Adam McOmber
When I was in college, I met this guy at a house party once whose name was William Wilson. He was really handsome. Black hair. Black t-shirt. Eyebrows. A literary type. So I stood kind of close to him because I was pretty drunk, and I said, "Like the Poe story?" He arched one of his lovely black eyebrows and said, "The what now?" "Edgar Allan Poe," I said. "You know 'The Raven?' He also wrote a story called 'William Wilson.'" "Huh," the guy said. His breath smelled like beer and old cigarettes, but somehow that was still kind of hot. "What's the story about?" he said. I tried to remember. Everything was kind of blurry. "It's about a guy at college who meets another guy who looks just like him," I said. "The new guy's name is William Wilson. Or maybe they're both named William Wilson. I can't remember." "That's the story?" "Pretty much," I said. "Some people think it's like a . . . I don't know . . . a gay thing or something. That Poe wrote a gay thing. But I don't really believe that." William Wilson took a sip of his beer. "It's loud in here," he said. "I can't hear very well. Do you want to go outside?" I definitely wanted to go outside, so I nodded and we slipped through the crowd and out into the dark treelined yard. We walked together under the stars, and I felt really excited. Like maybe William Wilson was going to kiss me. But when he finally turned, his eyes were all dark like the sky and he said, "So are you trying to say I look like you?" I felt confused. And more than a little drunk. "What?" I said. "No. I was telling you about an Edgar Allan Poe story. It's called 'William Wilson.'" He winced as if the name hurt him. "There's no story like that," he said. "I would have heard about it. And anyway, I do kind of look like you." I glanced down at my own black t-shirt, which was, I thought, where the resemblance began and ended. I decided William Wilson must have been drunker than me. "Look," I said. "I'm sorry I said anything. I should have just—" "What happens at the end of the story?" he said. I didn't want to tell him. I didn't think it was going to go particularly well. But he just stood there, staring at me with his dark starry eyes and there was nothing else I could do. "Well," I said, "they get in some kind of fight and the one guy kills William Wilson with a sword. But then you realize maybe they're both dead because they're really the same person. Something like that. I don't know. It was confusing." William Wilson closed his eyes and took a breath. He didn't look anything like me. I was sure of that. "So we're both dead…" he said finally. "In the story," I said. "It's a story." He opened his eyes and stared at me. "There's no story like that," he said. I shrugged "You're right. Okay. We're both dead." "That's a bad ending though," William Wilson said. "Really bad." He took another drink of his beer. "Do you want to fuck or something?" he said. I looked at him for a moment and then laughed. I couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I do."