When I caper through the living room and out of the house, Gracie’s laughter falls from my mouth and rides the night air. “Gaire will find out about the ghost soon enough,” I tell the stars.
The day after tomorrow, the real Gracie Jean will be in a cabin in the Ocala forest, forty-seven miles north of here. Gaire and I will be staying in the graceful, two-story home until she returns.
I trot toward the lake behind Gracie’s home. There’s a storm drain nearby and it leads to a sewer entrance, and Gaire.
Gaire
“She died. I killed her, and there was no taking that back,” I say.
I know the doppelganger stands across from me, but this getting to know each other: who I am, where I’ve been, and everything personal in between is difficult. Especially with someone I feel like I’ve just met.
“I understand you killed her, Gaire. You just detailed the incident,” Gracie says. She leans against the cement at her back, both arms crisscrossed over her chest. The heel of one bare foot rests on the toes of the other. “I want to know why.” Her tone is short, snippy. Gracie Jean is clearly not intimidated by me.
It’s irritating. The voice, stance, and demeanor add a parenting blemish to this host’s persona. I’m not a child, and I don’t like being treated like one.
I lean back, prop one shoe against the wall behind me, and nonchalantly say, “The animal in me took over the minute I got a hard on.”
She wants to treat me like an adolescent; I’ll give her pubescence at its finest.
Her eyes flare red for a nanosecond, enough to show me the doppelganger is inside.
“Okay—” Gracie pushes away from the wall and tracks small wet footprints along her side of the drain pipe. “—let’s start over. Your attitude seems a little defensive. We’re supposed to be trying to understand our individual darker sides, and a crass display of words will not endear you to the doppelganger in me.”
I don’t move. “And the conversation will remain counterproductive if you continue to treat me like a human in elementary school.”
Gracie Jean’s eyes pop open. Her mouth does too. Then she quickly dips her head and whispers, “Sorry, this one’s a mother. She may even be a teacher. I didn’t ask. Although I cannot sound or look like myself. I can try to act like myself. Okay?”
It seems appropriate, though uncomfortable, to carry on this conversation leaning against the curvature of the drainpipe. We’re facing each other and a shallow stream of muddy water is flowing between us. Just a trickle, but enough to scent the air with tainted water coming from the dark end of the storm drain.
Standing a few feet from the exit we get a small amount of sunlight, and occasionally a breeze of fresh air. It’s a pleasant tie to the human world. Well, that and the bodies we both wear.
Empty burger wrappers and half-filled soda cans bob at the edge of a pond basin. The pool of water is nestled into a lush flora: palm fronds, oaks laden with Spanish moss, and tall skinny trees strangled by layers of kudzu.
Two rats the size of small dogs scurry around the kind of debris loitering kids toss on the ground. Sniffing and nosing the damp dirt at the water’s edge, the rodents search for sustenance. I feel more a part of their behavior than the one I’m engaging in at the moment.
Kicking a cigarette butt into the burbling watercourse, I follow the butt as it floats all the way to the little pond. One of the rats sits on its haunches and sniffs the air in our direction.
“Will you tell me what happened after you … after your parents found out what you’d done?” she asks, followed by, “Please?”
A submissive question, laced with discomfort. My neck muscles relax.
“My mother is the creature that cared for me. There was no S in parents during my upbringing. Unfortunately, Mother was forced to tell the wendigo who fathered me that I tried to have a sexual relationship with a human—he’s the go-to monster among his race.”
“Damn, that sucks,” Gracie says softly.
“No kidding. I found out just how much it sucked the night he arrived,” I say, momentarily distracted by an urge to take this indoors. The two-story home looms in the distance. “Good old Dad showed up to destroy me.”
Even though I frown at the new face the doppelganger is wearing. Gracie is really lovely, with dark hair, eyes so brown they look black, and a tall, thin frame, but not boney or frail. She glows with natural beauty; the kind of beauty that comes from clean living, healthy food and plenty of exercise. Never before have I desired to look past outer beauty and dig at what lies beneath.
“Mother vehemently opposed my death,” I say, as I scan the house we’re ’borrowing’ while the human and her daughter are somewhere in Ocala.
“And?” Gracie encourages.