THE TOPIC OF THIS CONTEST WAS:
The thud was unmistakable. He slammed on the brakes, and jumped out. Nothing. Panning his eyes across a small field of corn, with red and orange leaves showering down from the nearby forest, he shivered in his thin jacket. He then turned back toward his truck, and starting blinking wildly…
(Stories need only touch on this topic in some way to qualify.)
Before you continue reading, take a moment to consider where you would take that story…
It happened as Nolan drove his family home. He was lost in thought, plotting the novel he would someday find time to write. Miles and Cooper were whining for ice cream from the backseat, and Mia was asking him something about grocery lists or car maintenance or chores.
“Nolan, are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, you’re listening, or yeah, you remembered to buy cake mix?”
“Yeah.”
“Nolan,” she groaned. Then, yanking him from his thoughts, “Nolan!“
He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late; he never even saw whatever they hit, but there was a sickening thud as the car screeched to a halt and the kids began to cry.
“Jesus, Nolan,” said Mia.
He sighed and got out of the truck so he wouldn’t have to listen to the rest: You can’t even pay attention to the road when you’ve got the kids in the backseat.
“This wouldn’t have happened if everyone wasn’t making so much damned noise,” he muttered as he looked to see what had thrown itself under his tires.
Nothing. He panned his eyes across the field of corn. Red and orange leaves showered down from the nearby forest. He knew they’d hit something. But there was no dead thing under his tires, and no injured critter slinking off to die alone. He turned back to the truck, bracing himself for the kids’ noise and Mia’s nagging—then stopped cold.
There, in the front seat, was—himself. An imposter. A shiver ran down his spine. He banged on the window, but no one even looked up. The imposter started the truck.
Since no one could see or hear him, Nolan swung himself up into the truck bed. There was no way he was letting this imposter leave him out in the corn.
As his mind raced with possibilities about what could be going on, music started playing. The imposter was turning up the radio. Miles and Cooper had stopped crying and were singing along to “When I’m 64,” by the Beatles. Mia looked at the imposter and smiled, putting a hand on his leg. That was their song, his and Mia’s, though he couldn’t remember the last time they’d listened to it.
“Mia!” he shouted, banging on the back window, but she didn’t hear.
None of them could—not as they stopped for Baskin Robbins on the way home; not as the imposter dared the boys to see who could put their pajamas on first; not as Mia kissed the imposter in the kitchen while the boys watched Moana or whatever Pixar movie they were obsessed with. Nolan had to watch, helpless, as the imposter carried his sleeping boys to bed and tucked them in. He had to watch, impotent, as the imposter returned downstairs to carry his wife to bed. He had to step outside to avoid watching what happened next.
In the middle of the night, as Mia slept, the imposter opened his eyes. He looked directly at Nolan, sitting in the chair he’d thrown Nolan’s pants over.
“You can see me.”
“Yes. Let’s take a walk.”
***
“What are you?”
“I’m Nolan,” said the imposter.
“You can’t just steal my life.”
“It’s not like you were really doing anything with it,” said the imposter. “Ignoring your boys, shutting out Mia, endlessly plotting the Great American Novel without ever sitting down to write. You were so checked out, you made it easy for me to check in.”
“But you’re not really me!”
“Aren’t I?”
“No!”
“What do you think makes you you?”
It was a bigger question than he knew how to answer.
“I’ve been watching you a long time,” said the imposter. “Everything you want, I want—except I have the drive to make it happen. All the love you feel for your family, I feel—only stronger. I bought the boys ice cream, and made love to Mia. Tomorrow, I’ll sit down and write that novel you’ve been plotting for a decade.”
“They’ll notice.”
The imposter laughed. Nolan’s laugh. “Yep,” he said. “They’ll notice. The boys will notice when I coach little league and pick out their birthday gifts and take off work early so I can pick them up from school. Mia will notice when I do the dishes every night, when I take her out, when I tell her she’s beautiful. Your boss will notice when I show up on time.”
“They’ll know it’s not me. They’ll know you’re an imposter.”
“Oh, Nolan. I’m not the imposter. You were. You were an imposter of a father. An imposter of a husband. An imposter of a writer. Mia and the boys deserve better. Frankly, Nolan deserves better. I will be a better Nolan than you ever could have been.”
“But… what will I do?”
The other Nolan shrugged. “You could simply fade away. You could hang around and watch as I make your dreams come true; there could be some comfort in that. Or, you could get a life.”
“Steal one, you mean?”
“Is it stealing if you take something someone else abandoned?” The other Nolan shook his head. “But if you do manage to get a life of you own, promise me this,” he said. “Take better care of it next time around.”
