Smile

“Doppelganger theory?”

“Well, it’s more of a myth, but yeah.”

“Never heard of it,” Alec said scratching the back of his neck. “Sounds like some German kink thing. What sort of shit are you getting into?”

“You don’t want to know…” Ben chuckled. “I mean, I guess it kind of does sound like it. Then again, you’re just an idiot. So, there’s that.”

“Asshole.” Alec smirked. “Well, what is it? You had me at German sex stuff.”

“Apparently everyone has a doppelganger, someone who looks just like you.”

“So, a twin?”

“Sort of? More like an alternate version sort of thing, I think. Anyway, if you run into them, that means one of you will die. And the more you run into them, the sooner it’ll happen. Or something like that. Like some sort of omen.”

“What?” Alec frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben shrugged. “Only enough room for one I guess?”

“So, what? Moral of the story: I should be afraid of myself? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“It’s just a myth. I don’t think it’s supposed to withstand intense scrutiny.”

“Good thing for that then.”

“Hey, fuck you. I was just sharing something interesting I read.”

“Wait – you can read?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha… Dick.” Ben gave Alec a playful shove as they closed in on their destination. “Just for that, you’re buying the first round.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will,” Ben agreed, grinning up at the sign above the pub.

Pete’s Spot. The dingy bar was small and tucked away deep in the city. The music was terrible, the lone pool table was missing three balls, and the food was deadly. However, the drinks were cheap, the people were unforgettable, and best of all – the drinks were cheap.

They loved it.

“Hey, Pete!” Ben yelled out, as they entered. A burly man behind the bar covered in tattoos grinned at them, showing off his missing tooth on the left.

“Well look who’s back. What’s the news, boys? Good day or bad?”

“Fantastic!” Ben said, suddenly hanging his arm around Alec’s neck. “This bastard here is buying the first round! Three shots of vodka and two beers, Pete.”

“Three?” Alec demanded.

“Of course! Pete needs one too.” Ben winked.

“Wow! That’s mighty kind of you, Alec,” Pete said pouring the drinks, then passing two shots their way. “I think I’ll just take you up on that.”

“Yeah… don’t mention it.”

Ben and Pete both chuckled as they all held their shots up, clinked the glass, then threw back the liquor.

Alec grinned. He stumbled down the sidewalk passing glowing signs that were far too blurry to read, flashing lights of storefronts that made his head spin, and the dully lit lobbies of towering glass buildings that seemed as if they might topple over at any moment. The city was always a great place to relieve some stress, especially when a pub was involved. He’d yet to find much that a few cold brews and a game of pool couldn’t fix, and luckily a long, tiring day wasn’t on that list.

He laughed for no reason in particular. The booze in his belly churned and simply made him giddy. He heard someone laugh with him and he jumped. For a moment, he’d forgotten Ben was there, which only made him laugh more.

He’d lost count of how much beer they had put down, not to mention how many shots. At a certain point, the numbers are meaningless. Regardless, he knew that he’d had enough, more even. The swirling lights and rolling concrete beneath his feet told him that much. That, and the fact that his wallet hardly weighed more than the leather it was made of.

How Ben had swindled him into paying for most of the tab, he’d never know.

“I still can’t believe you hit on that waitress!” Ben sniggered.

“Huh?” Alec hummed, waiting for the delayed connection between his ears and brain to kick in. “Why?”

“My guy… She was way out of your league. She totally shut you down.”

“So? Doesn’t hurt to take a shot, right?”

“I guess. Just from now on, try your luck on women who don’t model on the side.”

“You think she was a model?”

“No, I – Goddammit, I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or just drunk.”

“Safe to assume both,” Alec snorted, then stumbled toward a nearby alley.

“Where you off to?”

“Taking a piss. Want to join?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass,” Ben said, their night of drinking giving his words a distinct slur as he struggled to stand in one place. “Just hurry the hell up. I’m not bailing you out if some cop decides to tase you for indecency.”

“What a caring friend you are.”

“Are you going to keep talking shit or are you going to piss?”

“I can do both.”

“Man, just hurry!” Ben laughed. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Alec chuckled as he staggered into the dark and around the corner. He found a nice spot, just beside a dumpster, then let it all go.

“Mmnnn… ahh…” His eyes rolled back in relief. Nothing could beat that seal finally breaking.

He slumped forward, catching himself against the brick wall with an elbow. It wasn’t until he was well in the middle of the ordeal that he considered how dirty the wall was, or how filthy his coat was going to get.

“Screw it,” he hissed to himself.

He glanced around lazily, taking in the beauty of the alley. The frothing buzz of his piss hitting the ground. The aroma of the dumpster, a reek of days-old kitchen scraps wafting to his nose. He heard the clink of a bottle as something scuttered in the loose paper and trash in the gutter. He saw a figure leaning around the corner, face dark in the shadows. He eyed the greasy water stains dripping down the brick, a thin layer of some green mold sprouting along the same lines.

He blinked. He glanced back down the alleyway.

The silhouetted figure still stood watching him.

Alec’s eyes grew wide, first with uncertainty, then with the anger only a drunk could muster.

“Oi!” he called, wrapping up his business and hastily fastening his pants, careful not to catch anything valuable in the zipper. “The fuck you looking at?”

He stepped around the dumpster. The shadowy figure pivoted to face him, refusing to back down from his barely coherent barking.

“Got a problem?”

The figure didn’t respond.

“I’m talking to you!” he snapped and stormed down the alley, doing his best not to trip or stumble.

“I said, I’m –”

A crack in the cement? A piece of garbage? His own foot simply incapable of doing proper foot things? There was no way to know what it was, but no sooner had he taken three steps did he catch his shoe on something. That something sent him toppling forward and splashing into what he only hoped was not the liquified runoff from the putrid dumpster. Or his own piss. Or worse, both.

He told himself it was water. Definitely water. Never mind the slightly salty tang on his lips. Ignore the warmth spreading across his shirt. It was water. It had to be.

Even drunk, he didn’t buy what he was trying to sell.

He coughed, surprised at the sudden change in orientation, fearful that he may drown in a puddle of questionable origin.

That would be a way to go out.

He pushed himself up from the grimy, mystery cocktail and stared down the alley. The figure was gone.

What? Where had they – His anger and frustration shifted to mortification.

The alley was a dead end. Propped against the brick wall was a large, cloudy mirror.

He crumpled. He had half a mind to collapse back into the trash brew and let it drown him. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that his coat was soaked through to the shirt and skin and everything.

He wanted to die. A mirror? A mirror! Ben was never going to let him live it down.

“Hey, Alec…?”

At that moment, he decided there was no God. And if there was, then he certainly hated Alec, and the feeling was mutual.

“What’s taking so –” Ben’s snorting laughter filled the air. “Why’re you down there? You get thirsty or something?”

“Kill me,” Alec grumbled and hung his head.

“Remember, you drunk asshole. Tomorrow. 12:30,” Ben said through a yawn.

“Fuck you,” Alec spat, then snickered.

“Yeah? Fuck you too, buddy. Tomorrow. Coffee. You got it?”

“Mm-kay. Whatever.” Alec swatted at the air and then started the near-impossible task of climbing the stairs to his second-floor apartment. “12:30,” he agreed.

“Good. See you then.”

Alec topped the stairs and stumbled to his door. He fumbled with his keys. Concentrating long enough to get the lock open proved quite the challenge. For some reason, the thing wouldn’t turn.

“Come on,” he griped. “Stupid piece of shit.”

Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and realized someone was watching him from the shadows further down the walkway.

“Door won’t budge,” he explained with a chuckle. “Doesn’t help that I’m piss-drunk.”

The stranger didn’t answer. They didn’t come closer. They just stood there, watching him.

He pulled the key from the door, then rubbed at his eyes. There was no one there. The figure he’d seen, rather, imagined, was nothing more than his own shadowed reflection on a window.

“Not again…”

He glanced back to the door he’d tried to unlock. Unit 24.

He lived in Unit 25.

“Fuck…” he sighed, then shuffled to the next door over. His door.

He put the key in the lock. Click. The door opened without any issue.

“Thanks for the assist,” he said saluting his unmoving reflection, then tripped his way inside to find some much-needed sleep.