Clone

by M A Gelsey

  Javi was too stunned by her reaction to move or speak. Some of the coffee had splashed onto his shoes but he barely noticed. He continued looking at the woman and she continued looking at him. Even in his bewilderment, Javi noticed she had a pretty face framed by waves of brown hair cascading to her shoulders, perky full breasts, and long legs. She seemed to realize what had happened a moment later when the janitor started mopping around her feet and the barista came out to offer her a replacement. She nodded and the barista hurried back behind the register. All the time she kept her stormy gray eyes locked on Javi’s. The janitor handed her the sunglasses that had fallen off her head and she took them from him wordlessly. She stepped closer and Javi noticed Herman and Fred exchange baffled looks off to his right. He wanted to ask the woman what was going on, but the words stuck in his throat.

  The woman stared intently as though she was inspecting him, making Javi feel awkward and exposed. He was vaguely aware that everybody else in the Starbucks was still watching them, obviously expecting to witness a scene even more dramatic than what had just happened. Finally, she spoke.

  “You look just like him,” she said softly. Before Javi could think of anything to say to that she rushed out, not even waiting for the barista to finish making her drink.

  20: EDGAR PRIME

  Edgar Prime laid the suit that Dr. Midas had forced him to buy on his bed. His limbs felt heavy and slow, like he was walking through molasses. He knew that he should hurry up — the only thing that would result from him dragging his heels like this was sleep deprivation before his early flight the next morning. But still, the thought of standing up in front of all those geneticists and reporters again like a trained circus act filled Edgar Prime with dread.

  He was packing his underwear when he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Hugo was the last person he expected when he yanked it open, and for a second the surprise robbed him of speech.

  “Hugo,” he finally managed, mentally berating himself for getting so easily flustered. “Hello. Hi. Um, how’s it going?” He barely managed to stop himself from cringing, but Hugo pretended to be unaware of his awkwardness.

  “I’m going for a drink at Celeste’s place,” Hugo said. “She made me promise to bring you along.”

  “Oh,” Edgar Prime said, torn between being pleased that Celeste thought he was worthy of hanging out with again, and disappointment that it had been her rather than Hugo who wanted to see him.

  “Nothing crazy, just a classy glass of wine Celeste said.” Hugo’s green eyes twinkled.

  “You’re a terrible RA,” Edgar Prime said with a half-smile. “Encouraging underage drinking like this.”

  Hugo’s eyes widened for a moment, then he burst out laughing. “So true,” he said. “But to be fair I don’t encourage it in all my residents. Did you hear about the puke in the stairwell last weekend? We never did find out who that was.”

  Edgar Prime laughed, considering the offer. “I wish I could, Hugo. I’ve gotta pack tonight. Zurich tomorrow.”

  “Come on, Ed,” coaxed Hugo. “Not even for an hour?”

  Edgar Prime hesitated, but hearing Hugo casually say his nickname like that was too much to resist. “I guess an hour couldn’t hurt. I’ll just finish this off then I can come meet you.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting,” Hugo said and he smiled that beautiful golden smile. “Unless you’d rather be alone, that’s fine too. Whatever you want.”

  I want you, Edgar Prime thought to himself, but he did not dare speak the words aloud. “Sure, okay. Come on in,” he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

  He held the door open for Hugo who walked into the tiny room and sat down in Edgar Prime’s desk chair. Edgar Prime noticed him looking at the underwear stacked in the open suitcase and hurriedly pulled out his sock drawer and threw several pairs of black socks on top. Hugo didn’t comment, instead roving his eyes across the room. There was very little for him to see; Edgar Prime kept his possessions meticulously organized and spare. He noticed Hugo’s eyes lingering on the posters he’d hung on the wall, the only part of the dorm room that was personalized.

  “Picasso and Matisse?” Hugo asked after a moment.

  “I saw an exhibit once where the two of them were displayed side by side to show how they’d influenced each other,” Edgar Prime explained. “I like Picasso better, but they’re complementary.”

  “Really? I prefer Matisse,” Hugo said. “He’s gentler than Picasso.”

  “But less powerful,” Edgar Prime said, folding a few business casual outfits to add to the suitcase. He thought he’d take Professor Richards’ advice and try to see a bit of Zurich on his own. The last time he’d been compelled to attend an I.C.G. he’d been fourteen and had barely left the hotel room except for the compulsory lectures where he’d served as a glorified prop for Dr. Midas. He had decided that unpleasant as the conference itself was likely to be, he wasn’t going to waste the rest of this trip playing virtual reality games and wishing he was somewhere else.

  “True,” Hugo agreed. “Have you taken any art history?”

  Edgar Prime laughed. “Dr. Midas thinks it’s a waste of time to study art. And history.”

  Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Does he know you want to major in history?”

  “Not yet. I’m planning to avoid telling him ‘til after I declare next year.”

  “Probably smart.” Hugo turned his attention back to the posters. “If he doesn’t like art, who took you to see the Picasso/Matisse exhibit?”

  “It was a school trip,” Edgar Prime said. “Fifth grade. Ms. Caine. She was great. She used to do all these impressions of old politicians when we studied U.S. History — she did Nixon’s ‘I am not a criminal’ and Clinton’s ‘I did not have sex with that woman’ except instead of saying the word ‘sex’ she just said ‘hmm-hmm‘. I guess she thought a room full of eleven year olds couldn’t handle hearing the word ‘sex’ without pandemonium erupting.”

  Hugo chuckled. “Wish I’d had a teacher like that. Most of mine were either straight out of college with no clue how to deal with kids or super old and just didn’t give a fuck. I wound up reading in the corner most of the time I was in school.”

  “Bet you had lots of friends, though,” Edgar Prime said without thinking.

  A curious look appeared on Hugo’s face as Edgar Prime shoved his dress shoes into the bag and zipped it up.

  Hugo shrugged. “I guess I did. Didn’t you?”

  “Not really,” Edgar Prime said. Not unless you count Dr. Midas’s research assistants trying to build rapport while they conducted his experiments.

  “Well, I can’t imagine why that would be the case,” Hugo said. Edgar Prime glanced up at him from the drawer where he was fishing out his passport expecting to see sarcasm, but was instead met with sincerity. He felt his cheeks growing hot and was grateful that his dark complexion kept this barely noticeable.

  “Should we go?” Edgar Prime said, stashing his passport in the outer pocket of the bag and picking up his keys and phone.

  Hugo stood and walked to the door, holding it open for Edgar Prime. As they made their way down the stairwell and through the lobby, Hugo told Edgar Prime the latest about Blake and George’s dysfunctional non-relationship.

  “So right now they’re just pretending the other night never happened?” Edgar Prime asked. They reached the bustling courtyard and began walking across campus to Celeste’s apartment.

  “As far as we know,” Hugo said. “Celeste says they’ve been acting weird around each other, a little more formal than usual. So maybe it went badly and they agreed not to talk about it again, I dunno. But if they’re awkward tonight, that’s why.”

  “Got it,” Edgar Prime said. “What’s Celeste’s deal?”

  Hugo looked at him curiously. “I’m not sure even she knows,” he said. “A different night a different guy. But then she goes months where she’s fed up with dating in general. Why, are you into her or something?” />
  “Wha — no, of course not.” Edgar Prime was surprised Hugo would even ask him this. As far as Edgar Prime was concerned his interest in Hugo was blatantly obvious to the point of being embarrassing.

  “Are you sure?” Hugo asked. “If you are, it’s okay. I won’t tell her.”

  “No, really,” Edgar Prime said firmly. He knew his disappointment was unmerited. Why should he think that Hugo would mind if Edgar Prime liked Celeste or anyone else? For all Edgar Prime knew, Hugo could already be involved with someone.

  When they reached Celeste’s building, she buzzed them in and they walked up to the fourth floor. They could hear music playing from all the way down the hall. They found her door unlocked and entered a mood-lit living room covered by a haze of marijuana smoke and populated with around ten people including Celeste, Blake and George.

  “Ed!” Celeste cried when she saw him. “Come in, come in! I made sangria!”

  She stumbled slightly when she stood up and used George’s shoulder to steady herself, laughing. She crossed to where Edgar Prime stood with Hugo and gave them both a sloppy hug.

  “Everyone this is Ed! Ed, everyone.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the living room’s other occupants, one of whom was in the process of taking a hit on a water bong. They all nodded in greeting and Hugo went over to speak to a few of them by the window.

  “Let’s get you a drink,” Celeste said, leading Edgar Prime by the hand through the living room and into the minuscule kitchen.

  “Thanks,” Edgar Prime said. “I can’t stay too long, I’ve got an early flight tomorrow. But I did want to stop by.”

  “Flight, shmight,” Celeste said with a giggle. “Live a little.”

  Edgar Prime shook his head with a smile. Celeste placed her hand on his chest and gave him a tiny shove, then turned to the fridge. She pulled out a pitcher full of dark red liquid with slices of orange, lemon and lime floating in it.

  “I made it from scratch,” Celeste explained as she poured him a full solo cup.

  “It looks good,” Edgar Prime said. She handed him the cup and he took a sip. “Really, really good. Strong.”

  “There’s lots more where that came from.” She threw open the fridge to replace the now half-empty pitcher and stepped back to reveal two more just like it.

  “Wow,” was all Edgar Prime could say. Celeste giggled again and gave his arm another playful shove.

  “What are we drinking?” Hugo said from the doorway to the kitchen. Edgar Prime felt his stomach leap and Celeste turned her sly smile in his direction.

  “Sangria, baby,” she said, waving her solo cup at him. “Help yourself.”

  “Nice,” Hugo said, and he squeezed past Edgar Prime and Celeste to open the fridge. He poured a healthy measure into a blue solo cup. “Cheers,” he said, raising the cup to Celeste and Edgar Prime before taking a long sip. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Why thank you,” Celeste said. “I do try.”

  Up close, Edgar Prime could see that Hugo’s eyes were dilated and he deduced that he must have made use of the water bong in the living room. Edgar Prime had never smoked pot before, and the thought of doing so filled him with both trepidation and curiosity. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Hugo offered him the chance to try it, but it turned out Hugo had other things on his mind.

  “Let’s go up to the roof,” he said, giving them both a mellow grin. Edgar Prime looked to Celeste for guidance.

  “Sure, why not?” Celeste said. They followed her out of the kitchen through the living room and out of the apartment to the stairwell. Two flights up and they came out on top of the building, The air was crisp enough that they could see their fogged breath but not so cold as to be unpleasant. Edgar Prime looked out on the city lights stretching infinitely ahead of them, and wondered why he had never before noticed their beauty.

  21: ANNABEL

  Just breathe, Annabel reminded herself over and over again. Sometime in the next thirty minutes she and Rex would welcome his old friends, Phineas and Veronica Hawthorne into their home for dinner. Annabel almost couldn’t believe how nervous she was. It doesn’t matter what they think of you, she told herself, but even as she thought it she knew it was a lie. Phineas and Veronica had both known her original quite well before she’d died, and for this reason she had no idea how they’d react to her. Surely they’d be polite, for Rex’s sake if not her own.

  Nonetheless, Annabel had taken extra care with her appearance that night. She wore a knee-length silk tiered skirt the color of the ocean at dusk, and a sleeveless cream-colored blouse. Her makeup was minimal, and the only jewelry she wore was a platinum anchor pendant necklace and her wedding ring. Rex wore jeans and a navy linen button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even though he told her not to worry, she could tell that he was nervous too. He thinks you won’t live up to their expectations, whispered a sneering voice in her head. It was almost a relief when a knock at the door ended the anticipation. Rex gave her a reassuring smile, then strode across the living room to greet their guests.

  Phineas was of middling height and build with warm brown eyes and salt and pepper hair. He dressed in all black and wore a small diamond stud in his left ear. Veronica was all color; she had blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair that Annabel suspected was fake, and wore a 60s-style halter dress with pink and green stripes. She coordinated her nail polish to her outfit, wore bright cherry red lipstick, and stood a few inches taller than her husband. Both Hawthornes were deeply tanned, and their trim physiques suggested that they spent a considerable amount of time on the tennis courts.

  “Rex, darling!” Veronica squealed, as her husband clapped Rex on the back and she embraced him.

  “Hello Veronica, Phineas,” Rex said, grinning. “It’s been too long.”

  “Too right it has, old friend,” Phineas replied.

  Annabel stood behind Rex, watching the reunion and fighting the urge to bolt. Veronica’s eyes flickered to her and widened slightly.

  “Annabel, my dear,” Veronica exclaimed. Annabel felt herself redden, as everyone’s attention shifted to her.

  “Annabel, this is Veronica and Phineas,” Rex said, putting an arm around her waist. The glance that passed between the Hawthornes was not lost on her; it was as though they were saying This one looks just like her. The next instant the moment of strangeness passed; Veronica and Phineas both hugged her in greeting, and they all crossed the threshold to sit around the fireplace while Rex offered everyone martinis. Annabel had never had one before, and nearly choked after her first sip.

  “Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?” Veronica said kindly. Annabel smiled ruefully, and took another, smaller sip, fighting back a grimace. For the first hour, Annabel didn’t say much. Veronica and Phineas regaled them with tales of their recent visit to Chile. By the time they settled around the table, laden with steamed lobster, tubs of melted butter and lemon juice, fresh bread and a large caesar salad with homemade croutons, Annabel felt pleasantly fuzzy from the martinis, even though she had only drank half as many as the others. As the lobsters were cracked and the Sauvignon Blanc was poured, Annabel felt at ease enough to ask Veronica about where else they’d traveled, and which places were their favorites.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly choose!” Veronica said. “Could you, Phin? We did have a marvelous time climbing the Sydney Harbor Bridge in Australia last spring. But few things can compete with the Great Wall of China, can they? Such a magnificent view, and a fascinating history.” Veronica took a sip of wine, and Phineas weighed in.

  “The UK was fun too,” he commented. “All those castles. Funny to think people actually lived in them, once.”

  “Admit it, Phin, you spent that whole trip pretending to be a student at Hogwarts,” Rex said with a sly grin.

  “Fine, fine, you got me,” Phineas said. He held his hands up in mock-surrender. “It’s not my fault I’ve got a more active imagination than you do.”

  Rex and Veronica guffawed, and even
Annabel gave a hesitant chuckle.

  “Then there are the adventures closer to home,” Veronica said, finishing another glass of wine and picking up the bottle for a refill. “We had plenty in Cambridge. That time you two clowns decided to spend a semester earning a few extra dollars by volunteering for psychology experiments, remember? You spent a whole month sleeping in a lab with electrodes glued to your heads. All so you’d have the money to build a working replica of C-3PO.”

  “Hey, we almost succeeded there,” Rex said while Phineas laughed at his side.

  “Where was this?” Annabel asked. She was almost starting to enjoy herself, and grinned as she took another sip of wine.

  “When we all lived in Simmons Hall, you remember dear, you were there too!” Veronica exclaimed. The instant it was out of her mouth she realized her mistake and shot a nervous glance at Rex, whose face had turned to stone. Annabel froze too and Phineas’s gaze traveled from his wife, to Annabel before finally resting on Rex.

  “Makes me feel old to think about how long ago that was,” Phineas said gruffly. The tension eased, but did not quite dissipate. “How about we open another bottle of wine?”

  Rex stood up so quickly that there was a loud scraping noise as the chair slid back over the floor. “I’ll go grab one,” he said. When he left, Annabel looked down at her lap so she wouldn’t have to see the guilty look on Veronica’s face, or the pitying one on Phineas’s. When Rex returned they made a show of steering the conversation back onto neutral ground, but Annabel remained on edge for the rest of the evening, and was not at all sorry when Phineas and Veronica finally took their leave. Rex went straight off to sleep, foregoing sex for the first time. While Annabel wasn’t sorry about this, it still took her hours to drop off to sleep beside the snoring stranger who was her husband. Everything you are and everything you have you owe to Rex King, she told herself. Never forget that.