The Deal

Forty-Two-Bernadette

For a split second, I imagine my father subconsciously instructing me how to tie Andrew up on the bed, or the number of hours to leave him in the room, just so he can feel helpless. He'll tell me how to use all kinds of tools to discipline him just like he did to me, then he'll say he's so proud of me. "Like father, like daughter," he'll whisper in my ear.

When I ask him why I won't stop obsessing over how beautiful Krystal's body is and just get rid of it already, he'll say, "Remember the nights I used to make you play dead throughout? I touched myself watching you because you looked so pure and beautiful in your motionless state. The power I felt as I stood over your body was a wonderful thrill..."

I'll look at him and say, "But I'm not like you."

"Hello? Miss?" The gentle tap of a metal stick on my forearm jerks me from the nightmarish thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I spew out, pulling my usual forced smile for the customers. "How can I help?"

She smiles back. "Do you have any book written by Angela Makowhla? It's for my daughter."

"Sure." I get the book for her, but I swear I nearly doze off just walking in the distance. If this persists, there's going to be a chance I'd slump to the floor and fall into slumber right then and there.

"Sweetheart, you know what?" The old lady asks as I wrap up the books for her in brown paper. "You resemble someone I saw on TV."

I flinch at this revelation, but I force myself to hide the surprise. "Sorry. Don't mean to be insensitive, but you might have me confused with someone else. I don't think I resemble anyone at all."

The old lady just giggles. "Oh, you're right, then. My daughter makes me watch this African sitcom on TV. I forgot the title anyway. She's such a huge fan of the actress playing the main character, and she even told me this actress was her first female crush. But the show is hilarious, I tell you. If it got canceled, my daughter might get so depressed. It's made her laugh while going through such a difficult time. She lost her best friend. Anyway, when I saw you I was immediately reminded of the show. Sorry for the confusion. Thanks so much for the books!"

"My pleasure," I reply. The sound of the bell chiming has my mood rotating from happy and cheerful to flat-out mad and furious. I can't believe a stranger almost made me out for the second time.

"He's one of the best plastic surgeons in the country," was what my useless husband said to me. If that's true, then why the hell are people still recognizing me? The facial surgery was supposed to wipe out every trace of the person I no longer am because the person they are confusing me with is someone else. Not me. My coward of a husband should have hired someone better. Honestly, for a man so smart, he's lately been a moron.

When the bell chimes, I remind myself not to be having these thoughts. I'm a bookstore clerk, taking care of two stubborn kids. To be honest, I haven't been thinking of those rascals as of late. As long as they stay put and do not attract attention, I'll have the peace I deserve. I don't have a husband, because now I have Andrew, and he's a special man who will be mine to control. This is the quiet life I've always wanted. I'll protect and guard it by any means necessary.

"How you doing, miss?" The customer before me greets. He looks to be in his early fifties, with grey short hair and a circular beard. I'm immediately reminded to watch out for Bill. He could pop out of nowhere when I least expect it. That's why anytime I leave the house or even while I'm roaming about at home, I carry a pocketknife with me. Every night, I watch the streets through my window, anticipating his arrival.

"I'm having a wonderful day, sir. What book would you be interested in, please?"

He smiles, revealing dimples. "Hm. I'm looking for the one where a woman switches identities with a doppelgänger. Have you ever heard of it?"