Chasing Shadows Page 2

  I sit here smoking cigarettes, looking at my pretend ocean from my perch on my make believe ship, until my leg starts to fall asleep. I'm just stretching it out when I hear foot falls behind me. I look back, past Lincoln, but it's so well lit here on the monument that the world beyond is all ink and shadows. Suddenly, taken with a reasonable fear of discovery, I hop down behind the railing and press my body against the wall. The footsteps stop. I hold my breath. Were the sounds real? Do shadows make sounds now? Silence stretches out for a tense, little eternity then the footsteps start again. They're closer now. I take a deep breath. I'm not sure if I'm more scared to meet a phantom or a real person at this time of night. So, I bolt, running flat out over the ocean lawn towards the sidewalk a block away.

  "Hey!" A female voice calls out.

  I keep running, not looking back.

  "Hey, Meegan, you moron, look around."

  I stop and turn, feeling stupid and relieved. "Hey what's up?" I call, walking casually back. It's a girl from work, but I don't remember her name, and it's too late to ask. We've been sort-of friends now for weeks. The girl has long, straight, black hair and is supernaturally thin. At least she's also short, which lessens the blow of her being both pretty and nice.

  "Who'd you think I was?" She asks with a grin.

  "Fuck if I know." I smile back.

  The girl, who I secretly refer to as Shelving Fairy since she works with me on the night shift shelving books, shoves her hands nervously into her pockets. "Come here often?" Shelving Fairy is trying to joke but her tone is tense.

  I consider asking her what's wrong, but I figure if Shelving Fairy wants me to know, Shelving Fairy will tell me. So instead I cock and eyebrow and ask: "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

  Shelving Fairy laughs and nods her head towards the monument. "Enjoying public art."

  "Me too."

  "So..." My dark haired friend looks around, trying for casual, but achieving paranoid. "Wanna walk with me?"

  I shrug. "Sure. Where to?"

  "That way." Shelving Fairy points North and West.

  "Awesome. I love that way."

  Shelving Fairy smiles and starts off at a fast clip. "Good lets go."

  I scramble to match her pace. For several minutes the two of us walk quickly in silence. We go west one block and north the next, then west, then north and so on until Grant Park is a calm, still memory. I am torn between feeling an awkward desire to think of something to say, and trying to be grateful for the kind friendship where silence is acceptable. Except it isn't, is it? Have I really known Shelving Fairy long enough for this? Have we bonded so well stocking books that we can now enjoy this easy silence? Which isn't really easy anyway, as I am exerting an embarrassing and considerable effort to modulate my breathing so as not to sound like an asthmatic Saint Bernard.

  "Oh fuck it." I say, breaking the silence. I stop where I am, and lean against the wall of a closed drug store.

  "What? What is it?" Shelving Fairy asks.

  After a few breaths and some phlegmy coughs I light up a Camel. "You still here? I figured you'd have made it to Canada by now. Why'd you stop?"

  Shelving Fairy looks guilty. "Sorry. I know it's... I know I seem weird right now, but I had to get out of the park."

  I shrug. "Yeah I got that part." I say. "So we still need to hurry? Running makes you look guilty you know." Shelving Fairy laughs a little. I notice how white her teeth are and swallow yet another cause for jealousy. Flash on her teeth, what would they feel like to my tongue? Fuck, don't think that! Bet they taste like mint. Straight face, straight face.

  "We don't have to go so fast I guess, but can we keep going?"

  "Yeah sure. Just keep us smokers in mind. We're a dying breed you know."

  As we start off again Shelving Fairy looks at me strangely. "Can I bum one?" She asks in a pitiful little voice.

  "You don't smoke."

  "I used to, and I could really use one." Shelving Fairy runs her hands through her hair.

  I glow at her and offer a Camel. "Always ready to welcome a lost sheep back to the fold." I say and its true; smokers love it when you smoke, its vindicating.

  "Thanks. Listen, you wanna get some food?"

  "Yeah, Golden Waffle?"

  "Where's that?"

  "Two more blocks up and about four that way."

  Shelving Fairy shakes her head. "Too close to the water."

  Silently I give the girl props for weirdest reply of the evening by a character other than me. We keep walking for a few steps. "So..." I begin.

  "Look." Shelving Fairy cuts me off. "Never mind, okay? Golden Waffle is fine. We'll sit in the back." I am about to tell her to relax when I stop myself. When was the last time I got to be the normal one? The calm, reasonable one? So I just smile instead. This is great.

  "So you wanna talk?" asks Shelving Fairy.

  "Huh? About what?"

  "Anything: work, school, your family, early childhood."

  I look sideways at Shelving Fairy. "You're the one who seems like she has something interesting to say."

  Shelving Fairy shrugs. "Maybe, but I don't want to talk about it. So you talk. Distract me."

  "Not much to say." I answer. "Let's see, there's that new guy at work, what's his face with the squirrelly eyebrows."

  "Doug."

  "Whatever, Doug. He likes you."

  "He has squirrelly eyebrows?"

  "You haven't noticed? They curl like linoleum, gay, stringy, fucking linoleum. You could braid those bitches. And he's in love with you."

  Shelving Fairy makes a face like 'whatever' but she preens a little and straightens her shirt so I can tell she's pleased. "He is not in love with me."

  "Of course he is." I lower my voice to the generic imitate-a-guy pitch. "Here let me lift that book for you. I'm going to the store can I get you something? So, uh, I'm in this band." I square my shoulders and look at my bicep. "Yeah I just came from Balley's, you know, total fitness."

  Shelving Fairy laughs. "He's just being nice."

  I gasp dramatically. "You like him! Ha! Another love connection blossoms at the Flagship."

  Shelving Fairy rolls her eyes. "What about you? Who are you seeing?"

  "Nobody. So you're seeing him?"

  "No, but I might. He's a nice guy."

  "Eyebrows." I whisper.

  "I like 'em bushy." Shelving Fairy replies. We both laugh. I wonder if this would be a good time to ask Shelving Fairy her name.

  "Do you live around here?" Shelving Fairy asks me.

  "Nope. North side."

  "Huh. So you came down here for what, Drugs? Prostitution? Cause I hear you can get better of either up there."

  I laugh a little, just as much as the comment merits. "I just troll around at night and my neighborhood's not that bad."

  "So, drugs then."

  "Look, there it is." I point to the little yellow sign that says 'Golden Waffle'. "Two more blocks."

  "Good I'm starving, and quit ducking questions unless you're a secret agent, in which case I promise I'll never tell."

  I am taken aback. If she only knew how unlikely it is that I'd actually have foresight to dodge anything. "It's not like I know much about you either." I say.

  Shelving Fairy glares at me, and I feel guilty for some reason. "You know everything. I'm from New York. I moved here for school. I live in the dorms. I have two sisters. I'm twenty. Hell no one at work even knows your age. What's with that?"

  "I don't know." Ah fuck, now she thinks I don't remember our conversations, just like Ashley. Am I really this bad of a person?

  "Look I'm not that hungry anyway so if you don't want to talk that's cool. I can go."

  Panic, anger. "Jesus, I know you're running from the mob or some shit but don't take it out on me, and anyway I meant it, like, I really don't know. I don't know how old I am other than mid-twenties. I don't know where I come from or where I was born, or raised, or by who, or anything."

  "Fuck you
Meegan. You are so weird."

  I sigh. Why am I about to confess this to Shelving Fairy? Because she remembers my name, that's why. "Really. Three years ago, give or take, I washed up on the beach near downtown in the middle of February. Some lady called it in. Thought I was a corpse. I can't remember shit. Don't tell anyone."

  "Bullshit."

  "Whatever, Google it. Coming to breakfast?"

  "Huh. I don't necessarily believe you, but it's an interesting lie. So, yes, I will allow you to consume food at the same table as me."

  ***

  Shelving Fairy is quiet, unnervingly so, as we look over the menus. I remove my hoodie and from it take my Camels and lighter, placing them on the table between us. Shelving Fairy doesn't even look up at me before reaching out and grabbing another one of my cigarettes.

  "Like ridding a bike isn't it?" I say.

  "Hmm. What are you getting? And if your so amnesiated how do you know you name's Meegan and what about ID cards, social security numbers, bank accounts, all that stuff?"

  I light up a smoke as well. Less than half a pack left. I wonder if I have any more at home of if I need to go out and buy another carton. I guess my silence stretched out for too long because Shelving Fairy smacks the menu on the table to get my attention.

  "Hello? It's called a conversation, weirdo. You have to participate."

  I sniff and flash a sideways smile. "What were you running from?"

  "I told you, I'm not talking about it."

  "Bullshit. You're dying to tell me. I can feel it. Besides you know I'm good with secrets. You can say anything and I'll never tell a soul."

  Shelving Fairy takes a delicate drag on her cigarette. "There's no proof that everyone has a soul, so you're promise means nothing."

  I laugh before I realize that Shelving Fairy wasn't joking. "Well shit." I say.

  Shelving Fairy turns in her seat looking out the window several booths away. "You first anyway."

  "I'm going for the ham and cheese omelet with a side of sweet potato fries, since you asked."

  "Okay, good start." says Shelving Fairy. "I think I'll get a blueberry waffle because I damn well deserve one, and a diet coke."

  At this moment the waitress returns. She looks from one of us to the other. "I heard you ladies." She says. "So if that's what you want I've got it down. Anything to drink for you?" She asks me.

  "Water is good, and coffee."

  "Thank you. Need cream?"

  "That'd be great thanks." The waitress leaves and Shelving Fairy looks expectantly in my direction. "When they found me they took me to the hospital."

  "Naturally." Shelving Fairy has a sparkle of disbelief about her.

  I roll my eyes and continue. "There was a white board in the room where they write the name of your nurse every shift. One of the nurses' names was Meegan. She was pretty, but rude sometimes. Jones I just picked out of the air."

  "So you named yourself after a rude nurse."

  I shrug. "I wasn't feeling so hot, and I figured I didn't want to aim too high." Shelving Fairy laughs and after a beat I join her. "The other stuff was a hassle but not too bad. The cops got me a social worker, Melody Smith. Again, you can Google it. She got me all legalized and she still calls or stops by when I miss too many appointments, which is a lot."

  "Why does she stop by? Aren't you all adjusted? You have a job and place to live, at least I'm assuming you're not homeless."

  "I'm not homeless. My case is still open and will be until my memory comes back, which could be any second now or never. So I'll probably always be in the system unless I leave the city. I can't imagine the city police department would really care enough to keep up with me if I disappeared."

  "They never found out who you were? What about your parents? Your friends? Were you in school? You could have like, a PHD and you'd never know it."

  I nod. "True. I could also have like a million dollars in student loans, a defunct mortgage, and an arrest record. I wouldn't know any of that shit either. Trust me I've thought about it."

  Shelving Fairy considers. "So it's not all bad then."

  "Nah. I'm cool with it. You're turn."

  Shelving Fairy sulks. "I thought your story would be so much more interesting than that. It's kind of a let down."

  I laugh. "Sorry my life is a disappointment to you... You're turn!"

  "Yeah, Okay." Shelving Fairy snubs out her smoke and before she can start talking the food arrives. We eat in silence for a few minutes. I get distracted by the television hanging from the corner of the diner. It's muted but hey, moving pictures are moving pictures right? The sound of silverware hitting an empty plate draws my attention back to the table. Holy cow! Shelving Fairy can really pack it in. What's it been three minutes? Shelving Fairy is all done and pulling money out of her pocket.

  "Hey!" I say. "Spill it."

  Shelving Fairy glares. "Not that it's any of your business, but I did happen to engage in some slightly illegal activities related to herb like plants that are common in nature and so should not even be illegal. I saw a cop car cruise by the fountain, which is where I was with this guy. The car flashed its siren for a sec and the guy, His name is Froilan. He's from Hungary. He's pretty cool, goes to my school. He's a video major. Anyway he freaked out and ran towards the water so the police were chasing him and I decided to head west."

  "Oh."

  Shelving Fairy looks a little sheepish. "Yeah, maybe I got a little paranoid."

  "A little." I smirk. "I totally thought you'd have a cool story, but it turns out you're just exactly as disappointing as I am."

  Shelving Fairy laughs at this. "I don't know, I'm pretty disappointed."

  "You still high?"

  "Eh." Shelving Fairy shrugs. "A little. I could eat about four more of those waffles so I think we'd better go before I order them. Hey you're not like one of those drugs-are-bad-you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself people are you?"

  I scowl. "I don't know. I could be any kind of person at all, but in my three long years of life experience, I'd say I don't know enough yet to be able to pass judgment on you... Not for smoking up anyway."

  "You smoke?"

  "Nah. My brain's already damaged, so who knows what drugs would do?"

  "Seriously." Shelving Fairy looks at me dumb founded.

  I nod. "Yup seriously."

  "Huh." Shelving Fairy slurps up the last of her diet coke through her straw. "Well you have to let me dye your hair then. You're roots are killing me."

  That caught me by surprise. I laugh loudly, charmed. "Sure, whatever. What color?'

  Shelving Fairy shrugs. "I'll think about it, but we're doing it this week for sure."

  "I work all week."

  "Yeah for eight hours a night. Oooo, where will you find the time?" She says sarcastically.

  I sigh. "I have to sleep."

  "Well what time do you wake up every day?"

  "Sixish."

  Shelving Fairy's eyes bug out a little. "That leaves like, five freaking hours every day. Plenty of time, trust me. Here," Shelving Fairy hands me her phone. "Put you're cell number in there. I'll call you and we'll work it out."

  I obey but say. "I don't always answer my phone though, especially if I don't know the number."

  Shelving Fairy shakes her head. "Why not? Ducking bill collectors you don't have? It's a 312 number. You'll answer. You'll think its work calling."

  "Ha!" I say. "There's no area code I'm less likely to pick up for."

  "Fine. Hand me your goddam phone, and put some money on the table so we can get out of here, before I start eating the napkins."

  I smile, handing over my phone and Shelving Fairy smiles back. I'm totally gonna get her name now. When Shelving Fairy hands it back I bring up the phone book to look for the new number. I don't have to look far. There it is. The first entry is now a 312 number listed as 'answer the fucking phone' which is too long for the space so it ticks by like stock numbers. "Cute." I say.

  "I thought so." Shelving Fairy
replies. "Look I'll see you at work tomorrow. I'm gonna go home K?"

  "Yeah sure. Hope you're friend's okay."

  "Huh?"

  "The Hungarian, pot head, video major."

  Shelving Fairy nods. "Ohhh Froilan... yeah I forgot." Shelving Fairy giggles. "Later!"

  I exhale heavily as Shelving Fairy hops up and takes off. I finish the rest of my omelet, and the waitress brings the check. When I see the check I sigh again. Shelving Fairy didn't leave enough money. Shelving Fairy only left three dollars. Crazy, pot head Shelving Fairy. Good thing I brought enough money. I pay for the meal and leave Shelving Fairy's three dollars for the tip. Ashley would have never done that... but fuck Ashley, honestly.

  ***

  I watch as the sunrise turns all the windows amber-gold. Soft light like this makes the city seem clean and wholesome. All the junkies have crawled back to their corners and are sleeping it off. All the teenage gangsters have filed back to their mother's houses. The day walkers are alert but quiet at 8 AM. I am standing on the Randolph platform just north of downtown. It's the one closest to Golden Waffle, naturally. It's crowded up here with hundreds of men and women in suits every shade of gray, the charcoal universe. The South bound train arrives and ninety-seven percent of the commuters cram their wool and linen covered bodies into it. I stay put. As they pull out, a brisk breeze stings my cheeks. I take a deep breath of it, filling my lungs with exhaust-a-la-pancakes. There's another diner below me. I'm headed north, home, home at last. It's been a weird night. I rub my hand over my face. It comes back oily. I wipe it on my jeans. I wonder what I look like to all those healthy, busy, day people. This has got to be the one time of day I actually appreciate them. They're off to make the world safe for democracy and all that, to stave off Armageddon another day. If a nuclear holocaust ever comes on America, it'll come by day I think. Maybe I'll sleep through it. Ah, here comes my train.

  Chapter Two

  I am standing quietly in the elevator. I am currently sharing it with four customers who are going up. They seem young and obnoxious to me, can't be older that fifteen. I have my ear buds in, Aerosmith blaring. The teenagers glance at me every few seconds. They're obviously speaking in whispers, but it’s for their own benefit. I can't hear and don't care what they're saying. The elevator stops on the third floor. The four kids get out, going no doubt to try and shoplift the latest gangster rap CD by whoever. As they leave, my eyes are drawn to the back of their waist lines which must be what they intended. Two of the girls are wearing neon bright thongs that stick up over their low-rise, painted on jeans. Is that still a thing? Their exposed flesh looks red, must be cold. It’s October for Christ's sake. I raise an eyebrow.