Little Me

2: Seeing the unseen

As a kid, the one thing I always got fascinated over was the fact that I had teleportation powers. At night, I would sleep beside my dolls on the floor after adventuring wherever my imagination could take us, but when I would wake the next day, I would be on my bed with my dolls beside me.

I never complained. Magic and superpowers were the only possible explanations for what happened during those nights. Every time I play, I would purposely sleep on any surface I could comfortably lay on. Besides, it was easier that way than walking to my bed when I know I'll end up in it the next day.

The very day I started to doubt that belief was when my parents celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary. Mom was all dolled up and Dad wore a very classy tux. Six year old me couldn't help but notice her mother, wearing the most red lipstick. It was the same shade of red as princesses always had in movies, but Mom wasn't a princess. She was a queen.

"Goodnight, honey. Be a good girl to Marissa," Mom said then kissed the top of my head.

"See you, kiddo." That was Dad ruffling my hair.

Marissa was my babysitter. She had a tan complexion and short hair, as short as Velma from Scooby-Doo. A lot less friendly looking than Velma, though, but never did I disliked her because she was always patient with me. Also, she gave me sweets when we had them. We kept that a secret ever since.

I waved goodbye to them and proceeded to playing with my toys until midnight. Way past my bedtime. Dragging my stuffed bunny along, I searched the house for Marissa. My little feet couldn't carry me any longer, so when I finally found Marissa crashed on the sofa, I immediately climbed on the coffee table to sleep.

Greeted by soft sheets and pink fluffy pillows in the morning, I made my way towards the bathroom and was surprised to see a kiss mark on my forehead when I passed by the mirror. I brought my face closer to my reflection and examined it. Six year old me fought back tears from falling as soon as she realized that the kiss mark's shade was identical to what her mother wore last night.

"We need to talk," I said between sobs after reaching the living room.

My mother worriedly looked at me, immediately stopping from reading the local paper. "Honey, why are you crying? What's wrong?" She walked towards me and gently wiped a tear away with her thumb.

"I-I don't have teleportation powers, don't I?" More tears started to fall as I painfully started to accept the sad truth of my mediocrity.

Mom didn't say anything. My words left her mouth agape. I cried harder when Mom took me into her arms and stroked my back. "Do you want to talk about this over some chocolate milk?"

Eleven years later, I realized that chocolate milk was the best cure to disappointments. Well, maybe not the cure, but it helped me cope with the pain. Today, no disappointments occurred. I decided I was going to make an exception to that rule. I was just craving for the luscious drink.

Holding the warm mug, I observed the gentle rising and the falling of the little girl's chest. I hate to admit it, but she really did look like me - identical, even. Looking at her made me want to have a little sister, but I knew that was impossible especially since my dad had been too busy to even spend time at home.

Looking at her also made me want to grab the nearest sack and shove her in. You know, if possible, in a very friendly looking way. Possible enough to be passed off as a game of hide and seek. Well, without needing to seek her, of course.