness, you are less likely to feel them. Experiments on participants willing to receive botox to limit expression, revealed they were more content and less likely to feel upsetting emotions than those without the treatment. It failed to discuss whether that was due to them just feeling better about their looks and that vanity was at the forefront of their priorities, but that didn’t stop Amelia from going out and getting her first treatment. At least it wouldn’t have weight gain as a side effect, unlike the anti-depressants she’d been advised to take.

“Dad, can I have some money.” Alex bounced up onto the counter stool as he asked the question with a mouth full of eggs on toast.

“Good morning to you too, son.” Derick was a fine man, a provider, a wholesome father with patients and gratitude for his entire family. This is what he wanted in life. Two children and a loving wife. Amelia was a part of his life ambition, despite her attempt at planting seeds of disappointment. Amelia thought if she introduced her family to the idea of her being insufferable, that maybe they wouldn’t be too badly affected should she decide to try anything. They could say things like ‘Oh but yes, she hadn’t been herself for some time.’

Hindsight noun

1. understanding of a situation or event only after it has happened or developed.

“I have ten dollars Alex, how’s that sound?”

“Thanks Dad.”

“Are you taking us to school Dad?” Katie askes as she checks her hair in the hallway mirror.

“Yeah kiddo, you ready? Oh, you missed a bit.” After kissing his wife on the cheek goodbye, Derick lifts the stray strands of hair up into Katie’s view in the mirror as he walks past for the door.

“Ha-ha.” Alex smirks as he follows his dad out the door.

Alone in the home, just as she preferred it. Amelia sat down for her morning coffee and a catch-up meeting with Alexis. It had been a hectic weekend, with the Sutherlands going away party and all.

After living on the city’s fringe for seven years, the Sutherlands had opted for a more “authentic existence” and had bought a lifestyle block which required a second mortgage. Since the self-aware pair both had a gluten intolerance and Mrs Sutherland was on a candida diet for the second time this year, they reassured their guests to not bring a thing along to the party. They both looked down their noses at Amelia’s gourmet bliss balls she’d bought from the Macro Select section. Mrs Sutherland’s eyes squinted, and her lips pursed just enough to reveal her unmet expectations. Amelia could see that Ms James had the same idea as she, only she had bought the more palatable ‘Elevated Snacking’ balls for $10 a 5 pack, as appose to the Macro pack of 10-the-texture-of-hardened-marbles-for-$8. Despite all the pretentiousness, Amelia admired the Sutherlands dedication to image.

“Alexa, tell me what my schedule looks like.” Alexa’s on button flickered emerald as she shone a green hue out in front and below her base. The greenlighting iris illuminated, signalling life.

“Good morning Amelia, you haven’t anything scheduled for today.”

“Am I picking up the children at three?”

“You haven’t anything scheduled for today.”

“Derick collecting them?”

“Calling Derick.”

“Don’t call Derick.” Amelia had the whole day free, something she hadn’t planned for (according to Alexa) -it would have been scheduled otherwise (a free day). Taking a sip of her coffee she tried swallowing the news of nothing to do, nowhere to be. Her coffee was bitter. She’d read an article in NOW magazine whilst waiting in line at the grocery store, it claimed that over time coffee consumption dulled the palate and made certain taste no longer detectable. Amelia thought that if she made eating boring and removed the joy of taste and texture, she mightn’t be so inclined to eat as much. She wanted to lose five kilos.

“Alexa, can you notice the difference?”

“Please be more specific.”

“In my face, do I look better.” Amelia circling the air in front of her brow and her subtly stung lips.

“Try rephrasing.”

“Am I pretty?”

“According to Google, ‘Women Don’t Owe You Pretty’ by Florence Given; a feminist book published in 2020, discusses self-image and societal expectations of genders.”

The driver’s seat of Amelia’s Prado had one of those lightly beaded seat mats which were supposedly great at gently relieving lactic acid in the glutes and hamstrings. The beads massaged the entire pelvis, and if Amelia positioned herself right, she’d massage the areas Derick always seemed to get close to but never quite get. She thought the mat was either thought up by a perverted man or by a woman who spent her evenings behind a desk trying to meet deadlines which caused any prospect of a personal life to disintegrate. Disintegrated just like the tension Amelia released as she approached the end of Stirling Street.

Pulling up at the childrens’ school and watching them play was something she loved to do. Amelia would alternate between closing her eyes and listening to the magical worlds of make believe the characters in the playground made, and simply watching whilst blocking muting sound. She could spot Katie sitting in a circle with her friends, like primates which seemed to be picking and gently pulling strands of hair from eachothers updo’s. She noticed Katie’s had been redone and now sat in a messy bun, just like two of her friends wore theirs. Awkwardly high and almost to the front, the bun looked as if it was going to roll down her forehead. Katie noticed her Mum’s car in the corner of her eye. A little concerned by the far away gaze on her Mum’s face, she pretended not to notice at first. When the bell rang to signal the return of class Katie slipped away from her friends and walked to the edge of the school grounds, over to her Mum.

“Mum? What are you doing here? Did Alex forget his lunch?”

“No sweetheart. Where is your brother?”

“Emm, he’s just over there.” Katie pointed to her brother who was running with his chest extended forward and arms out his sides like aeroplane wings. “He’s not right that kid, look at him.”

“Oh he’s just a kid Katie, a lot like yourself. Go get him, quick-quick.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Just go.”

Nostalgia knocked at the forefront of Amelia’s mind as she watched her children grow young in her memory. She replayed the last fifteen years of her life in those brief minutes alone in car. She remembered how Katie, as a five year old, insisted on feeding her new born baby brother and tucking him into bed every night. She pictured every evening at six o’clock when Derick walked through the door. She could smell the last fifteen years’ Sunday roasts, with creamed mashed potato and store bought Gravox. Amelia felt cold, as goosbumps invaded her arms at the thoughts of another fifteen years of Sunday roasts and gluten intolerant neighbours.

With a gaze softer than her botox should have allowed, Amelia looked out at the tunnel which divided the city hills and the million unknown prospects she yearned for.

“Mum, where are we going?”

“Who cares Katie, we get out of school!” Illuminating green spilt soflty over Alex's face as he pressed his nose against the window, tonguing the glass. The red cross above the lane to the left signalled a no exit, the green hue from the right signalled a way out. Amelia’s only response was that her schedule - was free.