©2025 SammyC

“I’m not the Grant Moorefield your Uncle Richie knew in your universe…”

We were sitting at a table in a far corner of Leo’s Pizzeria, across the road from the entrance to Parsons State Park. That was not what I had expected to hear at all. Tom wore a confused look on his handsome face. I had decided that I could trust Tom with whatever he’d learn about me from this strange man. Anyway, who would believe the ridiculous truth?

“But you just introduced yourself as Grant Moorefield—”

“I am Grant Moorefield. Okay, it’s complicated. The Grant Moorefield from your world appeared in this world about two years ago. He had come through the vortex in the lake (he pointed out the window) over there. Just like, I’m assuming you did—”

Tom turned to me. “What the hell is this lunatic talking about, Gigi?”

“Lunatic?,” challenged Grant. “I’m as sane as anyone sitting in this restaurant. Maybe more so!”

“Tom, he’s not crazy. Be quiet. Just listen. Go on, Mr. Moorefield.”

“I had a passing interest in the paranormal and unexplained but, as you can imagine, it was my twin from a parallel universe materializing out of nowhere that convinced me that all this stuff could be real. He had tracked me down in St. Paul…where we both lived.” He laughed at the cosmic irony.

“After I got over the shock, of course, we became really close. Like twins, you might say. We started our podcast. I’m sure you’ve seen it, Tom—”

“Can’t say I have. I’m pretty skeptical about that kind of…well, I guess I’ve got a new perspective on it now.”

“Well, he started calling himself Gavin Moorefield, my long-lost twin brother. People just accepted it, so we rolled with it. Anyway, he told me all about your world, Gigi. Or should I call you Reggie?”

“Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me? But…” Tom went silent, his mouth agape.

“No, Tom, Gigi, as you know her, is absolutely a female, now anatomically to match her self-imputed gender. But she was Reggie, a teenage boy, when she went through the vortex. She popped out the way she appears now. I think I know how that happened.”

“Where…where is Gavin? Why didn’t he come too?”

“To answer that, I’d be answering the question of how you were transformed into a girl when you emerged in this universe. Gavin is no longer here with us. In fact, he was only with us for a little more than 6 months. The last month or so, his health seemed to deteriorate. He was feeling weaker and weaker, losing weight. It almost seemed like he was aging rapidly before our very eyes.” He paused and his eyes seemed to be focused on a scene in the distance, both in time and geography.

“He was leaning against the window of the home office we used to record our podcasts. We had just finished an hour on the latest eyewitness accounts of a new Mothman sighting in North Carolina. The sunlight started to come through his body. I know, it was startling. Frightening. He turned to me to whisper that he was feeling ‘insubstantial.’ That was the word. Insubstantial. Then, as if someone snapped their fingers, he disappeared.”

For a full minute, we sat there as Grant seemed to shut down. His head hung down and his fingers fumbled with the slice of pizza that he had barely touched. Suddenly, he regained his momentum and continued.

“It was so much fun having a twin brother. Then, like a puff of smoke, he was gone. I told my audience that Gavin was on a globe-trotting expedition to visit all the weird and strange hotspots we’d been spotlighting. He’d have all new insights and possible hypotheses to report when he made his eventual return. Of course, he isn’t returning. I’m pretty sure of that—”

“He’s dead? That explains why Uncle Richie stopped getting messages from him in his dreams—”

“I didn’t know about that. Well, he practiced Qigong meditation an hour every day. Maybe he was able to open a communication channel to other universes. But, to your point, no, I don’t think he died. He was removed to another universe. At least, that’s my theory. You see, it’s Newtons’ third law: the conservation of energy. In this case, the multiverse is a zero-sum game. Gavin couldn’t permanently exist in this universe. There was already a Grant Moorefield here—me! The multiverse self-corrects. It took 6 months, but it finally happened. I imagine Gavin is in another universe, hopefully where he’s the only one with his particular atomic structure.”

“And that explains why I’m here, in this universe, as Gigi LeClerc.”

“Yes, I’ve been doing research on possible vortices in the West, from Texas to California. When I read about that helicopter crash in Jacob Lake over the summer, the hairs on the back of my neck bristled. So, the only missing body was Genevieve LeClerc’s. Grant had told me about his friend Richie Perrin’s nephew Reggie and how Richie had wheedled the names of Reggie’s twin sister’s adopted parents from some Family Court staffer he was dating. Marcel and Delphine LeClerc of Summit, New Jersey. And then, a week ago I read a news item about some New Jersey girl who’s shown up alive after being presumed killed in a helicopter crash. Genevieve LeClerc.

I think what happened is Gigi went through the vortex in Jacob Lake when she was thrown out of the helicopter. When you came through the vortex in the lake here, the multiverse made you Gigi’s replacement and switched your gender. I can only hope similar accommodations can be found for Gavin and Gigi in their journey through the multiverse. Maybe they’ll keep on moving until they do. I’d like to think so.”

“Is this some kind of elaborate prank?” Tom looked at me and Grant in turn.

“I’m afraid it’s all true, Tom.” I reached out to touch his shoulder, but he moved his chair back a few inches.

“I’m going to take a walk around the block and, hopefully, when I get back, you’ll be sitting here all by yourself and we can spend the rest of the day acting as if this last half hour never happened.” Tom left his guitar case leaning against his chair and walked out.

“Let him go. I’m sure he’ll be back. That’s a pretty nice guitar to just leave behind like that.”

“I was starting to really like him. He’s really cute and smart in a kind of unstructured way.”

“I guess you’ve already given me the answer to the question I was going to ask you. So, Gavin, I mean your world’s Grant, didn’t return to his original universe. I had hoped…”

“Sorry, Grant. Uncle Richie’s been obsessed with his disappearance and these nasty vortices ever since. That’s how I got into the situation I’m in. Although I’m not complaining.”

“I wanted to confirm my suspicions. Now I have. And it’s good news for you, Reggie—”

“Gigi. I’m Gigi now.”

“And forever. Because the other Gigi went through a vortex in Jacob Lake, your being here maintains the equilibrium of the multiverse. You can remain in this universe permanently, unlike Gavin. I’m glad you seem content with the situation.”

“I am. I’m a girl. I’m a girl!” The other patrons in the pizzeria turned around and glared curiously at me. I slid down in my seat, my face reddening.

Grant stood up, pulled out some bills and placed them on the table. “It’s been nice meeting you, Gigi. Good luck to you. Maybe we’ll see each other down the road. You never know.”

“Aren’t you going to feature my story in one of your podcasts?”

“No, I’m going to leave you in peace. The way I figure it, I don’t have the credibility to present it as fact. I’d be attacked mercilessly by every mainstream scientific forum in creation. And they’d make your life miserable.”

We shook hands and I watched him saunter out of the restaurant, his fedora back on his head, the brim hanging low over his eyes.

I sat there for another 20 minutes, waiting for Tom to return from his “walk around the block.”

“He’s gone, Tom.”

“Wanna go back and walk around the lake for a while?” He reached into a pants pocket for his wallet. I put my hand up to stop him.

“Grant paid for the pizza. Yeah, I’d like to take a walk along the lake…if you still want to.”

“Of course. I want to check out my majorette’s high-stepping moves. Too bad you didn’t bring your baton along.”

“I was going to wear my hat, but I think it’d look out of place in the park.” We both laughed but it occurred to me that I was out of place myself, trying to live Gigi LeClerc’s life in a strange, new world.

Uncle Richie came by Sunday night for dinner, and I was able to get him alone for a talk afterwards, sitting on the porch swing. It was a mild evening for early October but cool enough that Richie had to drape his jeans jacket over my shoulders. As we spoke, Mrs. Gillespie’s black cat Sable, who treats the entire neighborhood as her personal territory, jumped up and settled comfortably in my lap, purring contentedly.

“So Gavin Moorefield was really the Grant Moorefield from your universe?”

“Yeah, don’t expect him back from his global field trip anytime soon. Grant did tell me that he doesn’t plan to go public with my story. I guess he thinks the same way you do. Who’d believe it?”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your new life, Gigi. And along those same lines, you should probably stop seeing those neuropsychologists—”

“Doctors Navidad and Loving?”

“Right. They think they’ve stumbled onto a career-making case study with you.”

“They would have to ask my permission. There’s patient confidentiality, you know. And there’s no way in hell I’m giving it.”

“More reason for you to stop seeing them.”

“Don’t you think that would be more suspicious? After all, I’m supposed to want to regain my memory.”

“You’re right. Just be careful with those two.”

“Oh, I like playing cat and mouse with them. They’re like a sitcom unto themselves. It’s more likely they’re from another universe.”

“So, how did Tom take all this…this information about you?”

“I think he’s still trying to process it. For a moment there, I thought he was really going to abandon me in that pizzeria.”

“Nah, that Martin guitar easily costs a thousand dollars, even used.”

“It’s a hand me down from his grandmother. She once performed at The Grand Ole Opry.”

“What about Regina and George? Anything happening on that front?”

“I think George is slowly transitioning from indifference to tolerance to affection. George added another math tutoring session on Monday after school. That makes two sessions a week.”

Regina stepped out onto the porch and immediately hugged her shoulders, shivering dramatically.

“Oh my God, it’s cold, you guys! Come back inside. Mom’s cracking open a new quart of ice cream to make cinnamon apple pie a la mode. You know Dad and Artie will get two scoops.”

“Don’t say it, Uncle Richie—”

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!”

Regina and I looked at each other.

Monday afternoon. I stood outside the gates of Artie’s elementary school, waiting for all the little kiddies to pour out of the building the second 3PM struck. An index finger tapped my shoulder, and I turned around to see Tom standing there, a broad smile on his face.

“Tom! We didn’t have practice today, did we? I thought we’d cut it down to 2 days a week—”

“No, no practice today. I was hoping you were picking up your brother today, so I hung around for a half an hour. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Having second thoughts about dating me?”

“Are we dating?” He smiled mischievously. “Well, maybe we are, sort of.”

“Still?”

“That’s your call, Gigi. I’d like to keep ‘sort of’ dating. But I really had a question to ask.”

“About what Grant said yesterday?”

“No, I—”

“I’m a real girl, Tom. Regardless of how I got here, I’m real. And…and I kind of like you. A lot.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around all that, Gigi, but that’s not what I want to ask you.”

“Then what?”

“Homecoming’s coming up in three weeks.”

“You’re replacing me as majorette?”

“No, no. There’s a homecoming dance the night after the game and…”

“Yes?”

“Are you going with someone?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, is it George?”

“No, silly, it’s…you!”

“What? But I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“Well, ask already.”

“Gigi, would you like to go to the homecoming dance as my—”

Artie ran out of school and squeezed himself in between us. Looking up at us, he asked, “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

“Shhh, Artie. Tom has something to ask me. You were saying?”

“Will you be my date for the homecoming dance?”

“What do you think, Artie? Should I go with Tom?”

“If I say yes, will we go get ice cream?”

“Yes, you’ll get ice cream either way.”

“Okay, Tom, Gigi will go with you. I approve of this message.”

“Two scoops for you, squirt.”

I took Artie’s hand, and we all three walked away in the direction of the mini-mall.