The Man Who Drew Himself

I blinked and stared in disbelief. I blinked a few more times, but the vision of the two rose vases was still there in front of me on the kitchen table. I had just finished a still life painting of a rose vase when I noticed that something strange had happened. Sitting beside the model vase was a perfect replica. Where there had previously been only one vase, now there were two. They were exactly the same, right down to the patterns of the leaves on the rose stems. I touched the new vase and it was solid. I had no explanation. Though I had only been painting for a few months, I knew that this wasn’t normal.

While I examined the vases, my roommate, Jigger, returned home after his last class. His real name was Jason Watkins. He thought Jigger was flashier name for a bartender. His co-workers at the Axis club thought it was kind of stupid, but the college girls seemed to like it.

"Feel like going drinking tonight?" he asked me, after slamming the door shut, no doubt pissing off the neighbors. Again.

I didn't answer him. I was still dumbfounded by what I was looking at.

"Danny boy, what's the matter with you?" asked Jigger.

Danny was what Jigger and everyone else I knew called me, but the nuns at the orphanage had named me Daniel Bascomb. The nuns had also encouraged me to take up drawing. They had given me the requisite box of a hundred crayons, but I was never very good at it and I gave up after a few years. Recently, something had rekindled my interest in drawing and painting, and so I had enrolled in an arts program at a local community college.

Jigger approached me, with slight concern. He looked at the pair of vases, then at my painting, and said, "Looks like you're one vase shy."

"Well, just before you came in, there was only one vase sitting there," I said, pointing towards the table.

"What are you talking about?" said Jigger, unfastening his pony tail while he spoke.

"Just like I said. I was working on a painting of a rose vase, then I looked up and poof. There were two of them."

Jigger looked at me and folded his arms across his chest. "Ah ... you didn't go dipping into your stash this afternoon, did you?"

"Jigger, I'm trying to tell you that something weird is going on here. I'm not even sure I believe it."

"Well, when you figure it out, let me know. I've got to get ready for work." Jigger turned and disappeared into the bathroom. The muffled sound of the shower came from behind the door.

I sat at the table and stared. What the hell was going on? This had to be impossible. I must be losing my mind. Maybe I should go to Axis with Jigger tonight. Maybe it would calm my nerves a bit.

Once Jigger had finished getting ready, I ducked into the bathroom myself. The least I could do was wash my face and brush my teeth, you never know when you might meet someone. I walked with Jigger down to the club. It was still early. The real party crowd never showed up until after ten on most nights. After having a couple of beers and after failing to strike up a conversation with a couple of nice young women, I decided to go home early. Jigger was disappointed in me. I just wasn't in a partying mood.

#

I returned home and sat at the table again. The twin vases were still there. The delicate porcelain patterns of roses and vines mirrored between the two vases. Each rose petal on one vase matched those on the other vase, both in color and texture.

I had an idea. I removed the two vases from the table and placed them on the kitchen counter. I went back to my easel and switched on the overhead lights. After squeezing out some paints on the palette, I started painting. The outlined curves took shape slowly. The soft fur portrayed realistically in shades of brown, black, and white. I carefully painted in the whiskers and the fine hairs jutting from the ears. As I added the final details to the painting, I heard an unmistakable and distinct meow. And there before me, lying curled up on the table as I had painted it, was a cat. It looked at me and blinked.

As I suspected, the cat was an exact copy of what was on my canvas. The cat got up and stretched, then walked to the edge of the table, meowing and purring. I went over and picked it up. It was soft, warm, a real live cat. It pushed its head against my hand as I brushed it. This had to be impossible. There was no way I could convince myself this had really happened. But it had happened. The proof was in my arms.

I was surprised when the door to the apartment opened unexpectedly. Jigger was home already. I guessed it was later than I had realized. He immediately noticed the cat.

"Taking in strays, now, Danny boy?" he asked, throwing his keys onto the counter. "You know we can't keep it. Old man Smurton won't think twice about throwing our asses out into the street, if he finds that cat here."

"I know that, but this cat isn't a stray. I painted it." I pointed at my canvas.

"Yeah, well, you can keep the painting but the cat's got to go." Jigger searched through the cupboards for a snack.

"No. You don't understand," I tried to explain, "First, there was no cat, then I painted what I know a cat looks like. And then poof, like the vase, it suddenly appeared."

Jigger turned towards me, stuffing some cheese crackers into his mouth. He asked, between chews, "How much did you have to drink tonight? I only served you two beers. You can't be that drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm telling you the truth. This cat popped into existence, out of nowhere." My face reddened. I was getting angry, though it really wasn't Jigger's fault.

"Take it easy, Danny boy." Jigger retreated to the living room and plunked down into the sofa. He clicked on the television. A music video blared from the set.

I went into the kitchen and put the cat on the floor. I pulled out a saucer, poured in some milk, and placed it on the floor in front of the cat. It licked the milk eagerly. It was hungry.

I joined Jigger in the living room, and slouched in the beat up, old recliner. I kicked back and said, "What's happening to me, Jig?"

Jigger studied me for a moment and then asked, "Have you been under a lot of stress at school?"

I stared at the ceiling. "No more than usual."

"It's not your birthday, is it? I know how much you hate your birthday." He clicked to another channel, and then to another.

"No, it's not my birthday, and I'm not missing my non-existent parents, either." I closed my eyes and tried to think calming thoughts. It wasn't working. I couldn't get my mind to accept the reality of what had happened. I was startled when the cat jumped into my lap. It walked around in a circle a few times and then settled in for a nap.

"At least your new friend likes you," said Jigger, pointing at the ball of fur purring in my lap, "Too bad we can't keep it. It's kind of cute."

We sat in silence for what must have been an hour. Jigger flicked between at least three different shows, all bad. Late night television just wasn't as good as it used to be. I was just nodding off when Jigger stood up and tossed the remote into my lap and said goodnight. The remote missed the cat's head by inches. The cat lifted its head, suddenly alert. I brushed its fur, trying to calm it.

My thoughts returned to the mystery laying in my lap. I'll show him, I thought. I'll paint something that'll leave no doubt in his mind about what I've been telling him. I scooped up the sleeping cat and laid it in the chair. I returned once again to my easel and put up a new canvas. I refreshed the paints on the palette and began painting. After half an hour, I had finished the outline of my figure. It took more than two hours to flesh out the details. I tried to work quickly, but I knew I also had to work carefully or else the result wouldn't be right.

I had nearly finished the painting when a sound came from behind the canvas. I peered around the edge and looked at the table behind. To my surprise, a figure was sitting there. A human figure. A figure with long flowing brown hair, brown eyes, and smooth, lightly tanned skin. Sitting on the table was my ex-girlfriend, Julia Banks. She seemed stunned to be there.

"Where am I?" she asked me with a quizzical look, then stood up.

"I'm not sure I can explain that properly," I replied, "You probably won’t believe me."

She looked around at her surroundings, with a dawning awareness of where she actually was. I suddenly realized that she was standing there naked, as I had painted her. I looked around for something that she could wear. I found a pair of sweats and a dirty shirt. It would have to do.

"Perhaps you should put these on," I said as I handed her the clothes.

She took the clothes and began putting them on, silently. After she was dressed, she asked, "So, do you want to try explaining what I'm doing here? I don't remember coming in or even wanting to see you again."

"Well," I paused, looking for the right way to explain, "Come here and look at this." I motioned for her to come over to the canvas sitting on the easel.

"That's me. So? You painted lots of these."

"Well, I just painted this one. And when I was nearly finished, you suddenly popped into existence, sitting on my table over there." I motioned towards the kitchen area.

"You're joking, right? I knew you had a hard time getting over me, but this is ridiculous. We're through, understand."

"Wait a minute, I have an idea." I went over and grabbed the phone off the coffee table. "Call your apartment. You still live alone, don't you?"

"Yeah, but what's this going to prove?"

"Just humor me." I handed her the phone. She dialed her number. It rang. After three rings, someone picked it up.

"Hello?" said a sleepy voice on the handset. "Who is this?"

"Danny," Julia was startled, "How can this be? That voice ... it's mine."

The voice on the phone was now angry, "Look, I don't appreciate getting woken up in the middle of the night, so cut it out." The sound of a receiver slamming down came from the phone. The dial tone cut in.

Julia fell against the arm of the sofa. I felt sorry for her. I shouldn't have done this to her. It was definitely a mistake to make this painting. But I didn't know how to send her back or even it was possible to send her back. Julia started to cry.

"I don't understand. How can I be here and at home? What's going on, Danny?"

I tried my best to explain everything, starting with the two rose vases and the cat. I showed her the paintings and the results of them. She had stopped crying, but still looked very confused.

Just then, Jigger stumbled out of his bedroom, dressed only in purple gym shorts, and complained, "What the hell is all the noise? Can't a guy get some sleep?"

Then he saw Julia.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asked and rubbed his eyes. "I thought you guys broke up a couple of years ago. You guys didn't meet up at the club, did you?"

"Well, Jigger, it's like I've been telling you. I painted her."

Jigger looked at me, then at Julia.

Julia shrugged and said, "Don't look at me. I don't have a clue how I got here."

"Well, of course you painted her. I remember how many you did after she left you. Must of been at least a dozen of the damn things," said Jigger.

I said, "Julia, tell him about how you're here but somehow you're still at home in your apartment. Tell him about the phone call."

"For all I know, I dialed the wrong number."

"Dial it again." I pointed at the phone.

Julia picked up the phone and dialed. The same irate voice answered. Julia dropped the phone, scared.

I replace the handset and put the phone back on the coffee table.

"Just like before," Julia mumbled, "I don't understand."

"What kind of crap are you pulling, Danny boy?" Jigger was getting upset. He went over to the sofa and comforted Julia. "You got this poor girl all worked up. If this is your way of finally getting even with her, I think it stinks."

Julia sobbed into his shoulder.

"I don't know how else to explain this. You refuse to believe me. Maybe a live demonstration would convince you." I disappeared into my bedroom and returned to my easel carrying a mirror. I put up yet another blank canvas. "Please stay awake. This shouldn't take too long."

While looking at myself in the mirror, I painted. I worked furiously, with large, bold, deft strokes all around the canvas. I aimed for speed rather than for quality. I hoped it would still work.

Julia and Jigger talked quietly between themselves. No doubt, they discussed my mental status. I noticed that they no longer appeared the comforter and the comforted. There were definite romantic sparks. I had always thought that Jigger was smitten by her. Of course, out of respect for me, he never said or did anything about it. But now I wondered why he didn't chase after her once she had left me.

I was nearly finished. Then, while I adjusted the eyebrows and hairline, it happened just like with Julia. Both Jigger and Julia looked up, startled. There, on the table, sat a figure.

Both Julia's and Jigger's jaws dropped when the figure stood up and they could see my nude twin standing before them, completely identical right down to my curly blond hair.

"Danny... is that you?" Jigger asked me. His shaking finger pointed at the figure.

The figure responded, "I prefer Daniel. Danny's a boy's name. I'm no boy."

I didn't know what to say. I was just as awestruck as they were. What have I done? If painting Julia was a mistake, then this was a total screw up. How could I be so stupid?

The Daniel figure spoke again, "What am I doing here?" He picked up a bathrobe and slipped it on.

I tried my best to explain it once again. I certainly had Jigger and Julia convinced. But my copy was somehow still skeptical. He seemed to resemble me in appearance only, but not in personality. He seemed a bit more brash and self confident, as if he had been raised in a normal family as a normal child. Not some poor little confused waif cast off to bounce from one foster home to another.

Jigger finally found his voice again, "Danny, you’ve got to put a stop to this. No more painting for you."

"If only I knew how this was possible," I said, as I sat staring at my twin. "I keep thinking that soon I’ll wake up and this all would have been a dream."

"You’re definitely not dreaming this." Jigger stood and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He returned a moment later with a half empty glass.

"What I want to know, is what happens to us now that we’re here," asked Julia. "I can’t just go home to my apartment, since it technically really isn’t my apartment."

I tried to answer Julia’s question, "Well, you’re right. You can’t just go home. You’ll have to stay here for a while until we can sort out exactly how this happened. And if there’s any way to undo what’s been done."

"Hey, hold on a minute," my twin Daniel said, "Maybe I don’t want to be undone. Maybe I like being here. Maybe, I’ll even try to kill Danny boy over there." He looked straight at me. His deep blue eyes were deadly serious.

Jigger stepped in between us. "There’ll be no killing. We will solve this rationally and fairly."

"Rationally? Just how rational is this. This is all just impossible," said Julia, pacing and waving her arms in the air.

"Calm down, Julia." I wrapped my arms around her and guided her back to the sofa. She sat, but was still fidgeting. "We will figure this out. And Jigger’s right. There will be no killing."

Just then a cracking sound came from the kitchen area. The cracking sound was soon followed by a crashing sound, much like when you drop a plate on the floor. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen to find one of the rose vases had crumbled into pieces. Some of the pieces laid on the counter and others laid on the floor.

Jigger must have followed me into the kitchen since I was startled by his voice right behind me.

"So which one is it? The original or the copy?"

I hesitated before answering, "I’m not sure. They were so much alike that I couldn’t tell them apart. But I think it might have been the original. This one appears to have brush marks on it."

"Gee, I wonder if that will happen to the other originals?" Jigger flicked a piece of pottery onto the floor.

I looked at Jigger and he saw my obvious fright. "What… what do you mean?"

"Well, if the original vase was somehow replaced by the copy, I wonder if that will happen to the cat and to Julia."

"And what about me? There’s my copy sitting in our living room. Are you saying he’s going to replace me?"

Jigger thought for a moment, then said, "The cat, what did you base the cat on? Isn’t there a cat like that one in our building?" He pointed at the ball of fur nuzzled around Julia’s feet.

"Well, yeah, I guess that’s what I pictured when I painted him, but I’ve seen lots of cats around here that look pretty much like him. We could never find the right one. I’m afraid that we’re going to have go over to Julia’s apartment to know for sure what’s going to happen."

I headed back towards the living room, but Jigger grabbed my sleeve. "Hold on. We can’t go over there. There’s no telling what we might find. We certainly can’t take this Julia with us."

"I guess you’re right." Jigger was right and that was what scared me. It even scared me more than the possibility that I might be replaced by some painted copy of myself. How could I have done this to poor Julia? She didn’t deserve this fate. I hoped to God that this really was all just a dream and that I would wake up to find that I was still myself and I was still just a humble art student trying to make ends meet.

"Tell you what, I’ll trot on over to her apartment and check things out. I should be back in less than half an hour. You stay here and keep them occupied." He nodded towards the living room, then grabbed his coat and left.

Luckily, Julia’s apartment was only a few blocks away towards Kenmore Square, and Jigger could just walk over and check on Julia. The real Julia.

I stood between the kitchen and the living room, not knowing what to say or do. Julia and Daniel sat talking on the sofa. Somehow she seemed to be at ease with him. More at ease than she ever was with me. We had kind of a stormy relationship right from the start and it never got any better. I supposed we did love each other in our way, but we both agreed that after a year of struggling, it was time to call it quits. And despite the trouble we had, I still had a hard time giving her up. I had never had anyone who really loved me.

Almost as soon as he had left or so it seemed, Jigger was back. I could tell by the look on his face that what he had found wasn’t good. Somehow, I dared to ask the question that had to be asked, "Was she… okay?"

"Danny, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. She’s gone. Crumbled to dust, just like the vase. I’m afraid there wasn’t enough time to try to get help. Besides, who could we tell about this? No one would believe us."

I tried to answer, but instead I fell to the floor, my knees suddenly weak. Jigger tried to catch me before I fell, but failed. My head hit the floor with a thud. I could feel myself losing consciousness. My vision was collapsing to a tunnel. I could see both Julia’s and Daniel’s faces looking down upon me. Everyone was speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear the words over the ringing in my ears. The last thing I remembered was someone’s scream piercing through the ringing before everything went black.

#

Jigger moved out today. He told me that it just wasn’t the same as it used to be. He said that I wasn’t the same person. That he missed his Danny boy. The last couple of weeks must have been pretty hard on him.

Julia returned after helping Jigger with his last two boxes. She waved goodbye to him from the window. "Daniel? Aren’t you going to wave goodbye to Jigger? After all, he was your best friend."

"No, I don’t think so. He was Danny’s friend, not mine. And though I remember everything that happened to me before…" I couldn’t say it. "It just isn’t the same."

It never is the same. The suppressed memories came flooding back. I now know why I grew up an orphan. When Danny’s predecessor was a old man, he painted himself as a young boy and was replaced by a younger version of himself, just as I had replaced Danny. When Danny was young, he knew how he had gotten here, but over the years he had forgotten. The nuns at the orphanage didn’t believe the stories of an eight year old boy and told him to forget such nonsense. And so, of course, he did forget. Until now.

I have thrown out all of Danny’s painting supplies and vowed never to draw myself ever again. I will live this latest life I have drawn, and live it with Julia to our own ends.