Ida

by Alison Evans

  The window is smaller than I thought. I find the draw­ing pins in my desk drawer and tack up the tarp, then the sheet. Not sure what I’m going to do about this – I don’t want Dad to find it, but for now this is enough.

  As I turn around, I see a doppelganger sitting on my bed. There’s another one, sitting at the desk. That one and I look almost the same, but the one on the bed has longer hair and looks even more sleep deprived than I do.

  I don’t look at them again, and decide to try to relax by reading Slaughterhouse-Five. I always try to keep it on the bedside table, and I reach out without really looking. My hand hits the lamp and I look over properly. The book is not there. Of course it’s not; the tea stains are made from the pages. Or at least some of the more recent ones. Some of those stains have been there much longer.

  ‘Fucking dammit,’ I mutter and lie down. I’d better get some damn sleep soon.

  The doppelganger sitting on the bed lies down beside me, and I turn off the lamp so I don’t have to look at it. I can still see their outlines in the moonlight. I can’t close my eyes and I see the doppelganger beside me has its eyes wide open, awake as I am. Its chest moves up and down, in sync with mine.

  I keep my breathing slow, slow it down, and we don’t match anymore. I roll on my side, keep sliding towards the other me. I shuffle away before realising: the doppelganger is making the mattress sink.

  I can’t switch now. My body is too wrecked. My headache is back, and now that I’m lying down I don’t feel like I can ever move again. I swallow and stare at the ceiling. Maybe if I don’t move somehow the doppelganger will forget about me and I’ll be okay. I close my eyes and they burn, start to water. The sun rises and the sky shifts from black to purple, pink, blue.

  Ghosts

  I examine my hands in the morning light. My finger­prints, the lines and creases on my palms, the sheen of sweat. I woke up, which at least means I was asleep for however long. The doppelganger is still there, the mattress is still compressed from its weight.

  Slowly, I nudge my foot towards it. My flesh passes through the doppelganger’s leg and I laugh in relief. It turns its head towards me and it looks shocked; it heard the laugh.

  I spring up, trip over the sheets and manage to right myself before I fall over. The doppelganger raises an eyebrow at me.

  Keeping my back to the wall, I reach my bedroom door, exit, and close it. As I walk downstairs, my heart beats painfully fast.

  ‘Morning,’ Dad says from the kitchen. He looks up at me and, when I reach the bottom of the stairs, hands me a cup of tea. His face shifts as he can’t find a place to rest his eyes. Looking me in the eye is still too hard, apparently.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, and give him a smile anyway. ‘Have you had breakfast yet?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Was about to.’

  So we sit at the table and pour our cereal out. The doppelganger comes downstairs and I sit up straighter, clench my spoon. I try not to look directly at it, and then it moves across the room until it stands behind Dad. When I look it in the face, it sits down in his chair.

  It’s a shady outline around Dad. When he leans forward to eat, the doppelganger’s face watches me. My skin crawls and I shiver.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Dad asks.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Maybe a little.’ I’m talking to him, but I can see my face inside of his, shifting under the skin. Watching both of them move at once makes my stomach roll. ‘I might go have a shower.’ Anything to get away from this … whatever this is.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, frowning. The doppelganger moves from side to side. It can see what it’s doing to me. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks.

  ‘Fine, fine.’ The doppelganger stands up, says something I can’t hear, and I try not to follow it with my eyes. ‘See you in a bit,’ I blurt out and half-run to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, lean on it and breathe. Maybe it won’t come in here, I try to convince myself, but of course it’s not fucking working because they can do whatever they want. What’s gonna stop it coming in here? A door? Sure thing, goddammit.

  It’s following me, I’m sure. Maybe something like what happened at the window is going to happen again.

  Nothing like that is going to happen, I tell myself as I undress for the shower. I can stay in control. That person called me the dominant self; I can do it.

  I close my eyes as I wash my hair, try not to smell the shampoo. When I open my eyes to reach for the conditioner, it’s like there’s a split-second delay on my arm and I see two of the same arm. It’s like lag on a computer screen.

  I shake my head and there’s definitely another arm there, pale and see-through. Braced against the wall, I breathe in water. There are two of everything, two streams of water, two lights, two showers. Four feet as I try to get away from the other me but it follows. I reach for the shower door to slide it open, but the extra fingers make me gag. I close my eyes, feel the cool tiles of the shower walls as I lean my forehead against them. A hand over my mouth to stop myself from vomiting.

  There’s a tug at my mind, something that isn’t mine. It’s the gripping from when I threw the tea against the wall, one of them has got my mind. It says to reach for the door.

  I open my eyes, the feeling is gone and it releases the pressure from my head. The doppelganger’s hand reaches for the door but mine stays where it is. I crack open the shower door and watch as the other me walks out of the shower, begins to get dressed.

  Withdrawing, I stand under the water until the other me must be gone. Sure enough, when I peek out again, the bathroom is just fog and empty.

  Once dressed, I almost run into Frank in the hallway. He grins at me and I follow him into the kitchen. As we pass through the doorway, a wooden spoon clacks to the floor in front of us.

  ‘That was weird,’ Frank says as he picks up the spoon. ‘Looks like your house is haunted.’ He brandishes the spoon at me. ‘You want brekkie?’

  I swat the spoon away. ‘I’ve already had it, thank you sir.’

  ‘Okie dokie.’ He taps the spoon against his palm. ‘I’m making my world-famous pancakes, though. If you change your mind I won’t judge.’

  ‘Well, no one said there were pancakes involved.’ Behind him, I see the lounge is empty. ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Went to bed. What’s up with you two, anyway? You’re talking again. I heard you this morning when I was trying to sleep.’

  ‘You don’t sleep, Frank.’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘I’m sorry I deprived you of your ten minutes of needed sleep.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’ He nods. ‘But you didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘Do I need to?’

  ‘Guess not.’ He shrugs. ‘If you want pancakes, lemme know.’

  He goes off into the fridge and I plonk myself in front of the TV. I flick it on and the elf movie’s back on. ‘Hey Frank!’ I say, giggling. ‘Look what’s on.’ I turn around to see if he’s heard me and there’s a doppelganger standing right behind him. My heart thumps.

  Frank’s looking at the screen. ‘It was a good movie. So bad, I loved it all.’ He brings the bowl of batter he’s mixing over and sits next to me. ‘Oh yes,’ he says, shifting in his seat. ‘This is the part where they go down to the river.’

  We’re both laughing, now, and then I turn to say something to him, but he’s not there anymore, just a doppelganger.

  I jump and it looks at me, mildly surprised.

  ‘You okay?’ Frank’s voice comes out. And then he leans forward, through the opaque doppelganger, and taps my knee.

  He’s half a torso protruding from a thing that looks like me. I smile, resist the urge to get the fuck outta there because the doppelgangers can’t rule how I live my life, and tell him, ‘Yeah, I’m good. Do you want help with the pancakes?’

  We end up in the kitchen. I hold the bowl while Frank makes sure his precious creations don’t burn. He’s chattering away about this band he’s seeing next week with some of his frie
nds. Under his words, there’s a rustling noise. There’s a doppelganger sitting on the bench. Its mouth opens, speaking to someone, and then I hear a whisper of speech, too low to hear the words properly.

  It reaches up to grab a plate from the cupboard above and I swear I hear the clink. My teeth grit, I look away. Of course I can’t hear the sound, that’s impossible.

  As soon as I turn away, there’s a huge crash and Frank yelps, flicking the pancake he was turning over into the air and across the room. The stack of plates the doppelganger was reaching for smashes to the ground.

  ‘What the hell, man,’ he says, skin getting paler as he speaks. ‘That was weird.’

  ‘They probably weren’t stacked right,’ I say, which is a terrible explanation.

  ‘What about the spoon before?’ he says, picking up the pancake. It’s covered in dirt and hair and he puts it in the bin. ‘That was weird. It came out of nowhere.’

  ‘So what, this place is haunted?’

  He scoffs. ‘No.’

  There’s a noise in the walls, the water pipes clang together. It’s a sound I’m used to, but Frank’s eyes widen into saucers.

  ‘Okay, maybe haunted. But why would a ghost be haunting this house? Have people died in here?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I can’t help myself, I laugh. ‘It’s not a ghost, don’t worry. Maybe there was a bit of wind and the spoon was knocked off the bench.’

  ‘Where would the wind come from?’

  ‘Frank, you need to stop watching horror movies.’

  He frowns at me. ‘You need to watch more. How are we supposed to bond over a mutual fear of a ghost?’ He shakes his head. ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘I’m not watching any horror movies.’ Last time I had to ask if he could sleep in my room because I was sure that old lady was gonna come up and eat my bones.

  ‘You’re too calm about this! We are being haunted, Ida.’

  ‘Well, as long as we get pancakes I don’t really mind.’

  ‘The ghosts are after my pancakes!’ He gasps in mock horror. ‘You’ve cracked the case!’

  I shake my head as I laugh. ‘Shut up.’

  ‘No pancakes for you.’

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re both in front of the TV scoffing pancakes and watching the elf movie. Two doppelgangers are sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘Hey Frank,’ I say, putting my now-empty plate on the coffee table. ‘Can I tell you something.’

  ‘I mean technically you are able to do that, yes.’ He grins at me.

  ‘Shut up.’ I laugh. ‘Anyway, like. I wanna tell you something.’ I don’t know where this is coming from, I just need someone to know. I’ve fantasised about this so many times, but now that I’m actually saying the words I don’t know what order to put them in.

  ‘Yes, I gathered that.’

  ‘But I mean like, it sounds a little … out there. Or a lot.’

  Frank raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. He’s smiling, like always, but there’s a bit of concern in his face.

  ‘Like,’ I swallow. He’s not going to believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe me. ‘I can kinda travel in time?’

  ‘Same, I mean we go forward at one second per second.’ He’s holding in a laugh that’s going to burst forth at any moment.

  ‘No, I am actually serious, Frank.’

  ‘Like … for real?’

  ‘For real for serious, yes. Like I can go back and make a different decision and then it’s like … I can change almost anything.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘I can’t prove it.’

  ‘I mean,’ he pauses, evidently thinking on how to phrase the next thing he says, ‘you don’t have to.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I mean,’ he says again, ‘if you promise you’re serious. I believe you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  ‘I guess there are other ways to bond than watch horror movies, eh? So … does this mean you’re like, a super hero?’

  I laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’

  I’m yanked, torn into the darklight against my will, my brain is screaming to go back but I can’t do anything, I just wander as I float in the cold. Dad has been getting better in the last few universes, they’d been warmer. The time with Frank was back to how it had always been. Now all the work will be undone as I’m pulled further, far away. I will not be pulled.

  I want to open my eyes when a familiar warmth runs up my legs. This universe is closer to my own.

  I’m sitting in my bedroom. The tea stains are there, and the calendar is written on. I check the date on my phone, rush over to the calendar and see I had work yesterday and have it tomorrow. And, the best thing, I have to pick Daisy up at 3:30 today from their house. I grin, clutch my phone to my chest and although everything is a mess, there is good even in all this mess.

  The time on my watch is 8:45. I look back at my phone and the actual time is 3:20. I shove on some shoes, grab my things and walk out the door yelling a goodbye to anyone who might be in the house.

  I’m only a couple of minutes late. They’re sitting on the front fence when I get there and my lungs are in my throat, expanding; I can’t believe they’re here. Daisy jumps up and gets into the car before I can turn off the engine.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ they ask, brushing my hair out of my face.

  I edge around my seatbelt and kiss them. I’m going to explode, my heart is ticking away and everything I know about Daisy floods into my mind. The way they pick their nails waiting for the bus, their favourite painting by Monet because he’s not overrated, he’s a genius, the songs they sing while knowing less than half the words. They put their hand on my shoulder and when we break apart, they smile.

  ‘Somewhere,’ I say. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Dunno. Dinner, something. I’ll pay.’

  These vague plans, if you can even call them that, are enough.

  The waiter puts our food on the table without a smile; she’s not paid enough. I take a bite of my food, start fanning my mouth.

  ‘Hot hot or spicy hot?’ Daisy asks.

  I swallow the mouthful and my eyes water. ‘Spicy. Jesus, my tastebuds are dying.’ There’s no yoghurt on the table, I could ask for milk but it’d take too long.

  They smirk at me. ‘Can’t handle it?’

  I dab at my eyes with a napkin. ‘Can’t.’

  And without thinking about it, I close my eyes.

  The space is dark and light and I try not to panic. What if Daisy is gone by the time I get back into a universe? I haven’t seen them in so long, I can’t lose them now. I shouldn’t have switched, I shouldn’t have. It was so easy, just like how it was before. They’re going to be gone by the time I get back and I hate this reflex that lets me do this so easily without a fucking thought.

  The warmth finds me, starts at my toes and I drift to it.

  I’m in the restaurant. I laugh in relief when I see Daisy is sitting opposite me. They cock their head while mine spins, giddy.

  ‘What’re you laughing at?’

  I shrug. ‘I’m just happy.’

  ‘You’re a dork,’ they say, and they’re grinning too.

  The waiter comes by and I order something I can eat without my mouth catching on fire. Daisy orders the same thing.

  ‘How was uni this morning?’ I can’t believe they’re still here. I can’t believe I almost lost them again, carelessly and without thinking.

  ‘Fine,’ they say, after swallowing their mouthful. ‘Went early to get away.’

  From home, they mean.

  ‘The studio’s nice in the morning,’ they say. ‘No one’s in there, or if they are there’s no talking, usually. It’s easier to paint.’ They smile, eyes not here. ‘But how was your day?’

  ‘Was all right,’ I say. I can’t even remember at this second. They’re here and that’s all that I know. ‘Your night okay? You look tired.’


  ‘It’s fine. Got up early, you know,’ they say, corner of their mouth twitching. ‘Do you want to become a hermit with me?’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  They grin and we go back to eating. I don’t know that it’s fine, and I keep watching their face for something, but they give nothing away.

  ‘Daisy …’

  The space is cold, freezing cold, more than before. I drift for a long time pushed with nowhere to go, immeasurable, and there is no warmth at the end of my path.

  I’m in a room by myself. It’s a small room, white, one of the walls is glass with a strip frosted over so there is a little privacy. Daisy is not here. Through the glass I see there are other rooms like mine off the hallway, each of them filled with two people.

  My room has two chairs, a brown table, and there’s a stack of papers in front of the empty chair. There’s a pen.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ a person opens the door and I jump. Their shirt is the crispest thing I’ve ever seen; their hair is perfect.

  ‘No worries,’ I say. Where am I? Daisy is alone in that restaurant … or with another me.

  ‘So now, I see you’ve got a fair bit of cafe experience,’ the person starts. ‘You’re still working at the latest cafe, the …’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So what made you want a change?’ they ask, getting ready with their pen.

  I don’t understand why this interview is being conducted in a skyscraper, judging from the view outside the window at the end of the hall. Is it for a cafe position? How did I manage to get an interview? What kind of cafe hires people like this?

  ‘I …’ What do I say? ‘I like a faster-moving workplace, I find it frustrating being somewhere where nothing happens.’

  ‘How many kilos a day would you prefer? What is your current?’

  Okay yes, it’s cafe work. ‘We go through a kilo of coffee a day if we’re lucky. I would like somewhere around, three to five?’ Not too busy.

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘We’re looking at pretty busy areas here … Where are you from?’