The Missing One

Mention of blood, gore, death, drugs, mild reference to sex.

Veronica's tear-stained face told a tale as she stared out the Women's Hospital window. She looked at her distended tummy. Nine long months to finally see her little Fleur, and now her arms were empty. Fleur had breathed for a minute and then died in her arms after the elective C-section. She couldn't be resuscitated. Veronica refused to let them take Fleur away, but after holding her for a day and a half, her husband Gerrard convinced her to let her go, to move on. Move on with what? All her dreams for her daughter are gone.

Fleur had an inoperable heart defect. Not congenital, so Veronica could feel safe having another child. They accepted Fleur had a heart murmur. They were mentally prepared for the possibility of surgery and understood the necessity of a stress-free caesarean delivery. Fleur dying hadn't been imagined. An inconceivable tragedy. Veronica's poor molecularized heart had melded into a lump of obsidian, which weighed heavy.

Twins had been born to another young mother the same day as Fleur. One baby miraculously became two. Their mother had died. Veronica concluded that having the twins was unfair. She had only wanted one live baby. Life can be tragic. 

The twins' aunty stepped up. She had a two-year-old son. Domperidone was prescribed to induce lactation so she could supplement the formula the babies received. The smaller twin had a few issues and was in NICU (Newborn Intensive Care) with her aunt. How could the aunt and her husband care for their two-year-old and twins? Why should they have three children?

A nurse came in with an undersized baby bundle. The infant was wrapped in a pink floral fleece.

"Hello, Mrs. Grant. I have a favor to ask."

Veronica stared mournfully.

"I really feel for you," the nurse reassured. "I thought you may be able to help little Lily. Her aunt suggested it."

"Me, help? Don't you understand how much pain I'm in?" Her tears welled.

"I'll go away if you want . . . Aunty has her hands full with tiny Jasmine. It'll take another three days for her induced milk to start. She's so brave. How would you feel about looking after Lily until you leave tomorrow? There are some things to help dry you out. Sage tea is helpful, but you have something that all babies should have in the meantime. Your colostrum would be so good for her . . . But only if you feel you can help."

Veronica had worked hard to prepare her breasts to feed Fleur. She had sought advice from a lactation specialist, gone to breastfeeding classes, purchased a breast pump . . . all for nothing. She had successfully fed her son three years before; after no preparation and lots of grief, she had managed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought about her preparation for Fleur.

Lily let out a plaintive wail. Veronica felt a sensation in her nipples. It wouldn't be so bad to help . . .just to feel a baby in her arms again . . . "Here, give her to me. I'll do what I can."

As soon as she bared her breast and settled the baby, she felt a wave of relief. She felt sorrow and tenderness towards her, not any bitterness or anger at being used. How wonderful it felt to be needed. Her heart began to melt.

***

Sixteen Years Later.

Jasmine walked through the school gates, and her friend Louise leapt out.

"Yah! That's your thrill for the day! Hurry up, will you! We have a new girl in our class. She's moved in from another town. She's really pretty. Her name is Fleur."

Jasmine went to her locker and grabbed the books she needed. As she entered the classroom, she scanned the room and saw Fleur. Almond-shaped brown eyes met her own. It was like looking at herself in a mirror. But not quite. Fleur had bangs and dark hair. Jasmin had dark blond hair slicked back into a ponytail. Jasmine sat in front of the new girl and turned to say hello. Fleur looked at her, stunned. "So, you are Jasmine. The others asked me if I knew you. You look familiar. Have I met you before?"

"I don't know, but welcome to Rutherford High and our class."

***

Jasmine had always been a track, field, and gymnastics enthusiast. Running, jumping, and doing anything athletic have been her life pursuits. Fleur had danced for years and loved cheerleading. She had quickly signed up to be a cheerleader. Jasmine signed up, too. Mainly to get to know Fleur better. Fleur fascinated Jasmine.

Yet they were like chalk and cheese. Fleur became very popular and flirted with the boys. She could have been a better student, though she managed to do her work and did all right on the tests. Jasmine studied hard and excelled in all her subjects. As for boys, she got on with them well, but they viewed her as a mate and didn't notice she equalled Fleur in natural beauty. The class found out that Fleur came from a wealthy family. On the downside, she looked down on those with less family income, including Jasmine.

***

Jasmine's sixteenth birthday came around. Her family planned a party for Saturday, May 19th. On Wednesday, May 16th, her actual birthdate, her parents suggested she invite her friend Louise over for a meal. Her mother said she'd cook Spaghetti Bolognese, Jasmine's favorite, followed by Chocolate Mousse and fruit salad. Louise was thrilled. Before dinner, the girls hung out in Jasmine's room.

 There was no predominant theme or color adhered to. Still, it exuded a warmth, with everything in its place, as Jasmine preferred. A portrait of a happy family hung on the wall, of her father, mother, brother James, and herself.

Louise walked around mesmerized, looking at the novels Jasmine read on her bedside cabinet, the makeup and scented products on her dressing table, and the knickknacks on the shelves. Many gymnastics and track event cups, as well as certificates, were on display. Louise noticed a small photo in a frame and peered at it.

"Is this you as a baby?" The photo shows a newborn wrapped in a pink wrap embellished with dark pink flowers. A younger version of Jasmine's mother holds her.

"No, it isn't."

"Who is it then?"

"My sister."

"What, sister? I didn't know you had one."

"Well, er, no, I haven't. She was born a few minutes before me."

"A few minutes? Did she die?"

"We don't think so. Her name is Lily."

"What happened to her?"

Jasmine shrugged. "It's strange. You see, we were both born. A complete surprise, as everyone, including my mother, believed she carried one baby. She died after. We went to our aunt. So, you see, my brother is my cousin, and Mom is my aunt."

"Well, I wouldn't have guessed. You look just like her. What happened to your sister?"

"My aunt looked after me. My aunt bought the wrap because my birth mother only had one, which I used. Lily's one disappeared with her. Another lady in the hospital looked after her for a few days. Her baby had died. When she left, she tucked Lily into her crib in the hospital and thanked my aunt for being able to help. That very day, my sister vanished. Someone had tampered with the cameras. My aunt and uncle tried to locate the lady who had been in the hospital but couldn't. They searched for years. The only thing they are convinced of is that if that lady has her, Lily is probably being treated ok."

"So, you have a long-lost twin! Haven't you done a search for someone looking like you?"

"Yes, I've tried, but we are fraternal, not identical. There could be quite a few differences. Hair color, skin and eye color. Apparently, we were two peas in a pod when we were born, except that I was smaller and had difficulty feeding and breathing. My aunt has been a great Mom. She even breastfed me."

"What a story . . . I just remembered that Fleur's parents are away at the moment. Their flight has been delayed. Fleur's older brother is throwing her a birthday party at their house. He's invited a whole heap of his and Fleur's friends. They have a pool. It should be loads of fun. We should go along as we know, Fleur."

"No parent's there? What if it's a disaster?"

"We'll just leave then. But it should be great."

"Funny. Fleur's birthdate is the same as mine?"

"Girls! Mealtime!" They heard a call from the kitchen end of the house. 

They trooped down the passage to dinner.

***

Later, the girls were dropped off at Fleur's house. Jasmine hadn't told her parents there were no adults present, just Fleur's nineteen-year-old brother, Brad. The loud music pulsated, and they heard splashes from the pool, loud voices, and laughter. They saw that this party had already gotten out of hand as they entered. There were jocks everywhere, bottles or glasses in their hands, girls draped over them, all in varied stages of intoxication. Did they see little packets getting handed around?

"As we've got togs on underneath, I'm heading to the pool," said Louise in Jasmine's ear.

"I need to use the bathroom first," yelled Jasmine. "I'll see you later." She looked down the hallway full of teens milling around. She trotted up the stairs and found guests up there, too. She could hear sounds from behind closed doors. She noticed two doors together, presumably for a bathroom and toilet. She tried both, but they were locked. 

A female voice called, "Someone in here."

Jasmine carried on down the passage. Finally, she arrived at the end door, and it seemed quiet. She cautiously opened it and assumed it could be Fleur's bedroom. Its side door could be an ensuite. It was indeed. She felt like a snoop, but nature had called, so she used the toilet quickly. On coming out, she glanced and took it all in. Gorgeous pink girly room. She doubted she'd ever see it again at the rate her non-friendship was going with Fleur. Her eyes caught a photo frame on the dressing table of a baby cocooned in a pink wrap embellished with dark pink flowers. Her heart skipped a beat. Except the woman holding the baby was different - Fleur's mother? She examined it closely. Many babies look alike. She had a wave of inspiration. First, she cleaned the hairbrush of its dark hair, which she wrapped in a tissue, then went back into the bathroom and checked the contents of the rubbish bin. Yes, evidence of a period. Ew! She used a length of toilet paper to gather up what was a wrapped, used tampon and stuck it in her jeans pocket. Then, she washed her hands thoroughly. Something about Fleur, something about the photo. Her mind raced. What if? Had she gone too far, playing detective?

Crash, the door opened. It was Fleur with a boy but not to use the ensuite. 

'What are you doing in here?" screeched Fleur as Jasmine exited the bathroom.

Jasmine's heart beat fast with guilt and fear, but she appeared calm. "I'm so sorry, Fleur. I needed the loo, and the others were in use. I didn't know this was your room. I just had to go. I'll leave you to it. Oh, and happy birthday." She scuttled out of the room.

"What a nerve!" said Fleur, slamming the door.

As Jasmine made her way to find Louise at the pool, she felt very uncomfortable. The escalation had trebled, and the music seemed louder than before. A neighbor may soon call the police about the noise. She finally attracted Louisa's attention, and her friend swam over.

"What is it, Jasmine?"

"Louise, we've got to go. This party is revving up, and we don't want to be here when it goes down."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Get out and get dressed quickly. Pop your clothes over your togs."

"But I'm all wet!" Her friend grimaced and tutted.

"If you don't get out now, I'll leave you behind! We want to avoid being caught here. No one is in control of this fiasco. I'm frightened."

Louise hauled herself out of the pool and patted herself down with her towel. Jasmine dried her legs while her friend struggled into her shirt.

"I think you are overreacting, Jasmine."

As soon as Louise's pants were hauled up, Jasmine started walking away. Louise stuffed the towel into her bag.

"Wait for me!"

The girls struggled past the attendees. Jasmin was grabbed by a drunk boy. "Where are you going, my pretty?"

"I'm with her," she said and grabbed hold of Louise. She pushed her foot back against the boy's leg. The lout stumbled back, and they bolted for the door. 

"That's not very friendly!" he whined.

The girls burst out the door and down the path without being followed. They saw the police car pull up outside.

"Quickly! Let's hide in the bushes," said Jasmine, pulling Louise's arm. They crouched out of sight as the police charged down the path and up the steps to the door. When the coast was clear, they speedily exited the property.

"Wow! How did you know?" said Louise.

"Things are way out of control. Many of them are drunk, I think there are drugs, and heavens knows what smutty stuff is going on in the bedrooms. It was only a matter of time before a neighbor got sick of the noise. Fleur's parents will blow their stacks when they get back."

***

When Jasmine's parents dropped Louise off and arrived home, they lectured her about attending such an unsupervised party. 

"At least we had the sense to leave before the police arrived."

"The police were there? Oh, Jasmine!"

Once in her room, she carefully wrapped the blood sample in plastic, and along with the hair sample, she put them into a container and hid it with an ice pack. Then, she researched what to do with them. She'd need kits and the place to send them. She couldn't provide Fleur's saliva, but surely, some conclusion could be reached with her hair and blood and her own hair, blood and saliva. And the cost of doing it? She hadn't touched her allowance for a while, but her brother could always provide a loan. She grabbed her laptop and sat on the bed to do research. She could purchase some kits and send them via 24-hour delivery as soon as possible.

She ordered them forthwith.

***

At breakfast, her mother looked grave. "That girl Fleur's parents arrived back this morning, and you have been named as one of the partygoers. Things are missing. Apparently, you were caught snooping in Fleur's room. I've just spoken to Mrs. Grantham."

"Mom! What did you say? You know what time we went. We were picked up and brought home an hour and a half later. Dad had just arrived home and had to come to get us from just around the corner from the house as the police arrived. We took nothing. There were gazillions of kids there. I used the only available toilet, and Fleur saw me leaving the ensuite when she came in with a boy. That's the only reason she's named me. Probably didn't know half the others there. Keep Louise and me out of it."

"I believe you, but Fleur's parents are hopping mad. I don't want you associating with that girl!"

***

At school, Fleur proceeded to give her a hard time.

"You're busted, Jazzy. You gate-crashed my party."

"Did you realize we have the same birthdate? I wanted to invite you to my party on Saturday. I used the loo and left straight after before the police arrived. I'm not in trouble. Coming to my organized party on Saturday?"

Fleur's eyes opened wide. "Probably . . . not. The same birthdate?" 

"That's right. And you shouldn't implicate me in your party mess. We both know what you did in your bedroom after I left!" She walked away, leaving Fleur open-mouthed and pink faced.

***

After school, on arriving home, Jasmine grabbed her courier package from the doorstep and organized her samples in her room, careful that everything, including her hands, was scrupulously cleaned with alcohol. Some of her own hair was pulled out by the roots, (ouch!) drips of her own blood in a phial, and her spit collected provided the items for her test. She used a syringe to do what she could with Fleur's bloody mess, hopefully, discarded by Fleur herself and, after close examination, that her hair had enough hair shafts for the test; afterwards, she washed her hands obsessively. She wouldn't feel truly clean for a long time.

 Every sample was properly named and labelled. She made the appropriate payment online, into the correct account as she had enough allowance money. A carefully worded cover letter explained that Fleur Grantham's samples may be degraded but that she needed to know if both sets represented two family members. She hoped a handwritten appeal mentioning their same birthdates, similar appearances, and her twin being missing from birth might persuade them to do their best to come to a definitive conclusion. She offered to pay more if necessary. The results would take up to six weeks.

Later, she told her mother, "Bye!" as she headed to the local mall. The postpaid, self-addressed package for My Heritage DNA was soon on its way. 

On returning home, she grabbed her scissors. What a lark if she cut some bangs like Fleur's. She gingerly snipped the front of her hair. When completed, she stared in shock. Fleur would be gob smacked.