This had started differently. I wasn't in my own body. In stead I stood looking at myself and another woman.
"Kayla!" she cried out, her voice was no longer the crystal-like, musical sound I'd heard before she'd begun changed but sharp and almost fake. When I snapped back to reality she was reaching to hug me. Her familiar perfume filled my nostrils.
This was wrong. This isn't whats supposed to be happening. My mind was racing as I studied a different woman than the one I'd been dreaming about.
Her dirty blonde hair to her collar bone and layered. Natural blonde highlights streaked through the darker blonde in the bangs that streaked across her thin face, nearly hiding her eyes.
They were no longer almond shaped or striking. They were nearly oval and wide and slightly washed out, still pretty though. They were blue-green, nearly grey in the light of the coffee shop they were standing in. Her lashes were thick with mascara, her face smoothed with foundation, still not tanning her fair skin. Her mouth was still delicate, but was smaller. Her nose was different too, but I couldn't place as to how. Maybe it was smaller, rounder? Who knew.
Her stature was different too. Even in her red spike heels she wasn't very tall, but almost eye-level with me. Her frame was fragile as though if you held her too tight she would break. She wore tight jeans in a dark wash and a red tank. Her fingers were long and slender as she gripped my arms. She wore a golden band on her ring finger, with a large diamond positioned amongst smaller ones, a wedding ring. Bracelets dangled on her thin wrists, and a few more rings decorated other fingers but that was all the jewelry she wore, no necklaces to compliment her visible bones, no earrings to highlight her small ears.
Her manicured nails appeared to cut into my skin as the child at her feet tugged at her shirt, stretching it.
"Don't stretch my shirt, kid," she warned harshly.
I stared in wonder. Did she still hate children now that she had one?
"Sorry, mommy," the child said sadly, released the cloth, and looked down toward her little black shoes. The little girl had changed too.
"It's fine, Adelaide," the woman said as she straightened her shirt.
Adelaide? Her father actually named her Adelaide? I thought, watching the scene display itself. I seemed to be far off and myself at the same time.
"Adelaide, I'm Kayla. Do you remember me?"
"Mhm," she mumbled. "I do."
When she looked up I was in my own body and took in her features. Nothing that appeared to be her mother's, not even her facial structure. Her father's hair, ears, nose, and eyes. Adelaide's eyes were hazel. A gorgeous color that couldn't be produced by anyone other than her father. The light of the sunset pouring through the large windows they were standing by made her eyes golden like honey, definitely her fathers.
I was separated again and watched myself pick up the little girl, wrapping her jean-clad legs around my thinned waist.
When did I lose weight? I wondered. I hadn't noticed it before, only assuming I was going to be the way I looked when I was 14. I looked down at my 14 year old body and the 20 something year old me. There were many changes.
I was a few inches taller and I'd thinned out somehow. My hair was darker, still untouched by hair dye. It was almost completely light brown except for those stubborn white-blonde strands. It was still pin straight and hung just past my shoulders as it had for a long time. My bangs were curled and to the side. My skin was flawless aside from freckles. My eyes had finally decided what color they wanted to be- grey with a dark blue rim. They were complimented by thick lashes I'd expertly applied mascara to along with a touch of eyeliner and a light blush, otherwise I wore no makeup up on my now slim face.
I was a professional something apparently. I wore wide leg black dress pants, strappy black heels, and a black suit jacket that I wore unbuttoned over a cream dress shirt. A silver cross was draped around my neck and was visible between the undone buttons at the top of the shirt.
I slipped into my own body again and studied my hands as I held the 4 year old close to me. I wore no wedding band, instead I wore my clada, the same ring I'd had when I was 12, on that finger. An emerald cut diamond bracelet glittered just under the cuff of my sleeve. My nails were done. I'd apparently broken down and let a stranger touch my hands.
"I missed you, Kayda," Adelaide was saying.
"I missed you too, Addie." I knew I wasn't lying as I slipped back out to watch.
Adelaide's mother grimaced. She hadn't missed me.
"I'm sorry I didn't visit," I was continuing. "I haven't had the time. Your mommy should have taken you to my office."
Office? I work in an office?
"Mommy doesn't like seeing you," Adelaide admitted in her childish voice that was vaguely like her father's had once been, when he'd still spoken to me.
"I know," I whispered, glacing at the women we were speaking about. She was frowning, angry at her child for spilling her secret. "Its okay. She doesn't have to like me. I asked her to meet me here so I could tell her something."
I'd been trying to reposition Adelaide and was finally sucessful in turning her on my hip.
"I'm leaving," I told her. "I'm going away and you'll never have to see me again. I won't be coming back. Ever." I turned to Adelaide. "I'm sorry, Adelaide, baby, but I'm not going to see you again."
The child's lip trembled and she began to cry.
"You're leaving me again. I don't want you to go. You've already gone away once," the child whispered. This time her voice was like her mother's as she said, "I hate you, Kayda." She wriggled out of my grasp and dropped to the floor, landing on her feet and running across the coffee shop.
"You shouldn't have told her. She would have never missed you if you hadn't told her," her mother was saying in a familiar cold tone.
"I had to tell her or she wouldn't know that I love her."
"She doesn't need your love. She has ours."
"She has nothing of yours. Can't you see? Its obvious she's not really your child."