MonstrousMay 13. The Doppelganger

Molly left the doctor, as people often do, more unsure and upset than when she’d gone in. She wasn’t going to bother with it at first, but it had been getting worse. The lost time, the wrong memories. But the doctor hadn’t found anything unusual in x-rays. Her brain was just fine. Maybe that was a stretch, but physically, nothing was amiss. The doctor suggested she get more sleep, eat better. She was a little overweight after all. A cup of black coffee and a grapefruit every morning and she'd feel better in no time.

She called for a taxi with the waiting room phone, having gotten one there just to be on the safe side. She didn't need to have one of her episodes on the subway or the sidewalk, heaven forbid.

Molly felt like crying. She held it together and watched the street for the taxi to show up. If she was going out, doing things, talking to people while she was asleep, no wonder she felt so tired all the time. Every day had started to feel like she’d missed the last episode of her own life. Other people had to fill her in.

She had called out of work early on and the receptionist had wished her well, saying she had looked fine when she came in earlier that morning. Molly had looked down at her pajamas and wasn’t sure what to say. She finally thanked the receptionist so she could get off the phone. 

The taxi pulled up and the sky ripped apart with a surprise storm. Molly ran out and hopped in. In those few seconds, she was already drenched, her blouse dark on her shoulders and her hair falling down. If he had gotten there just a minute earlier, she wouldn’t have to go back home looking like the mess she felt like. She rested her head on the window and closed her eyes. 

“Busy day, huh?” the driver asked.

“Yeah,” Molly said, not in the mood for conversation.

The best she could come up with was sleepwalking. Somnambulism her encyclopedia called it. She could go to a shrink. But what could they do? Molly thought of something her mother said and it only made the sadness fork and jab into her deeper like white lightning.

“Two days in a row?” her mother had asked when she answered the phone. Molly asked her what she meant. “Well I just talked to you yesterday,” her mother said. “I’m not complaining, dear. Just curious.” Molly told her she didn’t remember calling. That she was calling about something pretty serious and that was part of it. “Well you seemed so happy yesterday,” her mother said. She started to chuckle. “Oh what was that joke you told me? I can’t remember the punchline. But I’ve been tickled since.” Molly explained what was happening. Her mother was quiet for a few seconds. She said Molly was probably working too much. The conversation veered into finding a husband so Molly maneuvered into goodbyes. "Oh, I remember now. The musician's twin baby girls. He named them Anna 1, Anna 2!" Her mother had laughed like Molly had never heard before. Maybe Molly wasn't the only one acting strangely.

Her sleep-self was apparently pretty funny. And a good dancer, according to Bill from accounting. He made her skin crawl, but a rather confused Bill had told her about them having dinner and going dancing at a piano bar. Bill thought it was another one of her hilarious bits to pretend like she didn’t remember, like they hadn’t had such a wonderful time. He asked her if she’d like to go out again sometime. She said she would think about it. And she had thought about it, but not in the way he was hoping.

Molly wondered if she wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. She didn’t have to do anything. This other part of her was going to work, getting a boyfriend, being a good daughter. The paychecks still came, even though she hadn’t stepped foot in the building for weeks now.

Molly watched the city creep by the window. All the people on the street. What would they do? Just shut up and let it happen? She couldn’t get over the feeling that she had passed herself coming back one day. That if she’d only been paying closer attention, she would see herself walking out of work as she was going in. That she could have looked into the window of a bar and seen herself dancing with Bill. Being happy. Being who she was supposed to be. The thought of it made her sick.

The driver cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Not to sound strange,” the driver said and Molly’s stomach lurched, “but how did you manage to get across town so fast?” Molly watched the side of his face intently. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. 

“If that’s some kind of pickup line, please don’t,” she said. 

“No, I swear,” he said, holding up his hands for a second. “I mean I just dropped you off downtown a little while ago I thought. Maybe someone who just favored you. We’ve all got a twin, they say-” 

“Turn around,” Molly said. “I want you to take me exactly where you just dropped me off before.” The driver looked at her oddly but said okay and turned down one street, then another. The people walking on the street were hunched up under their umbrellas, turning the collars of their coats up against the rain. She couldn’t see their faces.

The taxi stopped outside a department store. "You forget something?" the driver asked. Molly had her door open before they came to a stop. Molly dug through her purse. She threw some wadded up money into the front and asked that he keep the meter running. She slammed the door as he tried to say something.

Molly nearly slipped on the stone steps, slick with rain. She darted into the building and several sales associates popped up, their heads swiveling like watchful birds. “Did you need something else, ma’am?” one of them asked. “We can fetch you something to dry off with, if you’d like.”

“How long ago did I leave?” she asked. 

“I’m not certain,” the saleswoman said, her smile slipping slightly. “You had gone upstairs to the delicates. You must have left while I was helping another customer.” Molly’s heels sounded like gunfire in the quiet store as she sprinted to the staircase. Her skirt ripped as she took the stairs two at a time. She felt the eyes of everyone in the room. She made it to the second floor and spun around wildly. Would she recognize herself from behind? What would she even say? 

Crashing thunder shook the windows of the building and some surprised shoppers yelped. The lights flickered, which made Molly blink. When they flickered back to life, the door to the dressing room creaked open. Molly slowly stepped towards it. “Hello?” she said in a hoarse whisper. She still hadn’t caught her breath from running up the stairs. No one answered. She didn’t even hear the people on the first floor. 

Molly peeked into the room. At least six more of her peered back, wild-eyed and disheveled. The dressing room had a little stage to stand on, ringed in mirrors. Had she really chased the echo of herself to this place? She couldn’t explain the urge that drove her forward. She was likely scaring an innocent woman half to death. No wonder she was hiding from Molly. 

Molly stepped into the room. It was empty. She climbed up onto the raised platform and sighed, seeing herself. Bags under her eyes. Hair sopping wet and frayed. Her face was missing half its makeup, rubbed off by sweat and the rain. Her mascara began to run as she cried. She buried her head in her hands and slowly lowered down onto her knees, then slumped against the mirrors. 

“You should’ve left it alone,” Molly heard herself say. She stopped crying. The door squeaked shut and the lock clicked. An icy hand of dread gripped Molly's stomach. She couldn’t raise her eyes, peering through the gaps in her fingers. She was trembling. She only saw feet in shiny shoes. Her shoes, but polished and cared for. She smelled her favorite perfume. 

Molly gulped and forced her eyes upward. She was standing just inside the door, hands on her hips. “You tried to replace me,” Molly said, filling with righteous rage. “You were going to let everyone think I was crazy. Let me think I was nuts!”

“Idiot,” the other her said with a dry chuckle. “I was going to let you live. But I guess that’s out the window.”

“Anyone up here?” someone asked on the other side of the door. “We’re going to close the store early because of the storm.”

Molly started to say something, but her better half grabbed her up by the throat. She squeezed hard. Molly panicked, trying to suck down air that wouldn’t come. She beat her fists against her own arms, but they stayed locked. It could have been the lack of oxygen, but Molly felt like she was in a nightmare. Her own face smiled, making it look effortless.

Molly couldn’t cry out when her head smashed into the mirror. Both of them were now multiplied in the shattered shards of the mirror. She watched her own death from a dozen angles. Everywhere Molly looked, there she was.