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“Charlie, just tell me,” Nick begs. He flops onto his back, legs dangling over the side of my bed, and looks at me with practiced puppy dog eyes.
“No, Nick, I told you. It’s a surprise.” I nudge him gently with my knee.
“But it’s your birthday,” he pouts. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
I offer him my hands and tug at him until he sits up on the edge of the bed. I step in between his knees and bring his hands to rest on my hips.
“You didn’t have any good ideas and I know what I want this year.” I bend my head down and our lips connect briefly, familiar and warm after all these years.
“Yeah but…but,” he starts, so I quiet him with another kiss, sliding my hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders.
“Don’t feel bad. I have it all planned out. I get to do something I’m really excited about on my birthday, and I get to do it with you, so it’s even better.”
“Still doesn’t seem right,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist.
“Don’t worry, I used your credit card.” His jaw drops and I push him so he’s on his back again. I slide out of his grasp and head into the bathroom. “Come on, let’s go.”
_____
“We’re going to Midtown?” Nick asks, wrinkling his nose. We’ve just gotten off the subway at 7th Ave, which might as well be Egypt considering how far it feels from our every-day life.
“I kind of wanted an overpriced bagel and a Lady Liberty souvenir for my birthday this year,” I joke.
Nick snorts and we lace our fingers together, blinking in the sunlight as we ascend from the subway exit. It’s like stepping into a different world: the quiet, tree-lined streets and bubbling public fountains of my West Village neighborhood have been replaced by flashing neon and wandering crowds, megaphone sermons and selfie sticks and super-sized screens promoting true crime podcasts and it’s garish and chaotic and essential.
Nick figures it out when I turn onto Broadway. He stops abruptly and crosses his arms across his chest. “You’re taking me to see my doppelganger.”
I smile at him innocently. “Maybe?”
“Charlie, I told you, it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” comes my heated reply. “It’s fucking hot.”
“Maybe to you, but not for me!”
“Well then I guess it's a good thing it’s my birthday, not yours.”
We’ve both stopped now, squared off in the middle of 8th Avenue. Obviously, this is a conversation we’ve had before. What should we eat for dinner? When are we moving in together? Why don't you want to see Romeo + Juliet on Broadway?
“They’re going to think I’m some weird superfan or something. They’ll think I’m cosplaying!” His hand has drifted to the back of his neck. He’s actually anxious.
“Look,” I say, softening my tone, “No one is going to be watching you, they’ll be focused on the show.”
“But what if our eyes meet and we swap souls? I’d miss you so much.” Nick looks legitimately worried, so I try to think of an answer that might actually appease him.
“Well, then I’ll buy Bizarro Nick another ticket so you can swap back.”
Nick sighs and begrudgingly offers me his hand. We get to the theater a few minutes late, so we bypass the concessions area and shuffle to our seats, apologizing as we squeeze past the people in our row. The theater lights dim just as we sit down, so I don’t get to look Nick in the eye and tell him, with the utmost sincerity, that I like the actor who plays Romeo because they look alike, but it’s Nick’s sweet, gentle soul that has captured my heart.
The play begins and Jesus Christ, this actor looks more like Nick in person than I expected, even though I've seen his face plastered all over the city for weeks now. It’s uncanny, though Nick would never wear a sheer tank top. After tonight though, maybe I can convince him.
I get pulled into the story, the romance of it all, the familiar lines I’ve memorized through years of fandom: the words that captured me in high school, the movies that pushed boundaries, the dozens of versions I’ve watched on BBC and at the community theater and Shakespeare In The Park. And somehow, even after so many versions, it feels new here, and exciting.
For his part, Nick’s discomfort eases as we get further into Act I. By intermission, he admits that perhaps avoiding this production – the one I’ve begged him to see for months – wasn’t completely necessary. Someone does a double-take in the lobby, whispering and pointing Nick out to her friend, and he puffs out his chest a bit. Phew.
Unfortunately, things fall apart after intermission. I'm nervous when Romeo weaves his way through the audience, getting closer to our seats, and suddenly it's like I can see the future, so I grab Nick’s hand seconds before Romeo stops right in front of us.
The actor has been a consummate professional this entire production, brimming with emotion and passion, but the mask slips when his eyes connect with Nick’s. Nick grips my hand so hard I think my bones might actually crack. Romeo blinks a few times, the tiniest flicker of uncertainty, and then he picks up right where he left off. I doubt anyone aside from me and Nick even noticed.
But something has changed. I can feel it. Nick squirms in his seat, like he’s uncomfortable in his own body. He looks at me strangely a couple times, eyes flicking down to our intertwined fingers. He even turns his body 90 degrees and watches me for a few minutes instead of the death scene. A chill runs down my spine.
“Stop,” I whisper, looking at him seriously.
“Stop what?” He smiles at me, but it’s more of a grimace, like I’m an over-friendly cashier instead of his boyfriend of two years. I turn my focus back to the play, sneaking looks at Nick every few minutes.
“What a production!” he enthuses loudly as we head out afterwards. “I would totally come back!”
I agree, of course, it was beautiful, but live theater has never been Nick’s thing.
“I’m starving, wanna get something to eat?” he asks.
“Yeah, how about Villa Musconi?” It’s one of our places: old school Italian, fresh pasta, halfway between his apartment and mine.
He looks at me carefully, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sounds…tasty?”
“Plus, free tiramisu on your birthday!”
“Your birthday?” He tilts his head at me.
“Yes, Nick.” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice. He’s usually really into birthdays, and I know I kind of stole his thunder by planning my own this year, but I expected something. A surprise friend dinner, a walk through Central Park, I dunno. Fucking dinner reservations? It’s so unlike him.
We weave through the people gathered by the stage door, and that’s when I notice that something is really off.
“Beep beep motherfuckers!” He walks into the street to bypass the crowd, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. First of all beep beep motherfuckers? I’ve never heard Nick say anything like that, and I’m the impatient one who hates getting stuck behind slow walkers, not him.
We get seats at the bar for dinner, and the creeping sense of dread overtakes me with every awkward question and out-of-character moment. He orders pizza and he never gets pizza at a sit-down Italian place, because he can, and I quote, ‘spend half as much for something twice as good’ at a million other places in this city. He only thanks the server once instead of his typical over-the-top, multi-pronged display of gratitude. His hands shake and his eyes shift and his laugh is too loud and our inside jokes go right over his head and I’m becoming increasingly convinced that Nick was right to have avoided seeing Romeo + Juliet because his soul has absolutely been sucked out of his eyes and replaced by his doppelganger’s.
Oh god, what have I done?
How could I have been so careless with the most precious thing I have! I pushed him despite his discomfort; I forced him to come face to face with his evil twin. I sat there and did nothing while that wicked, diabolical, nefarious actor took control of his spirit.
This is war. This is cosmic, inter-galactic, righteous vengeance. I will reclaim his soul, if I have to spend my entire life savings on Broadway tickets and force this imposter to the Great White Way every single day until closing night! I may be small but I am prepared for a battle: I will fight!
“Charlie, I want you to move in with me.”
“Over my dead body.” I growl, my voice dripping acid.
“Y-you…what?” he asks, eyes wide.
“I know who you are.” I jab him in his chest with my finger, wishing desperately for a wooden stake. I…I actually am not sure how to exorcize a demon. I might have mixed up my otherworldly murder weapons. But the point remains.
“Char,” his eyes soften and he reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything planned, I’ve just been feeling so nervous about asking you to move in with me.”
“You’re gonna be feeling something a lot worse than that when I’m through with you.” I push away from the bar, daring him to follow.
“Charlie! Charlie wait! I’m sorry!” He sounds like he’s about to cry, and maybe before, if I didn’t know this was a stranger sent to kill the man of my dreams, I’d find it in myself to feel bad, but not today Satan.
We stumble into the street. I’m running toward Washington Square Park and he’s hot on my trail.
“Oooh! Puppy!”
Wait, what? What was that? I spin around. Nick – if that’s even his name – has dropped to his knees and buried his hands into the thick fur of a border collie.
“Aren’t you a good girl? Yes you are. Yes you are!” The dog’s owner checks her watch and snaps her gum boredly.
“N-nick?” I say hesitantly. I take a halting step toward him.
He looks up at me, beaming. “Doesn’t she look just like Nellie?”
My eyes flick to the dog’s. Honestly, it’s like I’m looking at Nellie’s doppelganger. “Yeah,” I whisper.
Nick stands up and brushes the dust off of his knees. “Thanks for letting me pet your dog,” he says. The woman nods curtly and continues toward the park. “Thanks again!” Nick calls after her. She looks over her shoulder and raises her eyebrows.
I wait a second. If this is really Nick then…
Three
Two
One.
“I really appreciate it!” He yells, waving his hand in the air. His voice barely reaches her ears, but she starts walking faster.
Oh thank god. It’s really him.
I run to Nick and jump into his arms, right in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I love you,” I say, kissing his face. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”
Nick squeezes me tight and spins in a circle, a laugh bubbling out of his lips. “Oh thank god, I’ve been so fucking nervous.”
“I thought you were possessed by Romeo,” I giggle. He throws his head back in a laugh and then his face goes serious.
“Who says I wasn’t?”