“Ah, back home and time to relax. Long weeks are brutal. Is that the television you hear? Well you haven’t been home all day so you decide to check it out, thinking you left it on. As you enter the room you see the television is indeed on. And you’re already sitting there watching it. What’s going on here?” (http://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/i-think-im-a-clone-now)
Closing the front door behind me, I hang up my coat in the hall closet. It had been a crazy week at work. I got off late from the credit union and I fully intend to spend my weekend wearing over sized sweats and my fuzzy bear slippers while I curl up on the couch watching reruns of the Gilmore Girls. Working with the public is exhausting. I set my purse on the side table and began to make my way upstairs to the living room.
What’s that noise?
It sounds like the TV. Did I leave it on? I don’t remember turning it on this morning. Who’s in my house? My heart is pounding I slow down. A nervous lump immediately forms in my throat and my palms start to sweat. I crouch low to the stairs and begin crawling up being as silently as possible. I make it to the top and peak over the last stair. I see the back of my chair with someone curled up wearing my sweats. What is going on? What kind of break-in is this? I saw the TV already playing my show.
I crawled to the back of the chair. What am I going to do? Do I pop out and scare them? Do I spray them with pepper spray? Do I call the cops- no, they’ll hear me. I hear my robber put something on the side table. I creep around and look up. I gasp. It’s my caramel butter pecan ice cream that I was saving for this weekend!
I pop up and grab the cup of ice cream. “Thief!” I yell. My robber flew off the couch, screaming. It was a woman judging by the sound of her screaming. She stood up untangling my yellow blanket from around her. She stops her fidgeting and looks at me.
I look at her.
We both start screaming.
It’s me. I mean it’s not me, but it’s me. She has my face, my eyes, my chin, my mouth, my mole on my her left check, height, and black hair! It’s like she is my identical twin. Except for the fact that I’m an only child.
Both of our eyes are wide and full of fear. “W-who are you?!” I say.
“Y-you’re me!” My twin stutters as she points at me.
“NO, you’re me and I’m… I’m me.”
We stay frozen in our tracks for another two or three minutes. I take a deep breath in and let it out. This woman isn’t attacking me for some reason, so I steady myself and calm down. “This is silly to be standing here like this.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you do. You’re me.”
She rolls her eyes as well and asks, “So, Me, what should we do?”
“I think the first step is to find out why you’re in my house.” I fold my arms and stare at my twin.
“Excuse me?! I think the question is what do you think you’re doing breaking into my house?” Her eyebrows meet together and she folds her arms in the same way.
What? Now I’m just confused. “What do you mean your house?” I say.
“My house, like, I live here and I pay the mortgage on it.” She rolls her eyes, “But by all means, if you want to take over the payments, I won’t stop you.”
“That’s impossible.” I say. “I’ve been living here and making payment on this house.”
My twin looks at me and begins to move slowly towards the filing cabinet that is tucked underneath the desk in corner. “I’ll prove it to you.” She said as she reached for the filing cabinet.
“You can’t,” I huffed. “You don’t know the code to get into the cabinet.”
She crouches down, pushes a few buttons, and in seconds the filing cabinet opens.
“How did you do that?!” I exclaim.
“Because it’s mine.” She flips through a few documents and pulls out a folder. “Here it is.” She stands up and quickly walks towards me. I move back a few steps and she stops, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because you haven’t hurt me.” She says as she hands me the files. I open them. She’s right, it’s the mortgage papers. Good guess.
I couldn’t think or process anything with the noise coming from the TV. I put the files on the side table and grab the remote. I push the power button down and the right. I’ve been meaning to replace this thing.
“How did you do that?” She says curiously.
“The remote’s broken. You have to push it to the right for the button to work.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because it’s my remote!” I frustratingly.
We stare at each other. This is completely baffling and scary. I can feel my forehead wrinkle and my eyebrows come together. My hearts stops as I ask, “What’s your name?”
“You first.” She says. Her voice is a little shaky. She must be just as nervous to hear the answer.
I sigh again. If she really believes that this is her house, then she probably thinks that I’m the one that broke in. I hesitate and say, “Jessica.”
She gasps, moves over to the couch, and falls into it. I can hear her breathing quicken. It’s the same way mine does when I’m panic. She takes a few breaths in and looks up at me, “This… this is impossible.” She swallows hard. “That’s my name.”
“How is this possible?” I walk over to the couch and sit down on the other side.
“This is crazy. I’m an only child so we can’t be twins. We have the same everything, looks, family, and house. What do we do?” Jessica looks up at me as if I have the answer. She slides the tip of her finger in her mouth and nervously bits the nail. Is that what I look like when I bite my nails?
“I was hoping you might have an answer.” I lay back into the couch and stare at the ceiling.
“I think I’ll skip church tomorrow. We need to figure this out.” She mumbles.
I sit up quickly and look at Jessica. “What did you say?”
“Oh nothing, just verbally thinking. That’s all.” She takes her fingers out of her mouth, leans over, resting her elbows on her knees, and puts her chin on her her hands.
“No, something about church tomorrow?”
“Umm, yeah, I don’t think I’m going tomorrow. I don’t skip very often, but I think pending the circumstances, God’ll forgive me.” She says as she lets a short snicker.
“I’m assuming we go to the same church. First Methodist? I ask.
“That would be the one.”
“Is there some kind of event going on tomorrow? I don’t remember writing anything on my calender.”
She looks up at me with wide and confused eyes, “Umm, regular church service.”
“Jessica,” I pause. Does this fall into the category of talking to yourself? “Maybe you you have your days mixed up. Tomorrow is Saturday. There is no church.”
“No, today is Saturday. I got off work late last night, so sat in my chair all day in my sweats watching reruns of the Gilmore Girls? What day do you think it is?”
“Friday. I just got off work at-“
“Wellington Arms Credit Union?”
“Yes.” I’m creeped out.
“But their not open on-” She stops.
(And that’s all folks! I intend to finish it… one day, but that’s good for now)