Two Bittersweet Lattes and a Macaron

Chapter 2: Doppelgänger

Chapter 2: Doppelgänger

doppelgänger noun

an apparition or double of a living person.

I DON'T BELIEVE IN DOPPELGÄNGERS, but for a split second I do. A million questions form in my head, while I'm still shell-shocked at the sudden re-appearance of my dead first love.

"What am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to go after him or not? Am I supposed to beg for him to stay?" I ask myself, as the blender whirs after I pour in the pre-made strawberry jam and milk tea in the container.

I can feel my mouth stuck in a happy grin, while hot tears are starting to blur my vision. My ears are bright red, still embarrassed at how I'd been dozing off during my shift, and my hands are re-tying my long chestnut brown hair into a ponytail. I can see a distorted reflection of me on the plastic container. No matter how distorted it is, I can see how the light eye makeup I'd worn is smearing badly.

"I'm such a mess. I must look like a psychopath." I think, letting out a small sigh.

It seems like time is slowing down as I pull the container out of the blender and pour the final drink into the plastic cup. I seal it and call out his name.

"A strawberry smoothie for Luca?" I say loudly, as he starts to stand up from his seat and walk over. Noticing my tear-stained face, his stone-cold face softens a little and he pulls a Ghirardelli milk chocolate caramel square out of his coat pocket. As he reaches over for his order, he hands me the chocolate.

"Uhh, we all have hard days. This isn't much, but I hope this kind of helps." he mumbles timidly with a small, sad smile. The heartless, unemotional person he was a few minutes ago is nearly gone.

I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my sweater and thank him. "Thank you." More words wouldn't come out, not matter how hard I tried.

"Do you even remember me? What happened? Why are you back?" I'm dying to ask. Based on his expressions, it's hard to tell; the way he's acting makes me think that he doesn't know who I am, but I was the only person he truly opened up his shy side to.

I could imagine a part of myself screaming, "Come back! Please don't leave me." and another rejoicing at his re-appearance, but when I finally gain the courage to say something, he's already out the door, disappearing into the night under his clear umbrella. I look around the café hurriedly and swivel my gaze to the large analog clock hanging on the wall.

"It's ten. MY SHIFT IS OVER!" the voice in my head hollers, as I whip off my apron and grab my handbag and umbrella from behind the counter. I pull out the pen I always have tucked behind my right ear and write up a four word note on a napkin for the remaining two staff members reading, "Bye, see you tomorrow!"

At the speed of light, I dash outside, feeling the pouring rain pitter-pattering on my umbrella. Looking desperately around at my surroundings, I try to look for any trace of Luca- but none remain. It's been less than a minute since he'd walked out the door and not a single figure can be seen along the street.

Feeling lost and empty, I gradually lower my umbrella, my oversized wool cardigan getting soaked by the rain. My usually wavy chocolate brown ponytail clings to my neck as if I'd just walked straight out of a shower. I look up. It's hard to tell if the tears on my cheeks are really my tears now; the rain has fused in with them. I lick my lips, the lip balm I'd applied in the morning entirely gone now. Very salty.

Laughing sourly, I cry out into the darkness like a person not in their right mind. "I MUST BE GOING INSANE! WHAT AN IDIOT I AM, NOT BEING ABLE TO ACT WHEN I COULD'VE CALLED HIM, REACHING FOR HIS HAND, WHILE ASKING HIM WHAT THIS MESS IS!" I stand beneath the downpour, which brings a slight feeling of comfort. But what's the use of comfort when you've missed the one chance you had?

*

*

*

A couple hours later, I lie down in bed under the soft covers at my apartment. It's past one in the morning and I still can't sleep. I toss and turn until I find a comfortable position on my side. I hug my fluffy llama pillow close to me as I stare at the wrapped chocolate square on top of my nightstand.

"Luca...how are you back?" I wonder, my head still aching from the confusion. I then slowly get up, put on my slippers, and amble over to the tall wooden shelf next to my desk. Looking at the spine of each book slowly, my eyes brighten as I find the item I'd been looking for: my old photo album.

Flipping through each page of the photo album, I stop as I see a picture of me and Luca, with Luca's arm around my high school self's shoulder. I pull it out from the plastic pocket and examine it closely.

I've always been average height, with wide ebony eyes, and long eyelashes. I have a round face and didn't lose the baby fat in my cheeks until my twentieth birthday. Almost everyone treats me like their younger sibling, and to be honest, I act like one. I'm quite bubbly and outgoing, but I've heard that I get EXTREMELY scary when I get annoyed.

After staring at the same picture for a bit, I put it carefully back in its respective pocket in the album. I flip through the rest, recalling all of the memories I'd forgotten. As I slowly flip through the pages reminiscing through the good old days, my ringtone, which I set to my favorite song, suddenly starts blaring out of my phone's speakers. I'd left my phone in the kitchen, which is the reason why the sound is amplified to three times the usual volume. Startled, I jump up in surprise and stumble over to check the call.

(Back to You by Selena Gomez) "You're stuck in my head and I can't get you out of it, if I could do it all again..." my ringtone goes off loudly. I'd forgotten I'd left it at full volume. Grabbing my phone and pulling a chair out from my kitchen table to sit on, I peer down at the caller.

"Unknown ID," it says. Rolling my eyes after I see the number, I turn the volume down so it's quieter. I rest my head on the table, looking sideways.

"So many things happened today," I exhale, taking in a deep breath. "Why is this idiot contacting me?"

I press the accept button.

"Look, I'm sorry...can we start over again? I-I-know what I did wrong last time, I promise I won't do it again. We can be happy together like the old times." stammers a wavering voice on the other end.

A short pause follows.

After preparing myself, I respond in a cold, firm manner. "Adrien, do you think it's fun playing around with my feelings? I don't know about you, but cheating with one of my university friends isn't forgivable to me. You want me to be happy? Honey, the best way for me to be happy is by pushing you away. You did something that was dump-worthy. Don't use another number to call me again. I won't be accepting numbers I don't know because I'll think it's you."

And with that said, I end the call and block the number. Putting my hand on my forehead, I plug my phone back in the charging hole and shuffle back into my room.

Tossing myself on the bed, I kick the mattress in frustration.