Page 35 of Jealous of the Clouds
I shook my head at the memory and continued to stare out at the apartment buildings lining Fargo Avenue. I expected Ted would show up, sooner or later. He’d either come out of the front door or, more likely in my opinion, enter it. I had steeled myself for the fact that he might not be alone. I mean, gay men areso fickle, hopping from one dick to another like there’s no cost involved, like there’s no such things as STIs, or dignity. I know different, but I also know how hard, damn hard, it is to find one single gay man who’s not a whore or a whore waiting to happen.
Ted’s no different. I hate to say it, because I still love him so much. But I’ve gotten accustomed to being disappointed. Disappointed? Hell, how about having my heart not only broken, but ripped to shreds?
Even though I’d braced myself for seeing him with another man, I was shocked to see who the other man was.
Man, small world.
I slid down in the seat of my non-descript black Toyota Prius when they emerged from his building—carrying a cat carrier and garbage bags. Jesus! Not only was he betraying what I thought we’d had, but it appeared as though he might be moving in with Karl.
I’d give Ted a bit of credit if he’d looked my way. If he’d spotted me, that would equalize things in a weird sort of way—make this a fair fight. But as I said, he’s not too bright. He missed me, right before his eyes. If I’d have been a snake, I’d have bitten him.
I shook my head. My gut woke up and started churning. The little man inside my head with the icepick began to apply pressure behind my left eye. Sweat popped up on my forehead, the palms of my hands, and trickled down my back. I could barely swallow.
Even though I’ve come to understand that a gay man I can trust is about as rare as the proverbial hen’s teeth, I still clung to a little hope that Ted would be different. He did seem different, at least until he heard that damn podcast.
But he wasn’t.Isn’t. And he compounds the betrayal by hooking up with that monstrous twink—my arch nemesis. Except he’s not a twink, but an older man trying to look youngby, who knows, bleaching and perming his hair. I bet he starves himself too to maintain that ‘boyish’ figure.
I hate him.
I hate them both.
They open up the red hatchback and load it up. I wait as they get inside and drive off. Wait a couple more minutes…
And then I follow…
I’m not going to be ignored, Ted.
*
I don’t have to stay out of his view for long, not that Ted’s that observant anyway, as we established. I follow him down Fargo, toward the lake. Then we take a right. Within five minutes or so, a lot less if it weren’t for so many damned traffic lights at just about every corner, Karl turns left off of Sheridan Road and drives back toward the lakefront. He backs into a space in the beach parking lot there, which is opposite a yellow brick courtyard apartment building.
Is this Karl’s place? I wouldn’t know. I tried to find Karl, tried hard, but his personal information is closely-guarded, which isn’t fair. Seems I have a right to confront my accuser.
I pull to the curb on Sheridan. I don’t want to get too close and providence is telling me this sought-after spot being available is one of those meant-to-be occurrences. A gift from the gods. I may not be close, but I have a good view. I slouch low in my seat and watch as the doors open on the little red SUV.
I feel a certain deadness as I watch them.
I see only one thing—a happy couple. Ted and I were never like they appear to be, not really. He made it clear early on in our fledgling relationship that two wasnota magic number. I would never be enough, not for him. He proved that by dragging that horny couple into our lives. I could tell right away that bothof them—whatever the hell their names were—only had eyes for Ted. They clearly had designs on getting him, or maybe even both of us, into bed. I wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised.
I should have known this would happen. It’s most likely Karl’s revenge on me for killing his brother, Reggie. He’ll steal the man I thought I was in love with, just like—to his eyes—I stole his brother.
There, I said it. Although I won’t admit to murder, I will admit I took Reggie away. But I was trying to do the kid some good—free him from the chains of his addiction and promiscuity. And then Reggie was killed. Sad to say, and few would seriously argue with me, he deserved it. I can admit this much, at least to myself. His death was justified, or—if not justified—at least rationalized. One who puts his hands into the fire must expect to get burned, right?
I’d given him chance after chance after chance to rehabilitate himself, to become the decent guy I knew he could be. Yet he didn’t know the meaning of the word fidelity. He’d cuckolded me more times than I could count. And besides, if he hadn’t been murdered, he would have killed himself sooner or later.
I simply couldn’t take it anymore. When I came down with gonorrhea for the second time in our relationship, and I’d been with no one else, I knew I had to get rid of him—for my own personal health. Really, it was a kind of self-defense. I’d followed him too and watched him go into the bathhouse on Halsted, Steamworks, more than once. Guys don’t go to that place for polite conversation and a cup of tea. No, that place is a hotbed, pun intended, of sexually-transmitted infections and promiscuity. Not surprising. The two go hand-in-hand.
I planned on breaking up with him the next day.
But then someone took that option away…
That boy was rotten to the core, despite the goofy, charming exterior. His brother was in deep denial. His killer did Karl, and his whole family, a favor. Murder in an alley isn’t the most dignified way to die, but at least Karl was spared from seeing his brother dying in some bathhouse room, veins full of meth, ass full of come.
And now Karl has chosen the one man I love to try and nab as his own.
I won’t stand for it. I can’t.
I exit the car, keeping as far back as I can to follow them. I walk slowly, trying to look nonchalant, as they make their way across the small beach-access street, laden down with the cat carrier and garbage bags. I hang back a few minutes, knowing their progress will be slow.
