Part VII: Time Warp 2000’s – Now: Special Delivery: #1 (Chapter 100)


December 31, 2000

Kaitlyn will call, yanking me out of deep sleep.

I’ll be slightly pissed – she’ll know how Mallorys loathe early morning telephone calls –

But she’ll be such a neat kid – too difficult to stay mad.

“Hey, Sam,” she says, laughing and giggling like the teenybopper she is.

Lately she’s been calling me by my name instead of “Grammy Sam.”

“I got a cool factoid for you.”

“You know what time it is?”

“I know, Grammy, but I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Couldn’t you tell me later?”

“It might be too late.” There’s an urgency in her voice that makes me pay attention.

Kaitlyn’s psychic ability is uncanny; we have learned to listen when her voice takes on a certain tone, just like now.

“What is it, honey?”

“Everyone has a doppelganger.”



“That’s a big word for a little girl. You know what it means?”

“Look-alike. A twin.”

“Very good.”

“Please, Grammy. Did you know that, about everyone having a twin?”

I yawn. “I think I might’ve heard it somewhere.”

“It was on The Learning Channel. It’s just a theory, but I believe it. I think you and me have a doppelganger.”

I laugh. “Yeah, you’re my twin and I’m yours.”

It’s true: if not for the disparity in our ages, we could have been twins. Except Kaitlyn is a skinny child, and I can’t decide if nurture or nature is responsible for that. But if you put our baby and childhood pictures side by side, it’s hard to tell us apart. Those unmistakable green eyes and that long red hair, she a smashing version of me.

“No, we just resemble each other. It’s more than that.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going to find out sometime later today.”

“Find out what?”

“I don’t know, but it’ll come in the mail.”

“Today’s Sunday.”

“A man called Henry is going to give you a letter.”

“Oh, honey, you’ve been watching way too much TV...”

“Please, Sam, I’m right.”

“Honey, you know how much I respect your intuition, but it’s not an exact science.”

“Sometimes it’s not, but, today, it is.”

She sounds so sure, so definitive that I begin to believe her. “We’ll see, I guess.”

“I know I’m right. I been practicing.”

I must admit, I’m a little puzzled. How does one “practice” the psychic arts?

“Well, okay, then, I’ll watch for Henry.”

“Call me when he comes.”



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