The Green Eyed Monster

Madeline knew there were eyes available. She had been on the waiting list for two years. The official list. There were unofficial channels where anything you needed could be found, at the right price. She would not accept the first pair of eyes that became available. What was the point of having money if you couldn’t exploit it?

Her sources confirmed there would be no problem with supply, if she was happy for the donor to come from the fourth world, or even the third or second. Madeline would hold out for what she wanted. Green eyes were very hard to come by, but that was what she wanted. It was the eye colour of sea nymphs, of auburn haired Irish witches, of willowy Eastern European models. Madeline was used to getting what she wanted in life. 

But time, it seemed, was becoming an issue. Her eyes were slowly dessicating, like dead sponges, losing hydration until they would reach a point of no return. Madeline dreamed of them at night, crumbling out of their sockets and onto her pillow, shedding like parmesan shavings on to her chest. The injections had worked for more than a decade, but there were no more procedures to halt her ensuing blindness. “Action was needed”, her ophthalmologist Romesh had stressed, meaning replacement eyes were needed, well, now. 

Her plan was simple. She would appear to wait for eyes to become available officially, while procuring exactly what she wanted on the black market. Pricey, but worth it. She wouldn’t be asking too many questions about provenance. Romesh could worry about that, that was what he was being paid to do. The surgery would have risks, up to fifty years ago you weren’t able to transplant an eye with the optic nerve intact but in the last decade, amazing breakthroughs had been made in parts of the world where tourism no longer ventured, but certain medical companies thrived. 

Contact had been made with the supplier, Romesh informed her. Teenage eyes were not guaranteed, but definitely no older than early twenties. Enough money to smooth the path and silence queries was required. A haemorrhage of money. It had, in the end, been quite straightforward, once her Swiss bank was involved. They really were amazing, the Swiss, the way they could send funds from one black hole to another without a trace.  

The call from Romesh came through that Monday, Madeline needed to be there for Wednesday. No, the eyes were not ready but they would be, by Wednesday. Madeline informed her CEO she would be away for a bit for a medical issue. ‘Of course Ms. Lacey’, she had purred back to Madeline, wishing her good luck in her health recovery. This happened at least once a year - the owner of Lacey Medical Inc. was known to be a slave to the knife.

On Tuesday evening Madeline checked into the clinic, demanding to see her consultant. Romesh appeared, looking a little anxious, a smaller version of the surgeon she usually saw. “Well? she quizzed. Where are the pictures of my eyes? I expected to have received the images by now. What’s the delay? she demanded. This really isn’t good enough, Romesh”. 

Romesh apologised. “I have your photos here now. I think you’ll be very pleased.” Madeline snatched the device from his hand and stared into the images at close hand, screwing up her eyes in the hope of seeing the hue she craved. The eyes were…beautiful. Dark forest with a hint of gold dotted in tiny sparks away from the iris. My God, she would be stunning. 

“They’re perfect”, she exclaimed. “Where did you find them?” In the wake of Madeline’s reaction, Romesh visibly relaxed. “Stroke of luck actually, a traffic accident in the city centre. A van and a cyclist - the poor girl hadn’t a chance. Her mother signed off on organ donation so we were able to bypass red tape by donating to…well, you don’t need to know about that.” Madeline nodded, still gazing at the screen, procurement details forgotten. 

The surgery went well, there were no hiccups. Romesh was there when the bandages were removed. It was a procedure he had performed quite a few times but there was one bit of news he needed to personally deliver to Madeline. 

She tried to sit still as he removed the final pads. Her lids felt sticky, reluctant to meet the light. But she could not wait to see what the eyes would look like, in her face. Her lashes unlaced and she stared. Tears streamed from her tear ducts. “Remarkable”, said Romesh, examining her. “Normally the tear ducts are slow to recover…but this is real development”. 

“How long before I can wear makeup?” Madeline asked, already imagining the colour palette she could use to enhance and highlight. “Normally a few weeks”, he said. “But there is one point I need to emphasize. Because of your initial eye condition, there is a maximum life span of five years, perhaps seven, with donor eyes. You will need another transplant down the road. With further advances, hopefully it will be a permanent replacement at that point.”

Madeline smiled, entranced at how her eyes now sloped invitingly at the outer corners. “No matter Romesh, she smiled. I have every faith you will make that happen for me.”

One Year later…..

Madeline kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of Chablis and put on some soothing music. Just as she was starting to relax, there was an unexpected knock on the door. “For God’s sake, I specifically said, NO interruptions for an hour”, she snapped. Romesh stood at the entrance to her office, beaming.

“Sorry to disturb you Madeline, but I wanted to deliver this news to you in person, you will want to hear it. The clinic phoned me this morning and we have an excellent update ”.

Madeline swivelled around on the sofa and looked up expectantly. “Does this deserve a toast?” she asked excitedly. “It most certainly does”, he beamed, pouring himself a glass. “To six months time”.

Six Months later….

Laura had no idea who her mysterious benefactor had been. When her daughter Angie had been killed in a hit and run, she had never been so low. She feared she would never recover from her loss. Then out of the blue, an anonymous charity had contacted her to say that a Good Samaritan wanted to help. Help which allowed her to undergo expensive IVF treatment. Incredible to believe she had conceived on her first try at her age. She wondered if her new babies would look anything like Angie. She marvelled at how quickly the babies seemed to be growing - they were twice the size Angie had been as a baby… 

Madeline was immensely pleased with the outcome. Initially, she had wanted Romesh to ensure triplets were implanted but he had talked her back down to twins. Laura was much more likely to carry two babies to full term, rather than three, and they had to factor in that she was almost forty. When the time came there would be a choice. Madeline had learnt early in life that it always paid to have a backup. She knew  the babies would have Angie’s eyes because Romesh had cloned them from Angie.  

What was the point of having money if you couldn’t exploit it?