At approximately five o'clock in the morning on the morning of that December Saturday, Theophrastus Bartholomew Vang awoke suddenly to the dissonant, obnoxious din of a ringtone coming from the next room.
At first he assumed it was his horrific, torturous headache (probably from last night's ill-advised ten-litas bottle of vodka) he suddenly had playing tricks on him, and buried himself deeper under the covers next to the snoring figure beside him. What was her name, again? He couldn't for the life of him remember. He hoped it wasn't one of his students, or, at least, that it was one he was privately tutoring.
From the kitchen, Sir Mix-A-Lot's lusty, upbeat voice continued to blare. A dazed grunt emitted from the other side of the bed. Far below, in some forgotten section of plumbing, a family of rats awakened to begin a productive day of vandalism.
"Fuck it," he mumbled, and, summoning up a measure of willpower and self-discipline that, two years prior, might have made Major Spittles reconsider discharging him dishonorably, he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled, puppet-like, into the kitchen of the tiny, crumbling apartment. Picking up the battered but ever-perseverant Nokia on the pressboard counter, he murmured a disgruntled “Hello” into the mouthpiece, futilely massaging his throbbing head.
“Hey Theo, it’s Mom. Your uncle Chip died an hour ago.” said a staticky, distant voice.
“Uh...Oh?”
Who was Chip again? Oh yeah, Dad’s brother...the really loony one who’d left his
sheltered existence halfway college to raise cattle and keep a small arsenal of assault rifles in case the black helicopters came. Theophrastus had met him once, maybe twice, at family gatherings.
“I’m telling you this because the funeral is going to be in Montana in a week, and you need to show up. You’ve disappointed your father so much with your...lifestyle.” She uttered the last word with distinct disdain. “It would mean a lot to him if you showed up.”
He did a quick and haphazard search of his addled, still-slightly-buzzed brain, overturning random file cabinets and card catalogs in a desperate search for his mental schedule. A week. What did he have in a week…? Christmas vacation wouldn’t have started yet. He might be able to pretend a really important family member had died and get a holiday extension from the school, but he wasn’t going to drop $2500 on a round trip to spend his Christmas holiday in the middle of nowhere in Montana, certainly not when he had far more debauched plans in Stockholm, and definitely not for the funeral of a family member he knew only cursorily.
“Look...Mom...my contract doesn’t let me out until the 15th, and in any case I don’t have money for airfare to America. I’m spending Christmas in Europe. I’m sorry, but-”
“We’ll pay for airfare. Chip wasn’t exactly impoverished. And I’m sure the school will understand.”
I don’t care if the school will understand, thought Theo. I’m spending my Christmas indulging myself in vodka and easy Swedes, not pretending to revere someone I barely remember and bickering with family members about everything under the sun.
“I really can’t. I’m...I’m spending Christmas with my girlfriend’s family.”
“Another one?! Dammit, Theo…”
“No, no, she’s a nice girl...her family runs the...the largest… the largest rye production company in Lithuania. You’ll- really, it’s better for me to stay here, Mom.”
“Oh? Is she rich?”
“Oh yeah,” said Theo, cursing his hangover, “her folks are loaded.” He slapped himself for making such a patently false and ridiculous claim. Oh well, his family wouldn’t have any way to prove it, would they?
“Well then, she can fly out here with you to America. She can come along for the funeral and family reunion,” said Mrs. Vang, doubt dripping like honey through the static. Far below, the building’s water heater sputtered and clanked. The elevator startled to life, or perhaps just broke down again.
“Well, I dunno, Mom. I’ll talk to her.”
“You’re coming out here, kiddo. That’s not a request. We’ll support you, but you need to make it happen.”
“Right, right, Mom. I’ll...I’ll think about it.” muttered Theo, cursing under his breath.
“You better. Get back to bed, kid. You’ll feel clearer in the morning.”
“G’bye,” said Theo in a nearly unintelligible voice, flipping the lid of the Nokia shut, slamming it down on the counter, and stomped back into the bedroom.
Kas tai buvo? muttered the voice, displeased.
“Nothing,” he said, “nothing,” and for a minute, he nearly believed it.
***
When he woke up, the sun had risen- nearly midnight at that time of year. Theo lay on his back, enjoying what was undoubtedly going to be the remnants of the best part of the day. Groaning, he sat up. 'Holy shit, what the hell am I going to do?' he thought, halfheartedly remembering the conversation last night.
This, he believed, was a problem for future Theo. With a creak, he stood up and grabbed a pair of pants before belatedly remembering his mysterious bedside companion. Turning, he was confronted by a head of shortish black hair hidden under the thin covers. 'Well,' Theo thought. 'At least drunk me has decent taste. Not a student, I think.'
Satisfied with this conclusion, he pulled on an old t-shirt and stumbled on to the paltry living room slash kitchen. The apartment was not the highest quality building this side of Stockholm. The floors creaked, the windows weren't sealed, the door had a broken lock, there were one or two holes in the floor... A train wreck would both describe and improve the place. Taking a can off the fridge and pouring the coffee beans into the machine, he turned the dying television on.
"-sen flaskor av "-enheter av "läkare Gemini mirakel flytande" återkallades från butikerna, efter en hemlig händelse inom företaget i Litauen-" The device statically screeched out before Theo remembered that he couldn't actually speak Swedish. 'Fucking moon speak is what it is.' he thought blearily as the antiquated little device behind him started churning.
Switching the channel to a more understandable English program, Theo began to think. The funeral in Montana was absolutely off the table. It was the absolute worst sort of way to spend any sort of vacation time,with Christmas around the corner to boot. He would have to finagle his way out of it.
Absentmindedly, he scratched the higher part of the back of his leg and was pleasantly surprised to find the rash growing there was now gone. Whatever he had picked up from the back of that old rack at that crappy 'medicinal' store had worked wonders.
He shook his head. Phone call, what had he said? Theo tried to focus. He had made an excuse last night- Oh, right. Imaginary loaded girlfriend from Lithuania who could pay for the trip. Something about a company? There were times when Theophrastus regretted inhaling ten-something bottles of cheap vodka. Being unable to get his excuses in line was one of them.
One week. One week to either get on a plane for an unimaginably torturous Montana weekend or find a way to spend a glorious vacation getting as much vodka and woman as he possibly could right here in Europe. Girlfriend, Lithuania, Company. He could work with this. The company could conveniently crash and burn. Her father could have an accident. Deadly Ebola outbreak at the airport. Avoiding spending a week with a dead man was worth putting effort towards.
Smirking to himself, he grabbed the newly born cup of low grade caffeine and sat on the dusty old couch, half forgotten wrappers thrown to the wind. He had almost taken the first relieving sip when a screech from behind him flung the liquid airborne for a spit second before landing straight on his chest and pants.
"Oh, fuck!" Theo shouted. "Augh!" Grimacing, he grabbed a nearby roll of paper towels and patted down his garments as he turned to the shrieks origin.
"The hell is your problem-" He stopped short. "What the fuck?"
"Kas tu esi ir ką tu darai mano bute!?" Cried the half dressed woman from his bed who, remarkably, looked like she had stepped straight out of his bathroom mirror.
In the silence, a container of 'Dr. Gemini's Miracle cream (Discover the true you!)' rolled to the floor.
*****
There was something very wrong here, this much was plain. It appeared to be dawning on the woman as well, as she slowly shifted backward, covering herself up and looking at Theo with... disgust? No, not quite that. Something different, something Theo couldn’t readily identify.
The woman shot something that sounded like a question in European or something at Theo, who could only stare uncomprehendingly in response. Goddamn Europe. Why couldn’t they just all speak English?
“You look like…” the woman, apparently having had a similar idea just now, began in a thick accent that sounded kind of Russian to Theo.
“What the fuck?” Theo repeated to the universe in general, hoping it would notice just how fucked its shit has gotten and get it together already. The universe, though, did not do any such thing. This was actually going to be happening.
The woman just stared at him with perplexity, and Theo’s attention was drawn to the container on the ground. ‘Discover the true you!’ it said, and it was completely empty.
“Don’t touch!” the woman said, suddenly going on the offensive.
“What?”
“The… thing! Don’t touch!”
“What the hell are you talking about? This thing?” Theo asked, pointing at the container.
“Yes! No touching!”
“It’s mine!”
“No bullshit!” the woman replied, pointing her finger at Theo accusatorily. “My thing!”
“Look, I bought it, so-”
“No! I bought it! Mine!” she continued, her belligerent tone amplified by a visibly poor grasp of English, giving it a slightly childish quality.
Theo would have said more, would have pursued the argument further, but it was an empty jar of crap, so he sighed and let it go for now.
“Fine. You can have it. Fucking thing’s empty, anyway,” he said, stepping over to the bed and placing the container on it. The woman seized it quickly, clutching it close to herself and retreating to the backboard of the bed.
“We’re getting nowhere like this. Get dressed,” Theo said. A moment passed, the woman glancing at Theo distrustfully, then shuffling out of bed and making her way to what seemed like a wardrobe, also set in the same room as the bed. Theo utilized the short breather to get himself another cup of coffee – if he ever in his life needed one, it was definitely now. Sipping on the drink, he evaluated the situation here. Heavy drinking, though easy to blame, was insufficiently potent to cause something like this alone. That just left two possibilities – spectacular coincidence, or that the universe was throwing him a really nasty curveball.
Before he could ponder the implications of either scenario, the woman reappeared within his field of vision, now in a more acceptable state of dress. They looked at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move, to ask the obvious question. The woman spoke first.
“Who are you?” she asked in a petulant tone, throwing her arms wide open. “Stop drinking my coffee!”
“Theophrastus – Theo. And no. Who are you?”
The woman paused, scratching her ear in a way Theo found curiously familiar.
“Sofija.”
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
“No… I get off airplane, come to friend’s flat, then…”
“Airplane from where?”
“Vilnius.”
“What?”
“Lietuva.”
“Hm?”
“Um… Lithuania?”
Okay, that probably put away the possibility of a complete coincidence.
“You didn’t go out after that?”
“No.”
“You don’t recall meeting me?”
“No!”
“That cream you bought, did you use it?”
“No… uh… yes!”
“What did you use it for?”
Sofija didn’t answer exactly, instead only providing a look that informed Theo that she was currently looking for a way to properly articulate ‘none of your fucking business’.
“Alright, not important. Why did you come here?”
“Vacation. Have friends here.”
Couldn’t be a coincidence. Shenanigans were afoot, as a more polite individual than Theo would say. He finally drained the cup of coffee and stood up from the couch. Despite having looked at Sofija for the past three minutes or so, he couldn’t get over the resemblance. Exact same height, similar build, pretty much the same face… well, she didn’t have the stubble, which was good, kind of. Even the body language was somewhat identical.
“Fuck it, let’s stop dancing around the issue. We’re the same. How?” Theo asked, dead serious.
“I don’t fucking know!”
“We both used the cream, we both came here on vacation, and the both of us are somehow long-lost identical gender-flipped twins. From opposite sides of the world. Shit like that doesn’t just happen.”
Sofija was silent.
“And I don’t know anybody who could or would pull that kind of shit to screw with people, except God himself, maybe.”
“Maybe you piss off God.”
“Who the fuck knows. Seems like the cream’s related – I mean, it says ‘Dr. Gemini’s’ on it. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
Sofija looked at him questioningly.
“Question is, what now?” Theo asked, and wasn’t particularly surprised when Sofija didn’t seem to know, either.
We are stuck here, as Theo thought of it, sipping down another cup of coffee. At least coffee helps clearing his mind as he struggles to assess the situation. In any case it is going to be too much for him to understand.
It was all about the Cream, as Theo understand all these nonsense. The easiest way was, of course, just use the cream once again; in any case, though, the cream was already empty. And they are in no condition to get away; well they can reasonably go around within the borders, but if they are going to move internationally - especially Sofija needed transit back to Lithuania sooner or later - then she would hit herself a dead end. It was not money, but they won’t even get pass any sensible passport control, given today’s sophisticated technology embedded on them.
We are stuck here, in this form, forever. As he sipped more coffee into his mouth, and slowly become a gulp of it. Sofija was staring, quite blankly, out of the window, probably as confused as him. The low winter sun shines on her fair skin, and rays of light has backlit her - anyway long - fair hair. Okay, so I had a pretty - if that is to be the word - woman there.
But wait. From Lithuania: check. Now a lady. Sofija: check. Looks pretty, double check. All Green, actually.
“I guess I have an idea. Get dressed, you are going to be my girlfriend.” proclaimed Theo, with a strange smile.
“Fuck you. I mean, FUCK. YOU.” Sofija replied harshly, staring into Theo’s eyes.
“Well, that’s a fucking bonus, if you actually fuck me.”
“I mean, I’m not going to play this with you. I just don’t feel…”
“Would you fucking please stop acting this sissy for a moment?”
“But I got a licence to act like this. And what’s the point for you to propose this, if I could not act like a proper lady?”
“Better say a proper bitch. Sofija. And I guess there is a better way for you to act like a girl, while not being an unbearable bitch. You seemed to forgot all the Gender Studies Material…”
“Oh god, and who the hell is going to take that seriously?”
Theo remembered that he only really started working on them a few days before the final exams, just like any University student in a foreign land there. In any case he would prefer Swedish Girls following conforming to strict gender stereotypes, but things has to be taken in perspective and some flexibility has to be allowed, at least within his mind, to prevent further mind screw.
Time for another cup of coffee to put the intellectual side of the discussion to nail it firmly within two coffins, burying it in the graves. It was to be left in Europe after all, Theo thought. Caffeine, like any other drug, somehow helps keeping one sane in this kind of outrageous situations, and with Sofija already reaching for the pot for another cup of hot water for the cheap instant coffee, it seems to be physiologically universal.
However that never seemed right. A woman in men’s clothes, without the suitable undergarments, are not going to work, whether it is Lithuania or Montana.
“Well, even you don’t want to meet my parents, you still need a new set of clothing,” said Theo, looking at Sofija, and reaching for the ugly plastic keyfob of his car. “Let’s at least get your attire right”.
---------
"Tai taip keista..." Sofija muttered to herself for not the first time that morning. She hoped she was dreaming, that she could wake up tomorrow morning and none of this would have happened. That she'd wake up in her bed with no strange guys there and no funeral to attend. The bird shit on the window seemed to rule out that theory, though. Who the hell dreams that there's pigeon turds on the window when they're driving somewhere in a dream?
She noted distantly that Theo was rolling his eyes at her comment. "Of course it's fucking weird. How do you think I feel, waking up with a clone of myself in bed with me?" She tuned him out and looked in the side view mirror. 'Am I a copy of him, or is he a copy of me?' she wondered. Sofija recognized her own face, thought it looked normal. It was Theo, with his nine o'clock shadow, that looked wrong. And she remembered everything! Montana, getting picked on for her ridiculous name, the family disapproving of her 'lifestyle', her coming to Lithuania, the University... Surely a fake couldn't remember all of that. She had to be the real one. Right?
Way too early to be thinking about this shit. Time for a distraction: "Where are we going anyway?" she asked Theo, who had apparently concluded his rant without her and was now fussing with a map of the city, written in Swedish. "It's like I said before. We need to get you some attire. Women's clothes. Blouses, bras, underwear. A dress too, I guess. Do you wear a dress to a funeral?" "How the hell should I know, neither of us have ever been to one. Look, you drive, I'll figure out the map."
As Sofija tried to refold the tangled mess of paper before her, a thought occurred to her. "How are we going to be paying for all this? All my, our, whatever money went into getting tickets here for the break." Theo had that look on his face. Furtive, bushy little eyebrow raised just so while he nibbled on his lower lip. Cute on anyone else, just goofy on her. Or him. The same one she had when she was about to lie about something. "I don't know. Look, we'll think of something. Just find a place, OK? One with a big parking lot, if you can." "Why a big parking lot?" "I thought we'd try shoplifting. You can be the get-away driver."
'Am I normally this stupid?' Sofija wondered, marveling at what a terrible plan this was. Maybe being a clone made you an idiot? "Theo, are you retarded? First of all, if anyone is going to be the get-away driver, it's you. I'm the one who has to try on the clothes. But even if that part of the plan weren't so fucking stupid, we're STILL not robbing a department store. The last thing I need is to do is end up locked a Swedish jail cell with you!" "Fuck it, fine. We'll come up with a better plan. Is this the place? Find something cheap, maybe. I don't know!"
Author
Topic: Novel-Writing Game: "Offer Void in Lithuania". (Read 4450 times)