Lisa, a chunky 19-year-old with long blonde hair, baggy pants, and a black Korn t-shirt, drifts around her brother’s house, her gaze fixed on the floor as she tries to avoid the clusters of relatives. She kicks at a stray balloon, thinking how she’d rather be anywhere else than at a birthday party for her five-year-old niece. Her mind flickers back to the night before—her boyfriend, the thrill of freedom, her mother’s words still ringing like a curse. "Young lady, you have turned into a slut, nothing but a tramp, and I am going to do something about it," echoed through her mind, heavy and inescapable.
Lisa enters, her footsteps echoing slightly on the concrete. She picks up a balloon, turning it in her hands as she reads the label on the tank—"AR HELIUM TANK. Must be the company name," she muses. The memory of her aunt’s warning makes her smirk, curiosity getting the better of her. She fills a balloon, inhales, and laughs, delighted at her own high-pitched, cartoonish voice. "Wow, this is neat. I sound just like Mickey Mouse," she giggles, the tension momentarily forgotten.
Sarah[/@ch_2], Lisa’s small niece, is perched on a swing, her friends clustered around her.]
Lisa strides over, balloon in hand, still playing with her helium-altered voice. "Hi Aunt Lisa, is that balloon for me?" asks Sarah. Lisa inhales another breath and teases her, "No, this is not your balloon, you little squirt," making the girls burst into laughter. But suddenly, a strange sensation overtakes her. She feels her body shrinking, her clothes sagging, hair retreating until only peach fuzz remains. Panic rises as she realizes she’s rapidly regressing, her voice now a helpless wail.
Sarah[/@ch_2] carries a bundle of oversized clothes, from which a chubby, naked infant emerges.]
Sarah marches in triumphantly, "Don’t worry, Aunt Lisa, I’ll take you inside to Grandma," she announces, placing the infant in Sue's arms. Sue, Lisa’s mother, looks down, her eyes gleaming with a curious mix of satisfaction and affection. "Well, what have we here? I see you just couldn’t listen to what people tell you, can you?" she intones, her voice surprisingly gentle. Lisa’s aunt, standing by, grins knowingly. Lisa's brother, now towering over the infant, shakes his head with a wry smile. "Looks like you’re going to be getting diaper changes just like your nephew," he teases.
Ryan[/@ch_5], Lisa’s two-month-old nephew, babbles and drools. A rocking chair rests nearby, the air heavy with the scent of baby powder and gentle lullabies.]
Sue changes Lisa with practiced hands, powdering her and fastening a diaper snugly. Sue then sits in the rocking chair, cradling Lisa, her blouse parted to reveal a breast, prepared for nursing. "The store gave me a formula so I could produce milk for you. Now go ahead, honey, drink up," she coaxes. Lisa hesitates, but instinct overrides embarrassment, and she begins to nurse, her senses overwhelmed by the odd but comforting ritual. The world narrows to warmth, rhythm, and the steady heartbeat of her mother.
Lisa[/@ch_1] lies next to Ryan, both infants nestled in a tangle of soft blankets and plush toys. The sounds of the party are distant, muffled, a world away.]
Sue sets Lisa gently beside her nephew, smoothing her hair with a tender touch. "You two be good," she says before closing the door softly behind her. Lisa gazes at Ryan, searching for understanding, but finds only innocent laughter and wide-eyed wonder. For the first time, she lets go of her resentment, her longing for the life she knew, and simply smiles back, accepting the strange, unexpected second chance she’s been given.
