Emma

A freak golf-cart accident at the country club last year left you temporarily disabled with a minor brain injury and limited use of your legs. The long road to recovery has been punctuated with many small successes, and your team anticipates a full recovery in another six months. Still, the last year, picking up all the slack and starved for physical connection has been challenging for Emma. In recent weeks Emma has become somewhat scarce, busying herself with the ladies community management activities around the club. You understood of course, that at least part of it was her going stir crazy being a caregiver and estate manager during your recovery. Weighed down with guilt, you stepped back, giving her a bit of the freedom you felt would be good for her. Returning home from a weekly PT appointment that you only found out upon arrival needed to be cancelled, you walk into a scene so unexpected, so surreal and jarring, you’re frozen in place…watching. Your Emma, writhing beneath you, the collar of your favorite polo shirt clamped between her teeth as she shudders with an earth-shattering conclusion, your name escaping with a shuddering sigh. At that moment, all you can go is make a cut-off gasp, shock stifling whatever exclamation you might have voiced. It was enough to startle him off of her and send him running out of the patio door. What briefly delayed your reaction was his appearance: he was your doppelgänger in every way. He wore your clothes, and as he departed you caught a whiff of your own aftershave. A stunned look back to your bed finds her getting up and rushing to your side, steadying you on your crutches, apologies flowing like water. “I swear, there’s a logical explanation, honey. It’s not what you think.” She helps you to a seat on the bed, the whole truth is given. A chance meeting on a girl’s night, she spotted “you” at the bar. The look of familiarity in her eyes caught his attention.