69

Nine months later, the holiday season rolled around. It was a time of great optimism. We were on track, or even slightly ahead of schedule, to conduct the first brain transfer into a completely artificial body on January 31. Confidence by the medical team was high.

Evelyn had started second grade, and that December 13 she turned seven. Cain came over early to help me get the place ready for Evelyn’s birthday party. I blew the balloons up, and he twisted them into indiscernible balloon animals. By the time Hannah and Martin arrived with Evelyn, the floor was littered with blue, pink, and yellow pastel knots of balloons.

We all shouted, “Surprise!” Evelyn blushed but smiled. She hit Cain in the shoulder with such a wallop that he almost lost his balance. He acknowledged her unexpected brutality with bemused pride, calling his “mother” out for child abuse.

Soon Evelyn was carefully peeling open the wrapping on her presents in an effort not to tear it. The baubles inside included a couple ceramic tigers, a homnivision game that would immerse her in a land where she could interact with roaming lions, cheetahs, and other wildlife, and a book by her favorite poet, Shel Silverstein.

“Uncle Adam?” she asked when she had unwrapped the last present.

“Niece Evelyn?”

“Can we watch Winter Wonderland? I want to see you and my c-mom when you guys were in second grade.”

It struck me so hard I had to catch myself. Friday the 13^th. The night of Winter Wonderland, exactly forty-three years before. Evelyn’s clone had been born on the anniversary of our first marriage. And now her clone was a second grader as we’d been. Again it seemed to me that my life was coming full circle. That it was all a death vision, and that soon I would be lying dead by my mother on the kitchen floor.

“Can I say no to the birthday girl?” I asked, trying to erase the image from my mind.

She cocked her head. “Well…you shouldn’t.” She smiled.

I forced a laugh. “I’ll go get it.”

The truth was, I wish I could have said no. I loved the fond memories of Evelyn holding my hand as I skipped/lurched beside her, and of how beautiful she looked in her little wedding dress. But it also reminded me of the night in Central Park, and the night she died.

I watched the video while leaning against the back wall, hoping to avoid attention. But of course people looked at me when I “skipped” out on stage. Then Evelyn-2 paused the hologram and grabbed me by the hand, leading me out to stand in the positions of my younger self and her young c-mother. She hit the play button and we pantomimed the holographic images, including Evelyn yanking me back to the altar. Evelyn-2 laughed out loud as I stumbled back to her side and indicated that Parson Brown could marry us. I smiled, trying to enjoy the moment with her. But I was lost in a Valentine’s Day, the night I lost my other Evelyn.

After all the guests left, Hannah and Martin gave Evelyn-2 her last gifts. Evelyn cried when she opened the box with Evelyn-1’s backpack.

“Thank you, Mommy,” she whispered, and brushed away some tears as Hannah hugged her.

The last present was a birthday letter from Evelyn-1. Letters to our clones were private, but Evelyn started sharing hers with Cain. She felt her c-mother would have wanted it that way after she learned that Cain’s clone-father had died in Evelyn’s womb.

I don’t know what it said. But that year’s letter might have mentioned me. For one thing, Evelyn-1 was seven when we met. For another, Evelyn-2 was troubled the rest of the evening, and I suspected her mood was due to the letter.

“Do you want to read your new Silverstein book with me?” I asked her after we had all finished our dinner.

She frowned and didn’t look at me. “You don’t have to.”

I was taken aback. “Hey, Evelyn. I never do it because I have to,” I said, trying to keep my voice cheery. “I do it because I like to do it. But if you’re not in the mood tonight, then we don’t have to.”

She looked at me as if it was difficult to do, and shrugged. “Well, I guess we can.”

We read A Light in the Attic, me reading a page and her reading one and then back again. During one of her turns she paused and looked deep in thought, using her fingers to brush her hair back behind her ears. It brought my attention to her freckles, all perfectly placed the same as her clone-mother’s. Her physical likeness was uncanny, even for clones.

“Uncle Adam?”

“Niece Evelyn?”

“Do you just like me because you were married to my c-mom?”

So that’s what was bothering her. Reading about how her c-mother remembered me in the letter, coupled with seeing the video of our marriage in Winter Wonderland, must have made her wonder whether my affection for her was the same as her affection for me, or if I was simply being nice to the clone of my wife. In my head I scoffed at the idea, but then I forced myself to wonder if it might partly be true. I looked down into Evelyn-2’s expectant and vulnerable eyes. I wasn’t very good at coming up with speeches on the spot, but I knew my answer had better be good or I could crush the heart of a beautiful little girl.

“You never have to worry about that,” I began carefully. “I did love your clone-mother so much more than I’d ever dreamed it was possible to love anyone, and I’d love you just because you were so important to her, but that’s not why I love you.” I rested my forehead against hers. “I love you because you’re sweet, and kind, and intelligent, and creative, and you share my love for reading and writing, and because you are who you are. You’re not the same as your clone-mother, but you have some of her traits that I loved the best, and you’re different in ways that I really and truly adore.”

She examined my face. Then she smiled, dropped the book to her lap, and wrapped her arms around me. Without another word she picked the book back up and began reading the next poem.