Resequencing DNA

Elijah sat at the kitchen table, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee swirling around him, providing a temporary comfort amidst the chaos that had unfolded. As he brought the cup to his lips, he felt the heat seep through the ceramic, grounding him in the moment. Grace had taken Sofia to the bathroom, her gentle yet firm demeanour guiding the little girl through the process of bathing and bedtime, especially after the disastrous ice cream incident that had left a sticky trail in its wake. Meanwhile, Mrs. Henry lingered close by, a silent sentinel in the room, providing a comforting presence as Elijah grappled with his growing worries and unanswered questions.

Even Sofia, usually the epitome of carefree childhood joy, had picked up on the tension that hung heavily in the air. Before departing with her grandmother, she had repeatedly turned to Elijah, her innocent eyes filled with concern, asking him what felt like a hundred times about her mother’s absence. With an urgency in her voice, she had pressed him on whether her mother was coming home soon. Elijah had tried to reassure her, forcing a smile as he brushed her auburn curls away from her face. But the sincerity in Sofia's voice tugged at his heartstrings, making it hard to maintain his facade of calmness.

Before she left the dining room, Sofia enveloped him in a big, sticky hug—her hands still glistening from the remnants of her ice cream treat—and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “I miss my mummy,” she had declared, her small voice breaking slightly, which sent a rush of emotions through Elijah. Those words echoed in his mind, amplifying his sense of dread and uncertainty.

Despite his attempts to distract himself, his thoughts remained fixated on Ashleigh. As he sat there, drinking cup after cup of hot coffee, he had tried to reach her countless times, his fingers anxiously pressing against his phone’s screen, the persistent message of ‘unavailable’ mocking him each time. Each unanswered call felt like a tight knot in his throat, a reminder that something was off. Deep down, in the core of his being, an unsettling sensation lurked—a gnawing fear that told him something was fundamentally wrong.

After their own argument months prior, she had stormed out, leaving a chasm of unresolved feelings in her wake. Even during those times, she would always keep her phone on, the calls went through without issue, until the voicemail picked it up. But now, it was different. The silence felt suffocating, and the knowledge that her phone was seemingly switched off sent chills down Elijah's spine.

While lost in thought and worry, he mechanically glanced out of the dining room window, his gaze drifting toward the soft glow illuminating the driveway from the outdoor lamps, which stood like sentinels against the encroaching darkness. It was the only light that spilt across the landscape, a solitary beacon amid the uncertainty, and as he stared into the dimly lit expanse, the world outside felt eerily still—an unsettling reflection of the turmoil that churned within him.

“Any news?” A soft and empathetic voice broke through the dense fog of his reverie, pulling him abruptly from the depths of his spiralling thoughts.

“Excuse me?” Elijah replied, momentarily startled and feeling a surge of alarm at the unexpected interruption. His eyes finally focused, landing on Mrs. Henry who now stood beside him, her expression filled with concern.

“Any news on Miss Ashleigh?” she inquired once more, her voice gentle yet imbued with a seriousness that resonated in the air between them. Elijah shook his head slightly, the weight of her question settling heavily atop his already burdened heart. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words floated away, lost in the tempest of his racing thoughts. How could he articulate the swirling chaos within him, the gnawing uncertainty, the deep-seated fear for her well-being?

“I…I can’t help but feel…something’s wrong,” Elijah finally muttered, his voice trembling with raw emotion, the admission slipping from his lips like a fragile whisper in the stillness of the room. His heart raced, a drumbeat of dread accentuating his unsteady words as he grappled with the weight of what might be.

Mrs Henry stepped closer, the sympathy in her eyes a comforting balm to his frayed nerves.

“We must hold onto hope, Elijah,” she urged softly, her words laced with wisdom borne from experience. “Sometimes, the shadows loom larger than they are, and fear can twist our perception.” She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, grounding him as he fought against the tide of panic threatening to pull him under once more. “And as I said before, what if we are overreacting,” she continued. “Think of the times when you’ve worried endlessly about things that never came to pass,” she added, her tone kind yet firm, instilling a glimmer of hope in the shadows of his mind.

Elijah sat there quietly, contemplating Mrs Henry’s words as they settled like soft snowflakes on his anxious heart, attempting to thaw the icy grip of dread. Just then, Grace entered the room, her presence drawing the attention of both Elijah and Mrs. Henry. The weight of the conversation shifted slightly, allowing a momentary distraction.

“She is now clean and fast asleep,” Grace stated, her voice carrying a note of relief as she referred to Sofia. “However, all she was talking about was how she was missing her mother and that she hopes she comes home soon.”

Her words hung in the air, imbued with a bittersweet sense of longing that resonated in the depths of Elijah’s heart. He could feel the ache of Ashleigh’s absence woven into her innocent hopes, a sharp reminder of the fragility of their current reality.

“Any word from her yet?” asked Grace, as she placed a comforting hand on Elijah’s shoulder.

Elijah shook his head, the motion imbued with despair, each shake a silent confession of his lingering fear and heartache.

“I…I can’t do this,” he stated suddenly, as a swell of pent-up frustration bubbled to the surface. He abruptly stood from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor with a resounding screech that punctuated his turmoil. “This…sitting around, waiting, it is driving me insane!” The weight of the stagnation pressed heavily on him, leaving him feeling suffocated and restless. Without a second thought, he made his way to the door.

“Elijah…” muttered Grace, however, before she could say anything more, he had already left the room, the door closing behind him with a muted thud, leaving an echo of his turmoil lingering in the air like a distant rumble of thunder.

After a few brief moments of silence, the room felt heavy with unspoken words. Grace’s brow furrowed in concern, and she eventually broke the stillness that enveloped them.

“You…you don’t think she’s done it again…do you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she looked up at Mrs. Henry, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

“Done what again, exactly?” Mrs Henry replied, her expression shifting from one of confusion to concern, as the implications of Grace's question sunk in.

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Grace’s inquiry hanging heavily in the air, a thick fog of dread enveloping them.

“You know…slept around again,” Grace eventually added, her voice barely a whisper, as if saying the words aloud could conjure the very situation they dreaded the most.

“Preposterous,” replied Mrs Henry firmly, shaking her head with a mix of disbelief and defiance. “She saw what it did to their relationship the last time, there is no way she would hurt Elijah like that again,” she added, yet almost sounding like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was convincing Grace.

“You’re probably right,” Grace admitted.  She recalled the way her daughter had spoken to her recently, the heartfelt admissions of regret that had spilt forth during their quiet moments together—the sincerity in her words, as she had poured out her soul, admitting how much she lamented having hurt Elijah in that way, along with her wide-eyed excitement to embrace a life with him as his wife.

With that said, Grace got up from her chair and began to make her way towards the door, leaving the dining room.

As she left the dining room, Grace moved purposefully across the hall, her heart racing with each step as she headed towards the conservatory, hoping to clear her mind and perhaps find Elijah—to offer him a comforting word, to quell the storm she could sense brewing within him. Arriving at the door, she paused and quietly peered inside. Just as she had suspected, there was Elijah, pacing up and down, his brow furrowed in concentration, puffing on a cigar whose smoke curled into the air like weary spirits. The sight of him lost in his thoughts, made her heart ache.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open gently, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible in the serene hush of the conservatory. As the door opened, she was immediately enveloped by the robust aroma of cigar smoke, which hung thickly in the still air, intensifying the atmosphere that surrounded them.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern yet imbued with a warmth that she hoped would seep through to him.

Without uttering a word, Elijah simply gestured for her to come inside and take a seat. His silence spoke volumes, echoing the turmoil inside him that needed no verbal acknowledgement. Grace entered the conservatory, closing the door gently behind her, creating a small sanctuary for the two of them away from the clamouring uncertainties that plagued their family.

Once seated, she reached for her pack of cigarettes that lay on the small table beside her chair, her hands trembling slightly as she fumbled with the lighter. The familiar flickering flame offered her a brief distraction, a momentary escape from the heaviness that filled the room with shadows. As she took her first drag, a wave of warmth surged through her, teasing the edges of her anxiety. Yet it did little to lighten the weight pressing down upon her chest, a pressing reminder of the emotional tempest unfolding around them.

Elijah continued his relentless pacing, the soles of his shoes whispering against the polished floor, a rhythm that seemed to echo his troubled thoughts. Each step was a silent plea, a wrestling match with the unseen demons that haunted him. She studied him in contemplative silence, absorbing the way his jaw clenched tightly as if he were fighting a battle only he could perceive. It was this visible tension, radiating off him like heat from a fire, that weighed on her heart, amplifying her desire to reach out, to soothe and comfort, even as uncertainty lingered in the air around them. However, as she sat there, she found herself unable to find the words to say to her future son-in-law. Was simply being there with him in that moment, enough? Did this show him that he wasn’t facing these worries about his fiancée, alone?

After a few moments, Elijah stopped pacing,

“You know…before I became…who I am now,” he started, his voice shaky but determined, “I always wanted to try these things,” he added with a forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was clear to Grace that he was reminiscing about his life before he was Elijah, a time when he was still Eloise—a name that felt distant and foreign yet still bore the remnants of his past.

Grace is the only one within the house, aside from Ashleigh, who knows about the fact Elijah used to be female. Both he and Ashleigh had explained to her how he had always felt, how he had never truly felt female so had gone the same route as Ashleigh, her going from male to female and him going from female to male. And how he had always struggled with the expectations of his family.

“You’ll notice that none of the women in my family smoke cigars or even cigarettes,” he continued, his expression darkening as he contemplated the confines of his lineage, “just like none of them really have any standing in business or the likes… well aside from Pippa. But me, I always wanted to be more. I wanted—no, yearned—to be more like my uncle Alistair rather than anyone else,” he explained, his voice swelling with a mix of ambition and regret. Each word resonated with a longing for validation, an acknowledgement of all the uncharted paths he had desired to tread.

Grace sat there silently, her cigarette resting elegantly between her fingers, its ember glowing like a tiny beacon amidst the heavy atmosphere. She didn’t quite know the relevance of what Elijah was sharing, yet she felt honoured to bear witness to his truth. His vulnerability was a gift, a window into the complex tapestry of his identity, woven from threads of dreams, heartache, and resilience.

“Then…then I met Ashleigh…your daughter,” Elijah continued, his demeanour softening as a smile formed on his lips. It was a smile that spoke silently of his love for Ashleigh, a warmth that illuminated his features and chased some of the darkness away. “And…well…she gave me both the strength and opportunity to become who I am now.” His voice carried a rich tenderness, a deep sincerity that settled in the room like a comfortable blanket against the chill of uncertainty.

He paused then, taking a moment to himself as he brought the cigar to his lips, allowing the smoke to escape in languid curls that seemed to dance in the soft light.

“Elijah…you…you have helped make her who she is too,” said Grace, taking a drag of her cigarette, “I remember the troubled young man that they were. And you, you have helped bring out who she is, a strong, incredible young woman.”

“I think…what I’m trying to say…I…I don’t know what I would ever do without her,” Elijah replied, his gaze drifting toward the window.

“The two of you were made for each other,” stated Grace.

“I…I’m scared, Grace…in fact, I dare say I am terrified,” Elijah admitted, his voice trembling slightly as vulnerability seeped through the cracks of his bravado. “So many scenarios are running through my mind, and it’s overwhelming. What if… what if she has cheated on me once again?” His voice carried a tremor, laden with the weight of past betrayals that haunted him. “I don’t think… I don’t think I could simply move on this time,” he continued the desperation in his tone palpable.

“Oh Elijah, I’m almost certain that is not the case,” Grace replied, her eyes locking onto his with a fierce determination. She leaned forward slightly, wanting to impart some measure of reassurance. “She has told me on several occasions that she regrets what she did to you. I’m sure she would never hurt you in that way again.” Her words hung in the air, an invitation to hope, weaving a thread of possibility through the thick tapestry of their conversation. “I can see it, you know, the excitement in her eyes when she speaks of becoming your wife, of spending the rest of her life with you, of giving birth to your children that she is now carrying, you honestly make her feel like a princess,” Grace continued, her voice warm and steady as she spoke about Ashleigh.

“But then, this leads me to my other fears,” stated Elijah, “what…if…what if something bad has happened, what if she has had an accident of some kind …I…I need to know where she is and that she is okay,” he added. A tear slipped from his eye, tracing a solitary path down his cheek, betraying the raw vulnerability he felt at the thought of losing the love of his life. The emotion was genuine, a manifestation of the depths of his love for Ashleigh and the clenching dread that something could tear them apart. The world seemed to grow silent around them, enveloping them in the turmoil of Elijah’s fears.

Just then, the door to the conservatory opened and in walked Mrs Henry,

“Elijah,” she said, “we have visitors.”

His heart sank as his gaze fell to the watch on his wrist, a reminder that the evening had advanced far too quickly.

“Visitors? “ he repeated, “What type of visitors come at this hour?”

“Their names are Joanna and Robyn; they are friends of Ashleigh’s,” Mrs Henry informed him, her tone brisk but softening at the mention of Miss Ashleigh. “Shall I turn them away?” she inquired, noting the anxious tension that hung thick in the air between Grace and Elijah.

“Absolutely not, Mrs Henry,” stated Elijah, “Have them wait in the living room, I shall be through at once.”

Mrs Henry nodded in understanding before leaving the conservatory once more, the door closing softly behind her.

Elijah turned back to Grace, meeting her gaze once more. Her expression was a blend of worry and encouragement, an almost perfect mirror of the tumultuous feelings bubbling up within him. Without exchanging another word, he stubbed out his cigar, before he straightened out his suit jacket, smoothing down the fabric as if preparing for battle. With a final, deep breath, he stepped out of the conservatory, ready to face the uncertain tide of what awaited him beyond the door, a flickering hope igniting within him amidst the trepidation.