Nemesis Part 3
in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart...
I don’t know what I expected from Kenzie.
I told her a crazy story to explain why strange girls are accusing me of seducing and assaulting them.
I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t believe me, but the irony is, she did.
She agreed to help me get to the bottom of it—even though we weren’t committed to each other, but she did it on the basis that we were best friends.
“So, how do we go about finding out who is stalking you and ruining your reputation?”
My heart sunk. She didn’t believe my story about my long lost twin.
“Look Kenz, I know it sounds really far-fetched, but honestly, my dad concealed his previous marriage and my mom let me believe she was my birth mother.”
Kenzie gave a huge sigh.
“I know those are the facts, Jude, and I’m not disputing them. I’m just not comfortable with your interpretation. I mean, face it—an evil twin stalking you and creating chaos in your life seems romantic, but it’s totally implausible. If that were the plot of a made-for-TV film I wouldn’t even watch it.”
I had to admit she had a point.
Assuming my twin, Dre, survived the attack in Nicaragua, how did he manage to enter Canada without my father’s knowledge?
He may have adopted a new identity and somehow gained entry, but honestly, this explanation raised as many questions as the mystery of the stalker himself.
“Okay, you may be right—maybe Wren’s scenario is whacked and this business of an evil twin is a red herring. But if that’s the case, where the hell do we start? Do I hire a private eye to shadow me and videotape all my daily movements?”
Kenzie’s eyes brightened. “Hmm, that may not be a bad idea.”
“Really? You’re telling me your willing to entertain my cockemaney idea of a private eye, but you don’t buy Wren’s notion of an evil twin?”
“Well, I can’t test Wren’s notion, but we can have you shadowed.”
“Did I tell you it’s Wren’s family that’s crazy-rich, not mine? How am I going to possibly pay for a private eye?”
Kenz simply smiled.
“You won’t have to pay anything, Silly. I have a video cam and Wren and I will shadow you and record anyone who might be stalking you. After a few days of this, if the same person keeps showing up in the video, we’ll have our man.”
“You might have to record a ton of video,” I mused.
“You got a better idea?”
The blank look on my face was her answer.
That evening, the three of us met at The Human Bean and planned out our strategy.
Kenz asked me to list all the places I had been where the alleged attacks occurred and one name kept popping up—The Act One, Scene One—an off-campus coffee house and pub I liked to frequent.
We decided I should go there the following evening, and Kenz and Wren promised to be discrete in surveilling me.
It was a rainy Wednesday night and the coffee house was quiet—only a smattering of regulars and a few curious drop-ins trying to pass time on a slow night.
Wren and Kenz were doing a hell of a job concealing themselves, or had decided the action was too slow and called it a night.
I agreed I’d stay until 11 pm, and I was determined to keep my part of the bargain.
Just after ten, the action picked up. I figured the rain stopped or let up because the room started filling up.
Suddenly, I heard a girl’s voice and looked up in surprise
“Jude Lawson! I never thought I’d run into anyone I knew here!”
“Silvia Newcombe—what a surprise! What are you doing out alone and so far off campus?”
“I came down with a bunch of friends from York, but they wanted to go pub crawling and I wasn’t in the mood. I heard the soft jazz and thought I’d drop in for a coffee.”
“I’m glad you did. Please, join me.”
I was a little apprehensive seeing her. I’m sure she must have heard all the rumours going around the York campus about me, but maybe not—after all, she sought me out.
I decided to play it by ear, and if she didn’t mention anything, I wouldn’t.
Besides, sitting alone was brutal and I welcomed company.
“I heard you transferred to U of T—what college are you at?”
“I’m at Vic. It’s nice—close to the subway, and downtown, near all the action,” I smiled.
Her eyes danced. “Near all the action, huh?”
I blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know what I mean—aside from the campus pubs, York is a bit off the beaten path.”
The waiter arrived and we both ordered mixed drinks—Black Russians—I laughed at the oddity.
“I always drink vodka and tia maria, but didn’t know may others who did.”
“Oh? My feelings are hurt. I always drank the same as you—you even laughed about it.”
“Honestly? I don’t recall.”
“Well, I can’t blame you, I suppose. You were always sketching the most beautiful girls.”
“I’m sure then that I must have sketched you.”
Truthfully, I never really noticed how beautiful Silvia was—how her blonde hair shone in the soft glow of the table candle.
“No, I must have been the only girl you never sketched in your whole freshman year.”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy that now,” I said, “ and grabbed a napkin and fished out my ever-present charcoal sketching pencil from my jacket.
We ordered several more rounds, and I took great pains to labor over Silvia’s portrait, feeling I owed her for my neglect.
It was well past midnight when I finished my sketch, and when I showed it to her, she was suitably impressed.
“You were always quite the artist, Jude, but I swer you’ve gotten better since you left.”
“Well, I think it’s your beauty, Sivia—it called for my best.”
“That’s so sweet, “ she smiled, and reached across the table and patted my hand.
I’m usually able to tolerate alcohol, but my vision seemed distorted, as if a gauze filter was placed over a lens.
I looked at Silvia, but her features were shining and ragged at the edges as if she were surrounded by a halo.
“I don’t feel good,” I murmured.
“You don’t look well, Jude. Maybe it was the alcohol—we probably had one too many.”
I nodded mutely. I felt embarrassed that I was starting to slur my words.
“Sorry Sil, But I gotta leave.”
“You can’t go home on your own like this. Let’s go outside, get some air, and I’ll try flagging down a taxi.”
I nodded mutely.
The room began shrinking like an iris shot in a film—everything in the dark background collapsing to a small circle of light.
Silvia helped me outside, and I could feel myself in her arms, sinking into an oblivion somewhere dark and far off—lost in the misty distances and rain.
I awoke to the bright lights of the emergency room in St. Michael’s hospital. A doctor was standing over me, using a penlight flashlight to gaze into my pupils.
“He’s coming around now, maybe you two should talk to him. Familiar faces will help.”
“How are you feeling?”Kenz asked, bending over me with a compassionate look on her face.
“I feel like I’ve been hit over the head with a two-by-four.”
“She glanced at Wren and gave a wry smile. “That’s pretty close to the truth.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling beads of perspiration on my forehead.
“Take it easy, Jude. Wait until you recover a bit.”
I tried sitting up but noticed my wrists were strapped down to the hospital gurney. I couldn’t move my arms.
“What’s going on?” I shouted in alarm.
“Calm down,” Kenz whispered, and daubed at my cheek with a Kleenex. When she drew it away, it was streaked with blood—my blood.
“How the hell did my face get cut?”
It’s okay, Jude—just superficial scratches. It’s not that bad.”
“Who scratched me?”
Kenz looked at Wren, who gave a slight shrug.
“It was Sivia, Jude.”
I stared at her, hearing her words, but not comprehending.
“Why the hell would Silvia scratch me?”
Kenzie’s eyes filled with tears. Wren spoke up for the first time.
“She scratched you in self defense, Jude. You attacked her.”
At that point, the doctor intervened. “Sorry folks, but you two have to leave now.”
He turned and stared down at me. “The psychiatrist is here, Mr. Lawson. He wants to spend a few moments with you.”
I heard the door close. I could hear Kenzie sobbing out in the hall.
I stared up at the bright lights above me, willing it to be a dream—willing my soul to leave my body…
Willing my evil twin to depart.
Ewe, scary, creepy, disquieting. All the thing that make for a wonderful story.
thank you, joe