Six fifty three her clock said, in the morning, an hour she'd only ever previously thought of as a myth. Times before eight were like Big Foot, or Big Brother contestants with a genuine personality. She thought they might exist, but never expected to see them. It was her 30th birthday and Sarah had woken early to get stressed about it. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the two or three hairs Robert had left on the pillow. She'd have to dump him !
"If only he didn't have that Robert Pattinson jawline." She muttered.
No one else could see it, Trudy had told her she was being delusional. Robert had begun to talk about ditching his long term girlfriend and Sarah didn't want that to happen. Her relationships always lasted about three months, it was what she was used to. First month was red hot sex, like two racing Ferraris. Second month the moaning and recriminations would begin and she'd be wiping his pics off her phone by the end of month three. No one got hurt, or more accurately, rarely got hurt. It was how her life was, what she was used to. So, Edward Cullen lookalike or not, Robert was going to have to go. After the party of course, she wasn't going to her own 30th without a date.
"Crap ! I never told Ruby about him."
Ruby had found her Robert, when she'd badly needed an accountant. Robert had handled her financial affairs perfectly, but he'd come with a warning from Ruby.
"Sleep with him and ruin his life and I won't find you another."
Her relationships never ended well, even calling them relationships was probably over dignifying, what were really just flings. Now she had to let Robert go, but still keep him as her accounts guy. It was going to be tricky. Sarah was only wearing panties, as she stood up and looked at herself in the full length wardrobe mirror.
"Not bad for thirty." She muttered. "Fuck ! My tits are starting to droop !"
She turned on the bedroom lights and realised it had been an illusion. The early morning sun, lighting up her room at an angle and creating worrying shadows. Her tits were fine and there was no hair trying to grow from her nipples, not yet.
"Thirty though. Shit, I don't want to be thirty !"
"Are you alright Sarah ?"
"Yeah, just having a fit of angst."
Sophie calling, she was putting her up on a camp bed in the lounge. At one time it would have worried her to have a house full of guests. When she lived in her small social housing flat, she worried about being accused of running a bawdy house. Or even worse, being reported and having her housing benefit stopped. Her self-esteem was never that brilliant, but she looked at her naked reflection in the mirror and liked what she saw. Nothing sagged, looked overly wrinkled or past its best. Thirty though, it took some getting used to.
"The brain cells don't replace after you reach thirty." Spider had told her.
She'd looked it up on the internet and he was right ! Seven thousand cells a day, or maybe that was a week ? Either way it was a bit scary. It was now all rapidly downhill until she started piddling in her knickers and smelling of lavender water.
"Fuck !"
"Do you need a hug ?" Asked Sophie.
"Later, after I've showered and dressed."
Sarah Simmons opened her curtains and tried to feel optimistic about life after thirty. Spider was dangerously close to forty, but he still seemed to cope with most things. Yes, she was going to dress and make everyone breakfast. She found her dressing gown and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Sophie, Trudy and Lisa had a bottle of champagne opened.
"Never too early for champagne." Said Lisa.
Serge muttered 'happy birthday,' from the lounge, but left them to it. Sarah hugged them all and then drank two glasses of champagne, very quickly. She was determined to have a great birthday.
