Regeneration X (17 page)

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Inez and Becks are Canadian—Inez from Montreal, Quebec and Becks from Halifax, Nova Scotia. They became stepsisters when Inez’ mother married Beck’s father. We met nearly 4 years ago when I walked into their shop, Chambre avec Vue (room with a view), a home and garden boutique in the Madison Valley neighborhood of northeast Seattle. At the time, they’d advertised for a retail associate position, and in an impromptu moment, I determined I could alter my lacking existence by applying for the job. It seemed like something I could get into as a side gig—keeping my full-time job while gaining experience in an alternative direction. At the very least, I’d have a committed excuse to be social and leave the house regularly.

Unfortunately, the hours and my lack of previous retail experience did not coincide with the qualifications Inez and Becks were hoping for. A friendly discussion blossomed from our meeting regardless. I mentioned not being a connoisseur of opera, but how, “O Mio Babbino Caro”—the theme song from the A Room with a View soundtrack—was one of the few songs I found hauntingly inviting. Both knew instantly I was referring to their shop name. They’d probably had this assumption made before, albeit the movie was set in Italy, the opera was Italian, and their shop, French.

I continued to frequent the shop for short chats, and over time, Becks, Inez and I became good friends. It turned out their store was not named after the movie, but among the three of us, we found we had most movies—including
A Room with a View
—books, as well as perspectives on politics, morals, and values in common.

Over the years, I learned Inez was the most logical, independent, and mentally stable person I’d ever met. Becks and I are more similar, both of us just a little bit more dreamy and emotional. Inez had never been married by conscious choice. Becks fell in love, married, and divorced young, even before she and Inez became sisters. She, Becks and I are so different, but with so much more in common I’m surprised it took us over 30 years to find one another. Having the right people to support and inspire you is so important. Sometimes I think friendships are fated. It took several moves across the country to find my friend soul mates. It’s boggling to contemplate that in some parallel universe our lives never coincided. I sometimes wonder who I would be without them now, and count myself lucky that in this reality we were together.

At the moment, Inez was acting strangely. It was frustrating and sad to see her become so disillusioned about her current life since being denied CR. Until 2020, every year Inez experienced 2-3 weeks of severe flu symptoms, which made her miserable for the better part of late fall. Autumn being her favorite time of year, the month of November, was both a welcome and a dread for her. She usually slugged along for another two weeks after the flu symptoms had passed. By mid-December, she’d have a short respite before being plagued with one cold after another, until her nose was raw and her eyes glassy.

That year, Inez opted for a GMCO procedure that provided foolproof resistance from influenza and rhinovirus infection; similar to a vaccine, but she didn’t need it repeatedly like the ineffective flu shot she had previously gotten every year. At the time, she thought it was the best decision she’d ever made. She’s far from being a genetic modification advocate, but she’d had enough, and there was a simple and permanent solution. It was a no-brainer. She just wanted her spirits and the joy of crisp autumn days back. However, not dissimilar to a drastic move across country (speaking from experience), the initial excitement wore off until the once newness became commonplace. After a few years, she naturally forgot about her past miseries and overlooked having ever gotten a GM procedure done.

Consequently, when Inez inquired about CR, Dr. Baum told her that by seeking a GM remedy she should abolish any hope of being eligible for the Renovation procedure. Unless (although Dr. Baum hadn’t told her as much) she underwent the procedure elsewhere—where restrictions were more lax. Inez hadn’t reached this point of desperation, but it was an option nonetheless. She and I have talked at length about people who’ve had GM procedures done followed by a regeneration in another country. In most cases, regeneration after GM caused severe complications—sometimes death, or even a new and severe incurable illness.

We have laughed at pharmaceutical commercials for minor issues where a spokesperson does a speed-talk of some serious complications. In our ongoing jokes, we called this the “verbal fine-print.” Such as, an advertisement for a sinus medication which concluded with the celebrity voiceover saying rapidly, “May cause drowsiness or temporary light-headedness. Do not drive or operate machinery while taking
medication
. In rare cases, fainting, hearing loss, profuse nose bleeding, heart attack, or death may occur. See your doctor if you experience one or more of these symptoms.”

On my
fear-this-evil
scale, I rated Big Pharma at about a seven while genetic engineering tipping over the ten mark. I believe we are almost of the same mind on this. It was built on the premise of resistance. Even what seemed to be a minor genetic modification procedure could result in the evolution of a superbug, a susceptibility to another ailment, or an autoimmune response. On its own, a GM procedure could even cause the proliferation and acceleration of an existing, undiagnosed disease. Given the seriousness of the side effects, the United States and the EU established screening protocols in an effort to prevent unnatural mutations, specifically among elective procedures. Thus, GM patients were not legally permitted to undergo bio-altering procedures such as Renovation.

In Inez’s case, I suspected her motivations for CR were different from my own. She is stunningly beautiful. Tall, slim, and fit with piercing silver-gray eyes; naturally plum colored, full lips; a small, but strong somewhat angular nose; and a subtle jawline amidst an oval face. She has shiny, jet-black hair, French bobbed just above the chin and streaked with one thin silver band down the side of her face, adding to her ultra-feminine and distinguished appearance. Her complexion is very fair with a touch of pink and a creamy olive undertone. With minimal to no makeup, not to be cliché —she is the epitome of natural beauty.

In my opinion, cosmetic procedures to augment what you did not naturally have were vain. If, however, you were beautiful to begin with, like Inez, I could see why you would want to maintain this beauty for as long as possible. So, as it happens, she became enraptured by the idea of youth. What worries me is that she would even consider the alternatives; she had set those less-than-desirable ideas aside. But for how long?

On this particular evening, she and Becks were sprawled across my bed. Becks, propped up by all the pillows, lay there ponderous with her hands behind her head. Inez was next to her, except lying flat with her head at the footboard of the bed. “Does it bother you I’m 47?” Inez asked me casually, scrutinizing her hands, splayed out in the air above her.

“Are you crazy?” Becks said giving Inez one of her direct stares, apparently stunned by such a question coming from her. “You must be the only person in the world who doesn’t know how you come off. You don’t look a day over 30. And before you point out you have white hair, that streak is so perfect it looks purposeful.” Becks was in her late-30s, but looked older than Inez or myself before my regeneration, despite her not having a single white strand in her very dark brown head of hair. Becks had grown up in Queen Elizabeth Islands—before the new family with Inez had moved to Nova Scotia—and the climate had taken its toll.

Becks’ strongest characteristic was that she was the least self-absorbed or self-conscious person either Inez or I knew. She just couldn’t fathom how someone who looked like Inez could be distraught over barely visible wrinkles or discontent with her life in anyway. Especially since Inez was not shallow, either.

“I am not bothered in the least that you are old enough to be my mother, you are rather maternal. However, no one would ever believe it. Maybe now I will be mistaken as your adopted daughter,” I smiled cutely and blinked a few times, feigning the innocence of a child. I blew a kiss across the room from my usual seat in my club chair.

“I really wish you could get past this disappointment. I mean, I can’t really tell you it’s not important,” I said, self-mockingly skimming my hands up and down the length of my body and then framing and cocking my face in a selfie pose. “But really, you have never been noticeably unhappy or latently depressed like I was, so why is this hitting you so hard?”

“Yeah, what she said, I’d like to know. Is there something you’re not saying?” Becks asked looking at Inez intently.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right! I just need to snap out of it. C’est la vie. You should have just said this to me before all the drama!” Sitting up all of a sudden, grabbing Becks’ big toe and tugging it harshly, Inez teased and assaulted her sister, “Why didn’t you just say?!”

“Jeez was it that easy? Too bad I can’t foretell the future. How was I to know you were going to get so … bipolar about it?” Becks said with an affected wince and smile.

Inez’s face twitched for a second before she retained her composure.

“Girls, Girls! Save the antics for the playground. Settle down,” I mocked with the voice of a headmistress.

“Seriously, I want to talk to you about something else,” I addressed both of them. “Since Michael isn’t going with me to England, I feel like a new-born left to fend for myself. Would you consider coming with me? You go to France often enough anyway,” I pleaded.

“What do you mean, come with you? One of us? You mean just for a while or move to England?” Inez asked piqued.

“I’m asking both of you. Move?” I asked uncertainly. If one or both of them came (I crossed my fingers), life would have be
close
to perfect.

“Hmm. Let me check some things out. Maybe we can relocate the shop or open another one in London?” Inez directed a questioning look at Becks. “We’d have to see what the rules are for transatlantic business, but we have established a business in another country once before. Now there’s a thought! The export taxes would be a lot lower. What do you think Becks?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t. Offhand though, I’m not for relocating,” Becks said tentatively. “But we were considering opening another shop … no reason why both have to be in Seattle,” she added more promisingly.

November 24, 2025

I’m not having doubts, but if I stayed, would Michael still want a break? I think both of us know now it’s not a matter of ‘wanting.’ Even if I hadn’t had CR, we would have eventually arrived at the same point, some time. I’d still like to know, though.

I’ve tried to remember those three days I was knocked out. I thought maybe I could remember a dream, the sound of people talking, or the feel of Michael’s hand, but all that comes to mind is this sensation of floating among the clouds. Maybe it was less of a sleep and more of a short death; even farther removed from reality than the stuff of dreams. I asked Michael if he recalled his three days and he didn’t, either. How strange. But, I’m not going to think about it now.

I’ve asked myself what if Becks and Inez don’t come; am I still going to do this? On my own?

When you’re attached to a person for so long, you get to a point when you stop going on vacations alone, let alone move. Oddly enough, being an independent adult, one becomes dependent on another. But, yes, I will still do this even if they don’t come. I’m not about to abandon myself now. I will just have to learn to swim without a floatation device.
 

They’ll come. My fingers are cramping from crossing them, so to speak. They wouldn’t have put an ad up to rent the apartment and the house. Inez mentioned Lindsey doesn’t have plans to go anywhere and feels comfortable running the shop on her own. The only hold up, it seems is, the business setup process.

Becks, however, seems a little more hesitant with the idea. I can understand why. She above all of us, loves Seattle and is more attached to the store than Inez. Could Becks hand over the store management to Lindsey?

That’s the odd thing about Inez, she’s obviously seen and respected as the storeowner and manager, with Becks and Lindsey as the subordinates—even though Becks is an equal business partner. This probably annoys Becks, although she never says so. I can sense that there is a lot Becks keeps to herself. I think the reason is that the shop is French and Inez is too, even though her English is impeccable, she still has a trace of a French accent. There is also a je ne sais quoi air about her that gives her away and ties her to the store in a way it can’t with Becks. Chambre avec Vue seems to belong to Inez, it resonates her.

You know, I never even asked how long they’d be willing to stick it out there if the business doesn’t succeed. This is a question for a later time. I don’t know myself what happens after school, will I want to return? When Michael finally joins me, will he want us to return?

I’ve created another mess it seems. Some day we might all be separated—three months from now, two years?

Chapter Fifteen

Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,

Loather a hundred times to part than die.

Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!

—William Shakespeare,
King Henry the Sixth, Part II (3.2)

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“OUR FLIGHT ARRIVES AT ROUGHLY 7:30 TOMORROW night your time,” I said toward the end of a conversation with my cousin in London. “Oh, and Nina, we’ll do something to celebrate when we get there, but if you would pass along our thanks to Aunt Joy in advance that’d be great. We really appreciate her
and
you letting us stay until we get things sorted. Hopefully it won’t take more than a couple of weeks.”

“No prob, I’m excited for you to stay. Will pass along the message and be there to pick yeh up. ‘Til tomorrow then! Bye cuz.”

My mom and Aunt Joy were roommates in a school dormitory and remained close over the years. I won’t go into the long story of how Aunt Joy ended up in England, but it’s strange to think how some things are falling into place eons later. I know this sounds arrogant—as if I’m saying my Aunt Joy’s life was reconfigured to accommodate this point in my own. I don’t mean this, rather the degrees of separation between lives are bizarre, and sometimes very fortunately.