Page 25 of Jealous of the Clouds
“And then I fucked up. I have no excuse other than I’d gone out with colleagues from work to Rush Street for happy hour. I had one too many martinis. After the gang dispersed, I decided I’d had my fill of straight people and thought I’d stop off for one more at one of the gay bars along Halsted.
“My judgment was compromised and, when a cute younger guy began flirting with me, flirted back. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Long story short. I went home with the guy who lived in the neighborhood, just a few blocks west of Wrigley Field.
“The encounter was nothing special. To put it bluntly, I was too drunk to get it up and so was he. We cuddled and made a good effort for maybe twenty minutes, when remorse and shame got hold of me, even in my drunken state.
“I made my excuses and left.
“And then I got a shock.
“Josh waited for me outside the guy’s apartment building. His presence stunned me into a kind of sobriety.
“But I didn’t feel too bad. I mean, when he came toward me, he was all smiles. And I began to reassure myself that maybe this was simply a coincidence. I could compound the bad I’d didby lying, but I was relieved I could probably wriggle out of this. And I promised myself, as sinners often do, that I’d never let this happen again.
“But his smile was a false front. As he neared me, I could sense the rage. Very softly he asked me who I was with. I told him something I made up on the spot—I stopped by at a work friend’s place to pick up a thumb drive that had case information on it.
“Josh asked to see the drive. I patted my pockets, grinning sheepishly, and told him I must have left it upstairs.
“I was caught and I knew it. I didn’t like the feeling. So I owned up to what I thought of as my minor transgression. After all, beyond a little groping and a couple kisses, nothing had happened. And, I told Josh, that I’d never done anything like this before. It was true—at least with him.
“He said, ‘Let’s get home.’ We started walking, silent, toward the L stop at Addison.
“We were almost there when he stopped, smiled again. ‘I really need to take a piss. Can we just duck down this alley?’
“I didn’t argue, even though I was aching to get home and resolve things. I made a gesture for him to go ahead.
“He paused at the mouth of the alley and turned back to me, looking embarrassed. ‘Would you mind standing guard?’
“I moved into the alley. I didn’t think the standing guard was necessary because, for one, we were in a gay neighborhood—a lot worse took place in these alleys than a solo guy taking a piss, and two—it was late. The whole ‘hood was relatively quiet.
“He struggled with his jeans, his back to me. Struggled enough that I joked, ‘need some help with that?’
“He said nothing. So I moved closer and, when I saw the front of him, I gasped. I swear my heart stopped beating.”
Bailey Anderson: Blake told me that Joshua Kade held a large knife in his hands. Blake didn’t scream or question the weapon—he simply turned tail and ran, which may have saved his life. There were still some late-night revelers just around the corner.
The incident was a couple of years ago and Blake says he’s never recovered. He still has nightmares, but is grateful that he’s never seen Joshua Kade again. He stayed with a friend that night, and the next morning, he got up, quit his job, and made arrangements to leave Chicago.
He felt he was escaping with his life, even if he did have to leave most of his belongings in Josh’s apartment.
I can’t disclose where he is now. I can say that his fear and recurring nightmares have placed him in a kind of self-made witness protection program. And I havenotused his real name. I commend him for having the courage to speak out in his own voice.
Richard Blake says, “I should feel safe. I mean, it’s been a long time. I’ve covered my tracks well. Even though I’ve changed my name and my looks and I’m very much off-the-grid—no social media, no nothing that might cause me to be found—I still worry he’ll find a way through. He’s evil. The proverbial green-eyed monster Shakespeare once wrote about.
“I still dream of that night—the knife he had ready, the deadness in his eyes. He would’ve killed me. I have no doubt.”
*
The train lurched to a stop and I looked around, disoriented. I was at my stop downtown. It was time to go to work.
I was shaking as I exited. I wondered how I’d manage to make it through even a half day.
I needed to call Karl.
I needed to get out.
Chapter 9
