Shadow of myself

Shadow of myself by Kim Artman

Assignment:  1) Imagine your life threatened and in order to escape you must create another identity.2) Follow your new identity for a week.  3) What wakes her up at 3:00 am? 4) Imagine this identity as a sibling.

Part one

     He is coming to get me and I know he has memorized my features.  The features that strike as the most obvious is that I am only five feet two inches and weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds.  In order for him not to recognize me I need to grow so I need to go out and buy high heels.  I am not comfortable in high heels as I have very wide feet.  I am going to have to have custom shoes made.  I am going to have to learn how to walk like a lady.  I will also need etiquette lessons.  I have always been a tomboy so I don’t own many dresses.  The ones I do own are denim or cotton and are very comfortable.  I am going to have to pick brighter colors as well.  I mostly own a numerous amount of natural colors like light brown, pale green, and dusty rose all of which are oversized and soft.

     In addition to my clothing and shoes I will need to die my hair black.  I have had my hair every color under sun…. blonde, golden brown, dark brown and even purple.  Don’t ask about the last color, it wasn’t done on purpose.  I have had it all shades of blonde and brown but never jet black.  I will also cut it in a style that requires some attention.  I may put gel in it and curl it in tight ringlets.  I currently keep my hair in a ponytail and rarely have it curled. 

     He knows my talents in arts, with children, in dentistry, in teaching, and my love of New Mexico.  I think I may have to travel to a state that is very green and has numerous people.  I will try my hand at being a hard working secretary.  I have always been high up in the chain of command so being a janitor or a shoe saleswoman would be excellent cover.  All the hard work and sweat will help my oversized frame.

     I think I will call myself Esparanza or Sophia as my real name Kimberly is too gringo.  Maybe this is a bit too much.  I can call myself Nicole.  Yeah, Nicole sounds good.

Part two

     The mountains in the upper part of New York City have brilliant colors this time of year.  I bought a home that is expensive and small.  I would usually pick an inexpensive farmhouse located in five to ten acres and fill it to the brim with horses.  Now, the houses are so close I can shake hands with the neighbor from my window.  I moved here to be close to nature yet within the city limits as I don’t want to commute a long time to and from work. 

     I work at Hastings in the music department.  I am usually attracted to quieter surroundings but the rock brings back memories of growing up in the eighties.  I have to be careful though as I have memorized many of the lyrics and this gives away my age.  I have taken up caring for my skin, wearing hip clothes, wearing expensive makeup, and styling my hair daily.  This makes me look younger and I often wear six inch heels along with a tight, bright pink top.  The skinny jeans help me fit in with the younger crowd as well.

     I no longer eat fast food as I am trying to lose as much weight as possible.  I take a salad and small bottle of low fat dressing with me in my cooler that plugs into the cars cigarette lighter.  I also have a variety of protein bars as I still have a sweet tooth and this curves my appetite as well.  I drink mostly water now as the diet cokes made me gain weight rapidly.  I also walk after work with a group of women who complain constantly that they can’t get the best designer purse as it was sold out at Dillards.  I just remember the days of caring around my fake leather oversized bag stuffed with calendars, candy and books.  Now I carry a black pocketbook with the words Gucchi engraved on the lower left hand corner.  We finish our walk and meet for cocktails at The Gin Mill.  Our conversation turns to our divorces and the new ballet school down the road we want to enroll our girls in.  I suddenly hear several women shout “NICOLE!” and I remember that they are talking to me.

Part three

     I just woke up…. The room is pitch black. I start to scream and remember that no one can save me as I live alone.  I cry and tremble when I recall my dream.  I am watching many children of all races; blacks, Hispanics, Anglos, Chinese, and African children.  I am trying to quiet them all as I know he is outside waiting for any sound coming from the house.  I hide with the children under the table.  I huddle them close together like a mother hen.  The children see my anxiety and their whimpers turn to wails.  I start crying as well as say “its okay sweetheart… momma is here….I will protect you.”

     One of the children started to pee on the floor and points at the window above the kitchen sink.  I know it is him and look up to see his face pressed hard on the window; so hard that it left an eerie white silhouette.  His eyes are black as his pupils are dilated as the drugs are now controlling his actions.  He taps on the window with his ax….. aahhh!

     I don’t know if I can go to sleep with the lights off now.  I will turn on the lights in the bathroom.  I might as well go pee and take a Tylenol PM.  I know it will take awhile for it to take effect so I will turn on the TV to some bad infomercial or old movie.  That will put me to sleep faster than the Tylenol and I can wait till morning to relieve myself.  CLICK

Part four

     It has been years since I have seen Kimberly.  She was teaching art at an elementary school in the southwest.  I don’t know much about art but the paintings she does are beautiful.  They have a deeper meaning than I can figure but the colors are powerful.  She did one of us when we were little.  We both had brown hair and green eyes.  We were holding on to each other so close it looked as we were Siamese twins.  As we grew older, our appearances separated us.

  She liked the sun and lake and subsequently ending up with blond hair which she kept in a ponytail most of the time.  I on the other hand always kept my hair styled with the latest cut and wear designer clothes.  Will our vast differences in appearances make it hard to find her as she gets off the plane in New York?  Will she judge me on my apartment or Ralph Lauren fitted shirt?  What if I wore my tennis shoes instead of these designers heals…. Maybe I can run home.   “Flight 151 from New Mexico arriving at gate 7”.  Too late.

     It seems many people are coming at me like a tidal wave.  I look for blonde hair and a ponytail with so much anxiety I am about to burst.  I see a short woman but not with a ponytail or blonde hair.  I fix my gaze on her and we lock eyes.  Her green eyes wrinkle as she smiles brightly.  Nothing can change the love we have for each other… not even our hair color or style of shoes.