Nothing Happened for an Age

She cut the twine and ripped off the brown paper. Then slid the pointy end of her vegetable paring knife along the darker gap in the parcel tape, securing the cardboard flaps. A deft slash along both ends and the flaps sprang upwards released from their sticky hold. She stopped. What on earth possessed her? There could be a severed head in the box for all she knew. But she had to know what secret the cardboard held.

The fifty-something woman had looked forward to the possibility of this moment for most of her life. A time when she hadn't planned or had to ask for something because her husband, boyfriend, or family had no clue what she liked or wanted. Heck, most of the time, she had no clue.

She hoped this suspicious brown-paper-wrapped package would be a welcome surprise.

Someone had banged on her front door just before her eleven o'clock coffee break, and she'd yelped in shock, then giggled to relieve the tension. She got up from her designer work desk and dashed to the door.

"Hello," she raised her voice to be heard through the solid oak door.

"Delivery," said a man's voice.

"I'm not expecting anything." She knew she'd kept to her pledge to stop buying cheap senseless trash from China for months. Had she forgotten something? The goods often took months to arrive. No, she had not.

"Do you want it or not, lady?"

"Well, okay. Just leave it on the mat."

"You gotta sign for it."

"Fine."

The stupid key got stuck but turned after a jiggle. The woman opened the door. The delivery man thrust his electronic device at her and waited for her to sign her name. She returned it to him, and he jogged off down the driveway. The box, while suspicious-looking, also whispered to her. I am your dreams and desires. Claim me as yours.

How could she refuse? She still had dreams and desires despite all her experiences so far. She didn't think to question why (or even how) a box would be murmuring sweet somethings directly into her mind. Instead, she whisked her thoughts away to that place where she dreamed and desired.

She'd longed to travel around the world in eighty days like her hero, Phileas Fogg, for most of her life, ever since she read Jules Verne's book.

The right man had never appeared. Oh, there were men in her life, just none worthy of her time and certainly not one who felt the pull of adventure to test exciting new waters with more than their big toe. This gorgeous female wanted the full-body immersion luxury tour. Today, the contents of this box presented her with a gift. What would it be?

The four flaps folded back, she reached in and grabbed a fistful of hair. Ugh. Her fingertips felt the life-like scalp, deflated at the moment, very much like a beachball devoid of air and not shiny to the touch. She tilted the box, and her surprise slipped out of its box and slumped at her feet.

A fleeting thought of one of those blow-up adult dolls hens or stags toted around bars on their big night out or long weekends away tickled her senses. But perhaps this crumpled doll represented freedom, not shackledom. She giggled at the jocular word. Maybe someone (or the Universe) did know what she wanted.

Fine, he needed pumping up; what man didn't now and then, she enjoyed ego-stroking. A few words to perk up someone's self-doubt or boost their bravado or a simple compliment can mean the world to any gender. Saffie's generous words often blurted out at parties made a lot of women and men stand taller.

The foot pump (thoughtfully provided by the sender) attached to the valve in, (what should she call him?) his armpit, you thought mouth, nostril, somewhere inappropriate, didn't you? The still handsome woman with thighs of steel from all the CrossFit and hill walking she did, set to inflating the new man in her life, Neo. The name of her hero Keanu Reeves' character in The Matrix. He would save her world and accompany her around it to boot.

A trifle breathless, Saffie admired her slightly younger man, the Ryan Gosling model. Oh boy, had he stirred her in Drive. Anyhoo, Neo stood taller than her by about six inches. Perfect. She could wear heels and not tower over him! But hold on, he's a blow-up doll, not an escort or gigolo. Erm, and he's not exactly alive, is he? What's that at the bottom of the box?

Aha! She produced a single A5 sheet after scrabbling to catch it with her clumsy yet elegant nail-bar nails.

Three words. Anima. Anima. Anima.

Nothing happened.

Maybe I have to say them aloud, she thought.

"Anima. Anima. Anima."

Saffie watched Neo, waiting for her moment to embrace the latest shiny object in her life like a magpie observed blackbirds to discover where they hid their chicks. The woman had no intention of having him for dinner, only for him to escort her to dinner with the cruise ship Aurora Borealis' captain in 2022.

Nothing happened for an age, so the woman went about her day.

Her work done, a film watched, she went to bed a little disappointed but determined to try again in the morning.

"Good grief, what's that racket?" Saffie, who lived alone, often spoke aloud to whatever room or inanimate object would listen.

"Where am I?" said a voice from downstairs.

It must be him, thought the now wide awake woman! She popped on her slippers, shuffled quickly across her bedroom and the landing at the top of the stairs, then trod with care on every squeaky stair. The last thing she wanted to do was break her neck before she met him.

She flicked on the lights, and there he was facing her at the bottom of the stairs. He looked befuddled and impressive at the same time. She reached for his hands. He let her take them, and she drew him to her.

Finally, she'd pulled the man of her dreams.