Doppelganger

Bobby was rolling around in his bed; I could hear him through the wall. Hoping he would settle I ignored him for a few minutes, throwing my pillow over my head and trying to squeeze my eyes tight enough that sleep would come.

An arm, or maybe a foot thumped against the wall and any ideas of sleep fled. I sat up and gave myself a moment before I went to his room.

Bobby’s room was very dark, that’s the way he liked it. I always thought it strange for a boy to like a dark room. I had a ladybird nightlight when I was little, couldn’t sleep if it wasn’t on all night. Maybe he got his love of the dark from his father.

I flicked on the hall light and opened his door wide to let the light in. I crept in trying to figure out what was Bobby and what was blankets as I drew closer.

“Mum.”

Bobby’s voice startled me, and I almost fell backwards out of the room. I put a hand to my chest, feeling the thump-thump of my heart, and let out a nervous giggle. Bobby sat up in bed, his eyes wide. He pointed to the side of his bed and nodded his head.

“Is there something under there?” That’s all this was. A bad dream about bogey men. This I could deal with.

Bobby put a finger to his lips and pointed again. Okay, so he wanted me to be sneaky, wanted me to surprise whatever monster lurked there. I gave him a reassuring smile and dropped to my knees.

First thing I saw was yesterday’s dirty socks. To the side of them was his underwear. I wrinkled my nose and pushed them out the way and searched deeper, making a show for Bobby. I had a busy day at work tomorrow and needed him to sleep so I could.

I wasn’t expecting the movement. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I found myself staring into the eyes of my son. The blood seemed to drain from my head. I glanced up to see Bobby huddling by his pillow. I looked back and saw Bobby curled up under the bed.

“That’s not me,” other Bobby whispered, turning his eyes to the underside of the mattress.

I jumped up and ran to the light switch. Bobby on the bed had grabbed his pillow and held it like a shield across his chest. From a safe distance I lowered myself down and checked under the bed. Nothing was there. Just the socks and underwear and a couple of lost toys.

“See, no monsters,” I said, trying to control the quiver in my voice. “You’re safe.” Bobby under the bed’s words came back to me. That’s not me. I blew my son a kiss from the door. “Come on, back to sleep.”

Back in my room, I closed my door and debated putting a chair up against the handle, like they did in movies to keep the bad guy out. Instead I put my side light on, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping. And when I thought I head a soft sound under my bed, it was all I could do not to scream.