A Familiar Stranger

Posted before... a peice I am proud of in it's uniqueness but agree it needs work.

The day started out like any other day for Jaylee Jansen-Murdoch. She put her two children on the bus, helped her husband out the door, and started her daily pick up routine. Being a stay at home mom had not been what she envisioned her life would be like, but then again when did things ever turn out the way they were supposed to?

 

She had just finished vacuuming the living room, and was trying to remove every last strand of dog hair from the couch when she heard the doorbell. Not really knowing who would be calling at this hour she stumbled across the toys, and the hardware of her trusty machine hoping it wasn’t missionaries trying to help her find Jesus.

 

One day, when she had been in a particular foul mood (PMS), she opened the door to two very young men dressed in black pants, white shirts, and black ties with their bikes leaning against her porch railing. As soon as they started in with the spiel, she promptly told them there was nothing they could do for her. Just last night she had sacrificed the neighbor’s cat to Satan, and if they would please excuse her she now had a meatloaf to make.  That should have kept them away for good she thought.

 

She opened the door wide ready to let them know her weekly Wicca meeting was in place when her heart stopped beating in her chest. Breathing completely ceased. It wasn’t missionaries, or salesmen, and not even Girl Scouts pimping their fattening addictions. Those would have been welcome; no this was something much different. It was her mother. Her mother who had been dead for over five years. Her mothers who she had watched dwindle away to nothing while cancer ate away at her vital organs. Her mother whose funeral she had been dragged away from, because her wailing sobs were too much for anyone to listen to any longer.

 

She stood there as if in a void, like a sensory deprivation of her soul. She couldn’t hear, she couldn’t speak, and then she couldn’t see.

 

*

 

“Jaylee! Jaylee!” a man’s voice cried. “Jaylee wake up! Are you all right?” he asked as her eyes fluttered wide.

 

“Is she gone?” Jaylee croaked.

 

The man was her father’s colleague Dr. Joseph Benson. He was also a close family friend. After her father died over a year ago, Uncle Joe had taken it upon himself to check on her from time to time since the only other person left in her family was her brother Isaac. Isaac was only out for one thing, and that was numero uno.

 

As Uncle Joe helped to her feet, she saw the woman trembling inside the archway of her living room off the hallway. She seemed ready to climb the walls and at this point Jaylee wouldn’t have been too taken aback if she had.

 

“Is who gone?” Uncle Joe asked as his eyes followed Jaylee’s wide-eyed gaze.

 

“I guess not,” Jaylee said answering her own question. “You can see her can’t you? I’m not just making this up?”

 

“Jaylee,” Uncle Joe said, while leading her over to the women. “I want to introduce you to someone.” He reached out with his other hand and the woman grabbed ahold of him as if seeking a lifeline. “This is Hadley. She is a friend of mine. I had wanted her to meet you, and I guess I should have given you a better heads up.” He laughed softly as if this was all a perfectly normal misunderstanding between friends.

 

“Why does she look my mother? Why does she have her name? Tell me!” She was shrieking at this point, shaking her friend about the arms, while knocking his glasses helter skelter across the bridge of his nose.

 

He disentangled himself from her grasp and straightened his suit jacket. “Hadley would you mind waiting outside for me please.” The woman nodded silently, easing past Jaylee trepeditiously.

 

Confusion had mounted behind her eyes and was threatening to spill out onto her face. Tightening her fists at her side in stance of resolve she faced her most trusted friend, and listened to his explanations.

 

*

 

Alfred Jansen was the most brilliant genetic scientist of his time. To this day I wonder at my good fortune to have even been in the same room with the man, much less be able to carry on with his work after he was gone. Even before the death of his wife, Alfred was on to something. Something big. Something so gigantic and enormous in it’s propensity to change the world that no one was ever going to be same.

 

After Hadley’s death he was bereft. He didn’t want to continue on, but eventually the pull of creativity and succession had its way and Albert was ready to get back to his research. At first we cloned animals. Small ones like chickens, and mice. Then after we had successful batches with those, we went on to larger animals. When he told me which animal he wanted to clone I was shocked. They were extinct. Where would we get the DNA?

 

The first killer whale ever cloned was over 32 ft long and weighed in at over 11 tons. Dr. Jansen’s process was so unique and revolutionary that we were able to clone actual adults instead of waiting for them grown through infancy. Ofcourse if a younger version was needed, than it could be arranged. I never did ask him where the DNA came from. Albert had some black market connections that I personally wanted no association with. The price you pay for enriching success.

 

His breakthrough genius was due in part to his ability to break the DNA codes, and then follow the genetic map to its completion. Or atleast until it looped back around again. It was a scientific miracle. No one had dreamed it could happen but Albert was diligent. He knew with just a little time and faith his dreams would be realized.

 

I was there the day he cracked the code. He sprung from his chair and was chalk white. He stood there completely still, as if in a daze. I approached him cautiously and touched his arm. “Albert, Albert,” I kept saying. He never answered. Then he walked over to the small refrigerator we keep in the lab, and withdrew the bottle of Dom Perignon we always kept in there hoping that one day we would have something big to celebrate. Clutching the bottle close to his body, he slipped furtively from the lab.

 

The other assistants and technicians looked at each other quizzically. Then all eyes were on me searching for answers. Having none I followed Albert out.

 

I found him sitting against an oak tree outside the office. He had uncorked the bottle and was taking long swigs and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. This was so unlike the fastidious man I knew. I sat beside him unsure of how to approach this bizarre behavior he was displaying. After a while he whispered vehemently, “Joseph I’ve done it! I’ve done it by God. We can do it now!”

 

“Do what Albert?”

 

“My wife Albert. We can clone my wife. My beloved Hadley.”

 

I knew Albert’s pain at his wife’s death was deep; however I never suspected his intentions. “Albert,” I placated. “We don’t even know if it will work.”

 

“Yes! Oh yes,” he exclaimed waving his arms wildly, while splashing champagne over himself. “I vowed I would do it and I tell you Joseph I will.”

 

I didn’t know what to say. Maybe he could do it. If he cracked the code like he claimed he had, anything was possible. It was after we cloned the orca that we realized the problem.

 

All of the successful trials had exhibited all of the same traits, mannerisms, and abilities their successors had exhibited. The DNA we cloned the whale from was supposedly from one of those show creatures when they used to have those theme parks. I never understood the point of those, but I digress.

 

The animal that we cloned showed none of these abilities. It was simply a killer whale, nothing more nothing less. This brought us to the conclusion that it didn’t matter that we were making exact duplicates of their original counterparts. Their memories, their experiences, the trials that life had wrought to make them who and what they were did not transfer in the process. Non-the less Albert still had hopes humans would be different.

 

Our next trial was used from a sample of an organism that had not deceased. In our lab was a young gorilla named Mocha that we had taught sign language. She was very adept in conversation, and unfortunately to the chagrin of Albert, had learned to give the finger and sign cuss words by one of the interns. I digress again.

 

Mocha was successfully cloned and just as the whale, this clone did not have the same knowledge or personality as its sample host. The propensity to learn was there, and this gave Albert hope.

 

Hadley was the first success in our trials with human DNA. Your father believed that his children didn’t deserve to be without two parents. He knew his heart was bad, and rather clone himself for a possible transplant; he instead supplicated to me the task of brining back his dead wife and leaving her with her family.

 

*

 

“What are you talking about Uncle Joe?” Jaylee asked incredulously. “Are you telling me, and I mean really telling me, the woman who was just standing in my house a few moments ago is a duplicate of my mother, my dead mother. My father wanted this to occur?”

 

“Absolutely,” Uncle Joe replied solemnly. “On his deathbed as a matter of fact. He made me promise. I don’t break my promises Jaylee.”

 

“I-I can’t believe this,” Jaylee said pacing. “I can’t believe my father would want something like this to occur. I mean why? Why wouldn’t he clone himself as well so the two of them could be together? Why would he just let himself die?”

 

Uncle Joe laid his hand on her shoulder. “These are questions I know not the answers. All I can tell you, is this was your father’s dying wish and I have fulfilled my promise. Isaac has met her and he seems okay with it.”

 

Jaylee whirled around her eyes blazing. “You took her to see Isaac and he said nothing to me? How could this be happening? He never kept anything from me in his whole life that b*****d!”

 

“Calm down. Calm down now. I only took her over there because I knew Isaac might have an easier time coming to terms with what has been done. Isaac is a scientist as was your father and he can appreciate the ramifications of our experiment. He appreciated my sentiments when it came to your concerns and wishes and we both agreed it was best she stay with him until you can come to grips.”

 

“Stay with him?! What concerns and wishes?! God this doesn’t make any sense!!” Jaylee sputtered.

 

“Listen. We all know what it was like for you to loose your mother. I will never know or understand the incomparable bond the two of your shared. Your father did this for you Jaylee. He saw what her dying did to you and it tore him to shreds. That’s why he did it. He did it for you.”

 

“I don’t know what to say,” she replied sitting down hard. “I just don’t know what to make of any of this. I need time Uncle Joe. I need a lot of time,” then the sobs came and she wondered if they would ever stop.

 

*

 

Six weeks later…

 

Jaylee bound up her resignation and cradled her courage as she picked up the phone. After the third ring he picked up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey little brother,” she said exhaling hard, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

 

“Jaylee,” he replied dryly.

 

“I’m sorry, do you have any other sisters I should know about? Maybe a clone of myself walking around with an even worse attitude?  If there is let me know, the laundry is piling up and I could use the help.”

 

“It’s nice to hear you have taken such a tremendous breakthrough so lightly.”

 

“It’s not that Isaac,” she said rubbing the ache from her temples. “I just wish it hadn’t hit so close to home you know?”

 

“I know. Sometimes I wished it hadn’t either,” Isaac said softly.

 

“Does she remember us?” Jaylee asked with hope dotted in her voice.

 

“Not as much as I had anticipated. I have read over Dad’s notes, and some memories and mannerisms are retained. The potential for memory is good now. I know she remembers everything since becoming awake from the regeneration process. I can’t call her Mom though.”

 

“Me either,” Jaylee said as a tear slid down her nose and plopped into her lap.

 

“There are some things though,” Isaac said his voice brightening. “I mean she acts like Mom in some ways. Remember how she used to sit and be on the phone or watching TV and she would sit and twist her hair between her fingers? Well this woman does that too. She hates broccoli like Mom, and she loves “Love Story” like Mom did.” Isaac chuckled softly on the line. “I remember that one Valentine’s Day you and Mom sat and watched that movie all day long hoping that if you watched just one more time Jennifer wouldn’t die.”

 

“I remember that,” Jaylee murmured as the pool in her lap became deeper. They had also watched Terms of Endearment and went through 3 Kleenex boxes, apiece! Would the pain ever go away?

 

“I want to see her Isaac. I want to look into her eyes and see if my mother is in there somewhere. I have to.”

 

“Jaylee,” he sighed. “I can’t make any guarantees. For some reason she finds you more intimidating than she did me. She knows you are her daughter and that Miranda and Jansen are her grandchildren but she doesn’t remember any of it. She’s a fully functioning person with no memory of her childhood, her early adult life, nothing. Everything starts back from when she first awoke. I’ve been working with her some. Taking her to some of the places Mom liked. Showing her some of the places she and Dad used to go to. Every once in a while she will have a dream and will come in and ask me if this ever happened. Some of it sounds like events that happened before you or I was born so I can’t confirm or deny anything for her. If anything, she seems very frustrated with the way things are going and I worry for her.”

 

“What do you mean,” Jaylee asked alarmed. “What could happen?”

 

“What could happen with anyone really, I mean depression effects us all differently and I don’t remember Mom ever being suicidal even when times got really bad but like I said not everything is the same.”

 

“Please, please Isaac let me see her. Let me talk to her. I can’t let her feel this way. Even if she isn’t my true mother I can’t very well let her go on this way.”

 

“All right let me talk to her. I’ll let you know.”

 

*

 

A week later and Jaylee was standing outside the door to her brother’s house ready to flee. Her skirt kept riding up, and her underwear seemed to be too content in the crack of her cheeks. Just as she had finished pulling and straightening, Isaac opened the door.

 

Isaac Asimov Jansen was as handsome as his father with a sense of serenity only his mother could have given him. His black wavy hair was swept back from his face and curled in small wisps at his collar. His rimless glasses reflected the fading afternoon sun and he wore no shoes as he stepped aside to allow his sister entry.

 

They hadn’t seen each other since the reading of their father’s will. Isaac had been working and refused to disrupt his schedule to come to his father’s funeral. Jaylee had been livid. After her father had been interned she had stormed his lab demanding answers to how a son could forgo seeing his own father put to rest. Isaac had told her that their Dad would have understood and if she didn’t mind he needed to work. Isaac was always about his work and never about his family.

 

There was a hesitant truce between them when Jaylee saw how unselfish Isaac was becoming in his willingness to embrace a familiar stranger into their family when Jaylee could not. They embraced warmly having come to many understandings over the last week. Jaylee couldn’t remember a time when the two had talked so often. His ambition, much like their father, had been his driving force in life and Jaylee tried to keep that in mind when reminiscing about his many absences.

 

“You look good little brother,” Jaylee smiled up adoringly. At six feet tall he was hardly little compared to Jaylee’s five ft. four in.

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” his tone and eyes became serious. “Are you sure you are ready for this?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I am. I talked to Bran about this a lot too, and he encouraged me to really see the larger picture of this situation.”

 

“I always like that husband of yours. He makes sense!” Isaac teased his eyes twinkling.

 

“Whatever,” she guffawed as she walked past him into the living room.

 

Through the patio doors she could see her sitting quietly on the deck. Her auburn hair, so like Jaylee’s, swept back in a youthful ponytail. She had her legs crossed beneath her floral skirt and twisted her hair between her elongated fingers as she read a book. Taking a deep breath Jaylee went out to meet her.

 

“Is it any good,” she asked sliding the door shut behind her.

 

Hadley looked up startled. Then she smiled timidly. “Yes, very much so. Charlotte Bronte, Wuthering Heights.”

 

“Oh yes,” Jaylee said pulling out the chair across from her. “Heathcliff and Catherine. The moors await.” 

 

“You’ve read it,” Hadley asked excitedly.

 

“Yes,” Jaylee said softly smiling forlornly. “My mother used to read it to me and then when I got older we read it to each other. She loved the compellingly, tragic romantic stories.”

 

“Oh,” Hadley said staring down at the table. “I’m sorry to bring it up.”

 

“No, not at all,” Jaylee backtracked. “I want to talk to about her. I want to remember. She was wonderful. I loved her very much.”

 

“Yes, I can see that.” Hadley looked into the glass seeing her reflection. “I wish I could remember what it was like being her. I can’t. I’ve tried. I know that I am supposed to be her in every way, shape, and form but I’m not. I’m my own person.” She wiped away her tears angrily.

 

Jaylee’s heart broke as she tried to empathize with this woman’s plight. As much as she had hoped she was in fact her mother, she wasn’t. She now knew that this is what Isaac was trying to explain to her. Now she knew what she did have. A new friend, an ally to align with when the going got tough, and who in turn could rely on her when needed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jaylee said quietly. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. I came here today to tell you I would like to be friends. See what comes of us. No matter what the circumstance, we’re family.”

 

Hadley looked up sharply. “You mean that. You want to have a relationship with me?”

 

“Yes. Yes I do.” Jaylee reached and clasped her all too familiar hand into her own.

 

The scar on the left thumb occurred when trying to clean up a broken jar of mayonnaise. Her mother had reached down to pick up the shards when she lost her balance and sliced open her skin. After an emergency room visit and six stitches later she finally healed. 

 

Jaylee rubbed her marred hand rhythmically. “I think we could be friends Hadley. I really do.”

 

Hadley looked up at her eyes shining, “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

This does move a bit fast...something I am working on.

Reviews

[Kess Blair]

wow you would really have to let go of any anger you carried into adulthood for your mother to continue a relationship with the clone. it would be a good exercise for me, chuck all the blame and issues and start with someone who was your mother but unburdened by much guilt. nice short story!

[Writer CW Kirkland]

This was a clever and imaginative story. I enjoyed reading it, and I thought it flowed easily for a reader. I don't think it moved too fast all. I couldn't imagine being in this type of situation, but you did a great job making me feel like I was in the story. I felt the characters' emotions. Thank you for sharing your writing on the Cafe, and I look forward to reading more in the future. (I did notice one minor error: Paragraph four, line five...it appears the word mother was mistakenly made plural.)

[Rain]

Hi Jenny!
Seems so long since we've talked. I really see potential in this story. I liked it. I think what it needs is a professional editor to got through it and make it lean..no extra lines not needed. I know as a writer you hate seeing anything taken out , but it could make this story alot more compelling. It's really an original piece. Like it. Rain..

[Jasmina Amethyst Pendra..]

Oh wow. This is an interesting concept...cloning. I must admit this had my attention until the very end and I agree with James. You should consider expanding on it.

~Liv

[James Watts]

I like a good clone story. Nice work. You really should consider this for a longer piece.

[Linda Dupree]

This story is very interesting and it reminds me of Killing Time by Linda Howard which i just read. I like thinking about futuristic ideas such as cloning but I think it is wise to let go of those loved ones who have died. I believe I will be catching up to my mother later on (she died four years ago)
Good story

[xXx JakBeNimble xXx]

i think this story is wonderful...

very good plot...kept me intersted the whole time