The Changeling

THE CHANGELING

Dirty rain leaked through termite-infested planks, licked with metal roof rust. Paprika-colored particles sprinkled down onto Leisa’s moldy pillow. It was the closest she’d been to magic pixie dust in her forty-two years.

Her eyes opened from the wet intrusion in time to see a shadow of a woman standing motionless beside her cot. Leisa sprung up, just missing the next drop as it landed a golf ball-sized chunk of corroded tin where her head had rested seconds earlier.

The instant she turned toward the distraction, the mystery woman disappeared....once again. She was definitely shadowing Leisa. But why? There wasn’t a doubt. This was the sixth time Leisa spotted her. Each time, she just watched Leisa from a distance. And each time, she would inch closer than the last. Only now, she’d actually entered Leisa’s room: a forgotten attic atop a condemned brownstone.

A stalker? A thief? Not likely. Why would the woman stalk Leisa? There wasn’t much to steal; only what she’d hoarded off the streets— someone else’s junk. Obscurity was Leisa’s clothing label, shrouding her natural beauty while maintaining her cloak of invisibility.

Leisa decided to follow the woman, if only to offer thanks for saving her from certain misfortune. Maybe her intentions were good. Leisa remembered good intentions. She once had them. Until the only man she’d ever truly loved betrayed her trust and broke her spirit. Now she existed in a world of instincts and self-preservation; a world where daily survival is assured by remaining numb and emotionally disengaged.

At that time of night, the streets were empty. Leisa might have a chance to find the stranger. She knew the street shadows well; every building, every alley, every dumpster. Suddenly, she wanted to find her. She wanted to catch her. She wanted to know.

Leisa leapt down the broken stairs like a gazelle, then her hazel eyes scanned the shadows as if a lynx tracking its prey. A speeding taxi splashed a nearby curb just as she sensed a motion. Beside a coffee shop, in a shotgun alley Leisa knew all too well, the woman was standing next to a rubbish heap. Leisa had scavenged many meals in that very place. And now trapped like a deer in headlights, the mystery woman would finally be confronted.

As Leisa approached, she noticed a shape through the misty drizzle, much like her own. Except the woman was dressed in nice clothing. Her hair was groomed and glistened in the hazy moonlight, impervious to wilting rain. Leisa was drawn to her confident demeanor. The woman’s appearance was vaguely familiar, resembling Leisa's own softly-chiseled silhouette. Except the woman’s cheeks glowed and her eyes beamed radiant wisdom and purpose that Leisa didn’t recognize. A cold sweat came over her. Her heart pounded with strange terror.

"Who are you?"

The woman stared calmly at Leisa before speaking in a familiar soft tone. "I am you, but reversed. I am you.... as you began. I encompass the parts you’ve cast aside, just waiting to be reclaimed. Instead, you chose to become that which I cannot be. You breathe failure’s air, you bathe in discontent. I’m the reverse of your being, ready to reclaim the body we share. But first, you must cleanse yourself of filth, fear and regret. You must release the negative inside you to make room for me."

The words hit Leisa straight out and head on. Silently she considered the visitor's invitation down unchartered paths and began to admire the woman standing before her. "But how can that be? Even if it were true, I can't do that. Just change my life in an instant? In the blink of an eye?"

"It can happen, if you will it. As long as you breathe, it can happen."

"I have nothing. I’m no one to anyone."

"You are important to me."

"Then tell me what needs to be done. I wouldn’t know where to begin."

"You live, you breathe, you can change. As long as you aren’t in death, this can happen. The world is your estate. Demand your life, face your fears, do something…. anything to initiate change. The rest will follow." She started to walk away, then turned and smiled confidently, "Get some rest and begin tomorrow."

Suddenly Leisa found the trash heap repulsive. She ran back to her crow’s nest and found a dry corner. Slumber came easily, wafting her dreams with possibilities.

Dawn rode in on a sunbeam through the same crack that filtered rusted rain the night before. Leisa awoke, renewed by its irridescence. Warmth filled the room and brightened her view. Birds sang strong and clear overhead and the scent of breakfast from the coffee shop drifted upward, clinging to the still-moist air. She dug out a comb from her box of possessions and a used toothbrush. She poured some water from a bottle to cleanse herself and smoothed the wrinkles from a discarded blue dress. She laced up her best pair of cast-off sneakers, then made her way down the stairs. Instead of scavenging through the Cofee Shop's trash heap in the alley, Leisa walked with visible resolve through the front door. She approached the owner, who was clearly overwhelmed with the rush of early morning orders.

"Hello, Sir. May I have a word with you?" Leisa didn’t understand her confidence, but she carried herself proudly, so the woman in the alley would approve.

"What do you want?" he murmured, barely repressing slight annoyance.

"Nothing. I'd like to help you. I need a job and I can cook," she offered.

"You’re a short order cook then?" His voice softened in disbelief.

"I know how to cook and I can take orders," she answered with a determined glint.

"Okay, you’re hired. The job pays minimum, plus tips and a meal at the end of your shift. When can you start?"

"Right away," she smiled.

"Alright then. Grab an apron. You can start by making some fresh java." he replied, cautiously relieved by her eagerness. "Oh and by the way," he said with his right hand extended,"My name is John."

"Pleased to meet you, John. I'm Leisa," she replyed while gratefully offering her hand back.

After a week, Leisa had her first paycheck. She learned to cook everything on the menu and added some improvements of her own. She rented a room at a boarding house and never went back to the condemned brownstone. Her metamorphosis continued and gradually replaced the broken woman with the one from that rainy night.

Leisa and John soon became friends. He was a lonely man who had forgotten how to rely on the kindness of others. Her warmth and sincerity spilled over, offering a side order of hope as a regular item on the ala carte menu.

The woman from the alley never returned, but deep inside, Leisa knew she was there.