Never Enough (Caitlin)

All right. It's time for another fitting. Arlene helped me into my dress, something she was probably used to doing. She handed me my cane and allowed me to support myself before she laced it up. The fit was looser than I had remembered it. All the stress of the recent events had probably caused my weight to drop from 90 to 85 pounds. Andrew had told me that I needed to eat more. However, that did not help on the days I couldn't even bring myself to lift a fork.

The shoes fit like a dream and the veil cascaded in layers of fine, almost transparent tulle and fell at my fingertips. A diadem of pearls complimented it well. The dress itself looked like I was wearing a gentle breeze, the kind that cools you off on a hot day. It cascaded in the same translucent layers and the bodice, studded with just the right amount of pearls and rhinestones, still fit reasonably well. No one was at the fitting, just me. I looked in the mirror and the woman staring back at me was but a stranger.

How could I possibly be her with that radiant smile and almost perfect posture? It would be her walking down the aisle and not me. Instead of flowers, I ordered crystalline decorations. I loved flowers and I had to compromise on that for my health. As a little girl, I had always envisioned myself making my way towards my hero surrounded by the lushest blooms. Gracefully descending a flight of stairs in a long dress (or any attire, really) was not an option either.

Arlene must have noticed the tears in my eyes because she handed me a tissue and sat beside me. I told her how I felt.
          "I understand."
          "Really?"
          "Well, not from my own experience, but a lot of brides with disabilities feel the way you do when they have to sacrifice beauty for accessibility. I've been in this industry for thirty years now." That still didn't quell the sting I felt. I never asked for much as a child, even in my dreams. The only thing I wanted was flowers and now I can't have them. It is rare that I make selfish wishes, but, when I do, they are a big deal to me. "I would have wanted you to have all the flowers in the world if you could, so I'll switch out the pearl headpiece for any headpiece and other accessories your heart desires absolutely free. She helped me back into my original outfit.

I passed through the headpiece displays. Though undoubtedly beautiful, most of them were too ostentatious for me. Others I looked at with a pragmatic rather than romantic eye. That could impale me if I had a seizure. If I needed IV meds, wearing gloves and/or bracelets would impede access to my veins. Those EMTs cannot lose any time! Why was I still thinking about medical stuff? I settled on a fabric flower circlet with pearls in the center of each flower. It matched the details on my dress.

I made my way towards my neurologist's after wiping my tears. Dr. Chen has a talent for having high spirits and a light heart, even in the most trying circumstances. However, she has a mind as sharp and quick as an enchanted diamond sword. She stood before me with her usual smile and gliding gait and asked me a question that was simple enough.
          "How are you?" I wanted to say I was doing well, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I gave my usual response hoping to move on from this as quickly as possible. "Well, I have some good news, some neutral news, some bad news. I'll give you the good news first." I needed a ray of hope and Dr. Chen knew how to find them. It was her specialty.
          "What is it?"
          "Your meds seem to be doing their job, so there's no need for adjusting dosages or adding anything. Everything looks stable at this point. Oh, and one of my other patients wants your autograph." I signed a notebook with a little note that read: "I hope you find happiness." She took it and stored it somewhere. "Now, for the neutral news. You're due for another EEG in about two weeks." I didn't really like being deprived of sleep, but what must be done must be done. These tests were just a nuisance to me, nothing more.
          "And now for the bad news?" I braced myself for this the best I could. I found my fingers tapping out a scale on my lap.
          "Your epilepsy isn't the result of your brain injury. It's genetic." She pulled up a monitor and showed me my DNA. "This is the mutation that's causing it, the SCN8A mutation. The gene controls sodium channels." She proceeded to lecture on the function of said gene in some technical language I'm pretty sure only doctors can understand. "And it can pass onto your children should you have any. You should tell Steve about it."

I don't remember anything after that except for feeling nauseous and like the world was swirling around me. I couldn't breathe or do much of anything in that moment but flail helplessly in a sea of anxiety. Somehow, I had lost nothing in that moment, but experienced the most grief I ever had. How did this day know how to prey on my heart's deepest desires? I didn't remember anything after that because I was probably unconscious.

When I came out of that state, I couldn't recognize anything as familiar. Where in the world was I? I had no energy to fight, though. I heard someone tell me to go to sleep, an order I gladly obliged to. This person sat on the edge of the bed and let me sleep. I had no idea why everything was so bright and cold, but, being too tired to care, I let sleep wash away the cares.

The End spread out before me as it had before, its chilly air and sparse landscape peppered with void holes. Instinctively, I felt for my cane. I had no such device. Daring to venture out further, I looked around at memorable spots such as the obsidian chip Alisha used to slice off the tattoo-like birthmark every sister of ours has. It looks like a black and purple rose with a leaf on the right side and it appears on the base of the neck. The mark is about two pixels long. It started to reappear on my skin, but it retained the jagged edge from her crude incision.

I saw the spires the Ender Dragon once flew around, glad that Steve had slayed that awful thing. Oh, Steve. Could I be better to you...or at least not useless? I heard faint chords playing in the distance more akin to resultant tones. There, I saw a hooded figure. Just as it showed its face, I slowly opened my eyes and regained my memory. This was the neurology office, judging by the "I Love Brains" poster hanging on the wall.
         "Are you ready?" A voice came. It seemed vaguely familiar. "It's Landon LaCoste."
         "Yes." We exited together. Where was Steve? As if to answer my internal question, Landon told me he was working with some middle school students on embouchure after their director basically abandoned them. Yep. Classic Steve that is, always stepping in and saving people from stuff whether it's dragons or fracking high notes.

I am never getting enough of that guy.