A Step to Nowhere (19 page)

“I know
everything
about you.”

“Is your life so boring that life of your double becomes a part of it?”

“Right. It’s just necessity.”

“What for?” I wanted to stand up and pull my copy’s hair. She thought she had a right to run my life.

“It’s all so strange. People on our planets often lead totally different lifestyles, but it’s seldom that couples separate. Very, very seldom. As you say—fate. Some men and women on our planets connect to produce the same children. Like they follow some mirror plan of copying the human world.”

“I was one of those few people who went against the rules of the universe?” I asked.

“To our surprise and regret,” my copy sighed. “It made the task more complicated and took more time than we had expected.

“What task? What time?” My anger grew into frustration. I wanted to throw something.

“Time to start our plan, of course. Plan to change your life.”

“What did you plan?” I hit my fists and jumped up, hitting the coffee table with my knees. The candles moved and one fell on the floor.
And now there are three
. “You can’t make plans for our lives!”

My copy showed me the phone-remote.

“This button will bring my guards here in a second. I’m not very humane and if you’re not patient, you will die without the knowledge. You want to know about the plan, right?”

I clenched my teeth, squeezed my fists, and sat back down. Anger boiled inside me. I took the bottle and finished the water even though I wanted to finish the woman in front of me.

My copy stood up, looked out the window, half closed the drapes, and returned to her seat. She drank her coffee, put her cup to the side, and only then she looked at me.

“My husband told you I was dead. I’m surprised he talked to you at all. How did he explain it to you? In what context?”

I was quiet for a few seconds. Aside from my hatred toward the woman sitting across from me, for her self-righteousness, permissiveness, arrogance and so on, I digested Ray’s lies again. It wasn’t my Ray. My Ray wouldn’t sink so low. But I had sex with him! And shared my thoughts! It was so embarrassing now. I thought he loved me, but he just used me. My Ray had no idea about my feelings. He kept living his life without thinking about where I was or what I was doing.

“You’re not going to answer?”

I shook my head.

“Ah … He …” I rubbed my eyes with my fingers. “He said his wife died and he couldn’t live through his loss. That’s why he met me. Broke the rules.” I said it with my voice lowered. I was so tired. I wanted to roll into a ball in this chair and fall asleep. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. I had such modest wishes, but they couldn’t be fulfilled.

“He
met
you?” My copy narrowed her eyes. “In the corporation?”

“At … At my planet.” I wanted to sleep so badly. My eyelids felt like somebody was pressing on them with their hands, my head felt stuck in some really tight helmet. My silly head had an ache.

My copy gazed at me silently for a minute or more. Then she ran her hand over her hair, licked her lips, rubbed her temples, and looked inside the empty cup. A china cup from my planet; ordered and purchased. Who carried out those orders? I probably knew the answer.

We didn’t talk and I even had time to return to the past. To the only time when Ray and I had danced together. It was a corporate party. New Year’s, or maybe not. I almost fainted when he put his arms around my waist and I put my hands on his shoulders. So close. I smelled his cologne even though it mostly faded by the evening. I felt his muscles under his shirt. I felt heat coming from his body, his hands burning my skin through the dress. I couldn’t look into his eyes and couldn’t wait for the music to finish. He would understand everything if I even glanced at him. I remembered what song it was.
You Are So Beautiful.
The sensual melody, piercing to the bones, arousing passion that was difficult to control. I didn’t raise my eyes. My stubbornness and pride overpowered my desire.

“Sam,” he whispered, leaning to my ear. His breath burnt the skin. I didn’t say anything back, stepping from foot to foot in a slow dance, holding my hands tightly on his shoulders.

“Don’t you see?” His whisper again. “Don’t you understand? Don’t you
feel
?”

Say something! Something!
My conscience screamed.
You want it. You know. You feel!

I didn’t say anything. Damn stubbornness and irreverent pride.

I was glad for the darkness in the hall; otherwise everyone would see my glowing face. It usually didn’t react to any type of stimulation, including embarrassment.

“You should feel it,” he said. “You should understand that I don’t see anyone but you. Don’t you feel anything for me at all?”

He just can’t accept the fact that you don’t jump into his bed as the others do
, I assured myself. I couldn’t trust in the sincerity of his words. He’d known what to say to a woman so she would lose her resistance and surrender to his will lock, stock and barrel.

“You’re doing everything right,” he said when the music was about to end. His hands on my back lost their tension. “You’re good. You don’t have to tell me anything. Forget about it.”

I lost my last chance. The dance was over and he left the party without saying goodbye to me or meeting my eyes. My terrible nature played a bad joke on me. I made a big mistake. Now, when I met him accidentally (so I thought), I wanted to make everything right. I thought I
could
make everything right and jumped into the abyss, giving in to the impulse. I wanted to turn back time and didn’t notice that he was just imitation. How could I be so blind and confuse that calculating bastard with the person I loved? This cold, heartless, indifferent man was nothing like my Ray, but I let him use me, so he could carry on with his plan.

“What plan?” I mumbled, still lost in my thoughts. I didn’t get here because of the carelessness or intrigue of the government from the parallel universe. I’d gotten here because my copy planned it, along with her husband. He, by the way, cheated on her with me. Did they count cheating with a person from my planet as something serious? Was sex with me part of the plan she’d created? Or was it a combination of work and pleasure for him?

“Plan,” my copy said thoughtfully, looking at the phone in her hand. “Yes … plan. Plan was almost successful. It didn’t include your escape. It happened because we didn’t take your potential into consideration. I decided it would be interesting to meet you. It
is
interesting to meet a double and see the difference. Great difference. You’re stronger than I thought. You can hide your feelings very well.”

You have no idea how well.

“What plan?” I repeated, digesting new information and comparing it to the events in the corporation. Nothing connected, because something was missing. Did this woman know that her husband helped me to escape? Why did he do it? What was going to happen if she found out?

“I’ll tell you about my father,” my copy said.

I shrugged.

“My father is a great man. He has done a great
fady
on this planet.

“Yeah. I noticed that. Whatever
fady
means.”

“I don’t think skepticism is suitable in your situation. My father created a safe environment for our planet. We have a very low crime level.”

“So, you make up the crimes because you’re bored? Your jail is not empty.”

My copy smiled.

“Do you want to listen further or go to onis right now? Onis on your planet—jail.”

“I can wait.”

“It’s a wise decision. I’d like to have a snack. Are you hungry?”

“Like an animal.” I didn’t say that I preferred to die with my stomach full. In this house, they could treat me with something better than in the corporation. White and green mashed something.
Bon appetit
and don’t you choke.

My copy narrowed her eyes as if thinking over the phrase then picked up her remote/phone.

“The usual,” she said. “Two portions.”

I looked out the window, through the split between the drapes. Twilight turned to darkness, but lanterns illuminated the garden. It was beautiful. This dragon didn’t deserve it.

“My father organized the lottery. First the winnings had only a money equivalent,” my copy started talking again. “Then, when my father and my husband collaborated, we added a trip to Planet Two to the money prize.”

“If you like my planet so much, why don’t you follow our example and copy our lifestyle here, instead of killing us?”

My copy shook her head as if I irritated her.

“You’re naïve. Isn’t it clear? It’s not profitable.”

“Right.” I nodded. “You’re so right. It’s not difficult to guess. Killing is more profitable.”

“Our regime is … convenient. You should see the positive sides. My husband makes huge money on transfers and replacements, for example.”

“Transfers and replacements are not the same as the trip?”

“Of course not. It’s more like … immigration.”

There was a knock at the door and after my copy allowed entrance, the same young girl walked inside, now holding a tray, followed by an older woman that seemed familiar to me.

The girl put the tray in front of my copy, the older woman – on the coffee table near me. She looked at me and I saw tears in her eyes. I didn’t understand her emotions.

“Get out of here,” my copy said and the women left the room. The older one turned to me once before closing the door.

I checked the tray. Toast smeared with black caviar, smoked salmon wrapped around slices of avocado, thin pieces of white fish, crackers, blue cheese and brie, and champagne bubbled in a narrow glass. All I wanted was pizza with extra cheese and a glass of orange juice, but my stomach roared when the smell of a delicatessen reached my nose. I had to feed it. So, I grabbed a piece of salmon and stuck it in my mouth. Tender, just enough salt, best quality.

“Respectable dinner before death.”

I almost choked and lifted my eyes to my disgusting copy who had said those words. They would sound better in my execution. She sipped champagne, holding the glass under its thin stem.

I forced myself to swallow the food, washed it down with champagne that was dry. I preferred semisweet. Should I act out? It was the last time I could do it. It was a funny scene though. Two Samanthas Bristow repasting in front of each other. One—the personification of evil. The second one wasn’t an angel either, but she couldn’t hold a candle to the first one in the meanness department. Was it possible just to accept it as reality? Was it possible to accept as reality the fact that she wanted to kill me? A second piece of fish went to my mouth.

“I don’t like black caviar much,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “Your champagne—gross. But if you don’t have anything better …”

My copy laughed. I’d known what my laugh was to someone else’s ear, I heard it on video, but hers was repulsive. When she stopped laughing, she’d bitten her toast with caviar.

“I like your food,” she said, swallowing her food before talking, unlike me.

“I can see that.” I wanted to eat everything from the tray, and right away my stomach showed its full potential, but I couldn’t afford to show such weakness. That’s why I took the glass of nasty champagne and leaned on the back of the chair, crossing one of my legs on top of the other. I wore heavy, men’s boots and a shapeless uniform and my copy was in a sexy dress and high heels. Comparison not to my advantage.