Doppelganger dot com

January 8, 2004

Was it a full moon last night? It can be hard to tell sometimes, but it sure felt like it. Even when it dipped behind that building, I could still feel its light. It soaked into my skin until I glowed pale green. I pushed open the door of the only restaurant in my neighborhood and traded the moon's weight for the glow of red and white neon beer signs.

I sat at the bar, ordered some food, and strained my neck to see the television, squinting to read the closed captions on its sharply angled screen. The Simpsons.

A girl sat at the counter, a seat away, and ordered a drink through the big, furry hood that cradled her face. I watched as she peeled it away and then unwound the scarf around her neck. The bartender told her there was a coat rack if she wanted one, but the girl said no and stayed bundled up like Nanook of the North. From the corner of her eye, she caught me looking at her and nodded hello. I said hi, then went back to watching The Simpsons.

"I know you," she said.

I turned and cocked my head. "Sorry?"

"I said, I know you." Static made her dark brown hair stand out in all directions. Straight dark strands floated up and away from her pale, round face. Apparently, the moon had seeped into her skin too. She had a lazy eye, and I looked from one to the other as she continued. "From somewhere. I don't know where."

"Hmm. I dunno."

"What's your name?" she asked. "Jamie."

"I definitely met you. My name's Kat."

The bartender brought out my plate of food and set it down with a clank. I looked at the sorry excuse of a grilled cheese and wished I'd ordered something else. "Hi Kat. I'm sorry I don't remember. Was I drunk?"

“Ha. I don't know, I don't know. This is gonna drive me nuts."

"Maybe it was my doppelgänger."

She let out a big laugh and spilled a little of her drink down the front of her overstuffed coat. "Your what?"

"My doppelgänger."

"What's that?"

"It’s like a ghost that looks like a living person—Something like that. I don't know, whatever—"

Just then, two guys she knew walked in and sat on her other side. They all kissed and hugged hello as I started to eat my soggy, undercooked grilled cheese. The French fries were good anyway. I finished up and paid my check, and as I was putting my coat on, she suddenly turned from her friends and said to me, "Do you have a website?"

I zipped up my jacket, put on my hat, turned a little red, and sheepishly said, "Uhh—yeah."

"I've seen it."

She told me she came across it while searching for apartments. It showed up when she searched for 'Bushwick lofts.' She said she read it for a while, but once her roommate moved out, she didn't have a computer anymore and lost track of it.

"You're not missing much," I said. "So I take it you found an apartment?"

"Not in Bushwick. I live in Greenpoint. I'm just visiting my friends." She turned to introduce me to the two guys sitting with her. I said hello, and they responded with silent, unimpressed nods. "Are you going to write about this?" she asked.

"Probably. Not much else to write about lately.”

She asked for my web address, and I gave it to her. She didn't think she'd remember it, so she borrowed a pen from the bartender and had me scribble it on a napkin. "I don't know when I'll get to look at it, since I don't have a computer anymore."

I hope she doesn’t get upset if she ever reads this post that I mentioned her lazy eye. "Okay, well, nice to meet you," she said. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

Maybe.