The Other Me

Originally published in Hobart.

I saw myself on the Jumbotron. Locked eyes on my eyes looking elsewhere. It was that moment before you recognize that it is you, in fact, staring at you. Before you think, Look at that. That’s Me. That split second before you begin to wave and do not stop until the Jumbotron moves on. It was a lucky catch, that moment. And then I waved at the Jumbotron. I did not wave back.

So it was the opposite of when you see a stranger walking toward you in a hotel lobby. When you drift left to get out of her way. When you realize that it’s not a stranger. It’s a mirror. It is Me.

This other Me was taking longer than usual to recognize herself. The thing about the Jumbotron is it’s patient. And so am I. I stared at the Me not staring at me. No one else in the stadium seemed to be looking. It was just me. Me and the Jumbotron and this other Me. 

My face hovered there, huge. The nose stretched longer than my nose. The lips, they thickened and paled. In short, time passed and the face stopped being mine. 

So it was both like and unlike hearing the name of an old lover. How it lingers, enlarged, distorted. And you struggle to tie it down to anybody you know.

***

Released: October 15th 2021

Rebekah Bergman is a poetry and fiction writer and the 2018 winner of the Masters Review Anthology Prize. Full Bio