Page 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Mandy sat in her recliner, turning Kieran's pendant over and over.
Seven days. Seven days of simply… thinking. Jacinth's words replaying in her head: "What would your life look like if you could have it?"
The answer had crystallized slowly, like a photograph developing in solution. Each day had brought new clarity, new details to the vision. Not just her writing, or being a live mermaid - but the whole picture of what her life could become.
She'd spent so many years being practical, making the best of things, adapting to limitations. The idea of actually choosing something purely because it would bring joy felt almost rebellious.
"Okay," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "I think I'm ready." She took a deep breath, straightening in her chair. "At least ready to talk about it."
The pendant pulsed with warmth beneath her fingers as she prepared to summon Kieran.
Mandy touched the pendant, drawing comfort from its familiar warmth. "Kieran? I'd like to… to talk about my first wish. Though I'm not entirely sure it's something you can grant."
The air shimmered with that distinctive trace of magic as Kieran materialized in her living room.
" Sabah al-khayr , Kieran," Mandy said, relief flooding through her at his immediate response. "Thank you for coming so quickly." She twisted the pendant between her fingers, already second-guessing her decision to call him.
He returned her greeting with regal grace. " Sabah al-noor , Amanda." He settled into the armchair across from her.
"You wanted to discuss your wishes?" he prompted.
"Yes, I..." She paused, distracted by the way 'Amanda' sounded in his deep, resonant voice, making her name feel special, almost magical. She twisted the pendant between her fingers, using its familiar warmth to gather her thoughts. "I've been thinking about what Jacinth said. About what I truly want versus what I think I should wish for."
The words caught in her throat. How could she explain without sounding greedy? Here she was, given this incredible gift of three wishes, and instead of using them to help others or solve world problems, she was thinking about swimming pools and Spanish-style houses.
"I had an idea, but..." Mandy's voice trailed off as uncertainty gripped her. She stared down at her hands, unable to meet those ancient eyes. The pendant pulsed warmly against her fingers, almost like an encouragement, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her dreams were too self-indulgent, too focused on personal desires rather than greater good.
"Most wishes are possible," his deep voice carried that otherworldly resonance. "Though some require more... creative solutions than others."
Mandy opened her mouth to explain her wish, then closed it again as a completely different thought struck her. "You know, I've been meaning to ask - why do you often wear robes?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. One elegant eyebrow arched upward as he regarded her with mild surprise.
"I mean," she continued, unable to stop now that she'd started, "Jacinth wears jeans and t-shirts, but you've always worn robes or a tunic. Not that you don't look amazing," she added hastily. "But is it because you're a prince? Personal preference? Or some kind of magical requirement?"
Kieran shrugged one elegant shoulder. "It is the traditional garb of my people."
Mandy leaned forward in her recliner, fascinated by this glimpse into Djinn culture. Her back twinged at the movement, but she ignored it, too intrigued to care. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking, is there a reason you prefer the traditional style? Or is it like me with my organization systems? You know, how I alphabetize everything and keep all my spices in matching containers because it makes me feel more in control when everything else is chaos?"
Kieran held up one elegant hand, his eyes fixing her with that penetrating stare that made her feel like he could see straight through to her soul.
"You were going to tell me about your wish," he reminded her, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You mentioned you were going to ask if it was something that I could grant. And then..." he paused, those ancient eyes narrowing slightly. "You rather skillfully attempted to distract me."
A laugh bubbled up from Mandy's chest, genuine amusement lighting her features. "It's a gift," she said. "Though sometimes it feels more like a curse, to be honest." She grinned, warming to the topic. "But I actually like it - being able to lead conversations away from uncomfortable topics. It comes in handy more often than you'd think."
Kieran's elegant brows drew together, confusion replacing his usual austere expression. "You make no sense," he said, his deep voice carrying a note of puzzlement that made him sound almost human.
"It's the ADHD - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder," she explained. "It means my brain works differently than most people's."
Mandy shifted in her chair as she searched for the right words. "My thoughts jump around, moving from one subject to another really quickly. Like when we were talking about wishes a few days ago, and that made me think of my spreadsheet, which reminded me of organizing things, which led to languages, which made me think of The Lord of the Rings..." She paused for breath. "And then suddenly we're planning a movie marathon, and you're horrified about fantasy fiction, and Jacinth's popping in and out..."
The pendant pulsed warmly as she met Kieran's silvery-blue eyes. "It all makes perfect sense to me - I can follow the connections, see how each thought leads to the next. But other people..." She chuckled softly. "Well, they often have trouble keeping up with the jumps. It probably seems random and scattered to them. Sometimes it's like having multiple browser tabs open in my brain, all playing different songs at the same time. And they're all interesting songs, so I want to listen to all of them at once."
Kieran's piercing gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He remained silent for a long moment, those ancient eyes studying her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"I see," he finally said, his deep voice carrying a note of understanding that surprised her. "Now, why don't you tell me what it is that you think you cannot have?"
Oops. She'd done it again. Mandy blushed, her cheeks coloring, but she gathered her thoughts, and took a deep breath.
"There are so many possibilities, and all of them faithfully in my spreadsheet. But, any life I would look forward to, every wish I might have, would involve being free of this pain," she said simply.
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
"The pain..." She paused, struggling to articulate the constant companion that had shaped her life for so long. "It doesn't only affect me physically. It never, ever lets up, so it... it eats at me. It undermines my determination to stay cheerful and optimistic. It affects my moods, wearing me down at times." Her voice cracked slightly. "There's quite literally no part of my life that being in constant pain doesn't touch in some way. Trying to cope with it has become the single most important element of my life for the last thirty years. Everything else revolves around managing the pain, working around it, trying to function despite it."
Mandy met Kieran's steady gaze, letting her carefully maintained facade crack just enough to reveal the depth of her longing. "There's almost nothing I wouldn't give to not always be hurting."
Kieran's austere features softened almost imperceptibly. "This is a wish I can easily grant," his deep voice rumbled through her living room.
Mandy stared at Kieran, her heart pounding against her ribs as his words sank in. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. Mozart jumped into her lap and began to purr, the sound vibrating through her lap as she struggled to find her voice.
"You..." She swallowed hard, her throat tight with sudden emotion. "You can fix my back?"
Those silvery-blue eyes fixed on her with that strange intensity. "Yes."
"And... and my knees?" The words came out in a breathless rush. Hope, dangerous and wild, fluttered in her chest.
"Yes. And anything else."
"Well, actually, aside from my back and knees, I'm incredibly healthy." A small smile tugged at her lips. "Which is kind of amazing, considering my age and weight. No high blood pressure, no cholesterol problems. My heart's in great shape." Pride crept into her voice as she added, "I even sailed through all my COVID vaccinations and boosters without a single side effect. I didn't even get a sore arm where I got the shot."
"And I rarely get sick - maybe a cold every couple of years, if that. My immune system is rock solid." She chuckled softly. "My doctor actually commented on it during my last physical. Even my bone density is perfectly fine, which surprised her, and me too… again, given my age and sedentary lifestyle."
The smile faded from her face as she shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. "But the back and knees… well, I've told you about that already." She couldn't stop the frustration that crept into her voice. "I haven't been able to sleep all night for years, because I can't find a position that doesn't hurt."
A wry grimace tugged at her lips. "It's like they hate me, my back and knees, and they like to join forces against me. "I'm not complaining," she added hastily. "Really, I'm not. It's just... that's how it is. A fact of my life."
Kieran's silvery-blue eyes gleamed with certainty. "This would be easy enough for any Djinn to grant, even those without a talent for healing."
Mandy's mouth opened, but he held up one elegant hand.
"Yes, we do have healers. All Djinn have special skills in various areas." His deep voice carried the patient tone of someone used to explaining complex concepts. "Life- threatening illness, such as cancer, or dementia - those would be considerably more difficult."
"Not that such things couldn't be healed, but it would be difficult magic." He straightened in his chair, his imposing presence filling her small living room. "But manipulating the bones and joints magically..."
He paused, those ancient eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for words. Mandy watched in fascination as the powerful Djinn prince struggled to find a comparison she would understand.
"You're of the generation that understands computers."
"Absolutely," Mandy replied, not sure if he was making a statement or asking questions. She wondered where this was going.
"When something goes wrong with the computer," Kieran continued, "it can be set back to a point in the past. I believe it is called a... restore point?"
The last words lifted in question, seeking confirmation. Mandy nodded, wondering where he was going with this.
"What the Djinn magic would do," Kieran explained, his elegant hands sketching shapes in the air, "would be similar to resetting your body to a healthy restore point."
Mandy absorbed his words, her heart skipping a beat as understanding dawned. Her vision blurred slightly as tears threatened, and she blinked them back furiously.
"You mean like, before the stenosis and the arthritis set in?" Hope bloomed, wild and dangerous in her chest.
"Yes, exactly." Kieran's deep voice rumbled through her living room.
"But..." Mandy swallowed hard, struggling to contain the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I was only in my thirties. That's a long time ago - over three decades."
Kieran's elegant shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug, as if three decades were nothing more than the blink of an eye. Given his age, Mandy supposed they probably were.
"As with the computer, a reset is a reset," he said, his deep voice carrying absolute certainty. "And magic is magic. The magic doesn't care when the restore point is, as long as the wielder..." He paused, those ancient eyes gleaming. "The Djinn... identifies the right time."
Mandy studied his face before dropping her eyes to the coffee table, her mind spinning. He could make it all go away, just like that - with a wish. Her mother's favorite saying echoed in her memory: "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."
Yet this was different. Kieran wasn't some fairy tale - he was an actual Djinn with genuine powers. That was undeniable, however crazy it seemed. And according to him, his supernatural abilities could erase her constant battle with pain.
The weight of hope pressed against her chest until she could barely breathe. She'd learned to live without hope over the years - hope was dangerous. Having hope led to despair.
But Kieran was offering more than simple hope.
No more pain. The words echoed in her head, but their meaning remained elusive, like trying to grasp smoke. Her entire existence had been shaped by pain management for so long that imagining life without it felt impossible.
This conversation about healing her back and knees had sparked something else - a deeper fear she'd been avoiding all her life. She needed to discuss it with him, but the very thought made her palms sweat.
Mozart butted his head against her hand, demanding attention. She stroked his soft fur absently, grateful for the distraction as she gathered her courage.
"Kieran?" Her voice came out softer than intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. "There's... there's something else I wanted to ask you about." She added hastily, "Not about this wish we were just discussing. Something different."
Those ancient eyes fixed on her with the intensity that still made her skin prickle. He remained silent, waiting.
Mandy shifted in her recliner, wincing as her back protested the movement. "I mean, if you don't mind. It's... well, it's kind of complicated."
"Talk to me." His deep voice carried neither encouragement nor discouragement, just that same patient neutrality she'd come to associate with him.
“The thing is… I’m afraid of dying,” She blurted her deepest fear without preamble, then paused as she tried to clarify her thoughts. The concept of mortality itself wasn't what troubled her - she understood its inevitability, its universal nature. No, what sent chills through her was the possibility of a drawn-out departure, the slow march of terminal illness. The prospect of watching her own demise approach, step by measured step. Her throat constricted at the admission, prompting her to take a long sip of tea before gathering herself to say more.
Mandy's handstrembled slightly as she wrapped them around the small glass, drawing comfort from its familiar warmth. "It's not death itself that scares me," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, it's not about dying. I know I'll die, everyone does. But for me, I have this awful fear of knowing it coming. Cancer, leukemia - those kinds of diagnoses where you know what's ahead."
"The thought of lying in a hospital bed, watching the clock tick down..." She shuddered, unable to suppress the visceral reaction. "Or just as bad, being at home with hospice care, marking off each day, knowing what's coming but being helpless to stop it."
The tea's warmth spread through her chest, helping to steady her voice. "I've seen it happen to friends, to family members. That slow decline, the way they changed as the disease progressed." Her fingers found the pendant's comforting patterns. "The waiting. The knowing. That's what terrifies me."
Mandy's fingers traced the pendant's warmth as memories of those early years washed over her. "Those first years after becoming disabled..." She swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "They were horrific. Emotionally, I mean. All I could think about were the things I'd never do again. And not just the things I used to do - hiking, dancing, traveling. It was also everything I'd ever dreamed of doing but hadn't gotten around to yet."
She let out a hollow laugh that caught in her throat. "Even things I never actually wanted to do suddenly became these huge regrets. Like skydiving or parasailing." Her eyes twinkled suddenly as she shook her head. "Not that I would have done those things anyway - I'm terrified of heights! But just knowing I couldn't... it ate at me."
"Looking back on those days now..." She paused, her voice dropping to barely above a murmur. "Sometimes I think I wasn't entirely sane. The grief, the anger, the despair - everything I'd lost, everything I could never do... it consumed me."
Mozart headbutted her hand, demanding attention. She scratched behind his ears absently, lost in the memories of that dark time. "I'd lie awake at night making lists in my head - all the places I'd never see, all the experiences I'd never have." She winced, "Kind of like that Rihanna song, Roulette. Which is so awful, I can't listen to it, because it triggers me."
Mandy shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "And that was just from being disabled," she whispered. "Just from losing mobility and having to adapt to limitations. I can't even imagine what it would be like to know..." Her voice cracked, and she had to take a deep breath before continuing. "To know I had a specific amount of time left. Six months. A year. However long."
"I don't want to imagine what would be happening inside my head, knowing there was a countdown." The words came out in a rush, as if speaking them quickly would make them less real. "Watching the calendar, marking off days, knowing each one brings me closer to..."
"The waiting would destroy me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Watching it approach, day by day, hour by hour." Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted them to brush back a stray lock of hair. "I don't think I could handle that kind of... anticipation."
She shivered involuntarily. "Plus there's the matter of my kitties. I don't have any real-life friends, only online ones. Who would notice if I died? It might take forever before someone discovered me, and by then..." She swallowed hard. "My poor cats. The thought haunts my dreams. I have these awful nightmares where I suddenly remember my cats in some hidden place, forgotten for so long. I rush there in panic to find them barely hanging on, and though I save them at the last second..."
She broke off, one hand covering her mouth as she blinked back tears, her heart racing with remembered horror.
"I wake up crying, hating myself for forgetting them, for starving them. Even though I know it's just a dream, it feels real. The emotions stay with me for days. I feel like I'm going mad because I know it's not real, but..." She touched the pendant, seeking comfort. "Understanding it comes from my fear of dying alone, of no one finding them - that logical explanation doesn't stop the nightmares from overwhelming me."
Kieran's expression was thoughtful. "So your wish - if you decided to make one for this - would be a guarantee that when death comes, you won't know it's happening. And that someone would find both you and your cats right away, ensuring they'd end up at a shelter where new families could take them in."
"Yes," Mandy breathed with relief. "You do understand."
"I can ease your concerns about one thing." His lips twitched in that familiar way - not quite a full smile, which she'd realized was typical for him. "And it won't cost you a wish. You've earned a place in Jacinth's heart as something like family. There's no scenario where you could pass away without her knowing almost right away. And knowing her nature, she'd never let your cats end up in a shelter or rescue organization. She'd either welcome them into her own home or ensure they went to someone she deeply trusts. That's simply the kind of person Jacinth is."
"I can't thank you enough," Mandy whispered with heartfelt gratitude. "You have no idea what a weight you've lifted from my shoulders."