Doppelgänger
by Michael Smith

 

 

You’d think it was like looking in a mirror; but it’s not. It’s more like seeing a home movie of yourself. Either way, it was one of the weirdest sensations of my life; to be walking around town, and then suddenly to see myself on the other side of the road.

Obviously, it was not me walking in the opposite direction; but it easily could have been. Did he see me? I don’t think so; but I saw him. It stopped me in my tracks.

It lasted a few seconds; but seemed to have lasted a lifetime. By the time I’d acknowledged to myself the reality of the situation, he’d been masked by cars, buses, lorries, all innocently going about their business, but forming a frustrating barrier between me and … me.

The road cleared. Was he still part of the random procession of Saturday afternoon shoppers? Had he entered a shop? I knew that brief glimpse would haunt me as much as if I’d seen my own ghost.

I couldn’t let this moment pass.

I crossed the road.

Five minutes of fruitless searching left me frustrated. So near, and yet so far. I  told myself to head off home. Yet this apparition remained; followed by doubts. If I had intercepted him, even called out, “Hey, … you?” What then? How do you introduce yourself to a total stranger? Well, not quite total.

Hoping my doppelgänger to be a creature of habit, I resolved to revisit the high street seven days later, at a similar time of day. During the intervening week, my other self was rarely out of my thoughts. I suffered all the versions of ‘What if …’

The weekend arrived. At noon I positioned myself by the main traffic lights along the high street, and waited. A light drizzle accompanied my observations, making patience even more of a virtue.

It wasn’t long before I realised just how conspicuous I’d made myself. Even a moment’s forethought would have informed me that I’d need a cover.

A clipboard, maybe? Counting cars as they pulled up at the junction.

Or a mouthorgan, played badly over a hat containing a few forlorn coins.

But all I did was stand and scan the street for a missing person. The passers-by would just assume I’d been stood up, I guess.

My attention was briefly diverted by the appearance of a pair of identical twins. Unexpected feelings of jealousy stirred my emotions. Was my ‘other self’ actually a long-lost twin? My curiosity had been further piqued.

The rain, falling steadily now through the ever-present car fumes, drove me from my watch, and into a high street cafe. I gained a window seat, enabling me to continue my surveillance in relative comfort.

Later, as my half-cold, half-drunk coffee stood on the plastic table, a group of young girls entered. They were animated, but not in the usual, self-absorbed way of teenage groups, clearly their profound discomfort had been induced by some external event.

A member of the teenage group suddenly shrieked. I looked up and saw immediately that her gaze was targeted at me. Who was she? I’d never seen her before. Her left hand pointed at me as her right hand covered her mouth. She seemed to be stifling further screams.

She then prodded a few of her friends, while the pointed finger and intense stare remained fixed on me. Her friends now looked in my direction; an action sufficient to induce hysterical reactions, similar to the opening salvo.

Without any sense of the impropriety of their action, the group walked, in silence, to the table, where I began some serious, confused cowering.

“How …?” began one.

“But …,” suggested another.

“No!” exclaimed a third, “That’s just not possible. How did you …?”

The question was left hanging. Their shocked faces were most unsettling.

And I had no idea what was happening.

While the girls stood gawping at me, a small group of teenage boys entered the cafe. They were spotted by the girls, and eagerly invited to join the circus freak-show I had become.

“No way!”

“That’s unreal.”

A third youth displayed more composure, or was it cool. He just nodded knowingly, smirked, and uttered, “Well, well, well; what have we here?”

The other cafe visitors were now silent, and straining to comprehend this odd, little tableau being played out for their lunchtime entertainment.

I looked at the group of teenagers in front of me with as benign an expression as I could muster. Should I be worried? Was this trouble? I chose direct action.

“Would someone explain to me, please, why I have suddenly become the centre of attention?”

Mouths remained open in disbelief; chewing gum clearly visible in some. The cool one took pity, and answered, “Why aren’t you dead?”

“What?”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Are you some sort of magician; escape artist?”

“An escapologist? No! Why?”

The answer I so desperately wanted to hear was suddenly interrupted by a siren as an ambulance raced by the cafe.

“Why ain’t you in that ambulance?” screamed one of the girls. Her question was eagerly supported by nods from the others.

“Because I don’t need an ambulance; as you can clearly see.”

“But, mister, we just saw you,” continued the cool one, before others added, “Yeah, we all saw you.”

“Saw me do what?”

“We all saw you get run over at the crossing.”

“Yeah, by that drunk driver the police are arresting.”

“But I’ve been here for over quarter of an hour! Ask the person behind the counter.”

As one, the teenagers turned to look at the cafe owner, who nodded emphatically.

“So, who was that being knocked down?” the cool one asked me, although I’d joined sufficient dots to suspect the answer.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, before continuing, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The person who was run over; was he badly hurt?”

The group became quiet. “He’s dead.”

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