June 25th, 2007: An Alternate Me, Pt.1

Writing Prompt for6/25/2007:

You're eating at your favorite restaurant and order your favorite meal. A couple of bites in, you nearly have a heart attack when you notice something in your meal that doesn't belong there. What is it and how did it get there?

This one doesn’t seem very fun. I mean, who hasn’t pulled a long string of hair from their Arby’s sandwich, Jason? Seriously. Let’s look for another.

5/8/2007: While waiting at a doctor's office, you hear your name called. As you stand up, you hear another person say, "That's me," and head for the nurse. Another person with your name! You decide to follow this person throughout his day. What traits do you share? Where do you differ? And what is the one thing this person has that you envy and feel you need to incorporate into your life. You can post your response (500 words or fewer) here:

This would truly be an incredible coincidence, wouldn’t it? There aren’t many people out there with my name. I have met two and I remember them both. One was a country white girl who worked in an outlet shoe store. The other, a sexy black woman at a bar in Atlanta I worked at. She was interesting. Ooh, come to think of it. I kind of remember meeting another Greta at a restaurant. She was an older woman, which is probably what you’d expect with a name like mine. Actually, I was in office depot the other day and the very talkative cashier asked to see my ID. Apparently, you have to be eighteen to buy air-cleaning canisters. When she looked at it, she said, “Oh, I bet you go by your middle name.” Why? Is my first name that ugly? Sorry, I do not have a normal name like you, Lorraine, but it has taken me a while to grow into this curse. And now, I kind of like it. So there. My mom says she named me after three people. 1. My great-grandmother, Margarethe (it’s French and sounds like mar-ga-reta. Not sure if I spelled that right by the way.*wince*) 2. My grandmother, Gretchen. (worst name I could ever think of. People used to tease me in middle school by calling me that. hope those people are dead now) and 3. Greta Garbo. Whatever. Actually, my dad tried to save me. In the week or weeks after I was brought home from the hospital, neither mom nor dad could agree on a name so Mom walked around calling me Greta while Dad called me Sarah. One time, Dad slipped up and called me Greta and that was the end of that. There are a couple of other instances where my name has come up: in the Jim Carrey movie ‘Liar, Liar’, his secretary is named Greta. But of course, she is an old woman. Go figure. There have been too many times where someone tells me their dog’s name is Greta. Really? Wow, that’s awesome. Go jump in a lake. I do remember this friend in high school telling me she was reading a book and in it, a character had a fish named Greta. Why do I remember this stuff? I don’t know. But there you have it. Old women, dogs, and fish. And me.

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I didn’t realize it at first but Greta and I are remarkably similar. Must be the curse of having the same strange and antiquated name. When I first started to follow-no let’s be fair-stalk her, I did so with an indescribable jealousy and curiosity. From the minute I saw her in the doctor’s office, I instantly disliked her. She was tall, dark and gorgeous. Her feet kicked aimlessly in her black, knee high boots. Her hair was long and black and seemed to waft in the non-existent wind. She thumbed through magazine pages without having to lick her fingers. She had taken the seat facing the window and would, from time to time, look up and stare off at the world outside. I could almost hear her mind racing through the maze of thoughts. For a split second, I considered playing Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and silently narrating her thoughts as she thought them. But that would require staring at her and I wasn’t ready to be crazy-stalker lady...yet. Plus, she probably had a menial job like bartending or beer tub girl and I had moved past that long ago. Ok, a month ago but I was now a freelance writer. Ok, a receptionist at the local paper offices. But I was writing and I had my foot in the door. And yes, all the muscles I had firmed up in running around the bar were now, nearly atrophic. And Greta’s toned thighs peeked over the top of her boots and from under her skirt and laughed at me. Yes, they laughed at us. At me and my own pale, soft thighs. It was probably around here, that I sighed and decided to stop abusing myself and just read the dammed Us Weekly that lay unopened, in my lap. But that only derailed me for a minute or two and the snapping echo of her turning the pages was distracting me. I tried to bury myself in the not very interesting lines of the beautiful people. Another party girl fell down and exposed herself; another celebrity couple was pregnant; another divorced. But I found my thoughts wandering to her again. What real celebrity would she be likened too? A classy one, I’ll bet. Who would she date? Some unbelievably handsome star, I’m sure.
Just as I was making myself upset, the door opened and the nurse called my name. Thank god, I thought. But I had barely started to close the magazine and reach for my purse when I heard the nurse greet me. “Come with me please, Greta”. I looked up to see one platformed heel disappear behind the door. No way, I thought. She probably just misheard. I approached the window and glanced at the sign-in sheet. But no, there it was: my name, in my handwriting still uncrossed at the bottom of the page. Two or three lines above mine, I saw the answer. My name, not my penmanship. She has the same name? I couldn’t believe it. It’s not everyday you even hear your name, let alone meet someone with the same one. Especially if your name is Greta. A little taken aback, I wandered back to my seat and stared at her empty chair. Should I say something? Introduce myself? Would she think I was crazy? Do I think I am crazy? Good question. Should I wait or should I try and intercept her in the exam rooms? What the hell am I talking about? I found myself wondering what her voice sounded like, what she did for a career, if she was friendly, if her teeth were straight. I was no longer afflicted with the little green bug. Now I was insanely interested. And the writer in me, would never let this one rest until I knew her. It was then that I decided to embark on a nosy, stupid and possibly dangerous mission. I had to know this alternate Greta. But I didn’t want her to know. It would be my greatest character study and it would begin as soon as she exited those doors. All I had to do now, was sit and wait.

Random thoughts that ran through my head while writing this,

that made me stop and take note:

1. Ooh, another interesting thing that happened at a doctor’s office!
2. I smell fish and chips. Very strong. Very dangerous.
3. What kind of crazy person decides to follow someone around?

-1,284 Words