Illustration: J. V. Aranda One of my favorite party tricks is pulling out a picture on my phone — it’s a composite of two faces lined up at the nose to create a full face, kind of like a “before/after” plastic surgery image, except there’s no noticeable difference.
Less than 24 hours after I met Drew, I Googled Monica for the first time. I braced myself, but when the results came up, they weren’t exactly what I expected. Sure, she was beautiful, and an intimidatingly successful pop star, but… did she also kind of look like me? I searched her face with laser focus, trying to make mental match-ups of each area. We definitely weren’t copies of each other — she was brunette and I was blonde, for one — but I could see hints of sameness, I just wasn’t sure where: the nose? Eyes? Chin? Did she also see the resemblance? Was she simultaneously thinking I was her doppelgänger?
That’s not to say that it was easy for Drew to admit. The first time I asked him if he thought Monica and I looked alike, his answer was firm: “You look nothing alike.” And then it was, “Welllll, maybe in certain pictures and lighting, but not in person.” He was finally forced to reckon with the similarities one day when he was in the studio with Monica and she held up a selfie. “Is this Leonora or me?” she asked. “That’s Leo, for sure,” he said. “THAT’S ME!” she roared.
Whenever things like this happened, I’d cycle between feeling really special and feeling worthless, unable to figure out why. I couldn’t stop wondering: Why had the universe brought us together? I almost felt like Monica had lived this parallel life to mine — she had my face, got to date my boyfriend, and had my dream job.
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