Red-eyed and puffy, the dead centres of multi-layered dark concentric rings, stared back at me.
I stood there, observing, pouting, fidgeting - scraping my once thick and luscious hair back from the ever-evolving features creeping into the architecture of my visage. I meticulously picked at the thin strands of hair that clung to my fingers, before flicking them into the toilet bowl. Sebastian would whine about my lack of consideration in two weeks' time when the pipes backed up again. I no longer cared, and that was part of the problem.
My circle of friends had dwindled over the past year. It wasn't their fault. As the months had turned to years, I'd become reclusive. Even Juno didn't come round much anymore. She seemed preoccupied. Too busy for old friendships. I couldn't really blame her. I'd become a chore to be around and didn't seem able to muster up the energy for anything. Most days I barely existed.
Juno and I had known each other our entire lives. Our mothers had been close, and we had continued the tradition. Born minutes apart in the same hospital in downtown Laguna Bay, we first locked eyes amidst the battle hymn of an electric storm. Our inconsolable cries permeated the maternity ward, until our parents, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, chose to sit alongside each other, rocking their newborns, and sharing their tears. Somewhere between the rolling thunder and the lightning cracks, our hands had touched, and our fingers had locked. Wide-eyed we had held onto each other for dear life, enduring the storm together, finally lulled to sleep through sheer exhaustion, but never letting go. That night would spark a connection whose severability remained unthinkable... until now.
When I pass by the mirror, I sometimes catch a glimpse, a reflection of the person I once was. Now, I'm a stranger in my own skin, navigating the deep canyons of my mind and the empty caverns of my heart, wandering aimlessly; wondering when and where it will all end.
I choked back a sob; a visceral response to my past, my present, and my future. Then I straightened my back, stood tall, wiped the wetness from my cheeks. The cracks had been showing for some time, but today would not be the day that I would break.
Juno visited last month. It was pretty awkward. I don't know what to say to her anymore. She seemed patient enough but I could sense the angst. She's hiding something from me. I'm waiting for the bomb to drop, to be honest. Waiting for her to walk away once and for all. And I am certain I will have nobody to blame but myself.
She reminds me constantly of the wild and carefree days of our youth, quite unlike the life we now face. They seemed so far away, and yet just the other day too. Funny that. Back then, when we weren't playing hopscotch, or exploring the woodlands with our dogs, we were hanging out with the local boys, kids from school, mostly doing disgusting competitive boy stuff, like spitballing... that silly childhood game you play where you see which kid can spit the farthest.
Juno had pulled out all the stops in an effort to reconnect and make me laugh again. She even got me to partake in a single game of spitball. As the saliva landed on the wall, I remembered why I didn't like the game. It was disgusting... but I did it, for her... and I threw my head back feigning laughter... for her. At least I could say that I tried. She must have sensed the mood was going downhill, because she cleaned up the spitballs, made some weird excuse about needing to be elsewhere, and left.
I was still scowling back at my reflection, feeling the pricking in the corner of my eyes, and daring the floodgates to open. My fists balled, I stood ready to shatter the illusion, if necessary.
The phone rang. I blocked out Sebastian's voice, calling in exasperation for me to answer it. It was never for me these days anyway, I reasoned, and I was too exhausted to care.
Seriously, Mace! You've got to get over yourself. One day it could be important, you know!
Sebastian raced passed me and lurched for the handset, willing it to keep ringing for just a few seconds more.
I didn't want to know. That was just it. What could possibly be important to a girl with no hope left in the world? What could the world on the other end of the line, possibly have to offer me, Macey Giraud, that all the medical specialists in the world could not.
It had come down to this... money could not buy me a future. Money could not buy me more minutes, hours, months or years.
Time owned me.
I had so many regrets, so many wasteful minutes in my life... if only I could take them back... repackage them... truly live them... maybe I would not be feeling so disconsolate and depressed during the end-game.
The doctors had not given me a date or a timeframe, but I knew things were looking pretty hopeless. With no donor in sight, and having been on the register for almost 2 years... we were coming down to the wire, the point of no return.
I knew it.
Sebastian knew it.
And.. Juno knew it too.
I thank God every day that Sebastian answered that phone call.
The caller's name was Henri Lefort. He had used a well-known human genome ancestry site a while back and had recently received a notification from them, informing him of a newly registered close relative. That relative was me, Macey Giraud.
Apparently, the human genome contained in each drop of saliva tells a story, a very beautiful story not just of ancestry, but one that connects the dots between living relatives; relatives who just happen to share the same DNA. Relatives who just may be willing to subject themselves to being tested and then enduring a little pain to donate the much-needed life-giving stem cells to an erstwhile stranger.
Today I stare at the girl in the mirror. Her bright eyes stare back, the light dancing and reflecting off their hazelnut hue in a way that has been absent for too long. My dark locks frame soft features, gently brushing against red Ruby Woo lips.
Macey, you coming?
The breezy lilt in Juno's voice, carries from the front door.
... the cab's here!
I smile, smoothing my LBD and bend down to sling on my 3-inch heels, completing the look. I steal one last glance at the girl in the mirror... before heading out the door... I am happy ...time is once again on my side, and I am determined to enjoy every last minute.
Header image My Mirror by Preeti M on Getty Images from Canva Pro Library
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Dreemport banner used with permission of @dreemsteem and @dreemport and designed by @jimramones
LBD = Little Black Dress
