The Face in the Mirror
I had just brought my car into a garage in Queens when the attendant started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I retorted checking all my buttons and zippers as I spoke.
He stopped his laughing only slightly and pointed to another driver who was having his car serviced. In his best sub-continental Indian accent he said, “That man looks just like you!”
I quickly looked at this gentleman at whom he was pointing and I saw absolutely no resemblance. He was my height – yes. He had gray, wavy hair – yes. He was wearing eyeglasses – yes. He was 60 or more years old – yes. He was a bit chubby – yes.
But that was not what I looked like.
The gentleman and I peered at each other, and we both suppressed a laugh. I am sure he saw only a slight resemblance to me and I thought I was much handsomer or better looking.
I kibbitzed to the happy-go-lucky garage attendant that we were brothers. He found it humorous as did my supposed look-alike. We shook hands, my identical non-twin, and I told him we would meet later at our apartment. As they say in the vernacular, “This cracked everyone up.” As I left we waved “so long” to one another.
For a few days after this incident I kept wondering to myself, “Is that what I really look like?” I was never a mirror-gazing enthusiast but I now started examining my visage more closely. No, it wasn’t at all true. I was an original.
Women carry mirrors around all day and they know exactly what they look like at all times. I, on the other hand, only peer into the looking glass in the morning while shaving and brushing my teeth. I am not aware of my features for the entire day.
It is said that everyone has a twin somewhere in the world. I maintain that this guy is not my fraternal or identical twin. When I was young, because I had curly hair, red cheeks and freckles people would positively mistake me for someone they knew. My freckles and red cheeks have long disappeared. My hair is not as curly. To date, I still have not found my twin brother.
