It was a tiny mistake. A lapse of judgement while I drove to work fuelled by caffeine, death metal, and anticipatory rage. I was only seven miles per hour over the limit, but it cost me my driving license.
“Sorry, Jacqueline,” spat Nigel, my boss, in a tone denoting no sorrow whatsoever, “but I must let you go. Platinum Estate Agency can’t condone recklessness, nor can agents attend viewings by bus, or God forbid, on foot. Vacate your desk.”
The office twittered with gossip as he walked away, triumph echoing in his footsteps.
“Let me help.” The kindness in Dylan’s voice unleashed my tears. That and the glint of his wedding ring as he took my belongings from my shaking hands. At least losing my job would mean an end to this guilty longing.
“I’ll pack your stuff up,” he said. “Wait in the café.”
The last thing I needed was a coffee with a married man I lusted after. Instead, I headed for the park and sat on a bench opposite an oak tree, hoping to absorb some of its wisdom by osmosis.
“You look troubled.” The woman was old but possessed a dancer’s poise.
“I just want to escape,” I said.
The oak tree fluttered in the breeze and the woman reached into her pocket. “One ought to do it, but take a few.”
“I don’t do drugs.”
She laughed. “They’re magic beans. Plant one and climb.”
They glistened like emeralds in my palm.
“Beware…”
But I was already running.
The beanstalk spiralled skywards. I climbed until I reached a garden identical to mine. According to my phone, it was morning again. Could this really be the day re-starting, my mistake undone?
I walked into the office feeling tall. Invincible. I said something condescending to Nigel, rendering him speechless.
At five o’clock, I draped myself seductively over Dylan’s desk. “Fancy a drink?” As the wine flowed, I thought, “Fuck it.” I’d undo this mistake too.
“Shhh, it’ll be fine,” I whispered into his ear, his mouth, his hair; in the taxi, on my doorstep, in my bed. After he left, I planted another bean and started the day anew.
I towered over Nigel now, I realised midway through one of his tirades. So I swung a paperweight at him with surprising force and even a sort of roar. His head hit the desk as he fell, a satisfying trickle of blood snaking down his forehead.
Exiting the beanstalk this time, it became apparent that I was a giant in an ever-shrinking world, making bigger mistakes.
Unlike everything else in the park, the oak tree still loomed large. The woman slipped beside me on the bench.
“How do I undo it?” My voice sounded distant.
“Plant this to return, but you can’t escape the consequences,” she said gravely. “Or you can remain a giant, prone to poor judgment.”
She pressed the bean-shaped impossible choice into my hand and disappeared, leaving me shivering in the shadow of the oak tree.
