I still can't grasp the truth. #25 had always felt so distant from me, yet he was always just a phone call away.
"Tomorrow already?" John says. I don't understand what difference the time he comes makes.
"Problem?" I ask.
"Well... I don't know. It's just worrisome that you invited a total stranger over, tomorrow." He gives me a slightly playful grin.
"Ah, but John. He isn't a total stranger, is he?" He just looks even more confused after my explanation. I elaborate what I mean so that even he can understand:
"We grew up with exactly the same childhood, were assigned the same job the only thing that makes us different is..." I sigh, "He abused of drugs. Badly. Heroin, I believe. He was sent into rehabilitation in America."
"So," and I can already tell from that one 'so' the following sentence is going to be sarcastic, "You basically just invited a drug-addict, parallel version of you over for tea and biscuits tomorrow. From America."
I want to give him a feisty response, but... That actually sounds very accurate. I have to smile a little.
"Pretty much."
"'Kay," he says looking around thoughtfully. I can't help but wonder what he's like; what stories he has to share; what our differences are.
And I find out tomorrow. What has always seemed like an impossible dream is really going to happen. I give the consequences of my disregarding one of the most important rules of being a Sherlock Holmes little attention. Right now, all that counts is that tomorrow #24 and #25 will finally meet. Tomorrow I will make acquaintance with my other half. Tomorrow everything changes.
John and I don't mention #25 again. That night, I don't sleep, pulling strings on my violin, remembering the terrible things they did to me, counting the seconds until I can finally talk to someone who will understand.