The Mirror Man

inklings of her infidelity had been subtle, quiet things. Something in her tone of voice, or her eyes, maybe. The way she started filling up long silences with pointless banter and conversations that led nowhere. He’d been staring at her one night as she sat in front of her mirror, combing her hair with a private, unexpected smile on her face. When she noticed him there, she put down her comb and left the room without a word. He had the distinct impression that he had intruded on something. That was the moment, he realized now, that she knew he knew. After that, they’d settled into a quiet, defeated sort of acknowledgment of the thing, without anger and without any words at all. It had become something they skirted around and averted, as though avoiding it might spare them some awful truth ten times worse. It was then, Jeremiah supposed, that he had stopped all attempts at intimacy with her, even small ones—reaching for her hand or brushing stray hair from her face. Eventually, that lack of physical contact began to feel normal. And that was the real charade, he thought, almost worse than the cheating itself. The knowing and not facing it. They were both guilty of that. And so, too, now was the clone. And in some way that he couldn’t fathom, that aspect bothered Jeremiah more than anything else. Had he been harboring some latent hope that his clone would be stronger than he was? Did he think his double would have the guts to face things? To fix things? To do what Jeremiah himself couldn’t do himself? He’d come closer than Jeremiah had, but he still hadn’t said anything.

Jeremiah didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the clone’s Sunday morning. His double flipped through the pages of the newspaper at the kitchen table and then left in his car to do a few errands, the cameras losing sight of him each time he parked and got out, and picking him up again when he got back in. Jeremiah felt like a silent passenger waiting in the car. He was relieved when the monitor switched off just before the clone turned into his driveway to pull into the garage.

“It’s decently after noontime,” Jeremiah said almost the instant the monitor switched off. “I could use a beer.”

“We’ll do the questions first,” Brent said. “Then yes, I want a beer.”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” Jeremiah said. “No, no and no. The clone didn’t do anything surprising, I wouldn’t have done anything differently and Diana certainly didn’t show any signs she wasn’t talking to me. Done. Get us a beer.”

Chapter 14

Days 85-87

“How long have you been married, Jeremiah?” Brent asked a few days later over bland braised chicken.

“Sixteen years,” he said. “In two weeks actually.”

“Whoa, will clone boy remember?”

“I always do, so I assume he will.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re the same person.”

“I wish I could forget,” Jeremiah said.

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t stand to watch him. He’s weak. He’s got no backbone. No guts.”

“I think he has your backbone and your guts actually. Right down to the molecule, as I understand it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I guess he does seem a little wimpy.”

“Could you imagine sitting back like this with him, having dinner, just talking?”

“I don’t know him the way I know you. Or rather, I suppose, he doesn’t know me.”

“You’d never be friends with him, not like we are.”

“Well, we were sort of thrown together, you know? It’s different,” Brent said. “But he is you, Jeremiah. He’s an exact replica. And you answer those questions every single day to prove that. He’s just the same as you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to make some changes when I get out of here. I can tell you that. I’m not going to be the same as him anymore. I’m not going to be such a goddamn doormat, always afraid of stirring up the pot. I’m going to say what’s on my mind.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’re lucky, in a way,” Brent said.

“Lucky, how?”

“Most people don’t ever get to see themselves the way you have. You get to see yourself from the outside. It’s actually pretty cool.”

As soon as Brent said it, Jeremiah was startled by the idea that this whole thing was very much like taking Meld. In an instant, he could begin to understand how taking that drug the wrong way might entice someone to suicide. Maybe it’s better to never know how the world sees you. Maybe no one should see themselves like that. It surprises you. You don’t recognize yourself, or maybe you do, and that’s worse. The thought disturbed Jeremiah in a profound way. What was watching his clone for hours every day actually doing to him? All he knew was that, as the days went on, he liked what he saw less and less and tried to distance himself from the clone at every opportunity.

“I don’t think it’s cool at all,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t feel very lucky.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking this,” Brent told him. “Yeah, I’ll agree, the clone does seem like an asshole at times—way more of an asshole than you actually—and he’s sort of boring, one-dimensional, but that is still you up there. That is the Jeremiah Adams I first met. Maybe you’ve loosened up a bit in here, but that could just be because of me, you know? Maybe I’m the element of change in this equation. You’re still the same person. You’re just better now. Maybe I made you cooler.”

“Sometimes I look at him, and even though I know everything he’s going to do, every single word he’s going to say, if I could just switch places with him, sometimes I think I would do things differently.”

“If that’s true, then you need to tell me that when I ask those questions.” Brent looked suddenly deadly serious. “That’s important.”

“I don’t mean that he’s doing anything unexpected,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t mean I actually would have done anything differently.