I and I

I and I

In creation where one's nature neither honors nor forgives

I and I

One said to the other, "No man sees my face and lives"

Bob Dylan

I saw him again.  I was riding the New York Subway from Union Square to Morley Advertising on 72cd Street near Lenox Hill.  I was wearing my earbuds, but when I saw him get on, I removed them.  I wanted to hear his voice.  I wanted to get as close as I could to him just to see who he was or who he thought he was. But when I saw his face, it was like looking into the mirror at my own reflection.

“And he looks just like you?” Damon, my therapist, asked me when I told him.

“Like I was looking into the mirror.” I repeated.

“You know there are doppelgangers running around this part of town.” He could not repress his smile and in his own defense, I would probably smile too.  Damon is a hippie at heart who faithfully follows Zen Buddhism which means there is always incense burning somewhere in his upscale office a few blocks from Morley Advertising.  He is sitting in a lotus position as we speak, bare feet crossed in front of him, “So how do your coworkers feel about this guy?”

“Are you kidding, I’m not telling them a thing.” I shook my head.

“Why not?” He asks with one of his hands extended in my direction. 

“They would have me put away.  Guys with nets and straight jackets.” I confessed.

“I would think professional ad men would have a more accepting attitude.”  Another smile, but this one is deliberate and was meant to tease me a bit, something he loves to do. 

“Those guys?  Die hard Reaganites?” I shook my head as his smile dropped to a grimace.

“Ah, when did the table turn?” He put his hands together as if he was addressing Buddha himself.  “Well, it appears as if our time is up.  Same time next week, Rogan?” 

“Sure.” I said with my head still light from all of the incense. 

“If you finally get the gumpson to speak to your look-alike, let me know what his name is.” He said as he opened the door to let me out into the world.  

“Rogan Cooper.” My boss summoned me from the open door to his office.

“Mr. Gogglemeyer?” I hustled to his office from the sea of cubicles where the rest of us hatched ideas for commercials and ads in magazines. 

“How is the Patte Account coming along?” He had me sit in the empty chair in front of his desk.

“It is difficult doing ads for adult pads without crossing the line.” I began to sweat.

“We need to cross the line, because I just got off the phone with him and he is not happy with the delays.” Gogglemeyer was a short stocky man with expressive dark eyes that were burning a hole in my forehead at the moment. “It seems that since the flush of the first toilet in a sitcom, we are going warp speed over the line that used to be there.  It has become hard to tell what is and is not acceptable on television.” 

“I still think commercials about adult pads are a bit hard to take during prime time.”  I sighed remembering some of the run-ins I had with censorship panels. 

“He is paying top dollar and expects us to produce something.” He slammed his open palm on his hardwood desk.  “By Friday, Cooper.” 

“Isn’t that tomorrow?” I swallowed hard.

“Good to know you know how to read a calendar.” His sarcasm was meant to dismiss me from his office so I would not waste anymore of his time.

He was there again.  He got on the subway as I was sitting reading the newspaper.  He did not look over at me, simply sat in a vacant spot and closed his eyes.  The rest of the herd filed on as they usually did around quitting time, content to stand if there were no seats available.  I made sure I wasn’t staring directly at him through the crowd of subway riders, but it was difficult to pretend he was not there.  No one seemed to notice that we were identical sitting just a few feet apart.

I watched as he vacated his seat a stop before mine. He was out the door before I could get close enough to him to see any other likenesses we shared.  Then I noticed he had left behind a piece of paper.  I grabbed it before a woman could sit in the empty seat.

When I saw what was on the paper, I nearly gasped.  In bold letters across the top of the page was “Patte Account” and printed below were ideas for new advertising.  What I found disturbing was these ideas were the ones I had run through my head this afternoon after speaking to Gogglemeyer.  I stuffed the page into my jacket pocket and waited for the subway to come to a complete stop at Union Square.  The doors hissed open and I stepped out of the subway car.  

Once inside my efficiency apartment, I opened the page I had stuffed in my jacket. The ideas were passable, but the more I read, the more I knew this would be my proposal by tomorrow afternoon.  I flopped on my couch, quite disturbed by my discovery.  What was going on?  Was this some kind of perverse vortex of some kind dreamed up by George Lucas?  

“Not bad, Cooper.” Mr. Gogglemeyer nodded as he read the proposal left behind by my identical twin.  I found it rather strange that he was not on the subway this morning.  Maybe he took an earlier or perhaps a later transit.  

“Thank you sir.” I managed a fake professional smile. 

“I will fax it to him after lunch.” He shrugged, which was my cue to leave his office, “I’m glad to see you took the initiative.” 

“Thank you, sir.” I said upon my exit.  

“It is beyond my existential peripheral.” Damon shook his head.

“It was my idea.” I said.

“And your boss liked it?” Damon said with his smirk.

“Yes, yes.” 

“I do not see what the problem is.” He shrugged. 

“The problem is…is I found this left behind in the seat where he sat.”  I explained.  “He had this in his possession.” 

“Again, I fail to see the implications.” He resumed his lotus position.

“How could he have this?” I slapped the page. 

“Maybe as well as being identical in physical appearance, you both share a consciousness.” He tilted his head which resembled his jade likeness of Buddha sitting on the shelf in the room, smiling. 

“How would that work?” I asked, sounding more like a command. 

“It’s a level I have never reached.” He put his palms out.

“What do you mean?” I felt as if I was being led blindly down a labyrinth filled with incense smoke.

“There have been instances where a person has a double life in the same reality.” He shook his head, “It is rare, but it has happened.” 

“This is all very confusing.” I stood up ready to end our session early.

“Wait.” He put his hand up. 

“I can’t begin to comprehend this double life thing.” I shook my head as I walked toward the door. 

“What if this person you have been watching is really you.” His eyes were wide.

“How can that be?” I nearly chuckled at the ridiculousness of the whole daffy idea. 

“What if I come with you?” Damon suggested.

“He wasn’t on the subway today.” I shook my head.

“Strange.” He put his hand to his beard.

“Yeah, but for some reason I was not bothered by this.” I opened the door.

“I will ride home with you the next time he appears on the subway in the morning.  It seems he appears on the morning and evening commute.” Damon was excited at the inculpation. 

“Alright, I will make sure I let you know.” I chuckled as I walked out the door. 

“Great.” He was beaming as I walked to the elevator. 

Monday morning as I sipped my latte, I saw him sitting in the next car.  Slowly I got to my feet and made my way into the next car making sure I slipped in inconspicuously as possible.  Content he did not see me, I managed to sit in the back where I could observe him at a distance.

He had my mannerisms from the lip twitch to the hand gestures as he turned the page on his magazine.  His apparel closely mimicked mine from the hue of his color coordinated  to his collared shirt and all the way to his slip on loafers.   

“Hey there fella.” One of the rougher looking passengers caught my attention, “Are you and him identical twins?” 

“I don’t know him.” I whispered.

“Gosh, looks like I’m lookin’ in a mirror, for chrissakes.” He chuckled as he pulled out a hip flask and took a swig. 

I saw him start to look around and I decided it was time for me to return to where I had come from. 

“Hey fella, ya got a few bucks to spare so I can get me some grub?” The bum asked, holding out his dirty hand.

“Later.” I noticed that my twin had glanced over at me.  His expression was one of shock. As he came to his feet, I beat a hasty retreat to the next car.  As soon as I got there, I checked to see if he was following me, but he wasn’t.  The bum had stopped him with the same request he had given me.  When the subway came to a stop, I got off even though I was quite a few blocks from my destination.  I hailed a cab and was driven the rest of the way in the early morning traffic. 

“He was there and he saw me thanks to a panhandling bum.” I told Damon.

“Remarkable.  I will be sure to be there at the station when you leave for work.” He said delighted. 

True to his word, Damon was waiting for me at the station when I left my office.  He was sipping on some strange tea concoction stomping his threadbare sneakers.

“Hey Rogan.” He waved.

“Damon.” I shrugged.

“Let’s do this.  Let us visit the next level of Nirvana.” He was nearly shaking in excitement. 

“I’m just going home to my place.”  I shook my head as we waited to get on the transit. When I looked up, I saw him.  Trying not to draw unwanted attention, I pointed, “He’s there.” 

“Holy mother of Krishna, he is your identical twin.” He whistled.

“Don’t stare.” I nudged him.

“Right.” Damon pulled up his collar.  

“Do you think he is real?” I glanced over at him.

“Sure looks real to me.” Damon nodded. “He’s getting on the subway.”

“So should we.” I pointed to the open door.

“I want to get in the car he is in.” Damon pulled away and followed him into the car. I figured if I went there, someone would see the resemblance and make it known like the close call I had this morning.  I positioned myself near the door so I could see into the next car and son of a gun, if Damon didn’t sit down right next to him.  In a short time the two of them were engaged in an animated conversation. It made me uneasy watching Damon talking to him, but I wondered what they were talking about. 

As we cruised along the rails, Damon got to his feet as we neared my stop and walked back to where I was standing as I made sure I could not be seen.

“Dude.” He made this word into a multisyllable expression. “He is exactly like you.” 

“Yeah, and?” I urged him.

“Not much to add.” Damon laughed. “It is Freaaakkkkyyy.” 

“What’s his name?” I was growing impatient.

“Same as yours.” He said with a chuckle.

“Can’t be.  I am Rogan Cooper.” I sniffed.

“So is he, dude.” Damon shrugged.

The transit came to a stop, but when Damon went to step off, his foot missed the platform and he fell in the space between the platform and the car.  Before I could reach his outstretched hand, the doors hissed closed and the transit pulled ahead.

I heard him scream in pain and then as the transit pulled away, the screaming stopped. New York City Fire and Rescue cleaned up Damon’s remains as the press covered the gory event.

“Pieces.” I overheard one of the rescuers mumble as they lifted the body bag from the tracks. 

“Freak accident, hey?” The taller rescue worker proclaimed.

All I knew was Damon was gone.

When I turned quickly from one of the workers who was hosing off rails, I saw him. There was a smug expression occupying his face as he turned and left.

“Wait a minute.” I called after him.

“What is it, Rogan?” He did not turn toward me when he spoke.

“Who are you?” I was shaking in fear.

“Who is it you think I am?” He snarled. 

“You told him.” I pointed to where they were hosing off the rails, “Your name was Rogan Cooper.”

“Yes.” He acknowledged. 

“That’s my name.” I planted my thumb in my chest. 

“Look at us.  Aren’t we a pair?” He laughed from a very deep place. 

“What are you trying to prove?” 

He stopped and gave me a death-look stare. “Prove?  I am just living my life.  Like you.” 

Hearing him say that made my blood freeze.

“Did you really think that we are separated?” He nodded.

“We aren’t the same.” I shook my head still feeling the fear of his presence.

“Aren’t we?” He drew his chin back in shock that I would make such a claim. “Seems to me, like it or not, we are connected.” 

“What about Damon?” I asked as I heard the chilling sound of  high powered water striking metal. 

“What about him?  I warned him not to look me in the eyes or it would bring about his demise.” He explained then pointed to the rescue crew washing the rails, “And did it not happen?” 

“A tragic accident.” I hissed.

“Was it? There are things of heaven and earth, you don’t know much about.” He laughed, “And this was just one occasion.”

“What do you want from me?” I demanded.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already got it, Rogan.  I’ve had it all along.” He paused as the moonlight illuminated him, “I’ve got your future.  I live one day ahead of you.  You think leaving that paper on the subway was an accident? Bah, no, it was part of the predictable future.  Yours.” 

He pointed his finger at me and I felt as if I was melting.  His smile covered most of the bottom part of his face showing me just about every tooth he owned. 

“All this time you followed me, awestruck that I looked like you in every possible detail.  You thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but really it was me playing tricks on your mind.” He paused, “Did you really think that under your meek exterior you were not the monster I knew you to be? It’s you and me, Rogan.  The I and I of identity that makes such heinous acts possible from the unlikeliest of people.”

“You’re wrong.” I screamed and ran at him. I squatted down ready for the impact, but instead I passed right through him like he was a ghost.

“You can’t hurt me.  I haven’t happened yet.” He laughed when he saw me lying in a pile of garbage. “You may have to explain why you killed your therapist.”

He walked into the darkness, disappearing right before my eyes. 

“Come on in, Rogan.” Damon opened the door. He was very much alive as he took me to our room for therapy.  I walked as if I was in a trance as he hummed a tune from the Grateful Dead. “What shall we talk about today?” 

“I don’t know.” I shrugged as I put my hand on the hilt of the butcher knife I had concealed in my jacket pocket.