Chapter #62Ye Cannae Fling Yer Pieces... by: imaj   You dream vividly of your first day at elementary school.
Only your mother called it primary school and she’s holding your hand tightly right now to stop any more attempts at running away. You look at where your hand meets hers as she half drags you along the pavement, not giving the slightest second thought to the contrast between your mother’s pale, almost white, skin and your own caramel hued tones.
High cast iron railings line the edges of the playground, lending it the appearance of a prison from your low viewpoint. Children run and laugh and play in front of an imposing red sandstone building. You catch the fragments of singing drifting out over the fence: “The odds against it reaching earth are ninety nine tae wan.” Don’t they realise they’re trapped in there? Impulsively you hug your mothers skirts and look up at her.
Your mother is the best mother in the whole world, but you’re thinking if she’s going to abandon you here, she’s maybe only number two or three. She smiles back down at you though and you feel your own mouth turn up a little at the sides in response.
“Come oan,” she says, letting go of your hand and ushering. “It’s no’ that bad.”
You take a few faltering steps through the gate before turning back round, your feet tensed and ready to run back. Your mother kneels on the ground, her head now at the same height as your own, and waves. It gives you just a little more confidence and you wave back before walking into the playground.
The playground is thronged with groups of other children. Some are talking, some playing, some running about. Many of them loom over you and you pick your way nervously through the crowd. To your shock, a boy your own age stumbles out in front of you from a group of older children, falling to the ground. He rapidly picks himself up and your eyes drift down to the uniform grey shorts that stop just above his grazed and scraped knees. “It wisnae me,” he shouts at the world in general before running off, straight through another group.
One of the larger boys turns round and looks down his nose at you with a sneer. “Why don’t youse lot go back to where youse came from,” he growls. You don’t understand what he means and you spin round desperately looking for your mother. You are lost in a sea of other children and you can not see her.
You set of in another direction, pushing past a group of older girls who mutter as you go, searching for a quieter corner of the playground. As you turn a corner of the building, you find yourself in a much more sparsely populated area. You sit on a step in front of closed door and put your head in your hands. Tears are welling up behind your eyes and you feel ready to burst.
Then you look up as a shadow falls over you. Another girl, about your own age stands in front of you. She’s playing listlessly with a stick, her ginger hair tied into two messy pigtails. “Oh hiya,” she says, suddenly noticing you and dropping the stick to the ground. “I’m Morag,” she adds, thrusting out a sticky looking hand at you.
“I’m Kaliope,” you reply, ringing out the syllables of your name in a sing song voice. You shake Morag’s hand, which is as sticky as it looks.
“That’s a pretty name,” replies Morag, only now wiping her hand on her skirt.
In the distance you can hear some of the children in the playground break out into song again: “Oh, ye cannae fling yer pieces oot a twenty story flat…”
*****
And then you wake up, the memories of the dream rapidly fading away.
A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s late morning, and that Kali and Miko must have left for work by now. As it is too light in your bedroom to get back to sleep now, you climb out of the bed and head to the bathroom. You turn the tap, let the water run for a few seconds and splash a little on your face. Then you blink a couple of times and lazily focus on the mirror in front of you.
“Oh no, not again,” you mutter to yourself.
The voice sounds a little different robbed of the last traces of its accent, but it undeniably matches the face you see, that of Kali Valentine. You sigh calmly, which in itself surprises you. Perhaps you’ve somehow picked up a little of Kali’s own unflappable demeanour. You roughly brush the a few strands of silvery grey hair behind your ears and set out into the apartment.
The apartment is empty of course, but you find a handwritten note taped to the counter in the kitchen. The handwriting is small and neat, Kali’s own hand. You wonder if you could try and replicate that now before dismissing the thought. Kali’s memories remain elusive and you can barely recall the dream of her childhood.
The note is short. “I thought it better to let you sleep in this morning Will,” it reads. “We will be back for dinner. Help yourself to what you need and remember to do your meditation exercises.” You place the note back on the counter and glide back to the living room, where you look longingly at the door to Kali’s own bedroom. She did say anything you need, and what you need are some clothes that fit.
You open the door to Kali’s bedroom with some trepidation, expecting to somehow be struck down for your trespass. It’s just an ordinary bedroom though, in the same minimalist stylishness as the rest of her apartment. You walk around the bed, running one of your now coffee coloured hands over the covers. It rests for a moment on the chest at the foot of the bed and on some unknown impulse you open it. The chest is full of sheets and bedding, so you close it disinterested.
You find a large walk in closet with mirrored sliding doors built into one wall of the room, giving you a chance to look at your new face. Kali is as striking as when you first met her, the strange combination of patches of near white hair at her temples despite that thirty-something appearance fascinating. From the half remembered dream, you are now starting to think that Kali is perhaps older than she looks.
You walk inside the closet, feeling the clothes as you pass them, and feeling just a little bit guilty as you do. That thought hurries you a little and you select an ankle length purple skirt and simple white blouse, along with a matching purple headscarf to tie your hair. It’s only when you take the ensemble out the closet that you realise that it’s what Kali wore to meet you at the airport when you arrived
The guilt at invading Kali’s privacy still nagging at you, you quickly dress. It’s surprising how naturally it comes, or how comfortable the clothes feel on you. Then you leave Kali’s room, carefully closing the door behind you, for you have a lot to do today. Recording what you remember of your dream from last night should be your first order of business.
*****
You are half dozing in one of the sofas when the front door to the apartment opens. Miko enters, glancing at you once and then twice when she notices the change in you. Her face splits into a wide grin.
“Not funny,” you mutter sourly.
“Oh but it is,” she replies before turning back to the door. “Kali,” she shouts. “There’s someone here you should really meet.” Miko bursts into laughter as you sulk.
“Who is it Miko,” says Kali patiently as she enters. Her gaze falls upon you and her hand immediately shoot up to her chest. Sheepishly, you realize you’ve mirrored her gesture. “Oh my,” she says.
“I woke up like this this morning,” you say. “I borrowed some clothes, that’s ok, right?”
Kali looks momentarily conflicted, but then she smiles warmly. “Of course it’s ok child, but heavens child… Why didn’t you phone me?”
Why didn’t you phone her? “I uh…” you stutter.
“We need to fix this,” continues Kali. “I shudder to think who you will end up as next.”
“Well of course we need to fix it now,” mutters Miko darkly. “It’s different now he’s parading around with your face.”
“Miko,” exclaims Kali with evident shock. “We would be doing the same however I had found Will this evening.” Miko indicates her disbelief in that statement by rolling her eyes and stomping away to her room. Kali, however, ignores her and addresses you instead. “I have been thinking about your problem, and I do have a few things I would like to try, if you will agree to it.”
Try? That sounds worrying. Kali seems so assured and confident but that word try leaves you with nagging doubts that she is making it up as she goes along.
 indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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