The Familiar Stranger

“Who are you?” I asked the woman standing in front of me. She looked familiar, but in the way someone does when you’ve seen them as an extra in a couple of different shows. I wondered if I would need to go down a rabbit hole later when I remembered where I had seen her.

“You know who I am,” she stated playfully.

I did not find this amusing. I am tired and hungry. I am wracking my brain and trying to remember the last thing I ate. It was center cut pork chop, baked potato, and a salad. But when was it?

When I stare blankly at this unfamiliar, familiar woman, she smirks and says “Let’s play a game and see if you can guess who I am.”

Instead of protesting, I decided that I love a good challenge and can’t wait to unmask this person, kind of like I am part of the Scooby-Doo gang. I think deeply, is she Velma or Daphne? Now I know I am being ridiculous. Velma has dark hair and Daphne has red, right?

I am getting distracted again. But this woman in front of me does have reddish hair. I noticed it right away. That should easily narrow down my choices.

I ask her, “Have I seen you in a TV show or movie or something like that?”

This woman glares at me, thinking of her next phrase intentionally.

“Well, that’s a little broad.”

I clarified, “Would I have seen you on TV?”

Cryptically, she stated, “Technically, yes”

I am frustrated, but more determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

This woman wearing a rust-colored blouse with brown paisley pattern is trying to play a game I plan on winning. I try to remember why it was so important to me, but then I recall many conversations with my partner where she says I just like to win any challenge at any cost. She meant I liked to argue myself into a ‘victory’, but at what cost. The last victory I had when we were debating was a couple of days ago. I won but somehow lost at the same time. She silently stared at me, turned, and walked away. I left a couple of hours after packing a small bag to stay with my mom an hour away. I figured; it had been 4 years. She wouldn’t throw away 4 years just because I wouldn’t back down from who was right or wrong. I just needed to give her time to miss me. She is my first true relationship with a woman, and it was harder than I ever imagined. I wanted this to work. I still want this to work. But this problem of me needing to be ‘victorious’ at any cost isn’t new in any of my relationships. I guess the problem is me.

I hear this woman in front of me ask, “Penny for your thoughts?”

I smile and share that I need to find a therapist or someone to work with so I can be a better person. Then I remember, I am trying to figure out who she is.

“Do I know you from the news?”

She stated, “Possibly.”

Consistently frustrated, I tried to throw my hands in the air, and then decided to ask an open-ended question, “Tell me something about you that others might find surprising.”

She smiled wryly and stated, “Hmmmm, this is so much more fun, isn’t it? No one knows that I secretly dream of solving mysteries.”

I thought this was fascinating to know about this middle-aged woman now somehow sitting in front of me, yet I don’t remember either of us grabbing a chair. I smiled and shared that I too have wanted to solve crimes but never had it in me to be a police officer or go through training to be a criminologist.

For a second, I thought how weird she mentioned mysteries after I was merely thinking of Scooby-Doo and the gang earlier. I brushed it off and decided it wasn’t the weirdest coincidence as it seems everyone nowadays wants to write a cozy mystery, me included.

She asked briefly, “Do you have any clue who I am yet?”

Sheepishly, I had to reply, “Not yet, but it is on the tip of my tongue, I just know it.”

“Ask me another question, this is fun!”

Alright, “What is your greatest fear?” I ask as I wonder what that musty smell is. The air feels heavy and damp. I definitely feel like I need a shower when I get to my mom’s house.

“Losing my mind”, she wistfully stated.

I remember that one of the last arguments my partner and I had she called me crazy, or did she say I was acting crazy. Either way, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me.

“Ah, I understand the feeling, we have a lot in common, yet I can’t place who you are.”

I reach up and touch my slick, golden blonde hair and twirl a piece in between my fingers as I often do when I am nervous. I need to think of a better question to figure out who she is.

“Are you famous?”

“I believe I am more famous today than I was last week,” she retorts.

“Why can’t you just tell me who you are?”

“I thought you like a good cozy mystery!” The faint echo when she speaks is starting to bug me.

There was that weird sensation in the back of my brain. How did she know that? And nothing about this interaction felt cozy.

“What do other people say about you when they talk about you?” I asked thoughtfully.

She looks away sadly, “Generally, I don’t think people like me. I don’t think you like me.”

Confused, I tried to think why she would even say that. Besides the evasive answers, there was something warm and familiar about this woman. I guess my facial reactions must be giving mixed signals. I have nothing against her. Myself, however, I dislike more than anyone.

I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be going to see my mom. I told her I needed to go as my mom is expecting me after I had an argument or was it a break-up with my partner.

This woman just stares at me, not understanding the importance of leaving and has the nerve to say, “But you haven’t guessed who I am yet?”

At that I did chuckle a little bit as I am a sucker for a mystery. I express that she is someone I have seen in a show or on the news and I need to look her up on IMDB to see what it is. I start to think about what show or shows it is so I can grab my phone and ask. I attempt to reach for my phone but it doesn’t seem to be near.

I have a bit of a headache and just want to leave and go home. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been sitting in the same position for too long.

That is when I remember she has been on two of my favorite shows. I can’t believe I couldn’t remember the role she played as a victim of a serial killer after being kidnapped and held captive.

I asked her, “Are you Caelin Murwoddy?”

She cries in what I assume is confirmation, not understanding the emotion. This game is just not one I feel like I will ever be victorious at.

Leaning closer to the dusty mirror, in the dark basement with moonlight shining in through the bars, she asked me, “Are you real?”