The Other Side of Me - Chapter 31
by Lily Rasputin

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to parse through the revelation that Katie's bombshell confession had dropped on me.

To be honest, the news that a good portion of Charlene's guilt wasn't her own didn't do a whole lot to make me forgive her for the way she'd behaved in the intervening years. Did it help paint a more understanding picture? Of course. Did it wipe the slate clean, and make what she'd done to Jackson and to her friends okay?

Absolutely not. At some point, the blame for her actions, regardless of the emotional turmoil behind them, still had to rest squarely on my doppelganger’s shoulders.

A soft knock at the door dragged my thoughts back to the moment. I climbed off the bed and went over and opened the door, fully expecting my father to be standing there. I'd heard him return home while I was ruminating, and suspected he'd come up to find out why I'd made Katie cry again.

It was a conversation I was sure had been a regular occurrence until Jackson's experiment threw our lives upside down.

Instead of my father, however, I found Katie standing there looking rather admonished and ashamed.

"Charlie," she said with a sniffle. "Can we talk?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Right now, I really want to just think about things. Maybe we can talk about it when I’ve had a chance to deal, okay?" I frowned and shrugged one shoulder. "I know you were hurting, and I'm pretty sure you never really wanted Charlene to be so twisted up that she imploded. But the fact of the matter is that this whole mess I'm in just got more complicated. I just need a little while to think. Can you give me the evening at least?"

She opened her mouth, but then simply closed it, nodded, and padded away down the hall to her own room. I closed my door and went back to the bed, throwing myself upon it in a most dramatic, but fully justified, manner.

Almost immediately, a few tears began streaming down my cheeks as a tsunami of melancholy crashed over me. I turned onto my side, pulled my knees up around my convulsing core, and bawled silently into my pillow until, at some point, I fell asleep.

A dinging noise from somewhere roused me back to consciousness. I sat up, wiping my tacky cheeks and stinging eyes. The ding sounded again, louder now that I was awake. My phone.

Looking around, I spotted it on the other side of the bed, where I must have pushed it during my emotionally driven, and completely impromptu, nap.

Thumbing across the screen, I saw it was a pair of messages from Mike.

"Do you mind if I stop by?"

"I have ice cream."

The bribe was accompanied by three emojis. A smiling face, an ice cream cone, and a heart.

Despite my current emotional state, I couldn't help but laugh as I typed in my response.

"Actually, I would love to see you. The ice cream just seals the deal."

I climbed off the bed and went over to the vanity. The girl in the mirror had a horrible case of bedhead, bloodshot eyes, and splotchy cheeks with ruined makeup. She looked like one of those kidnap victims that has finally been rescued by the police. Or by her anti-terrorist, ex-CIA father.

In other words, she was a literal disaster.

I let out a gasp of panicked horror at the image. Upset as I might be, there was absolutely no way in hell I was going to let Mike come over and see me in such a state. I would simply die before I let that happen.

Grabbing a brush, I tamed my unruly locks back into some semblance of order, then used a bottle of eye drops I found in one of the vanity’s drawers to take some of the harsh redness out of my eyes. The result wasn't perfect, but it was a damned sight better than it was before.

My face, however, required a bit more work to make it more presentable.

I grabbed a tissue, moistened it with some water, and wiped away the tear tracks running diagonally across my cheeks. Then, I deftly applied new foundation to the areas where my crying had washed it away. After that, it was just a matter of dabbing a little concealer around my reddened nose and eyes and finishing the touch-up with a bit of powder.

The girl in the mirror now looked much closer to her normal self than she had minutes before.

The social disaster had been averted.

"Not bad," I said with a little grin. Then froze for a moment as the realization of what I’d just done hit me.

I'd gotten used to accessing Charlene’s muscle memory, and the quantum entanglement provided me with the ability to do most of the things Charlene could do. However, the majority of those things were either automatic, like walking, standing, and the cadence of her voice; or required at least a little bit of concentration on my part.

Such as being able to perform her cheer routine, for example.

Applying makeup was one of those other skills. I had enough of Charlene inside me to pull it off, but it did require my focusing on the task. However, this was the first time I'd done it while on autopilot.

I hadn't even had to contemplate the best way to go about repairing my makeup. I'd just done it.

"Is this just another part of the further integration between us?" My reflection asked. "Or is this simply just my becoming more adept at being her?"

Unfortunately, the ringing of the doorbell downstairs meant this existential conundrum would have to wait for an answer.

I gave myself one last examination for presentability before grabbing my phone from the bed and rushing out of my room and down the steps.

"I got it!" I yelled, taking the stairs two at a time.

My vocal declaration, however, was in vain.

I reached the bottom of the landing to find my dad standing at the open door, already engaged in conversation with Mike. He turned as I approached, gave me a little bit of a concerned look, and mouthed, "You okay?"

Guess he'd seen Charlene in her post-bawl mode enough times to not be fooled by a bit of makeup magic.

I nodded and flashed him an ‘I’m okay’ smile as I stepped past him to give Mike one that was less daughterly and more on the romantic side.

"Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting."

He let out a little laugh. "You didn't. Not that I would have minded. You’re worth waiting for, Charlie."

I heard my father let out a little snort of unconcealed amusement behind me.

"Easy there, Romeo,” he said jovially. “You already brought ice cream. No need to add additional sweetener."

Mike's face turned a brilliant scarlet, and I spun around to look at the man standing behind me.

"Daddy!" I scolded, putting my hands on my hips before I realized I was even doing it.

The older man put his own hands up in surrender. "Sorry, honey. I couldn't resist." Then he nodded in Mike's direction. "You two go have your dessert and whatever. Just don't be up too late and if you go anywhere." He paused to look from me to Mike and back. "At least text me so I know you left."

"We're having ice cream and hanging out here, Daddy. Which means you can drop the Uber Protective act."

He shook his head. "I'll never do that, Pumpkin' Never."

I laughed, sighed, and then grabbed Mike's free hand to pull him across the threshold and in the direction of the kitchen. Along the way, I glanced back over my shoulder at my father, who stood there watching us.

"No eavesdropping."

In the kitchen, I noticed that Dad had eaten the food I left for him. And had even managed to clean up after himself. I stopped long enough to grab a couple of spoons from the drawer, then sat down at the table.

Mike, to my giddy satisfaction, sat down next to me as he placed the bag on the table. The logo featured a large triple scoop cone with a cartoonish line of drips falling from the top. The name underneath the logo read "Ice Cream Dreams."

"Is this a new place," I asked while watching him pull out a white cardboard box that was cube approximately eight inches squared.

He sat the box down next to the bag and gave me a strange look. "It's the place across the street from the campus library, Charlie."

I scrunched up my brow as I tried to picture the library and the shop across the street. "Across the street from the library? That's State Street Grill." I did my best not to drool. SSG, as far as I was concerned, had the best hot dogs in the world.

Now the look coming at me from the hunky baseball player turned from confused to really freaking confused.

"Charlie, State Street Grill burned down last summer. Remember? It’s been Ice Cream Dreams since right before the semester started."

I tried to hide the shocked expression I knew appeared on my face, knowing full well that I had failed miserably. I looked away, nodding my head. "Right. Of course. How could I have forgotten?"

Despite my casual tone, I mentally kicked myself for the mistake. How could I have forgotten that this wasn't my universe?

Sure, there were major differences, such as my parents raising two girls, that stood out first and foremost in my mind. What I’d neglected to consider was the thousands of smaller ones. Including the loss of one of my favorite eateries.

Mike looked at me for another couple of seconds before he opened the box and reached inside. His hand came back out holding a large waffle cone topped with vanilla ice cream streaked with bands of dark brown.

My eyes widened in surprise, causing his worried expression to morph into a slightly smug smirk as he handed it to me.

"One vanilla and dark caramel bliss for the lovely lady."

I looked from him to the dessert and back, unable to not be stunned. "How … how did you know?"

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more. The fact that Mike had brought me my all-time favorite flavor of ice cream. Or the fact that it was another of the eerie similarities between me and Charlene.

Pulling a second cone from the box, this one appearing to be dark chocolate with peanut butter chunks, he grinned wider as his cheeks took on a flushed tone.

"I might have heard it was your favorite."

Arching a brow, I brought my foot up and nudged his calf with my toe. "Someone told you. Was it Shelly?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Josie?"

"Negative."

I frowned. "Katie via Sebastian?"

"Nope and nope."

I took a lick from the cone, savored the delicious flavor rolling across my tongue, then shook my head.

"That's all the guesses I have. No one else knows me well enough to know my favorite ice cream flavor."

Mike grinned wider. "Rachel does."

"Rachel Bostwick?"

My mind immediately leapt to an image of the snooty sorority queen. I hadn't spoken to her since the day after the party. When she returned my phone and told me that she knew Charles and Charlene were swapping places.

Hell, between dealing with the fallout of the whole Josie/Danny thing, the discovery that the connection between Charlene and I was glitching, and learning that Here Katie had a big hand in fanning the flames of overwhelming guilt tearing my double's life apart, the whole new Kappa sister thing had simply fallen to the wayside.

Mike nodded. "I was talking to her and mentioned that I wanted to surprise you with something nice. You know, since we didn't get a chance to hang out this afternoon like we’d planned. She said that I should pick up ice cream and bring it to you. She even told me what flavor to get."

I couldn’t help but stare at him. I didn’t realize that Mike and Rachel were that close. Or that the Kappa Queen knew me well enough to suggest what I would like.

Then I remembered Shelly mentioning something about Charlene being practically up the other girl's ass right before I arrived to take over her life. For all I knew, such personal preferences had been a part of that kiss-ass phase.

"Good,” I said, lightly punching Mike in the shoulder. “It would have been terrible if you had shown up with something nasty. Like pistachio."

Mike laughed and took a lick from his own cone as he made a disgusted face. "No way. I wouldn't force pistachio on anyone.” He held up one finger. Well, maybe I’d make an exception for that asshole from this morning."

I stiffened a bit at the mention of Danny, then nodded with a slightly forced grin. "He deserves far worse torture than shitty ice cream."

Mike nodded and continued to eat his dessert. I did notice he moved his chair a little bit closer and sat so that our knees touched. The contact was like pressing my skin against an insulated live wire. More vibrating than shocking. Energetic.

There was a strong desire to knock the ice cream out of his hand and give him something sweeter, and far more flexible, to devour.

Take it down a notch, girl. Yes, he’s hot and obviously into you. But your hormones are also way out of whack right now.

After a few moments, when it was clear that he'd worked his cone down to a safer, less drip prone, level, Mike turned to look at me with a slightly serious expression.

"Charlie, can we talk about what happened today? On the field?"

I froze, tongue out, and slowly lowered my hand as I reeled it back into my mouth. For a moment, I chose to stare at the white and brown dessert, rather than his handsome face.

I knew that I owed him some sort of explanation for my “outburst”. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to tell him the whole truth.

"Okay," I said as I finally looked at him. "I think that it's only fair to let you know what's going on with me."

His eyes widened a bit, and he shook his head. "I mean, if you want to tell me, I want to hear. I don’t want to push you or anything." The sincerity and care in his voice made my affection for him increase by leaps and bounds.

I laughed. Not loudly, but enough to break some of the tension. While it seemed to work on Mike, my own heartbeat didn’t decrease from its elevated state.

"You’re not,” I assured him. “You should at least know some of what's going on. If for no other reason than to be sure you want to continue … this." I gestured in the air between us.

"I sincerely doubt whatever it is you have to tell me would change that, Charlie."

I really hoped he truly meant every word of that declaration.

"So, Jackson, my ex-boyfriend, lives across the street." I pointed in the direction of Jackson's house.

He followed my finger before looking back with a nod. "He’s The Mad Scientist, right?" Before I could ask, he held up his hand. "Your favorite ice cream flavor wasn't the only information Rachel volunteered."

I gaped at him. Did that mean that she'd told him about the cross universal swaps? Granted, Rachel supposedly thought I was Charlene and Charlene was me. However, I couldn't be sure that Mike would be so easily fooled. The more time we spent together, and the more mistakes I made, the more likely he would deduce I wasn't the Charlie native to this dimension.

"Yeah," I said with a little sigh. "Though, that’s a bit of a misnomer. He’s more like an … eccentric genius." Tilting my head, I gave him an inquisitive look. "What else did Rachel tell you about me and Jackson?"

He shrugged. "Just that he sometimes performs these elaborate experiments that have a tendency to backfire. When that happens, it’s usually you who deals with the consequences.”

I shook my head. “That’s sounds more nefarious than it is. We’ve known each other a long time. Sure, I sometimes get caught in the backlash. But Jackson always manages to fix things in the end.”

“But you are usually the victim, right? When things go wrong?”

I sighed with a frown. “That is not incorrect.”

His expression turned curious. "Is that what's going on with you now? Some failed experiment? Is that why Danny was accosting you in the parking lot? Why you were behaving so strangely this afternoon?"

I shook my head adamantly. "Danny Morris was being an ass this morning because he's pissed his girlfriend dumped his cheating ass." I paused long enough for Mike to ask any more questions about Danny and with whom he may or may not have had said dalliance. Then, I put my hand on his forearm. "Yes, there was an experiment recently that went off the rails and resulted in some unexpected … uh … changes.”

Mike gave a single nod of understanding but remained silent. I took it as a request to continue explaining.

"So, now I'm dealing with ... uh ... a kind of dissociative identity disorder."

His brows scrunched together. "You mean like multiple personalities? The experiment gave you additional people in your head?"

"In a manner of speaking, yeah. But not multiple multiple. Only two.” I shrugged one shoulder. “I can't control when there's going to be a shift. From me to her. Plus, neither of us has any memory of what the other one did while they were in control."

He reached up and stroked his chin, seeming to mull that over for a few moments. "That would certainly explain your reaction on the field earlier,” he said with a nod. “I mean, when you saw me holding you, it was like you were looking at a total stranger."

"She was. I mean, I was.” I sighed. “She doesn’t know about you."

"Does this other you have a name?" he asked.

"Charlene."

"Isn't that your name?"

I frowned. "Yes. Both of us are Charlene. But we're also not the same Charlene. We’re alike in some respects, and very different in others."

"So, I take it Other Charlene is less fun to be around? Given the way Shelly was acting during the incident."

I laughed. "It seems to be the general consensus."

He nodded. Then gave me a concerned look. "Which one is the original? I mean, which one is th result of the experiment?"

I pondered asking if it mattered. Unfortunately, I was already feeling shitty enough about hiding a large portion of the truth from him. I figured I could at least be honest with the answer to his inquiry.

"The other Charlene was here first. I showed up after the lab accident. And, unfortunately, until Jackson gets things corrected, there are going to be random times when she's here and I'm not. I just don’t want you to think that her opinions and actions are mine."

He didn’t say anything for several long seconds. As the silence in the kitchen continued, his facial expressions went from curious to anxious and into worried. With a healthy dose of sadness right on top. Like the cherry on a Despair Sundae.

My blood chilled and my pulse raced when I saw him looking at me in that fashion. I immediately put down my half-eaten ice cream to take one of his large hands into both of mine. I gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"Mike, does it matter to you that I'm not the original Charlene?" I winced at how desperate my voice sounded to my ears. Like I was pleading for him to tell me that he didn't care if I was the new version. That it didn't bother him one bit that I was the result of a lab accident. “I’m the one who flirted with you at the mall. Who accepted your offer of a double date that wasn’t a double date.” I squeezed his hand again before pulling it closely against my chest. “I’m the one you were kissing on the bench near the parking lot.”

He didn’t pull his hand back, but he also didn’t return the squeeze.

"Mike?" I said, leaning against him and willing myself to not cry. "I promise that I'm nicer and friendlier than she is. Ask Shelly. Ask Josie. They'll tell you that they prefer me to her."

I should have felt bad about throwing Charlene under the bus like that. However, I was the one responsible for this thing blossoming between Mike and me. Not her. The thought that he might consider her to be the superior version, or at least the rightful one, filled me with existential dread.

After a few moments, he sighed and looked me in the eyes.

"It's not that I think you're not better than her, Charlie. Or that you are. Honestly, I don't know the other you well enough to make that sort of judgment call. Yes, you're the one I've been getting to know these past few days. You are the Charlene that I want to be with."

Hope began to stir within my chest as I nodded eagerly in agreement. “Yes. I want that as well.”

That same swell of hope crashed and shattered into a thousand pieces as he finally extracted his hand from mine.

“But there is the fact of the matter that the accident that created the two versions of you is in the process of being corrected. Which means, at some point, there is only going to be one Charlene around. That’s what you said, right?”

It wasn’t necessary for me to answer him. Because he was right. At some point, Jackson would fix the machine. Then I would either be sent home for good or remain here in this new life that I was beginning to treasure. The back-and-forth swaps couldn’t continue indefinitely.

He shook his head as he put his own ice cream back in the box and slowly rose to his feet.

“That idea scares me, Charlie. It terrifies me because I’m starting to fall in love with you. Fall pretty hard.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and finally turned to look at me.

“Mike,” I said in a tiny voice. “Please …”

“I’m falling in love with you, Charlie,” he repeated, not breaking eye contact. “But I’m scared that the girl I’m falling for will be completely gone someday soon.”

I opened my mouth to beg him to not think of it that way, but he shook his head and spoke before I could utter a single syllable.

“And I don’t think I can handle that. I’m sorry.”

Then he walked out of the kitchen, and by the time the sound of the front door closing reached my ears, the tears had started to flow anew.