He sat on a lightly padded chair still as wood. Hidden beneath the leather, his toe tapped arrhythmically on its own accord. Palms down on his trousered knees, tracing the soft ridges of the fibres. He dropped his shoulders as far as he could.
“How are you feeling? Are you ready?”
“Yes. Well, I have to.”
She laughed at that, her voice amplified by the cavity of her mouth giving her a rich timbre.
“It will be fine.”
She moved across the room in efficient steps. The soles of her slippers met the floor in small regular taps. He focused on her rhythm, bringing his heart beat to her strides.
She opened a bottle, and rested it on an aluminium tray along with the other instruments she’d prepared. She brought the tray to him, putting it on the table beside his chair. Next, she flipped a few switches at the end of the room.
She sat on a wheeled stool and slid closer to stop in front of him. Her breath caressed his face as she moved in front of him. He could feel it quickened slightly, perhaps she was not as calm as he thought she was. She stood up.
“Okay. Don’t move for a bit, alright?”
He hmmed his assent as her fingertips brushed his hair. The scissors were cooler still on his scalp as she cut away the gauze. She unwrapped the gauze carefully, and in its place filled the air conditioning breeze.
She touched the skin of his face slowly, his temples, his eyelids, testing.
“Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“Good. Alright. I’ve dimmed the lights. Let’s do this.” She took something from the tray beside him. “Open your eyes slowly, just take your time. If it gets too much close it again.”
He did as he was told.
Light.
More lights.
Not just heard, but also seen… lights.
Dark.
Lights.
It hurts, but he was past caring.
Dots, circles, lights.
Eventually… when it was clearer, he gasped. At that, he gasped again.
“Is that?”
“Uh-uh. That’s you.”
He watched the face move as he moved, as he smiled, as he opened his jaw, as he looked into his mouth, and most of all as his eyes moved. A dark colour it was, whatever colour that is.
“I thought you’d want to see yourself first, most people would probably have their families around them. But since you chose to be alone….
“It will take some getting used to. But you’ll be fine. The transplant was a success, otherwise you won’t be looking at yourself like that. There’s a lot of information to process in your brain, you’d probably tire very soon. Don’t force yourself, they’re not going anywhere.”
“Some getting used to. Tell me about it.” He traveled his gaze up from the hands that held the mirror to the curves of her fingers, her figure, to the face.
Her lines, her ridges, the spots, the bent curve of her nose, the smile? He heard her smile, so that was what her smile look like. How… fitting. That familiar sound, that new dimension.
Her eyes, and how the light moved on it. What is that? He compared them to his eyes that don’t have that quality and effect. He watched at what he could only describe as how he imagined water and waves would look. Angelic, that’s what that must be like.
“I may be fifty. But you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed and this time he could witness that resonance himself. “Well! I haven’t had many people tell me that and even fewer who’re not after something of mine, you might be the only one telling the truth. Though maybe not for long. Not for long at all…” She turned her head side to side without taking her eyes off his. Her hair followed like wings around her face.
“I doubt that.”
Thanks Efe Nakpodia for the challenge to write about Beauty.
