Page 60 of Jealous of the Clouds
Camille
We’d agreed earlier to have me listening in on the podcast as it was being recorded as a kind of insurance. Ted would call me and simply leave the phone line open (and recording). I could hear everything being said, just in case something went wrong.
And I knew, the minute Shondell asked, “Am I?” that something was very wrong.
I stood, getting even more anxious when she told them to turn off the recording. At first, I was terrified she was talking to Ted. But when the voices continued, both men trying to placate Shondell and failing to keep their own fear out of their voices, I knew she hadn’t noticed Ted’s phone.
“I loved him,” she said. “He was everything.”
I was pulling my coat on, struggling to do simple things like get my damn arm in the right hole. And then I was delayed because I couldn’t find my keys. At last—there they were, on the nightstand, where I’d set them last night when getting ready for bed.
I felt a curious kind of nothingness as I rushed down the stairs from my apartment. Karl’s place in Edgewater was only a few minutes away, but a few minutes’ distance in Chicago could mean a quick trip or a long, delayed one, depending on traffic and the ever-present challenge of finding parking.
I sped down Sheridan Road, grateful the lights were with me. But as I drove, I saw omens—a forlorn tennis shoe, lying in the middle of the road and a dead crow in the gutter.
What was waiting for me?
Was I too late?
And…of course, there was nowhere to park.
I circled Karl’s block a couple of times, hoping to see someone pull out, but there was no movement. It seemed every spot was taken in a two-block radius. If you’ve ever lived in Chicago, you know how plausible this is.
Desperate times call for desperate measures… If ever there was life and death scenario, this was it. I pulled up at the end of the block, cutting off access to the crosswalk, turned on my emergency blinkers, and rushed out of the car, barely remembering to close the door behind me, let alone lock it.
People turned to stare as the crazy woman with the halo of frizzy hair hurried up the street, obvious from her awkwardness she was a stranger to running.
Karl’s red brick condominium courtyard building rose up before me, a solid edifice against a sky filled with rapidly darkening clouds. Snow and rain spit down, the precipitation feeling like needles against my skin. The windows in the sunroom portion of Karl’s home reflected back the dark sky and revealed nothing about the danger of its occupants.
I got to the door and laid on the buzzer. I couldn’t hesitate but part of me was terrified that the sudden noise could spur Shondell into taking action—if she already hadn’t. But how else could I get in? I buzzed again, praying, praying, praying, despite being an avowed atheist.
No one was answering. I glanced down at my phone. The line was still open, but disturbingly, their voices had ceased. All that came through was silence. That stillness was even more nightmarish than screaming.
At least with screaming, I’d have proof of life.
I leaned on the buzzer long and hard, but fate wasn’t cooperating. My friends could be getting murdered just a few yards away and I was out here, stuck, helpless.
At long last, an old woman emerged from the building, walking a Pekingese.
I smiled and held the door open for her. “You’re brave,” I said, “Taking your pooch out in this weather.” I was being nice because I didn’t want pushback when I tried to enter the building.
But pushback I got.
The old woman’s voice was gravelly, a whisper. “You live here, ma’am?”
I didn’t have time. I kept smiling. “Yes, yes, of course. Anne on the third floor. Surely you haven’t forgotten me?” I laughed, even though my insides churned.
She cocked her head, but I could tell she wasn’t going to make it any harder for me to get in. People will do a lot of stupid things in service of risking embarrassment.
Her gaze was on me as I rushed inside, dashed up the stairs.
Outside Karl’s door, I hesitated. Should I knock? Pound? Scream? I knew I should call 911, but I still was connected to Ted’s phone and I remained hopeful I might hear something, anything, that would prove Ted and Karl were still okay.
In the end, I simply tried the doorknob.
The door swung open.
Inside, it felt too warm after the damp and cold outside. All was still, but as I rounded the corner out of the living room, there were three figures, frozen in a tableau.
