Bloodgifted

by Tima Maria Lacoba

  ‘No, no not at all. Everything’s fine dear, and we’ll talk tonight. Now I have to go. Enjoy your day.’ She rang off. Her voice had sounded cheery enough, yet beneath, I sensed a certain undercurrent.

  The last time we had “a little talk” revolved around my delayed maturity. In high school everyone else had hit puberty but me. I was the odd kid out, too self-conscious to tell even my closest friends I still hadn’t gotten my periods. I was in Year Twelve. My mum had prepared me when I was younger, but neither of us expected it to be this late. She had no idea, but Aunt Judy did.

  ‘That’s normal for us, dear,’ she had said. ‘Physically and emotionally you’ll mature far more slowly than everyone else. See it as a plus! When you reach your fifties you’ll still be young in so many ways. What woman wouldn’t want that?’

  At the time I didn’t appreciate the full meaning of her words.

  She also explained our biological inheritance being caused by an unusual gene we possess that gives us our very rare blood type. So rare, in fact, it’s unclassified. She advised me then it would not be a good idea to donate blood.

  After that wonderful revelation I went on a research spree trawling through every medical journal and science book I could find, looking for anything regarding strange blood types, delayed aging, aliens, etcetera. Yes, I seriously considered whether my family were descended from aliens!

  My aunt assured me we weren’t. Apart from fishing villages in northern Japan and remote mountain settlements in the Caucasus famous for their centenarians, there was nothing. Even though those people were long lived, they hadn’t stopped aging.

  It looked like I was on my own.

  Thinking about my family, one member in each generation who inherited our weird gene lived well beyond their centenary. In fact, they enjoyed double the lifespan of the so-called four-score-and-ten most people were granted. Grandad Owen lived to be one hundred and thirty-two and his father died aged one hundred and forty-seven. They didn’t appear young though. Grandad looked to be at least in his eighties when he died. And he was the only one who had ever travelled overseas, courtesy of the AIF, who sent him straight to the trenches in France during the First World War.

  Did that mean my physical appearance would eventually catch up? Surely I wasn’t going to look this young a decade or so from now? Or would I? I would just have to wait and see.

  Admittedly, until a few years ago, I appreciated this advantage as it meant I could date much younger men. Problem is, it got messy when they asked my age. And it’s surprising how many men do. Must be an ego thing, I concluded long ago.

  They never reacted very well when they coaxed it out of me. On one particular date, the guy excused himself to go to the loo and never came back. Just as well we hadn’t ordered yet otherwise I would have been stuck with the bill.

  After that embarrassing episode, I accepted the fact that lying was my only option. The problem is that I don’t lie well and avoiding the subject doesn’t always work. So for the next twelve years, I gave up dating altogether.

  Oddly enough, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. As the years roll on the discrepancy between my physical appearance and my chronological age—if things don’t change—will only increase. Who’s to say I won’t end up as a guinea pig in a secret research lab hidden somewhere in the desert? To an ambitious scientist I’m a walking Nobel Prize.

  Just as I began to wonder if I should be celebrating this birthday at all, my best friend, Jenny, messaged me. ‘Happy b/day u genetic freak u. C u @ lunch.’

  Yep, that’s my best friend. She always knows how to make me smile when I need it. Jenny’s sixteen years my junior, but strangers seeing us together would assume the reverse. So far, it hasn’t affected our friendship and I sincerely hope it never will.

  Her dark hair is still bright and glossy and the occasional grey that dares to appear is ripped out with gusto. There are the beginnings of fine lines around her eyes, but they only accentuate their sparkle whenever she laughs. And Jenny loves to laugh. Her good humour shows even in the most trying circumstances. She’s one of those rare people who have come through life’s difficulties battered, but still able to see the sunshine. It’s a special quality to possess, one I sometimes envy.

  I hurried out of my unit to meet her.

  The cicadas were humming, the scent of frangipanis filled the air and the sky blazed a sultry azure blue. It’s what I’ve always called a South Pacific day and, in summer, there’s no more glorious place on earth than Sydney with the world’s most beautiful beaches just a twenty-minute drive from my inner-city unit.

  Jenny had booked a table at the Bar Oceania at the south end of Coogee. It was a popular spot, so I was lucky to find somewhere to park.

  As I got out, I saw that she’d managed to grab one of the sidewalk tables with the nifty umbrella on top. There she sat, sipping an iced tea, looking cool and relaxed in a floaty, pale lilac dress, a smile on her face as she watched kids and adults jostle each other at the nearby gelato bar.

  ‘They’re doing a roaring trade today,’ I said as I joined her.

  ‘Reckon. We might get one later on,’ she replied as she rose from her seat to plant a kiss on my cheek. ‘Anyway, Happy Birthday, you. I’ve ordered us some peach flavoured iced tea.’

  ‘Thanks. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Ten minutes ago. I wanted to get an outside table. Too nice a day to be indoors,’ she said, pointing to the interior of the café which looked deceptively dark compared to the sharp brightness of our outdoor seating.

  The waitress delivered our drinks just as Jenny slid a small pastel-coloured envelope in my direction. ‘Go on, open it.’ Her eyes shone.

  ‘It’s pointless to say you shouldn’t have, right?’

  ‘What do you think!’

  I smiled and tore open the envelope. Inside was a ticket to the Sydney performance of the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. I may not have a drop of Scottish blood in me, but I shiver with excitement at the sound of bagpipes and a massed pipe band reduces me to jelly.

  I jumped out of my seat and gave her a big hug. ‘Jen!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’ve been “uumming” and “aaahing” for the last couple of weeks, trying to make up my mind whether or not to go to this. It’s so expensive’. I love my job as a teacher, but I certainly didn’t go into the profession to get rich. The last I heard the local garbage collector earned more.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘but I know how much you love bagpipes and the whole military thing. And guess what?’

  Before I could, she produced another ticket from her bag. ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said, and waved it in my face.

  ‘Since when are you a fan?’

  ‘Since I saw the ad on telly. How could I possibly pass up seeing all those gorgeous men in skirts?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Kilts!’

  ‘Whatever you say. And who knows, it could be a really windy night and we’ll both find out what’s beneath those things!’ She wriggled her eyebrows at me.

  I laughed. ‘You’re incredible and the best friend ever.’

  She gave me a huge grin. ‘And don’t you forget it! So I can safely assume Matt hasn’t got you these.’

  ‘Ha! He hates bagpipes. Don’t know what he has against them.’

  I discreetly hid my Holiday In Scotland CDs after he once said they reminded him of copulating cats!

  Detective Inspector Matthew Sommers is the man in my life. We met four months ago and, yes, he knows all about my unusual bloodline. It doesn’t really bother him since I look much younger and that suits him just fine. He stands around six feet and when he smiles a cute dimple forms in his left cheek.

  The day we met, he was accompanying a uniformed female constable who came to instruct Grades Five and Six on Traffic Safety. It was part of the Primary school curriculum and that year Matt got the short straw. Usually it’s the uniformed police who do these little school trips, but unfortunately—or fortunately for me—due to staff shortages, long service leaves and
illness, one of the detectives had to fill the role. We started chatting over coffee in the staff lunchroom afterwards and then he asked me out to dinner. I had no difficulty accepting.

  ‘Jen, there’s no way I’d drag him to this. He’d come out of a sense of obligation and sit there with cotton wool stuffed in his ears.’ I shook my head as I tried to picture the scene.

  ‘You know, it would be almost worth it just to see him.’ We both laughed, when out of the blue Jenny said, ‘You slept with him yet?’

  ‘I was wondering when you’d get around to that.’

  She grinned.

  ‘Okay, yes, I finally did it!’

  She lifted her glass. ‘C’mon, that’s cause for celebration.’ We chinked glasses. ‘I was beginning to think you’d never get rid it. Honestly, Laura, you were turning into the oldest virgin on the planet!’

  ‘Shhh! Not so loud. The rest of the world doesn’t have to know!’ I noticed one or two heads turn in our direction.

  Matt and I had been together now for nearly four months and it was only in last few weeks I’d finally succumbed.

  ‘You did well to hold out so long.’

  I lowered my glass. ‘I didn’t want to sleep with someone just for the sake of it. You know that. But it’s different with Matt. It’s getting serious.’

  ‘Well, it must be if he went without sex all these months!’ She laughed.

  Matt and I had made love a few times now. He was an attentive and considerate lover, yet I couldn’t achieve fulfilment. Matt said it would take a while for my body to get used it—especially after that painful first time. I hoped it wouldn’t be long, and before Jenny could grill me any further, I changed the subject. ‘You remember my Aunt Judy, Dad’s sister?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah—massive gold bangles and chokers. What about her?’

  ‘Spoke to her this morning. She asked if I’ll be at Mum and Dad’s tonight. Seems there’s something important she needs to tell me.’

  ‘Any idea?’ Jen asked as she sipped on her iced tea.

  I nodded. ‘My… little anomaly.’

  ‘That could be interesting. Doesn’t she carry the same anti-aging thing as you?’

  ‘It’s not anti-aging, just slower that everyone else. You know something, now that I think of it, she suddenly stopped taking part in any family events after her fiftieth, except for my birthday. She’s never missed one of those. Oh, and when I was in school she always turned up for Saturday sport or any event where I was involved.’

  ‘Obviously you’re her favourite, Laura.’

  ‘I s’pose. She doesn’t have any children of her own so it’s nice to think she’s kind of adopted me.’

  ‘So, she’s what—ninety now?’

  ‘Late nineties, I think.’ I tried to remember her exact age. Jenny twirled the ice at the bottom of glass with her straw, having just drained the last of her drink as well.

  ‘Hundred,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s going to be a hundred. Dad’s planning a huge celebration.’

  ‘How does she look?’ Jenny asked curiously.

  ‘Easily forty years younger,’ I replied. ‘And still really attractive.’

  Jenny looked at me in amazement. ‘Huh! Why can’t I be cursed like that!’ she groaned.

  I was beginning to hate this growing difference between us. ‘Jen, you’re only thirty-four and beautiful. Men give themselves whiplash when you walk down the street!’ It didn’t work. I took a deep breath. ‘Look, I know you can see the physical advantages, but…’ and just as I was about to launch into my litany of disadvantages, Jenny put both index fingers into her ears and began to hum.

  I sat back in my seat, folded my arms and waited for her to finish. ‘I hate it when you do that!’

  ‘I know,’ she replied smugly. Then inching slightly forward to get closer to me, she quietly asked, ‘But if you had a choice, would you get rid of it?’

  She continued to jiggle the ice in the bottom of her glass and waited for my answer. I couldn’t give her one. ‘Thought so,’ she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  It wasn’t the first time this difference had cropped up between us and I had a sense it was only going to grow as the years advanced. How would Jenny feel a decade from now if I still appeared no older than twenty-something and she’d be pushing her mid-forties? I really didn’t want to think about it.

  ‘Jen, I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I’ve got it, I’m stuck with it and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy it.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Given the choice, what woman on this planet wouldn’t give up her soul to have an age-retarding DNA.

  ‘You’re telling me!’ Jenny smiled and the momentary tension evaporated, yet I was glad when the waitress came to take our lunch order.

  * * *

  Since I was an only child, my parents had always made my birthday a grand occasion. Mum always created an incredible spread with all my favourite foods. As I grew to adulthood they saw no reason to change that, so this evening Matt and I were expected over at seven.

  He arrived early, still in his work clothes—navy trousers and black, grey and white pinstriped shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows. The tie was probably somewhere on the back seat of his car. Tonight he looked particularly drawn and it made him appear older than his thirty-six years.

  ‘Bad day?’ I asked.

  Matt didn’t often share his cases with me, but sometimes he just needed to talk. ‘We got a nasty one.’ He rubbed his tired eyes. ‘Twelve year-old kid. Some kind of puncture marks all over the body, entirely drained of blood.’ I grimaced as he continued. ‘Third one this week, too. We’ve got half the department on this case. Got to catch him—or whatever we’re dealing with—before there’s a fourth killing.’

  ‘It’s been on the news, but not about the missing blood.’

  ‘Nope, we kept that from the media.’

  ‘Guess I can understand why. They’d have a field day. But I have faith in you Detective Inspector Matthew Sommers. You’ll get them.’ I ran my arms around his strong, athletic frame and hugged him.

  Matt’s arms encircled me as well. ‘I wish the Commissioner had as much faith in me as you do. He’s been screaming at us to catch this bastard before there’s another killing. The oldest vic was fifteen and they’re getting younger. I had to inform the parents.’

  I reached up and brushed a lock of wavy light-brown hair from his forehead. He was always more affected by crimes involving children or young people. The hardest part was informing the parents and loved ones of a death, especially that of a child. To him, it was almost personal.

  ‘Look, if you don’t want to go tonight to Mum and Dad’s…’ I bit my lip. I’d been looking forward to this evening.

  Matt gazed at me. ‘If it was up to me, I’d take you out to dinner, just the two of us, then go back to my place and spend the night together.’ He leaned in and kissed my neck then trailed his lips along my jaw before finding my mouth.

  Oh, it felt good and if I weren’t expected at my parent’s place, I’d take him up on the offer.

  ‘Pity your family’s expecting you,’ he murmured against my lips.

  ‘There’s always after dinner,’ I suggested.

  His eyes crinkled up into a smile. ‘All right, then. Oh, I nearly forget… Happy Birthday.’ He held out a small rectangular, beautifully wrapped package that had been sticking out of his trouser pocket.

  I had pretended not to notice when he walked in.

  ‘It’s why I’m early. I’d rather you unwrap it here than at your parents,’ he said.

  I looked up at him with a surprised smile, took the package from his hands and hurriedly ripped off the pretty wrapping in my excitement. Beneath, lay a dark green velvet box and as I opened it my breath left me. Sitting in its dark velvet lining was a teardrop milky opal pendant with matching earrings framed in a delicate filigree gold setting. They were absolutely stunning.
All I could do was stare. ‘Oh, Matt! They’re beautiful!’

  ‘I remember you once mentioned how much you liked opals. So, I thought—’ Matt began.

  Before he could finish I threw an arm around his neck and kissed him. I could feel his mouth turning up into a smile beneath my lips. ‘Mmmm, I guess that means you like them!’ he murmured softly before returning my kiss.

  ‘Yes thanks,’ I managed to breathe out a little while later.

  ‘For the present or the kiss?’ he teased.

  ‘Both.’

  ‘I should give you presents more often then.’ He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me long and sweetly.

  For the moment I forgot we were expected elsewhere, so reluctantly we pulled apart. Matt stroked my throat. ‘Put them on. Let’s see how they look.’

  He took the velvet box from me and placed it on the hall table. As he lifted the pendant from its silken bed, I turned and gathered my long hair to one side to let him slip the lovely jewel around my neck. He joined the clasp then bent his head and trailed his warm lips along the length of my throat as his hands slid to caress my shoulders. ‘Would you like the earrings now?’ he said softly as his lips nibbled my left earlobe.

  ‘Uh huh. But I need my ears back.’

  He chuckled and released me long enough for me to take the precious little gems from their box and place them in my ears. Then he turned me around to face him. ‘Beautiful. The opals are perfect with your complexion.’ His eyes roamed over me. ‘New dress?’

  ‘My birthday present to me. What do you think?’

  I took a step back and did a little twirl, feeling the soft fabric billow out from my ankles. It wasn’t everyday I shopped for a new dress, but the occasion called for one. And this sapphire and cream chiffon, ankle-length creation with delicate butterfly sleeves beckoned to me as I passed by the store window.

  I’d applied a little makeup, just a touch of bronze to highlight my eyes, and splurged on a new plum-toned lipstick. Instead of my customary ponytail, I let my waist-length hair hang loosely down my back.

  ‘Very nice,’ he said as his eyes lingered on me, then pulled me close again for another kiss. ‘We’ll leave early. I want you all to myself tonight—all night!’