Myself - Chapter three - Part XV

“Hi,” she stuck out her hand. “I’m nobody. Who are you?”

I looked at her, a bit perplexed.

“I’m just kidding you. ‘I’m nobody, who are you, are you nobody too?’”

I pulled Bugsy aside. “Holy crap. She is me. And she is Emily Dickinson. And she’s a nut!”

We turned back to her. “How long have you been here?”

“Like, here on the doorstep, or like here in existence?”

“Why don’t you take us through your day?” Bugsy said.

“Okay,” she said, looking excited. “I woke up on the floor in the front hall, which was perfectly strange—”

“I woke up on the sofa,” Bugsy interrupted.

“Oh, so you’re the double. I was wondering which one of you it was. When I first saw two of you coming, I was a little surprised, but I guess it makes as much sense as I do. I assumed it was you,” she pointed at me, “because of the hair. It looks like it was sort of combed or something. I mean, look at my hair. It’s as straight as yours is curly. That’s weird. Anyway, I woke up on the floor, and I knew something felt different. I got up and walked to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and promptly fainted. I’d never fainted before. When I came to, I heard my voice… your voice… and then the front door shut close. At that point, I didn’t dare try going out in public or talking to anyone I knew. I look like a 19^th century reenactor! I woke up wearing this dress! Anyway, I knew you were meeting Molly, so I thought I’d wait here until—oh my goodness, how was the meeting with Molly?”

Bugsy and I looked at each other, unsure of what to tell her. But we knew—she was me. “It went very well,” I said, nodding to tell her what I meant.

She stood still for a moment comprehending this. I had a feeling she didn’t exactly know what to personally make of it.

“Anyway,” she jumped right back in, “so I decided I’d just sit around waiting for you to come back. So I sat around thinking about myself. There are a few conclusions I came up with. First off, I’m not Bernie trapped in a woman’s body. I’m Bernie as a woman. There’s a difference. Nothing feels wrong… just different. But… my goodness, I know nothing about the practicalities of being a girl. Like what to wear… or what shampoo to use on rainy days!”