His Face, His Skin

Nadya Spencer

I could hear big, black tires scraping against the macadam as I backed my car to our driveway. I pulled the hand brake so the car would stay put as the driveway was in a slightly tilted position towards the main road. I grabbed the rear-view mirror and readjusted it so that I could see my face in it. Then I padded my cheeks and forehead with my palms in order to wipe off the sweat and pulled the stray hairs, which had escaped from my ponytail, behind my ears. It had been a windy day and my dark hair was too stubborn to stay put in the weather. After that I took my little purse from the seat. It was bright green like a lime and had a long, golden chain instead of a strap. I stepped out of the car and tried to balance on the uneven ground towards the gate with my high heels. We had a fence going around our yard. I and Robert, we had built that when we still had dogs, two Maltese, that we wanted to be able to run around freely. That was over ten years ago, though, since the other one had died of old age and even longer time since the first one had escaped from the opened gate and was accidentally ran over by a car. I always wanted to get more pets but Robert did not. He took it very hard, losing both of our dogs.

I stepped on to the grass and my heels sank in to the soft ground underneath it. It was already late so the evening was gray and dark as the summer was slowly turning into autumn. It was still warm though, and I was wearing my summer dress without getting cold. But the leaves on the trees had started to lose their green color and the grass was full of rusty colored spots from the dry and sunny days past. I could see a shadowy figure sitting on the wooden swing on the backyard. I started to walk towards the figure. Robert sat on the swing with his hands resting on his lap. He was staring at the tree line. Suddenly I got an eerie feeling. Robert had suffered his whole life from some mild ADHD symptoms and I had never seen him so calm. Normally he was always doing something with his hands and he disliked just sitting still without doing anything active. And usually he did not stay home alone if I went out with my friends. He preferred the gym or a nice long run instead.

I greeted the still figure but he did not answer.

“Robert, hey! Have you already eaten dinner? I had some Chinese food with Mary, but do you want me to make you something before we go to sleep?” I stared at Robert and then I noticed that there was a weird look on his face. It was late, little over eleven at night and we both had to work the next day. Robert slowly turned his face towards me and shook his head. Then I saw:

“Rob honey! When did you shave your beard?” Robert had maintained a nice, short, black beard growing on his face over twenty years now without shaving it once. Why on earth he had shaved it now? He smiled to me.

“Do you like it?” He asked in a monotonic voice and something about it made my hairs stand up on my arms.

“Well… It's different.”

Robert stood up and came to me. He looked taller than usual and smelled of something I could not quite put my finger on. Walnuts? He took me into his arms and gave me an unusually long, passionate kiss. We had been married so long I was more used to tiny pecks on the lips and limited amount of intimacy. I flushed and then laughed.

“What was that for? Save it for later, I will go to upstairs now. Will you follow me soon?” I asked and gently rubbed his chest. He nodded.

I opened the glass door and walked inside into the dark hallway. Our backyard porch was divided from the other parts of the house by that long hallway. After that came a big, open hall and a spiral staircase leading upstairs. When I got up, I went straight to our bedroom to change into something more comfortable. The room was dark and I did not bother to switch the light on but went to the cabinet and took a white, satin nightgown out of it. Then I turned around. I was startled so I dropped the gown on the floor.

Someone was lying on the bed. The shadow, shape of a human body, was drawn right in front of my eyes against the white wall in the darkness. Robert was right outside a minute ago. He could not have followed me without me noticing. My heart was racing violently, I could not breathe and I felt my hands turning sweaty. I took a step, another. The blanket moved up and down gently as the figure breathed calmly. I took the third step and was able to see the face now. It was Robert.

However, that was not possible, no way. I got nauseous thinking who it had been down there on our yard if it was not Robert. I shook Robert, the one on the bed, forcefully and the blanket dropped revealing his face entirely: He still had his beard. That is when I became sure that the one waiting outside our house was not Robert. I shook the real Robert harder and yelled whispering:

“Rob, Robert! Please wake up!” Tears were burning behind my eyes. Tears of fear. Robert opened his eyes and stretched. I kept acting restless.

“What's wrong Nadya? Dear God, what is it?” He yelled when he finally realized the state I was in. He jumped up and grabbed my hands.

“Calm down. Calm down. What's wrong?”

I tried my best to explain what had happened. To my surprise he did not argue with me but grabbed his dark blue pajamas from the hanger and headed out the bedroom door. I followed him.

“No, don't go! What if he's dangerous? We should call the police, right?” I tried to grab his arm but he shook my hand off.

“It's okay. I just want to see that man with my own eyes.”

We were now downstairs and I moved my eyes from Robert towards the dark hallway. On its other end were the glass doors, shut, and behind them stood a familiar figure. I could make out the grotesque imitation of Robert’s face pushed against the glass. I felt like I was growing roots from my feet as I could not move from the terror. But Robert started walking towards the doors and then I panicked.

“No, no, no, don't go, please!” I yelled and watched him go. He moved like in a slowed down scene of a movie. My thoughts were running wild. I could not force myself to go after Robert so I turned around and ran to the kitchen. However, the kitchen did not have a door I could close so I picked up a knife and then turned to face the doorway. The house was so dark. I felt paralyzed and I could hear my own breathing inside my head. It reminded me of waves crashing on the shore. Nothing happened.

After a while, I went to the phone that was on the corner of the kitchen and I called 911. A woman answered and asked me to calmly state my emergency.

“There is someone in our house. Please, come quick!”

Nadya Spencer: five years later

A sweet, young woman brushed her blond hair and straightened her pencil skirt. I was well aware that she was a lot younger than me and that made me feel even worse. Even though the make up artists had done their best, as I hardly had time to do so myself, I still looked wrinkly and tired. I waited restlessly as the cameramen adjusted their equipment. They were way too close to my face. The young woman yelled to someone that the lights were not quite perfect yet and then she knelt beside my chair so that our eyes were almost at the same level. She was so tall. And thin.

“Everything is almost ready! Do you feel okay Mrs. Spencer? Just say if you need something!” She gave me a trained smile.

“I'm fine, thank you”, I growled quietly. I was nervous beyond believe. I had never been on television and I was too aware of the fact that most people believed I was a lunatic. But if there was a chance, even tiny, that someone might actually believe my story, it was worth taking the risk. And most importantly, I needed the money.

“Okay, lets start!” The young woman yelled.

“Okay, Mrs. Spencer. Just start from the beginning. What happened that night and all. Action!”

And I did.

I told them how I had gotten home, met my husband on the yard. I told how eerie I had felt. I told them how I went upstairs and found my real husband, I woke him up. How he went to see his lookalike and I went to the kitchen. How I called 911. I told them that when the police came, there was no one to be found anywhere. Both of the men had disappeared. The glass doors were open and the light had been turned on but there was no one. On the other side of the fence, the forest looked so black I could not make out the trees, I remember.

“Is it not true, however, Mrs. Spencer, that they found only one set of footprints leading off your property? And there was only your husband’s DNA, and yours, no one else’s? There was not a single sign of someone else having been there. Except that you say so, of course.” The young woman looked at me behind the camera. I nodded.

“And is it not also true that the police believed you had something to do with your husband’s disappearance?” She went on. I felt cornered. No one would ever believe me. I nodded again.

“And did you?”

“No, I did not.” I shook my head.

“So you don't want to change your story about what happened that night? You still insist that it was aliens?”

“No. I mean yes. Yes they were.” I felt my face getting sweaty from the hot lights. I hoped they would stop the shooting and put some powder on my face.

“Okay then, Mrs. Spencer. Why do you believe that?” I could see the woman change her weight from one leg to another and cross her arms. She was waiting for some good entertainment.

“I know it, because they came back later that night.”

Nadya Spencer: five years ago

I watched as the policemen drove away. The macadam driveway made scrunching sounds under the tires of the police car. I was still wearing the same dress I had had when I came home earlier that night but instead of the high heels I now wore flat sandals. The early autumn night was getting cold and I rubbed my hands against my arms to warm up.

There were no signs of Robert. The policemen had not believed my story, obviously. They told me that Robert had probably gone somewhere and was coming back soon. But if he would not be back after 48 hours, I should call them. They recommended that I should keep all the doors and windows locked and call them if someone would be outside the house. The adrenaline had long left my body and I now felt only tired. I took their advice and locked everything up, and then I brushed my messy hair, took a long, hot shower and put on that white, satin nightgown that was still lying on the floor. It was wrinkled. It was quarter past three at night. I felt so tired, but I felt also guilty about the thought of going to sleep when my husband was missing. I would not be able to do anything about it, though. I sat on a bed, turned on the tiny, yellow reading light and started to read a book. But I could not concentrate. What had happened? And who was the man who looked so much like Robert? I tried to resist but my eyelids felt so heavy I had to close them. My irrational thoughts were mixing up creating weird things in my mind. It took a while but then I finally fell asleep. I had managed to put away the book and turn off the light as it was not on when I woke up again.

I woke up to a different light, a bright blue light showing under the door. Someone knocked. I tried to move but I was paralyzed. The door opened and the bright light blinded me for a while. Then they were around me. Four figures who all had Robert’s face but not quite. One was missing the beard, one’s eyes were blue instead of brown, one had long hair and one was just… scruffy. Like a printed picture but the ink had run out. They stood around me and looked down to me. They spoke together but without opening their mouths. I heard: We need his skin to become compatible.