Diary / Like Every Day
Dear Diary,
Today was a really fun day! I met up with some friends after school and we went to the mall. We spent the afternoon walking around, trying on clothes and checking out the latest trends. It was so much fun to catch up with my friends and just relax and enjoy ourselves.
After the mall, I came home and started on my homework. I was almost done when I heard Daniel on the phone in the other room. He sounded worried, and I could tell he was talking to his bank. Or the insurance company, maybe. They’re supposed to be helping us, but they never make it easy for him. He tells me I should be happy that we have enough to eat, and I know that I’m never short of anything I really need. I’ve got a better life than so many of my friends, if I think about it, but I worry about how hard Daniel works. And he never seems to buy any luxuries for himself, what’s with that? I wonder what he’s worrying about now, but I’m sure if I asked I’d wish I hadn’t.
Once I finish my homework, I’m just going to relax some before bed. I’m tired from a long day of shopping and homework, but I had a lot of fun.
Goodnight, diary.
Dear Diary,
Today was a really fun day! I met up with some friends and we went to the arcade. We spent the afternoon playing all sorts of games, from classic arcade games to the latest virtual reality experiences. It was so much fun to just let loose and have a good time. I can’t believe how
I even tried to talk to Ben today, but I was too embarrassed to say anything. I just ended up blushing and walking away. I played against him on one of the two-player cabinets, and he surprised me by how good he is. But I couldn’t even bring myself to say ‘well done’ without choking. Maybe next time.
After the arcade, I came home and found Daniel looking very nervous. I asked him what was wrong, and he couldn’t tell me much. I worry about him sometimes. It’s clear he loves me, but sometimes it seems like he doesn’t trust me to help him. Like I’m still a little kid, and he’s got to look after me. I pushed him; said that I’m almost out of high school now, and I’ll be able to help him around the house soon enough. Finances will be our responsibility, and not just his. But he didn’t want to talk.
I got the feeling he might have opened up. He said a few things, hinting rather than saying what he really meant. Like he’s trying to talk to a kid about adult stuff and doesn’t want to scare me. It was like he was talking in code, the way he approached every topic sidelong and never really said what he meant. But as we went further, he hinted a few times about treatment; and then I thought I really don’t want to know. There are some things I never thought would intrude on our life, things I wish had never existed, and as soon as I heard that word I started regretting that I’d pushed him. There’s a part of me that wants to start writing about the Treatment™ again now, yet another version of the same rant I’ve written a dozen times. But I know the doctors said it’s better if I don’t dwell on it. I need to stop thinking about the things that scare me, and focus on things I can actually do something about.
Whatever had brought it to his mind, I knew that he must want to forget it. But some thoughts are too intrusive. Some trauma can’t be easily dismissed. If something reminded him, he must have been trying to forget about it all day. And then he didn’t want to tell me, because he didn’t want me to feel the same. I should have trusted that Daniel knows what’s best. As hard as I try, he’s always been the mature one.
I made excuses to go to my room. Probably something about homework. I did the work, it was easy enough, then I spent some time relaxing. I’m tired from a long day at school and then the arcade, but I had a lot of fun. I just wished I hadn’t had to spoil it by asking questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.
Goodnight, diary.
Dear Diary,
All the boys were staring at Merida Smitty at school today. Everybody wanted to talk to her too. Some of them probably thought she’s cute, and some were just curious. I ended up crying, but it’s not her fault. It just brought back the memories. The same ones as always.
It’s amazing how widespread the Treatment™ is now. To me it feels terrifying, but I have to keep telling myself that it’s amazing instead. Because even if I can’t see it, it’s true. It’s not a revolutionary medical miracle anymore. It’s something a kid from a rich family can use if she decides she wants to have ginger hair, pale skin, and freckles. It could just as easily be used to change the colour of your eyes, or even make you a bit taller. Or shorter. Or make any weight you gain go straight to your chest. Retrochondial recoding means that you can have your DNA changed by a cluster of injections, and then sit in a machine for an hour while your body is rebuilt according to the new template. Ten years ago, it was impossible. Now it’s everyday.
Eight years ago, it still sounded impossible. Most people didn’t believe the promises that the scientists were making on the news. But it was real. Dad was one of the people who believed that, because he used the same cafeteria as the people who were making it happen. The guys who had raised the rabbits for the animal testing, and then the nurses who checked on the first human subjects to make sure they were still healthy. Some of their enthusiasm had to rub off on him.
Dad didn’t want the treatment. He knew how much effort was going into making it safe, but cosmetic changes just didn’t interest him. Mum didn’t follow the news, and she didn’t care about medical breakthroughs that would only be available to the very rich. She would probably have just accepted it now, when people you’d known your whole life would suddenly look different one day. Sometimes I wonder what Dad would have thought if he’d been around to see how much the enthusiastic rabbit guys’ research had become a part of everyday life.
Dad never had anything to do with the research. He was sweeping the floor in a corridor next to the treatment room when the machine overheated. Mum wasn’t even supposed to be in the building; she had only come in to bring him his packed lunch after they picked up the wrong bags rushing out of the house that morning.
So now it’s just me and Daniel. And it still hurts. My brother raised me, pretty much, and he did everything right. He made every sacrifice to make sure I was comfortable, and worked through high school when the compensation payments weren’t enough to support both of us. If money was ever short, I didn’t notice because it was him who went without. I didn’t know at the time, but looking back I know how much he sacrificed for me. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure he is happy, too.
Sure, our life is pretty good now. Daniel got a reliable job when he finished high school, and money isn’t a worry anymore. I couldn’t afford the same clothes as Merida, or that kind of stuff, but I have what I need. And I tell myself it’s all good.
But it only takes a mention of the Treatment™ to bring all the memories back, and leave me in tears.
I just hope that in the future, I can learn to see that technology in a better light, and stop associating it with one unlucky accident. Maybe writing everything out has helped me process it, because I feel calmer now.
Thank you, diary. My confidante. And good night.
– Laura
