February 1, 2012

  • the doppelganger

    And I never wanted anything from you
    except everything you had
    and what was left after that, too.

    - Florence and the Machine, Dog Days Are Over

    -+-

    I was in the middle of two concurrent embryonic stem cell protocols, when my post-doc poked into the tissue culture room, asking, "Do you need anything, Christa?"

    I replied, exuberantly, "Nope, I'm good!  Thank you!"  However, he looked bummed out when I said that, so I went, "What's wrong?"

    He pouted, throwing his hands up in a dramatic, exaggerated fashion, "Christaaa, you never need my help anymore!"

    LOL AWESOME

    -+-

    As I stepped onto the bus, I saw a familiar face.  

    However, I couldn't immediately recall his name or where I knew him from.  It was very similar to whenever I see a face that is riding on the cusp of familiarity and strangeness, when I quietly mutter under my voice, "Have I met you?  Your face is so familiar, I swear that I've met you somewhere before..."

    I was leaning towards the side of, "Yeah, dude, I'm so sure that I've met this guy," and was even about to greet him when we exchanged friendly smiles.

    And then I realized it.

    Correct answer was: my ex.

    It didn't hit me; it crashed upon me like a tidal wave.  I can only imagine this stranger's confusion at my face when I realized that he looks exactly like my ex.  I felt my face contort into odd angles and I felt my eyes make sincere attempts to escape from the confines of flesh.

    'HOLY SHIT YOU LOOK JUST LIKE HIM. HOLY. SHIT. WHAT.'

    My eyes were involuntarily locked.  Trapped.  Entranced.  Because it wasn't a thing of "sharing likeness" or something simple like that.  No where near.  The only difference that I could think of was that they dressed differently.  Maybe his hair is styled a little differently, but it's the same shade and texture.  That familiar furrow when he squinted his eyes.  The curvature of his nose.  The shade of his lips.  The curve of his cheek.  It was near perfect.  As I was sitting there, it was like I was sitting five feet away from a ghost.

    It felt like a decade passed by, but even though I finally convinced myself that this person in front of me really is a stranger, I still sat in anticipation.  I was still waiting for him to go, "...Christa."  He found a familiar face (not me) and struck conversation (also not with me) and I sighed a deep, "Oh thank sweet baby jesus, at least his voice is different, oh my freaking goodness," although it still bore similar tonalities.  The same gravel and the same octave.  But I took what I could get.

    As a detective on the side, I eavesdropped overheard that this doppelganger is a brand new transfer to the university, fresh on campus just this semester, joining our town community only two weeks ago.

    Damn.  Sometimes I'm just like, "This freakin' school, bro.  This freakin' school."

    Completely unrelated note: dudes, I really gotta handle how obvious I am when I stare at people.

    .... ._.