28 Dec Happy Birthday, Other Other Me

My family has a bit of a rocky history. My grandmother had some troubling religious beliefs, which drove a wedge between her and my mother. We couldn’t celebrate any major holidays together, so the only time I saw my grandmother was on my birthday. However, as she was too sick to travel, we’d have to go see her instead. So, every birthday, we went up to see my grandmother in Chatter Blinds. It was a three-hour trip from our home in Worcester up to Brunswick, then a bit further east.

My grandmother lived in a small red house with white lining overlooking the coastline. It was a beautiful place. There was this salty smell in the air, and a mild but constant breeze. My grandmother was a frail woman who could barely get around, but she’d be dead in the ground before she’d let her house fall into disarray. It was always impeccable.

Celebrations at her place were never really a big deal. My grandmother hated the idea of birthday gifts, so instead, we’d have a large meal and read aloud from one of her books. She’d also play the piano. Despite her faults, she was an amazing piano player – it was easily the highlight of the trip. That, and the birthday gifts I’d get to open on the way back home. It was my reward for not making a fuzz.

I remember this one time when I was 8 years old. My mother and grandmother were making dinner, and my father had gone into town to get groceries, leaving me to explore the area on my own. I made my way down to the water, following the bottom of the cliffs. There was a small section where it looked like two different cliffs intersected, leaving a small opening about four feet up. It took a bit of fidgeting, but I managed to get a closer look. There was a cave in there. I was just a stupid kid, but I was way too curious not to check it out. I climbed inside.

I walked through a tunnel. It was lined with these curious blue flowers. I brought one along to show my mom. The tunnel led into a large, almost spherical, cave. There were three cracks in the wall where water poured out into a pool in the middle. It was shallow, no more than a foot deep. A single ray of light reflected off the pool, giving the walls an unreal shimmer. When I looked up, I noticed something even stranger.

There was water in the ceiling. I didn’t understand how that could be possible. It was like the surface of a lake, but in the ceiling. It didn’t make any sense. It was crystal clear, allowing me to see my own reflection up there.

I stood there for a couple of minutes, just looking at my reflection. I waved, it waved. I jumped, it jumped. I couldn’t understand it. Finally, as I stood there, I took a whiff of the strange blue flower I’d found. It didn’t really smell like anything, but one of the petals tickled my nose. I sneezed.

“Bless you,” a voice said.

I looked up again, only to notice that my reflection wasn’t holding a flower.

“Thanks,” I said.

The reflection didn’t move. Only now did it occur to me that it wasn’t actually a reflection; it was a whole separate person. And he looked exactly like me.

“Is it your birthday too?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he responded. “I’m at my grandma’s place.”

“Me too,” I said. “We’re having some kind of sheep stew tonight.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.”

I had a long talk with the other me. We were very similar, but there were a couple of small differences. For example, his dad had a different name. They lived in a different town. And of course, there were no little blue flowers in the tunnel leading to the cave.

As the ray of light started to fade, I realized I’d been out for way too long. They were probably looking for me. But before I left, we decided on an experiment. I climbed up the side of the wall, and the other me did the same. I handed them the blue flower, and it crossed from this place to theirs. He got a hold of it, promising me he’d cherish it.

Before I raced back to grandma’s place, I looked back a final time.

“Happy birthday, other me!” I called out.

“Happy birthday, other other me!” he called back.

Every birthday that followed, I’d go back to see other me again. We’d talk about the year we’d had and the gifts we were hoping to get. This is where he and I were the most different. We were doing well, so I could comfortably hope for good things to come. But things had just gotten worse and worse for other me the past few years. While I’d wish for things like Halo 4, he’d wish for his dad to get a new job. When I wished for a cool airsoft rifle, he wished they could afford a car. And when I was 13, I wished for a TV in my room – he asked for the rain to stop burning his skin.

When I was 14, the illusion of the reflection above was broken. Other me was dressed in black, telling me he was there for his mom and grandmother’s funeral. He didn’t stay long, but he wanted to see me before he left. After just a couple of minutes I was alone, staring at the shimmering ceiling.

That year was the first and only time my grandmother gave me a birthday gift – a silver cross to wear as a necklace. I loved it; it was simple and beautiful. A small engraving on the side commemorated my 14^th birthday, and my grandmother’s name. The gift humbled me, in a way. I guessed that other me wouldn’t be getting any presents this year. This was a great reminder that I was in a good place, with good people.

My grandmother passed away later that year, and that was the last time we went up to Chatter Blinds as a family. I wouldn’t see other me that following year, or the year to come. It became this distant memory, like a half-dream. Something that felt like it’d happened to someone else. And yet I couldn’t help but wonder what’d happened to other me in the years that followed. How bad had things gotten?

But time moves on. School turned to work, and work turned to career. And while I never had to wish for my dad to get a new job, or for my family to afford a car, or for the rain to stop hurting – my wants and wishes over the years changed as well. But I kept that silver cross around my neck as a reminder that those years had happened, and that I was lucky in a way I couldn’t imagine.

The year I turned 23, my mother passed away in a sudden accident. We had a brief ceremony with the closest members of the family, but she had asked in her will to be cremated and brought to her childhood home back in Chatter Blinds. My father, who survived the accident, was too hurt to go there himself. I was asked to go on my own – to fulfill her last wish. So I did.

I drove up to Chatter Blinds, following the same roads we’d taken so many times before. Mom was resting in a simple metal urn beside me. It was a long and silent trip, and I kept the radio off. I wanted to think of all the times we’d driven there over the years, and what those trips used to sound like.

And of course, it had to rain. It rained about half the time we drove up there, and this time was no exception. Fitting, in a way. Mom always loved the New England weather.

My grandmother’s old house had fallen into disarray – ravaged by weather and wildlife. The best description for it was ‘reclaimed by nature’, as wasps had made their home in the rafters and rats swarmed the basement. Without its caretaker, the old house was nothing but planks and memories. I hadn’t planned on staying long; I was just there to grant my mother her wish, and then I’d be off. But before I did, I spent some time in my grandmother’s bathroom. Mostly to make sure I looked presentable; having a shave and straightening my shirt and tie. But also just to have a bit of a cry.

I set her ashes free at the coast, as specified. While my grandmother had been buried, my mother had always been a bit more secular. But in death, they’d still wanted to be together, in a way. I didn’t understand it, but she’d never asked me to.

Before I left, curiosity pulled at me. I could just go back home, but there was a part of me that was anxious to see if that cave was still there – and if so, what would I see? Had it all been real? It was nowhere near my birthday, so I  figured I wouldn’t see other me there, but had he ever existed to begin with? I’d just been a stupid kid, after all. Maybe I’d made it all up.

I made my way down to the coastline, following the bottom of the cliffs. There was a bit of overgrowth, but I could see the entrance to the cave. I’d gotten quite a bit larger since last I’d been there, but I managed to squeeze through. For a brief moment I thought I might get stuck, but the opening widened as I got further in.

Coming back into that large spherical space, everything was as I remembered it – albeit a bit smaller. The cracks in the wall, the pool of water in the middle. And above; the floating reflection of another place.

I wasn’t expecting to see someone up there, but I did. For some reason, even now, other me was waiting for me.

He looked like me, but dressed differently. He had wild bushy hair and what looked like plastic rags draped into a primitive raincoat. There was also his cave; it was covered in those blue flowers. The same that I’d given him that first year we met. They were quite large and I could see now that they were, seemingly, a kind of sunflower.

“Hey, me,” he said. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“You’re real?” I asked. “You’re really… real?”

“As real as you,” he smiled. “For now, at least.”

“I thought I was making this up,” I admitted. “That I was just passing the time. Playing.”

“We did that too,” he said. “But that doesn’t make either of us any less real.”

He told me he’d been hiding in that cave for some time. It was bad out there. Storms ravaged the coast, and there were raiders watching the main roads. The government had seemingly collapsed, and there was something else entirely out there.

“People go missing at night,” he explained. “Mostly during the storms. They speak of tall people hiding in the dark, dragging victims into the woods.”

He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for months. He’d survived by hunting and fishing, and had gotten his water from his grandmother’s water pump. You couldn’t drink the rainwater, or you’d go mad.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” he admitted. “It’s just a matter of time.”

It felt like looking at a broken reflection. It hurt. Not just because I could literally see myself in this person, but because I’d been so lucky when he hadn’t. It was unfair. It’s as if the silver cross burned against my chest. So I did what any charitable person would; I offered him a way out. I climbed up the side of the wall and reached out a hand. As a kid, I hadn’t been tall enough to reach all the way up, but now I was.

“Come on,” I said. “I’ll get you out of there.”

He climbed up the side on his end and reached back. Our fingers broke the surface and touched. I grabbed his wrist and pulled, but I had no grip. Neither did he. In a strange moment, we both slipped from the wall, leaving us suspended in mid-air, holding on to one another.

However, as fate would have it, I was just a little bit heavier. Maybe it was my diet or the clothes I wore, but I weighed him down. And slowly but surely, I pulled him through from that place, to this.

We both fell into the pool in the middle of the room. I bumped my tailbone pretty bad, which would make for an awkward trip back home. But the relief on his face said it all; it had worked. He was free. I could almost see a light coming from his smile.

“I’ll consider this a… belated birthday present,” he said. “Thank you, other me.”

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and got up.

“You’re welcome, other other me.”

Leaving that cave together, I still couldn’t quite understand what’d happened. There were two of me now. How could that be? How could that be a real thing?

But he was as real as real could be. The moment we left that cave, he laughed. He laughed like he’d been told the funniest joke ever – despite the rain pouring down on us like wide-open floodgates.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

“It doesn’t hurt!” he grinned. “It doesn’t hurt at all!”

Seems like he got his birthday wish in the end.

He told me a wild story about how things had been for him in that other place. How in a couple of years, everything had fallen apart. Lightning storms ravaging major population centers. Roving bands of death cultists marching down Main Street. High-profile assassinations, cultural and tactical allegiances across the globe collapsing. In some places, the ground itself seemed to be hostile as pockets of gravitational upheaval popped up seemingly at random.

“Before we lost the web, there were pictures of Amazonian palm trees suspended in midair,” he explained. “Not long after, we could see it happening downtown.”

He’d been coming back to that cave over and over again. Not just for shelter, but to see what it’d been like for me. For years, he’d assumed things had been as bad for me as they were for him.

I took him back to my car. I’d planned on driving back home, but my tailbone was killing me. We decided to spend a night at my grandmother’s place before returning in the morning. It wasn’t a good solution, but it’d have to do. The top floor, albeit small, was still relatively untouched. As long as you kept the windows closed, for the wasps.

I shared a couple of sandwiches with the other me. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in days.

“This looks just like her place,” he explained in between bites. “But there’s not much left of it.”

“I don’t get what happened,” I said. “Was there never an explanation? Anything?”

“It happened all at once. Earthquakes, meteor strikes, solar flares, flash floods… all of it. And over time, it just got worse.”

He had trouble talking about it. It was obvious that he’d lost a lot of people, and just thinking about it caused his face to twitch and sour. He excused himself and used the bathroom, just to get some space. He was in there for a long time, borrowing my grooming kit. Coming back out, he looked like a new person. Same hair, same beard. We could be twins. Then again, in a way, we were.

We were up late that night, talking about anything and everything. I told him about my job, my family, and my hopes for the future. He was amazed by it. To someone like him, it sounded like everything he’d ever wanted. To the simple joys of getting fresh fruit from the supermarket to the prospect of getting married and providing for a family. Since I’d dressed up in my fineries, I had a spare set of clothes for him to borrow. He looked like a new man.

As midnight came and went, I was exhausted, but too eager to sleep. He was the same. We were two identical voices in the dark, like a lonely man talking to himself.

“I’ll get my own life,” he muttered. “It’d be weird for the two of us to be in the same place.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I can help you get settled.”

“Just get me a train ticket, and I’ll be on my way.”

He talked a bit about South America, and how he’d cursed himself for not seeing the rainforest before the upheaval started. Now there was a second chance.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I did. But it didn’t last for long. I woke up to the sound of someone running, and when I opened my eyes, I saw other me bursting through the door. He’d been outside, in the rain. That much was clear.

I sat up, giving him a curious look. I reached for my phone to check the time, only to realize I’d left it in my other pair of pants, the ones he’d borrowed. I was still wearing my formals. Other me had both my phone, wallet, and keys. And looking a little closer, I could see that he was holding my keys.

He was frazzled, as if he’d been running. His eyes kept going from me to the window, then back to me.

“There’s something outside,” he said. “I went to check it out.”

“What is it?” I asked.

He shook his head and mumbled, as if expecting the words to come to him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think something’s following me.”

I checked the windows but couldn’t see anything. But as we stood there, looking out, I could hear something. Scratching. Like a tired dog trying to open a door. We listened, and other me whispered.

“Hear that? It’s here. Something’s here.”

I heard a door open, and something stepped inside on the bottom floor. It was only a time before it’d find us. Other me suggested we make a run for it, but I had a different idea. We could climb out the window, make our way across the roof, and down the ladder on the other side. Grandma had an old-fashioned fireplace in the living room, meaning she had a chimney. And with a chimney comes the need for a chimney sweep, so there was a ladder going down the side of the house, bolted to the wall.

We cracked open the window and made it outside. I helped other me up there, and we tip-toed across the metal roof. It was this corrugated metal roof, and in the rain it was slippery as all hell. The sound of water drops echoed, masking our footsteps. As we reached the ladder, I stopped and whispered.

“Hand me the keys,” I said. “I’ll get the car started.”

He hesitated. Even now, it was like looking into a mirror – but there was something different there. I knew myself well enough to read my own face, and the two of us were feeling something vastly different. I couldn’t put a finger on what though. Either way, he wasn’t handing me the keys.

“Come on,” I urged him. “We gotta be quick.”

“I can drive,” he said. “Don’t worry, just go.”

“You’ve never touched this car before,” I said. “I got this.”

“No,” he whispered back. “I got this.”

I didn’t like it, but there was no time to argue. There was an intruder in the house, and we had to get going. I climbed down first, and other me followed. I almost slipped a couple of times; the rungs on the ladder were wet from the rain. My fingers got stained with rust. The moment I stepped off the ladder, I could tell something was wrong.

There were shapes out in the rain. Humanoid, but taller, slender, and unnaturally dark. Even with the tiny amount of moonlight that peered through the rain clouds, I could tell them apart from the night. Just like other me had explained: tall people, hiding in the dark.

Other me got off the ladder, and we made it to my car. I was about to get into the driver’s seat, mostly out of habit, but the door was locked. Other me picked up the keys and started fumbling with the buttons. He couldn’t make out what was what. I held my hand out.

“Give ‘em here,” I said. “I got it.”

“No,” he insisted. “Just gimme a minute.”

“This is not your car,” I snapped back. “It’s my property. I’ll help you, but you gotta work with me.”

Not a word from him. He kept fidgeting with the buttons, until he hit something he shouldn’t have – the panic button.

I’d never used it before, and all of a sudden, the night was lighting up with blinking headlights. The sound of rain was cut through by a shrieking alarm, drawing all attention. I grabbed other me’s hand to take the keys back, but he pushed me away. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the alarm. Then I turned around.

The dark shapes were drawing closer. They’d gathered in a circle around us. Other me managed, finally, to turn off the alarm. My ears were ringing, barely covering the sound of my heart beating out of my chest. My tongue felt dry, and my rust-stained fingers were going cold.

“It’s him!” other me called out. “I was here first! It’s him you want!”

I turned to him. I didn’t understand what he was saying, or why. It didn’t make any sense. He dangled the car keys, like he was trying to entice an animal.

“Look, see?!” he continued. “These are my keys! This is my car! He’s just trying to take it!”

“What are you doing?” I asked. “What… what is this?”

“I’m not part of this!” he continued. “Just take him away and leave me alone!”

The tall shapes drew closer. One of them was about 9 feet tall and had arms that reached all the way to its ankles. It had this long, elongated neck. The head looked like a prehensile tail, bobbing back and forth at unnatural angles. Despite being closer, it was still just a dark shape; I couldn’t make out any musculature or bone structure. But they were clearly coming my way. They were listening.

“What are you doing?!” I repeated. “I pulled you out, and now you’re throwing me under the bus?!”

“No, I pulled you out!” he called back. “Just look at us! Which one is looking ready to go? The one with the keys, the wallet, and the phone – or the one with neither, shouting in the goddamn rain?!”

“Unlock my phone then!” I called back. “If that’s yours, you can unlock it!”

He pulled it out, hesitated, then put in a code. The phone unlocked. I’d completely forgotten that we were literally the same person; we would use the same code. He just had to consider what code he would’ve picked, and input it. The shapes turned their attention to me. As they drew closer, I panicked. I rushed the other me, tackling him to the ground.

We wrestled in the dirt. The keys got lost in the scuffle, but I could tell I was no match for him. He’d been in a lot more fights than me, and it showed. He wasn’t afraid to hurt me. I just barely avoided a grip that would have snapped my wrist into pieces. I got a couple of punches in, but nothing serious. He, on the other hand, elbowed me straight across the jaw. The moment it hit me I could tell I was gonna have trouble eating solid food for a couple days.

I was losing by every available metric. They were believing him, and I was getting beaten to a pulp. I had to do something, but I was running out of ideas.

He wrestled his way out of my grip and pushed me away from the car. He picked up the keys and pointed at me.

“Enough!” he yelled. “It’s over!”

The shapes drew closer, now within an arms’ reach. I turned to one of them as a dark four-fingered hand grabbed the collar of my shirt. It pulled me forward, as if wanting to drag me back to that cave. I struggled, but it was no use; that arm was like a vice. It was inhuman.

More of them joined in. One grabbed an arm, another took a leg. They barely seemed to register my weight, lifting me like I was a troublesome toddler.

I kicked, punched, and wrestled, but I just ended up hurting myself. I could feel bruises forming on my arms and legs. I had no idea what their intention was, but I couldn’t let it happen. If they were taking me away, I wouldn’t come back.

“There’s been a mistake,” I pleaded. “Please, you have to believe me, there’s been-“

And I turned from their grip as hard as I could. Something around my neck snapped loose. My grandmother’s silver cross.

One of the shapes stopped and brought it up to his dangling head. I couldn’t see any eyes, but it seemed to be inspecting it. A thought struck me.

“I got it from… my grandmother,” I said. “That’s mine. It’s dated after his grandmother died, so it can’t be his, right?”

The figures didn’t move. I looked back and forth between them, but there was no discussion. Not a word was spoken, not a look exchanged. It’s as if they were frozen in time. The cold rain drenched my face as they slowly put me down on the ground. It felt like being surrounded by moving trees, these immense, towering creatures. Tall enough to block out the moonlight.

They turned their attention back to the other me, dropping the silver cross into my open palm.

He’d got to the car and started it. I could hear him screaming in frustration as he couldn’t figure out the buttons. He’d never driven an automatic before, it seemed. He got it to roll, but he didn’t make it far. These things were fast when they had to be. They didn’t run, it was more like they slid across the ground like ice skaters. It was so eerie, like they were being carried through the air effortlessly.

Other me barely made it out of the driveway before one of the car doors was torn off. Seconds later, I could hear the scream shift in pitch from an angry yell to a desperate plea. The same voice I’d just used myself. They carried him off as he screamed like a wounded animal. In his final moment, his attention turned to me. And although he was distant, I could hear his voice clear as day. His voice, my voice.

“You don’t know what you’ve done!” he cried. “You don’t know! You don’t know!”

And with that, nothing remained but the rain.

I found my things on the passenger side of the car. The keys were still in the ignition. I would have to get the door fixed, but apart from that, I was good. Well, apart from the beating I’d taken. I just wanted to forget about the whole thing. But in order to do so, I would have to check one final thing. The cave.

After collecting my thoughts, I went back down there. By the time I got to that big open cave, the rain had stopped. And looking up, there was no more reflection. Whatever had allowed me to see the other side was gone, and with it – the other me. It was just a cave with a little pool of water.

I didn’t know what to feel. I was relieved, of course, but also terrified. How would I know what to make of this? What if he were to return?

Ever since that day, I have always had this eerie sense that something is lurking behind the eyes of my reflection. Like it isn’t really a reflection, but an image of that other me, in that other place. I imagine that he remembers me. That he knows. That he has to play along for now, waiting for another opportunity to pass through.

There are no mirrors in my home anymore. I have to distance myself from those thoughts. But the distance doesn’t make my worries any less valid.

Maybe it’ll never happen. Maybe I’ll never see that place, or that other me, ever again.

Or maybe the truth is something even worse.