It was a soft pain that slipped through me. I didn't know what it was or what it meant at first, though when I realized I cried. But not because of the pain, or for myself, for I knew my time had come anyway. I was an old woman now, and it didn't bother me to be leaving. But I cried nonetheless. But not for very long. Things were as they should be, as they say, they are.
I saw my life. As an infant. Learning to smile when things made me happy, learning to tell the things that would hurt me from the things that would not. Things I had forgotten even happened I remembered in those moments, and I forgot everything else around me, I forgot what was happening, and what was to happen next.
I saw Kayla being born and heard mama cooing happily over her newborn child. And later Kayla and I fighting in the way only sisters could, about something insignificant. And it bought me great joy and a strange and bittersweet yearning for the past. I remember lying on our stomachs in the sprinklers when the weather was warm. All that we talked about. I remember my jealousy as she grew into a young lady and I stayed irritatingly childish, and where the fabric on her swimmers filled out and bulged, mine only puckered as if the fabric itself was disappointed at my rate of growth.
I remember lying under the sprinklers and picking at the blades of grass when Kayla being no older than ten when she told me she didn't like boys. Not the way she felt she was meant to. I remember her crying into my shoulder and my horror that she thought it might change my opinion of her. We didn't tell mama, and I felt a sense of pride knowing something she didn't. kayla told me because she trusted me. She told me because she loved me that day. And I never forgot.
Then I remembered those cold sleepless nights when mama would weep and pray for her recovery, though we were never truly religious. I don't know who she prayed to, I don't think she did either. Anyone who would listen I assume. I would love to say I found god in those days. That my one true friend and father I knew was looking over me. But I didn't. And in my young life, those were the loneliest and most miserable days in the world. And then she died.
They said that they would put makeup on, and her favorite dress and she would look like she was sleeping. She didn't. She looked dead. It broke me to see her like that. But not like in broke mama, who wailed and sobbed and never truly recovered from the loss of one of her daughters. And I saw the many nights I awoke to mama silently mourning, clutching the ragdoll Kayla had loved so much. And I began to cry again. As if re-living the pain of having my sister taken from me.
I remembered being around fifteen when I first bled. I was smugly pleased with myself, that my stubborn womanhood had finally been coaxed from wherever it must have been locked up within me. I saw myself standing in the mirror in my underclothes, noticing the way my chest was no longer flat, how my body curved at the sides. Hardly recognizing myself that day I had decided it was a woman's body, and it was only proper that a woman lived a woman's life. I saw myself after that day, smiling at the handsome boys in class and throwing out the plush stuffed toys that used to crowd the end of my bed. And chuckled at the foolish youthfulness I saw in myself.
Then I saw myself, a true young woman now, of around twenty, meeting Tommy, or Thomas as I knew him then, for the first time. The way his devastatingly handsome face broke me open and I felt once again the feeling I always had with him. That feeling of ecstasy, of fire in my blood when he touched me. A feeling I supposed was love. I found god in him, in the way he moved, like with every step he considered the ground beneath his feet. Cautious there was not an ant or ladybird he might carelessly squash against the earth.
I saw the night I first lay with him, and then every night after that. The way he would smile at me with an unreadable expression. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with that smile, and he said he loved me back. And I believed him because the only thing that seemed real was the love we shared. I saw the day he dropped to one knee as we stood atop a rocky mountain peak, surveying the beautiful landscape before us. I remember building a life with him, all that we did.
I saw Mia. The joy she bought us. Her soft little hands and the way she cried out when she wanted something. Her shaky teetering first steps, her softly spoken first words. I saw her grow up and felt a hint of ancient jealousy when she grew into a woman far earlier than I did. She reminded me of Kayla, with her beautiful happy face and sparkling eyes. I saw her grow, and bring home boys who were loud and handsome that Tommy and I never cared for.
I saw her go out and drink too much and have too much fun with too little care. She reminded me of myself more than I would like to admit. Even at a young age, I saw the effect she had on the world. The way people smiled with her. I saw myself grow old, my skin begin to sag and lines begin to crease and form around my face. But I didn't mind. It reminded me of all I had done. All I was yet to do.
Then I remembered Tommy driving me to the hospital after I begun to hurt. And I saw him saying he loved me, and me saying it back. And I saw the machines flicker, and the line that showed my heartbeat falter yet somehow, keep bouncing stubbornly.
And then I remembered everything after that.
Mia running in the doors looking flushed. I remember thinking what an attractive young lady she had become, chuckling to myself as I blamed it on myself. And after I had been shown every part of my life there was to see, and there was nothing left, I awoke in the very bed I slept in as a child.
At the end of the bed sat a young woman who looked somewhat similar to Mia, I had never seen her before, but I knew who she was immediately.
"It's good to see you, Kayla," I said calmly, enjoying the weightless feeling in my bones, the strength in my muscles. "Just a shame about the circumstances."
"I've missed you, dear sister." She said with her smiling eyes. I looked around the room, taking in the treasures decorating the walls and shelves. They weren't from my childhood. They were from my life. "Do you like them? I hoped you would." She laughed, letting her eyes wander about, roaming the items freely.
"I like it here, can I stay?" I said. Not really sure what was supposed to happen.
"No, it's nicer where you are going." She said never taking her eyes off the trinkets. "I can't help but say I'm jealous sis, this stuff is so cool. I just wish I could have met your Mia" she breathes, skipping over to a painting Mia had given me when she was very little.
"Will you come with me?" I ask watching her inspect the crumpled paper, "to where I'm going I mean."
"If that is what you want" and I felt a pang of relief. She took my hand and led me out the door. And I was surprised by how warm her hand was. It reminded me of when we were young and would hold hands at the bus stop.
"But you must tell me about this Tommy" she chuckles leading me away.
"I've missed you."
