Kris Cook - A Perfect World

Seana’s maternal clock vexed me with each tick tock. If it had been audible, it would’ve also disturbed the other passengers. The little voice in my head kept shouting that this was my last chance to help her before our hopes would be silenced forever. I knew that the long shot at the end of this trip had less of a chance of working out than a snow cone in hell.

Fuck!

I turned toward her. As always, she looked perfect. Her blonde locks hit her soft shoulders like sunlit waterfalls. Dressed to the nines in an outfit that flattered her amazing figure, she seemed ready to face anything. Yet, her hand wringing and constant sighing revealed the storm brewing beneath the untainted facade. The more she fidgeted, the more it drove me insane… and we still had forty-five minutes left until we landed, not that it really mattered anymore.

She asked me for the millionth and one time what I thought he would say.

“I don’t know,” I stated, giving my same answer and readying for the long pointless discussion to follow.

Seana glared at me with her hazel eyes, daring me to add anything further.

Knowing this signal all too well and happy not to reawaken another debate, I remained mute and rested my eyes on a warm, unspoiled beach. I scanned the holographic image and the accompanying words floating next to it about numerous vacation destinations. Our coach tickets afforded us this level of surfing, but they didn’t allow us access to sound, smell, or any other deeper simming. But for a lofty fee, even the lowly coach traveler could upgrade in transit. I wished the Caribbean or some other island was our final destination instead of Dallas. Maybe next year, I thought. But I knew better.

“Don’t give me that, Gregory Michael.” Her tone delivered a sting. I hated when she called me that, like I was the densest person in the world and it was her duty to scold me.

“Give you what?” I asked innocently.

It was the verbal dance we’d created over eight years of marriage. One. Two. Three. A shower of expletives from that beautiful mouth. One. Two. Three. A genuine apology. One. Two. Three. The waltz would finish in a final dip and a kiss, followed by wonderful make-up sex.

Seana began to mouth an answer that I suspected might make several jaws drop, but she stopped suddenly and only shook her head. She seemed like she was about to cry, and my gut clenched. I grabbed her hand, and she squeezed back.

Public tears were evaded. I was glad. She didn’t like to show any vulnerability, even to me. I was certain that I was the only one who had ever seen her shed a tear, and then only once when her employment review came in with only a Meets Expectations.

“Greg, I’m sure it seems ludicrous to you, but we just have to convince him.”

“I know, sweetheart.” And I did.

Her urgency and despair had grown well beyond my capacity to share. Yet, I had caught some of the fervor when her mother’s grandfather had died in a diving accident seven months ago. I had thought our dream might actually happen and let myself imagine what it would be like to have a baby in our house. Unfortunately, his new wife’s nephew got everything, including what we wanted.

“But you’ve seen William’s Vid; you know about his life. How are we going to do it?” The panic in her voice was heartbreaking. Rather than make any suggestions, I put my arm around her. She leaned in to me and closed her eyes.

“Request for sim,” I ordered. Instantly the beach and the article disappeared replaced by the familiar authorization prompt.

“Gregory Michael Links, seven-three-six-beta-Missouri,” I confirmed. After the ident-scan, several selections appeared.

“Waves and gulls, first level, seats thirty-seven A and thirty-seven B.” The computer complied, adding the desired birds and sounds created to relax the unseasoned traveler. I worried that the cost would be much higher since it was added to our tickets and not pre-ordered, but then let the thought go. Even if we had to break into our tiny savings account, so be it. Seana needed to be distracted. Hell, so did I.

None of our relatives had consented to help us start our family. We’d even asked our parents but got the answer we expected since they were only in their seventies, except my dad who was eighty-two. Both our mothers were very understanding as they’d gone through the same ordeal, though not to the late age limit like Seana. But neither would agree to it.

When we got married, Seana told me she didn’t want a baby. I should’ve known better. When we were dating, every chance she got to be around any child, she took it.

Seana sat up and dug in her purse, pulling out the Vid of Anthony. I pretended not to notice. She activated it, and a miniature of Rick and Shelia’s beautiful baby boy sat in her hand, smiling. The image was from his first birthday party. I remembered the crowd of fifty-two couples and seventeen singles. It was the event of the year in our neighborhood. Shelia’s great-grandmother had been struck by lightning over a year earlier. She and Rick had been so lucky.

“We’ll be landing in Dallas in fifteen minutes,” a voice announced and continued with other information and instructions. Passengers followed the mandates of the attendants and brought their seats to the upright position in the customary shuffling.

Seana visibly tensed.

William, whose late wife was a distant relative of mine, would be waiting at the baggage claim for us. I didn’t remember ever meeting him, though my mother thought he’d come to my high school graduation. Still, I had the Vid of him, so I knew what he looked like. Chasing the elusive rainbow had been hell for Seana and me. I was out of family members. William was the end of my prospects for Seana, no matter what the outcome.

The bumpy landing briefly pulled me from my thoughts, but my nerves were already shot.

I wondered how Seana would react if he didn’t agree to it? I realized this could be the end of us, too. Would she try to find someone with more potential to give her the child she desired so much, even if she only had eleven months for the attempt? As much as it pained me, I believed she would.

As we disembarked, Seana motioned that she was going to the ladies room to freshen up. I nodded. Her normally perfect hair needed a bit of attention but that was all. Everything else about her was flawless. I looked around at the crowd, and, per our DNA-corrected world, saw only attractive women. Still, Seana had a slight edge on all of them.

“We would have such a beautiful child,” I said aloud to the air.

All the forms were completed and approved. Only one thing was left to get. But would William give it to us?

Over the past three years, we’d tried to acquire what we needed from anyone we could think of. We even attempted to purchase an accidental death, but the average month only produced about thirteen hundred worldwide. And only two to three of those went on the open market. Every time we would bid, they were snatched up at prices far beyond our reach. It had to come from a family member and, though not a blood relative, William was my last hope.

From the ladies room, Seana emerged looking stunning. Her white leather pants and black silk top only added to her awesome presence. We were ready to meet him; I hoped it was enough.

I saw William before he saw us.

He was talking to a gorgeous woman, who was understandably captivated by him. I’ve been called a nine point eight-two, even a ten once or twice-but William? He busted the ten-scale wide open. He wore his dark, wavy locks long. His eyes sparkled with the deepest blue, and his shoulders were Olympian in breadth. He wore gym shorts and a tank top, I assumed to better show off his muscular physique, which was matchless. The baggage claim was his to rule as most eyes were on him. I saw why he still modeled for major advertising firms. There was no need to digital-brush him. His smile reached across the room and found us. In the world of perfection, he was the quintessence.