The Doppelgänger: A Psychological Thriller (17 page)

Chapter 20

At 7:00 AM, Darcy sat in Potter’s café. The disinterested assistant was gone. A bright faced college student took her place. The cuckoo clock hung on the right wall. The constant ticking of the clock increased the pressure on Darcy. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mingled with varnish. The walls were painted a bright yellow and lined with framed portraits.

Darcy drank some more coffee, her eyes firmly fixed on the door. She dropped a few drops of black coffee on her skirt. Drops of the hot liquid touched her bare skin. She pulled tissues out and wiped it. It was too late. Her skirt was stained.

A plastic cuckoo erupted form the small door on the clock. It sang a corny nursery rhyme and shut itself back in, embarrassed. It was seven-thirty. Every move of the clock needles heightened Darcy’s anxiety. She had to get to work by nine. 

The door opened. The bell on the wooden door chimed. A puff of cold air made Darcy turn. Three men walked in, dressed in sharp shoes, coats and scarves. Darcy’s heartbeat eased. The waitress greeted them with a smile. Her hollow eyes glanced at their reflection in the cup of coffee.

Another thirty minutes passed. The cuckoo ventured out of its nest again. Darcy stood up. She headed out of the cafe, triggering another ring of the bell. The waitress flashed her a pleasant smile.

The cold air covered her exposed face. The road was busy. There was no sign of her mother. She sighed. The place was jinxed.

Before she stepped onto the road, she heard the sound of boots clicking on the cemented pavement. Darcy turned. A petite figure stood ten feet away from her. She saw a short woman covered with layers of clothing. She wore brown riding boots over her dark wash jeans. Her top half was covered with a gigantic scarf and waterproof jacket.

Darcy met her blue eyes. Her mother. Her eyes trailed to Darcy. She inched closer. Darcy shut the car door and moved to the cafe door. Her mother stood next to her. She smelled a hint of magnolia before the overpowering scent of coffee brushed it away.

The bell rang. Darcy didn’t register the sound. She lost herself in her mother’s eyes. They were real. Too real. Every detail of her memory materialized before her. Her mother was flesh and bones. Large blue eyes surveyed her bewildered expression. But, there was no recognition in them. Darcy walked up to her and cleared her throat.

“Morning,” she said. Her mother didn’t acknowledge  her. “I’m Darcy.”

Jennifer Scott shot her a passing glance and headed for the door, signaling her to follow. 

Darcy followed her into the cafe. She didn’t say anything as she proceeded to a seat next to the window. It was hemmed in by walls on two sides. Darcy sat on the dark leather sofa. Her mother moved to the wooden chair.

“Would you like to order anything?” the waitress asked.

“Expresso.” The huskiness balanced her mezzo-soprano voice. Her eyes grazed over Darcy and met the window. There was no feeling in them. No warmth. No love. The waitress turned.

“You called yesterday.” it was a flat sentence that didn’t convey joy.

So many secrets lay between them. So many years of unsaid words. So many memories. So much animosity.

The waitress’ shadow hung over Darcy.

“Would you like to get something?” she asked.

“A cappuccino.” she said. 

“Sure.” The waitress’ eyes were fixed on the table. She finished wiping the table and went away.

“Why did you come to the bank?” her mother’s words came out hard and fast.

“I-I didn’t.” Darcy said. She leaned against the cushy sofa. Her bank sank into it.

“I saw you-”

“It wasn’t me.” Their gazes locked.

“How did you get my phone number?” she asked, scrunching her nose.

“Your neighbor gave it to me.”

“You went to my house?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why? I told your father I never wanted to see you again-” she stopped and gritted her teeth.

The waitress came by. Her mother’s face relaxed. She placed a cup of coffee on the table. Darcy anxiously looked around to make sure the waitress was gone. When she was out of sight, Darcy whispered,

“I went through your medical records,” Darcy said, collecting her thoughts. Her mother’s hands began to shake. “I didn’t know about the-”

“How did you find them?” she asked. Though her voice were calm, her eyes were enlarged.

“I went to visit dad last week. He wasn’t well-”

“You found them in the house?” she said. She picked up the cup of coffee and drank a large quantity. She pulled it away from her mouth when it scalded her mouth. She winced. Jennifer pulled out a few tissues from the box on the wiped the remains of coffee from her lips.

“Are you okay?’ the waitress asked, approaching the table.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Her mother’s controlled voice spoke. The waitress hesitantly walked away. The bell chimed. The door opened. A young couple walked in.

“I remembered what happened when I was six.”

Her mother stiffened.

“Dad said you suffered from post-natal depression. That’s when the-um…disorder was diagnosed.”

Jennifer looked around to make sure nobody was hearing.

“He said you didn’t want to see me. Ever.” Darcy emphasized the last word.

“But we’re here, aren’t we?” she said. She pushed the cup away. She wasn’t giving any answers.

“I thought you were dead.” Darcy said.

“Dead?” she asked, surprised. She drank some coffee.

“Why did I think that? I don’t remember anything about what happened fifteen years ago,” Darcy said. “Tell me, what happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother said, turning her face away.

“Who is Dr. Williams? How do I know him?”

“Her mother turned abruptly. “You remember him?” she asked, surprised.

“I know him.” Darcy said, reading between the lines.

Her mother’s fingers curved around the cup of coffee.

“Tell me, who do I know him?” Darcy asked. When her mother didn’t answer, she went on, “I need to know. I deserve to know. How long are you going to hide it form me? I am in trouble-”

“Trouble?” her mother repeated those words. There it was again- the expression she hated the most. Suspicion colored her mother’s eyes. She looked at her like she was a criminal.

“Ummm…that doesn’t matter-”

“What did you do?” her mother asked, paranoia clutching her voice.

“Mom, I didn’t do anything.” Her mother’s eyes were wide with concern. Darcy saw her heartbeat pulsate on the bulging nerves on her temple.

“Who did you kill?” she asked, her eyes violently enlarged.

Darcy’s eyes enlarged, filled with shock. Fear curled in the dark pits of her belly. Her mother was shaking. Suddenly, she remembered. She remembered the countless times she had seen her mother cry behind closed doors. She remembered images of her back shaking. The voices in the house were loud. She heard it from her room.

“I didn’t raise a criminal!” her mother screamed.

“Calm down,” her father said. “she was afraid.”

“No…this is all my fault. She’s turning like me. I know I should’ve left her.” Her mother buried her face in her hands and broke down. Her father exhaled, exasperated.

“She’ll get better. She’s going to the therapist.”

“He thinks she’s crazy. She’s only fifteen and she-”

“We should try switching therapists.” Her father said.

“This is crazy. She’s crazy. How could she do such a thing?” her mother’s sobs grew louder.

Darcy could hear everything from her room. Her fingers tightened around the pencil she used to write her homework. Pop. It broke under the pressure she exerted.

“Ian, she shoved a girl in school into the wall. The girl’s in hospital. I don’t know how to face her parents.”

Darcy’s father didn’t say anything.

“I’ve had enough. I want to give up. She’s becoming…I don’t know what she’s becoming. I try to talk to her but she won’t say anything about what happened. I…it’s been stressing me out. I can’t handle it.”

“Are you taking the pills?”

“Yes, but they’re not helping,” she said. “Darcy…I don’t know what to do with her anymore.” 

The visions faded. Darcy turned to the still cup of cappuccino that stood before her. Her mother surveyed her.

“You are hallucinating again?” she asked, a mixture of shock and fear in her eyes.

“Why did you meet me today?”

“I wanted to tell you not to try to meet me anymore,” her mother said. “I’ve…I’ve restarted life.”

“You re-married.”

She nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from me.”

Darcy swallowed. Tears stung her eyes, but she kept them from falling. Imagine hearing this from the mother she’s wanted to meet for fifteen years. Hatred welled up inside her.

“Nothing will come out of bringing up the past,” She said. “It’s time you live your life too.”

“Then, at least tell me the truth.”

“What do you want from me?” Her mother’s eyes were colored with suspicion.

“What happened fifteen years ago? Tell me everything.”

Mom turned. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is there any reason I should know Dr. Cleo Williams?”

“He was one of the psychiatrists I took you to.” She said, calmer.

“Dad and Dan knew nothing about him.”

“I didn’t tell your father the name of the doctor. I just told him he could help you.” Her speech sped up.

“So, you took me to him?”

“He said he could help you. He had started a new company that made drugs that helped people like you. He had a drug in development that could help you selectively re-program memories. He said coupled with hypnosis, it could make you forget what happened.”

“You erased my memories!?” Darcy asked. Her eyes popped out.

“There are a few things we’re better off forgetting,” she said. “The other therapists couldn’t help you.”

“What did he make me forget? Tell me.” Darcy banged her fist on the table. The porcelain cup bounced and clanked.

“You had a tough time in high school. After the incident at fifteen, your condition deteriorated. You became violent. We had to transfer schools twice. You refused to talk to me about the kidnapping. The counsellors tried, but you’d become violent.” The words were said in a low voice. The kidnapping. Again.

“I remember the asylum. I remember him,” Darcy said. “Why do I remember him? What happened there? Did you ever take me there?”

“I took you to see Dr. Williams fifteen at the asylum,” she said. “It’s not an asylum anymore. It was a hospital back then.”

Darcy listened silently.

“He said you needed to undergo hypnotherapy,” she said. “I agreed to it because he said it would help you.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“I can see that now,” she said. “You ended up with a mixed set of memories. I don’t know what you remember but you underwent a few sessions with him. At that time, I didn’t know the impact it would have on you. You began seeing things. The psychiatrist diagnosed with schizophrenia the following year. Your sessions with Dr. Williams stopped. By that time, your father and I decided to divorce. I don’t know what happened after that. Your father took custody of both the kids since I was in no position to support you.”

“The memories I have are a result of that drug?”

There was no answer.

“What were you trying to make me forget?”

A painful expression spread on her mother’s face. Jennifer Scott’s wrinkles deepened. Her blue eyeballs darted to the ceiling and back to the table.

“I should leave. I need to get to work.” She stood up.

Darcy moved across the floor and caught her arm. Her mother turned.

“Wait. Tell me. I need to know the truth.” Her eyes blazed with determination.

“I can’t tell you.” she said.

“Why not?”

“Only you know.”

“What do I know?”

“Figure it out yourself.” She pulled away. Darcy let go of her arm. She moved away. When she reached the door, she turned. “Since when did you start using your left hand?”

“Excuse me?”

“You used your left hand to sign at the bank.”

Darcy’s surprised eyes cut through the air. The bell at the edge of the door chimed. Her mother was gone.

It wasn’t her. The person her mother met was her mirror image from another universe. The words of the book came alive. Regaining her senses, Darcy ran to the entrance and jerked the door open.

“When will I see you again?” she called out to her mother who was already a few feet ahead of her.

“I hope, never,” her mother said before she disappeared at the turning.

“What happens when I discover what happened?”

There was no answer. Her mother walked out of the door. The bell resounded. Darcy stood at the entrance, her blank eyes gazing into the distant horizon.

The door opened again. She backed off. She collected her thoughts and walked out. She stopped before the car. She turned away from it and began walking to the bus stop. She sat on a steel bench, waiting for the next bus to come by.

The phone rang. Darcy’s hands went cold over the phone.

Detective Jones

‘Slide to answer’ the phone prompted. Her fingers didn’t budge. The phone continued to vibrate. The vibrations intensified her fears.

She dropped the phone into her pocket. The vibrations cut through her skin.

After six more buzzes, the vibrations ceased. Darcy breathed. Detective Jones became a missed call in her phone memory. She’d call him once she was calmer.

At 8:00 PM, Darcy reached the Rush University Medical Center. Patients passed in and out of the building. The modern building was filled with people.

Remnants of her painful past pricked her eyes. The hospital stood before her eyes, vivid as the image that flashed in her blurry memory. It had been renovated since her last visit but the long history of pain echoed beneath its walls.

She stared at it from across the road. Darcy tried to balance herself but the staggering force of her painful memory crushed her. Beyond those thick, brick walls lay the truth. She had booked herself into one of Dr. Nathan’s cancelled appointments. He was the last person she could talk to.

The hospital was surrounded by a brick fence. Her body was hidden by the shadow of trees, shops and apartments. Cars drove in and out of the gates. People walked in the dark park. Lights shone in the distance.

Even as her mind steadied itself, her feet trembled. She didn’t want to go back there. Her first few years in London hadn’t been easy.