I stared at my reflection, not a pleasant sight, I knew. Granted I had blonde hair and blue eyes, supposedly striking features, but it was really not. Even when I didn't have cancer, I wasn't considered pretty, maybe average or little above average [depending on how I dressed] because my eyebrows were light, my forehead a little wide and the tip of my nose so sharp that it could be used as a weapon to stab people. Now add cancer to this entire mixture of absurd genes, didn't fit, right? Definitely not.
I had no complaint about my eyes because they were fine, but over the years of battling cancer, my eyes definitely lost its sparkle. I had scanty eyelashes and a bit of hair on my head which barely reached to my neck [much better than when I was bald and roamed around with a queer wig on my head] and I had certainly gotten thin in all parts of my body, except my cheeks.
My chubby cheeks made my face look rounder and my nose sharper than ever. I had become so pale with no presence of the rosy colour in my cheeks or even blood circulation in my face and my entire body. The common symptoms of sleep deprivation [although I did sleep properly] were clearly and permanently present on my face like huge bags underneath my eyes. When I got used to being less attractive than before, it was fine, because most of us in my position would focus on staying healthy rather than looking pretty even though one of the reasons for depression after getting cancer in any normal teenager was because of change in appearance.
I applied a little blush to make myself look healthier and twirled around to see the pastel, pink dress swish against my thighs. I pulled up the square neckline of the dress in a foolish attempt to hide my protruding collarbones. The sleeveless dress was plain and it reached just above my knees as it was actually bought for my bit conservative mum who never wore dresses shorter than her knees. I pinned a white flower brooch just above my left breast and wore small pearl earrings.
I entered the kitchen when I could smell Nutella crêpe cooking and saw my mum standing by the stove. "Maa, it's five-thirty in the morning. A glass of milk or cereals would have been just fine, you needn't wake up this early to cook for me. I'll be fine."
"Exactly, it's five-thirty in the morning and you shouldn't get up so early to work at that shop. You would exert yourself, I have to talk to your grandpa about this," she said sternly and flipped the crêpe on the pan. "By the way, that dress looks good on you. Why don't you wear that silver necklace we got?"
"No, I don't want to look overdressed and maa, please don't talk to grandpa about my work hours. It's my choice and I want to do this, I really want to." I took the plate from her and added a dollop of whipped cream over the crêpe coated with Nutella. "And thanks for this."
"No problem," she muttered with a small smile, wiping the beads of sweat formed over her forehead with the back of her sleeve.
I sat by the table right outside the kitchen and dug in the delicious food. When I had almost finished with it and taken my medicines and painkillers, mum came running outside with another crêpe and it took me a lot of time to convince her in not eating another one because it became too sweet and heavy. I almost felt like puking it all out. I dashed outside before she could make more fuss over me and I heard her call, "You can take the car, no need to tire yourself by riding your cycle."
"It's okay maa, there's no parking there. Besides, you know how reckless my driving can be," I said with a laugh and quickly dragged my bicycle to sit on it. I carefully tucked the hem of my dress underneath my butt so it wouldn't fly while pedalling and started moving towards the shop. While I was nearing the shop, I noticed Logan with his backpack dangling crookedly on one arm, lumbering ahead.
"Hey, want a ride?" I asked, breathed deeply and he turned around. It was like I had caught him in a daze because he stared at me for a few seconds before tearing his gaze away from me and looking ahead. I patted the backseat and asked again, "Want to sit?"
He just shook his head and continued walking forward without sparing a glance at me. I huffed and got down from my own bicycle, to sidle beside him. He didn't say anything as we quietly walked together and arrived at the shop.
I locked the cycle on the pole outside and Logan just stood beside me since the keys of the shop were with me and my grandpa hadn't arrived yet.
"Yesterday, grandpa had mentioned it to me that there are flowers in the storage room. We need to put those in the truck and drive to the church," I informed Logan while unlocking the shop and headed straight towards the storage room. I grabbed two big bags filled with flowers and thrust it against his chest. "Carry these to the truck and come back, there's more."
He peeked at me from above the bags as if he was waiting for me to pick another two bags and carry them myself, doing my fair share of work. However, I felt tired and a tad lazy so I did no such thing and stretched my body. "You know, I become breathless if I carry this much weight---"
He didn't let me finish my sentence. He scoffed and went outside with the bags, grumbling something I couldn't comprehend. I watched him move in his grey, full-sleeved shirt paired with black jeans which were neat, but his blue sneakers looked scruffy and faded. He clearly didn't have much money and I wondered what his family was doing.
Logan loaded the flowers in the truck and I gingerly drove us to the church, praying that although Logan didn't want to live and I was dying anyway, there shouldn't be any accident because at least, the truck was in a good shape and shouldn't be wrecked.
We hadn't talked the entire way because I was too concentrated on driving and Logan was just being Logan, not uttering a single word.
The ice cream coloured houses near the ocean passed by as quickly as cotton candy melts in the mouth and the more practical coloured, average-sized houses came into view. Our small, coastal town's houses differed with location- in the lanes, they were any normal, suburban house (one in which where I lived) and the sea-facing, ice-cream coloured, modern houses were occupied by the rich investors. Palm trees lined the coastal beaches with an extensive promenade. The imposing church where we were heading stood in the middle of our town, holding the very roots of our settlement- the rich, the poor and everyone hanging in between. Behind the church was the bustling market- one like China town where we could find anything discounted from utensils to cheap food. There was where Logan lived he said, in one of the insalubrious, economical apartments.
When we arrived at the church, I helped Logan unload the flowers because time was running out. The wedding planners and helpers were already scattered across the place to put up the decorations. There was this decent-sized ground which was a two-minute walk from the church and was used as a place to be booked for eating and dancing during weddings and auspicious occasions.
"JJ!" I heard a shrill voice and I whirled around.
"Oh, Liz, how are you?" I asked feigning enthusiasm as Eliza engulfed me into a hug.
"Sick, just like you," she mumbled against my shoulder and I pulled away.
Eliza and I were cancer buddies (if I could say that) and we obviously met in the cancer support group where kids were forced to attend sessions because of their psychologists or simply parents, mine being the constant insistence of both.
"Look at you Liz, you look beautiful!" I exclaimed, trying my best to be cheerful and her gloomy eyes seemed to light up only the slightest.
"Thanks," she said half-heartedly and then forced a smile. "We're running short on staff, JJ, and my sister's going mad. She got pre-wedding nervous diarrhoea and is locked in her bathroom. If she'll get to know that everything is not arranged yet, she'll surely faint."
"I can help," I said impulsively- out of mere kindness and my gaze flickered towards Logan who was leaning against the truck with his hands shoved in his pockets, waiting for me. "I'll ask him to help too, he's a new worker at the shop. I'm sure he won't mind and grandpa can look after the shop while we're here."
"Really? That's awesome, thank you!" Eliza beamed at me and rushed to the wedding planners, her gown billowing around her.
Eliza was diagnosed with cancer over six months ago and before that, she was really pretty. She had long chestnut brown hair which reached till her waist and had curls in the end which bounced whenever she walked gracefully. Thick eyebrows, slender nose and plump lips with a glistening tan that made her look like some magnificent goddess under the luminous sun. She was pretty now too, but significantly less. Her face was now caked with makeup to mask all those signs of weakness evident on her face and she wore different styled wigs to cover her shaved head. I was never pretty so I had nothing much to lose in the appearance department, but for her, she had lost everything.
She was really proud of the way she looked, creating this aura of confidence around her. Now that barrier was shattered completely and she became an empty shell, losing all her self-confidence at once. That was why whenever people crossed her path, they dropped little compliments on the efforts she put in, whether it was a new dress she wore or a new wig to which she forcibly responded with a polite smile or a nod.
I stalked towards Logan and said, "Listen, we need to help them and arrange flowers on the tables and walls. I'll tell grandpa that you're here helping with this stuff, is it okay?"
He muttered something under his breath so I asked again, "Is it okay?"
"Yeah," he said through gritted teeth and started opening the bags containing the flowers. I took them to the wedding planners who guided me with the decoration. I started placing wreaths of flowers on the tables with scented candles in between them when an extremely strong cologne smell wafted in the air among the sweet fragrance of the flowers. I looked up and saw Jamal standing with a flower crown over his head and a cheeky grin.
"What are you doing here this early? And what's that smell, did you empty an entire cologne bottle?" I questioned and wrinkled my nose up in disgust. "And what's that flower crown doing on your head?"
"Eliza girl called me for extra help so I came, but you don't know shit about this cologne. It's supposed to attract girls, but look you're a bitch so it won't work on you, sorry sweetheart," he remarked with a sickening smile and I rolled my eyes. He then adjusted the flower crown and batted his eyelashes. "And these flowers make me look gorgeous, isn't it unfair that pretty things only belong to girls?"
"When did you start liking pretty things?"
"Ever since I laid my eyes on that dude," Jamal said playfully and winked at Logan who was watching us, but quickly averted his focus to the flowers in his hand. "He's one handsome fellow, don't you think?"
"He's that boy, Jamie, the one I prevented from jumping over the bridge. Now he's working at the shop," I whispered surreptitiously and his eyes widened. "By the way, when did you start showing interest in dudes?"
"Ever since I laid my eyes on that dude," he repeated and I laughed. "Let me go and show my moves."
"Good luck," I mused in as he strutted towards Logan, deliberately sashaying his hips to make me giggle. Logan was concentrated in glueing the colourful garlands across the pillars. The moment Jamal was close to Logan, Logan started coughing rapidly because of Jamal's excessive cologne and I burst out laughing.
Jamal stomped towards me in frustration and pointed out, "It's supposed to attract girls, not mutts like him and bitches like you."
"Okay, okay, now help me with these, will you?"