COVID-19 Update: the realtor
(originally posted 8/8/2020)
She knew she was violating about a dozen oaths she’d sworn as a realtor, to protect her client’s privacy and such, but the picture that greeted her on the wall in the hall of the cute split-level had really set off an emotional wild goose chase and once she had the scent of goose… ethics be damned.
She was the type of girl, and realtor, which made it impossible to describe her actions without run-on sentences.
The picture on the wall was, presumably, of the owner of the dwelling as a much-younger man. Although ‘man’ might be a stretch. In fairness to this author, who already has to deal with a character that causes run-on sentences, describing him as a much-younger young man would be a crippling blow to my literary integrity.
Not quite a man but more than a boy and packing one hell of a mullet.
Just like someone she knew in college.
In fact, under the mullet lurked a face that could have easily been mistaken for his. It was eerie how similar they were.
Why would this set off goose chasing?
I’ll let you come to your own conclusions
Because not thirty seconds later she walked into his study and saw the very same artwork hanging over his desk that had hung in the bedroom of the individual she used to know. And because there were guitars littering the room.
She hesitated to go through his closets… but she did.
She didn’t think it was appropriate to go through his drawers… but she did that as well.
And then, with trembling hands, she leaned forward to see what was on his Ipod. If he was going to leave it lying around then he should expect strangers rummaging through his house to rummage through his subconscious.
She listened with the intensity of the accused watching a jury coming back into the courtroom to announce their verdict.
Guilty! Not only was it a song that would be playing in whatever romantic movie she could see herself starring in, the name of the damn song was Just Like a Movie. She saw herself moving towards him in slow motion as the music starts… no. No she didn’t! She shook her head until the scenes departed.
Not just like a movie.
Whoever this guy was, he was a doppelganger. There was no other conclusion to draw.
At this point you might be asking yourself a big fat “So what? What’s wrong with a little goose chasing in the middle of an otherwise-dull day?”
It’s at this next point that regular readers of this website, you know who you are, are just breathing a sigh of relief that I didn’t wedge in a made up a word like dopplegooser or gooserganger. That will teach you a little lesson about premature sighs of relief.
By the end of this story you might also learn a thing or two about sighs in general.
When the realtor was done sighing and looking off into the distance, although the distance in this case was time rather than the physical space she found herself occupying (in retrospect I should have said “looking back into the distance”), she realized that she needed to know if he was married.
Not that she was anticipating making a play for this mysterious stranger, although most of the romantic movies she sees herself starring in started with this premise, she was just curious if his wife was her doppelganger.
dop·pel·gäng·er /ˈdäpəlˌɡaNGər/ noun an apparition or double of a living person
dopplegooser /ˈdäpəl ɡo͞oser/ noun see gooserganger
Anyway… the photo album was under his bed. She sat down and flipped through it. The man had indeed married a woman just like her. She watched the much-younger young man grow into a full-blown man and realized it had been a long time since she last cried. She didn’t even care that some of the tears splashed onto the fading pictures.
Was that longing she felt? Regret?
She considered hanging around until the man arrived home. To see him in the flesh. This dopplegooserganger.
She considered calling the man that he reminded her of. To hear his voice.
She considered staging a break-in and stealing the picture that hung over the stranger’s desk.
Instead she sighed and slid the photo album back under the bed. After allowing her heart to ache a little longer she walked out, put the front door key back under the mat and drove home.
Just like she knew she would.
Why was she so upset?
You know why.
We all know why.
What did I tell you about sighs?
In the movies she sees herself starring in, they would all have that little extra bit after all the credits have rolled like the superhero movies do.
It would show her walking towards her car saying “Don’t ask yourself questions that you don’t want an honest answer to. The water is not holding back the dam.”
It would show her driving home. Windows down and the wind whipping through her hair. Finding a good song to listen to.
The song would start playing and the camera would slowly pull away until her car became just another vehicle on the crowded freeway.
The song would be Closure Blues.
We would hear her voice singing along.
“It’s not like the verses put down on a page, ‘cause the poets… they are wrong.
So it’s a shame for me to say, but it’s time for me to be moving on.”
Cut to black.
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