Both

Snuggled and calm, you lay by my side and my heartbeat syncs with yours. I reach over and stroke your sweet smelling head and tender baby hairs. You murmur in your sleep, what ails you little one? I am here beside you, a perfect indent in my postpartum body, a body I’ve come to embrace. It made you after all. Soft skin like velvet so beautiful and tender with eyelashes long and closed in a peaceful slumber. This moment so precious you must capture it in an image that plays on repeat in the depths of your mind, before you sleep, as you wake. 

I had to stop. The wreck that is my life right now trailed behind me, one breadcrumb here and one burp cloth there as I hurriedly placed a to go order at the front counter of this bustling street side cafe. I had something like half an hour until I had to be in the office. What is time now though, something I can no longer measure, no longer feel as it slips away or slows down to one moment. The moment your tiny hand fits in mine. 

I am already transforming as I step into the bathroom. It’s yellowish tile and odor of industrial cleaner hits me as I place one foot in front of the other and I grow long strands of thick curly hair. It shines in the light as hairspray enhances its color and volume. Slowly a mask slides over dull and lifeless skin. Deep and dark circles turn bright and lovely as brown eyelashes grow to an impressive size and almost touch eyebrows tweezed to perfection. A complexion thats glowing with a radiance akin to longed for sunlight on a chilly wind blown day blossoms across high cheekbones and blush appears the color of a just kissed rosy hue. Oh, and the smile. No longer lips chapped and searching for moisture, dry skin painfully calling out for a drop of dew. No, this smile was painted and expertly lined in a lush, plump and youthful red shade. Golden dangling earrings and a simple diamond necklace decorate the outer edges of this mask, they tell of someone successful, someone who takes pride in their appearance.

A dress appears and adorns fatigued arms that were just holding you, a much fancier version from the milk stained shirt you laid your head on. The color reminds me of your eyes, a deep forest green, branches of dark brown intertwined. It stops at my knees where there were once legs that hadn’t felt the razors edge in some time. They’re smooth now, vanilla scented lotion on and supple to the touch like they’d never been neglected. You’d never have known. 

My height starts to tower and I notice nude high heels sprouting from underneath. They fit on perpetually aching feet that carried you for the majority of last year. Delicate straps tie themselves and fit into place. I watch as nails grow to a desirable length painted and perfectly manicured a wholesome shade of light pink. Trimmed and expertly shaped you’d never guess these were the hands of a new struggling mother. 

I am almost done, and this person who stares back at me curtly nods in approval. Except there’s something wrong. The mask is exquisite, glowing even, but this wrongness does not seem to budge. My breath catches as I see it, hollowed out in the ample cleavage of my dress, a glaring wound. It slowly bleeds crimson drops like tears, demanding to be attended to. 

Stop! You can’t go on like this…it calls. A glaring black abyss where my beating life force used to be. Ignoring the warning, a daring white suit jacket slides up and on to cover most of it. This wound I now carry. It would seem I wear my heart somewhere else now. It’s calling to me when you’re not there, syncs my body up with yours and longs to be with you, skin to skin holding on tight. It tells me I can’t leave you again, but I do. 

The diaper bag transforms into a brown briefcase in my hand as I pick it up to leave, I stop and stare one last time. This person, she looks flawless. The wound is covered though isn’t it? Just enough.

The waiter double takes as I grab my order, mouth agape at this other person, eyebrows perplexed. The room is full of people on their way to a 9-5 and no-one notices anything but how stunning I look. A smile and a nod of acknowledgement here and there to an attractive female.

To my horror blood starts to drip down my dress from underneath my suit jacket. I try to wipe it away as I walk out the door. Someone tries to stop me, probably to sound the alarm on my grave injury so I try to keep walking.

“Miss! Wait!,” he says.

“No, I’m fine-,” I say quickly but as I glance back he has something in his hand.

“You dropped this,” he hands me a single small sock.

“Oh, thank you..” I take it, my mask cracking, a torrent of tears threatening to form underneath. The transformation was complete, how did this slip through? He just smiles, not noticing the emptiness I wear like a beacon on display for all to see. No-one does.  

The mask is firmly back in place now as the threshold to my office appears. Two completely separate paths somehow leading in the exact same direction. My heart is carved out yet I walk on, alive and in disguise, you would never know even though it leaves a clear trail in its wake. 

Yes! So good thank you! I am doing So. Damn. Well.  I hear myself say with a practiced polite smile.  

I am you, you are me and I wear my heart on the outside now along with this person I once was. I am both. He waits for me, this other heartbeat that is me, made for me, born from me. I will come back to you soon little love, in one form or another. My heart exists somewhere else now. 

It tells me I can’t leave you again, but I do.