Perspective

Stepping out into the evening sun, she shook her head and enjoyed the auburn and copper flashes amidst the glossy chocolate curtain of her long straight hair, reflected in the wing mirror of the sports car. A bullet train thundered past on the tracks above, obliterating the tinkling of the bell crickets in the trees in the nearby park. Sighing at the intrusion into the oasis of her almost Autumn night, she swept the hair up into a tortoise shell clip, set her Gucci sunglasses on her nose and slipped in behind the wheel. OK, ready for anything.

A couple of hours being pampered at Nomura's salon always had a wonderfully calming effect. Probably the scalp and shoulder massage, although it was always a bit of a tease. Just as she felt the knots of LIFE beginning to submit to the pressure, the swish swish pat pat of hands on the shoulder announced the end of the massage and the approach of the hairdryer. Still, it had inspired the next move. The e-mail she'd received on her mobile a moment before had sealed the deal. "Leaving now" it had said. That meant she had more time than she thought. She covered the short distance quickly and was soon approaching the reception desk of the shiatsu massage place. "Yes!" she thought, seeing Mr. Yoshida standing ready to welcome her, albeit with that nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

Yoshida was undoubtedly the best masseur in the place. It was first come first served if you had no appointment, and she'd been massaged by most of the staff, but only Yoshida could reduce the ever present tightness in her back and shoulders to any effect. Yet she never called ahead and asked for him by name. No encouragement, just in case. Today was no different. 40 minutes later she was inert on the table, muscles unraveled and acquiescent. As usual though, she wondered whether the barely perceptible rubbing contact of Yoshida's thigh against her arm during the massage had been strictly necessary. He was never anything but politeness personified, and the massage was conducted fully clothed in full view of the four other tables and all the staff. On the surface no boundaries were crossed, but the seed of doubt, once planted, put out its roots. Today again however, the final feeling of total relaxation won the internal argument and she filed her suspicions in the "pending " tray of her mind. It could all be in her imagination after all, and this rare opportunity for self indulgence was not to be spoiled.

Adding a small box of Venezuelan chocolate and a Latte to her grocery basket in the adjoining supermarket, she passed a young mother frantically trying to control two pre-school terrors on the way to the check out and smiled, momentarily satisfied with her own situation. The nervous high pitched giggle of a young girl trying too hard to impress her fledgling boyfriend in the next queue reinforced her smugness. Leaving the store, she noticed the sunset and the drop in temperature and when she reached the roadster, decided to open the roof for the drive home.

Heads turned as usual as she eased off the clutch left the car park. Some were looking at her, baseless assumptions clearly written on their faces. No matter; she was accustomed to this attention, and the confidence conferred by a new hairdo and newly restored good posture allowed her to enjoy it for once. Others, particularly high school boys and proud new fathers, looked wistfully at the silver car. For practical reasons, she usually drove the SUV, and it was an automatic. Her husband, the hopefully up and coming young doctor, drove the roadster to the hospital. But her it was really her baby. It was small for a sports car, but she loved the feeling it gave her of really driving. Being in control of where she was going and what gear she went there in.

There were few cars on the mountain road and she gunned the engine and let the car have its way with the curves and dips in its path. A glance up at the indigo sky showed swirls of grey cloud coming in from the direction of the sea, snuffing out the stars one by one. The humidity had increased subtly as she drove. She'd heard about the approaching typhoon on the news, but hadn't thought it would arrive so fast. Another 24 hours or so before the heavens started twisting in earnest. Oh well, at least for this journey home, she had perfect calm. She could be whoever her imagination wanted her to be, peacefully solitary, intelligent and strong, and glamourous for a while, as the air displaced by the speeding car took with it the remnants of her Chanel Chance.

As she swung in between the rice fields towards the brightly lit house the illusion began to fade. Apprehension at the return to reality diluted the images of clandestine coffees and sensuous massages with those of unwashed clothes and the endless battle with dust. The pounds wishful thinking had trimmed away during the past 3 hours rematerialised just in time to make getting out from behind the wheel a little cumbersome.. Turning the key in the lock with a resigned sigh, escape over, the transformation back into me was completed.

But when I opened the front door to greet my real life and say goodbye to the briefly refound freedom I thought I might have had or wanted, the return greeting was a loud "Mummy!" filled with obvious 2 year-old delight . All idea of resignation and apprehension dissloved. I gathered her into my arms to the biggest of all "big hugs" and happily re-entered my family, eager to hear what they had done with their freedom from me in the past couple of hours. I wouldn't exchange change them for anything.

The grass is always greener they say. Not always. But a rest can be as good as a change.

One good thing came out of my trip to the salon. I am perhaps coming round to accepting my sister's designs on a sports car when she changes her car this year. To be honest, I have considered it a tad sad and pretensious, apart from being a pain in the ass when I go home. But go for it Fi. Take your chance now so you don't look back and wonder. You are the girl I sometimes wish I'd had a chance to try out on myself!