Nothing prepared me for it. It was not an exceptional day. We were
on my favourite beach - that’s as special as it got - me and my friends having a
good time.
They were the ones who saw her
first - a woman down at the water’s edge who looked just like me. I became aware of the nudging, and
glanced where they were pointing. Dear God, it was like looking at myself. The
shock broke over me like a wave. It wasn’t only the clothes that did it – the
black t-shirt and sawn-off jeans that were just like mine. It wasn’t even the
hair turned white prematurely like mine, or cut like mine, or the jutting chin or
cheekbones.
No, it was the way that other
person carried herself. It went
through me like a knife, separating blood from bone. If that ever happens to
you, you’ll know what I mean. She came slowly up the beach, fishing for pebbles
with her eyes, picking up her choices, pocketing the special ones, throwing
away the rest. She was lost in a world of her own. Except that it wasn’t her
world. It was mine.
By now, our entire party was
riveted, looking from her looking like me to me looking, I guess, exactly the
way I felt - which was overwhelmingly embarrassed. This was worse than any possible public dress malfunction. If my soul had been revealed to the world's gaze, I
couldn’t have felt more exposed. Never have I felt so vulnerable.
Only when that other person
drew level did she raise her eyes. Instinctively I turned away, hoping she
wouldn’t notice me. I could have asked who she was, but I wasn’t curious. I hoped she’d walk on. I didn’t want
her asking who I was.
Didn’t want to find I had a secret twin. Didn’t want to wonder what my mother,
all these years, had kept hidden from me. Dear God, hidden from us.
That other person saw, of
course. I didn’t have to see her seeing me to know she saw her replica. Her shock broke over me like another
wave. I swear I felt the two of us being sucked down the beach like pebbles
running for the sea. Each had thought she was the only pebble on the beach, special
and unique. Now here I was, making
less of her whilst she made something ordinary of me.
So, there you have it. Not much
of a story you might think. Just
some person looking for pebbles but finding me, skirting round the subject whilst I hid
my face, then sauntering on, emptying her pockets as if something had been
spoiled.
But there are secrets here that will never be revealed. A hidden truth set in cheekbones, chin and hair. A
name I’ll never know because I didn’t ask, enthroned on my beach, surrounded by
my friends, missing my chance, whilst my other self walked away, wearing her
solitude like a crown.
Copyright © Pauline Fisk 2013
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