Chasing Shadows (22 page)

"Ah. It's cool Qasim. I take the El everywhere,
but listen..."

"You're cancelling."

"No. Shit man, relax."

"Okay." He sounds nervous.

"I might be late is all. I have to drop off
this box at my place, and I don't know where I am so I
could
be on time, but that'll depend on how long it takes me to figure
out how to get home from here."

"You don't know where you are?"

"This is a common thing with me." I say
dismissively. "Should I dress up for tonight? That could push back
the timeframe too." I balance the box on my bag so now I can smoke
and talk but not walk. It's like having a land line.

"Uh, whatever you wear is cool."

Aw, that's sweet. "I
might
be on time."
I reassure him.

"I could come get you." He offers. "Do you like
art?"

"Depends on the art, sweetheart." I
rhyme.

He's smiling, I can hear it in his voice.
"There's an opening in my neighborhood. I thought we could hit that
and then get food."

"I love food."

"Good." He says.

"So, you know where I live?"

"No."

"You know Glenwood Street?" I ask.

"What's it by?"

I sigh. "Maybe I should just meet you at your
place, like we said."

"That could be awhile."

"So."

"I work tomorrow."

Ah! Yes Meegan, other people have lives too.
"Hey, maybe
you
know where I am." He laughs again. I like
that. "You know a building called the James building?"

"Actually I do." He says. "It's not far from
me."

Wonderful. "Well I'm actually standing in front
of the James building."

"Great."
Now
he's squeaking. "Let me
just call Ralph. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Hey thanks." I say.

"Yeah, no problem." He sounds excited. I find
myself smiling wide. Maybe I've been too hard on him. How nice is
it to have someone want to impress you so much? "Bye." He
says.

"Bye." I slip the phone into my pocket. I could
walk now but I don't need to. I feel weird standing in front of an
apartment building in a strange neighborhood but whatever. I'm
waiting on a ride. I have a right to be here. At least I have
cigarettes. Smoking gives a person certain legitimacy in situations
like these. It's cold. I bend over and rest the shoebox between my
feet so I can have free hands to zip up my jacket. This is boring.
I finish my cigarette and light up another. I'm trying to smoke
slowly. It’s not like I
need
the nicotine, but its so cold
out here I'm smoking like a squirrel. I know squirrels don't smoke,
but the imagery is correct none the less.

Occasionally a car or a van drives by, and I
stare at them trying to see the driver behind the headlights. Two
drivers in a row, each in a minivan, flip me off, and I start to
think I should call Qasim and ask him what kind of car he’s
driving.

I'm half way through my third cigarette, when a
white Ford Taurus comes coasting slowly down the block. I stare at
the car. If this isn't Qasim I hope it’s not a psycho killer is all
I can think. The car stops in front of me, and I'm relieved to see
Qasim's big dark eyes looking out and his long fingers on the
steering wheel. Okay, still attractive sober, good to know. I smile
and bend to get my box. Qasim throws the Taurus in park and hops
out to open the door for me.

"Thanks." I say as I get in.

"Yeah, of course." He responds. "What's in the
box?" But he closes the door before I answer.

"Letters." I say when he gets in the driver's
side.

"To you?"

I laugh. "It's complicated."

I see his eyebrow arch.

I sigh. "I don't know how much I want to
explain to you."

His face turns to hurt and then hurt but hiding
it.

"Fine, these are x rated print outs of computer
correspondence between two girls who may or may not have been sex
workers. One of the girls is dead and the other could be me, but
I'm not sure yet."

He looks at me, processing. "Cool."

I nod. "Yeah, I can't wait to read
them."

"Can I?"

I laugh. "I thought we were hitting an art
exhibit."

"We can..."

"Ha! We can but you'd rather read porn." Qasim
grins and so do I. This is way less awkward than I thought it'd be.
"To tell you the truth I'm sort of dying to read these. Not because
of the juicy stuff but because they might have some good
information for me. Maybe I can find out if I'm this girl or not.
All I need is one solid detail to help me either confirm or deny
it."

Qasim reaches over and taps the box. "Who's
number?"

"Oh." I say. "Sara and Lexi."

Qasim gasps. "Jesus, Sara and Lexi?"

I smirk. "No, just Sara and Lexi. Why? You know
them?"

His eyes are bugged out. "They're like,
legends."

"Legends of what?"

He shakes his head. "Never mind; you'll think
I'm a perv."

I laugh. "Now you
have
to tell me or
I'll think something that's sooo much worse than what you can
imagine."

Qasim shrugs. "Internet porn."

"Huh." I say. "Well that's not very
interesting."

"They're local and they have a web cam... I
mean not that I've ever watched or anything."

"Of course not." He looks embarrassed. I reach
over and squeeze his shoulder. This surprises him and he jumps a
bit. I guess I've gotten used to Schuyler who I can touch casually
without it meaning anything. "Sorry."

"No, no; that's cool. Just wasn't expecting
it."

I lean back and roll my head to the left to
stare at him while he drives. He's wearing a jeans and a white
button down shirt with little tan stripes under a navy colored
winter coat. Even with the bulk of the coat I notice his frame.
Damn he's skinny, but look at that hair.

"How much farther?" I ask like a
kid.

He grins a little. "Just two more blocks to my
house."

"Does Ralph live near you? Is that how you got
here so quickly?"

Qasim nods. "Yeah Ralph and Francis live in the
basement of my building. I have the first floor and some dude has
the second, but I don't really know him yet. He just moved
in."

"That's cool. Is that how you guys
met?"

Qasim shakes his head. "No. Ralph was my
supervisor when I was in school, and doing work study at the
Bursar’s office."

Huh. "You know, I don't know shit about you. I
guess you'd better tell me the basics. Where do you work, go to
school, all that stuff?"

Qasim keeps his eyes on the road. "I'm not that
interesting. I work as a chemical engineer for Milltech, which is
really just an impressive way of saying I pour hydraulic acid and
other things into beakers and vials full of hydraulic acid and
other things while taking copious notes about it all day
long."

"Wow, actually. That's so much better than
retail."

He laughs. "Is it?"

"Its gotta pay better."

He nods and looks sheepish. "It
does."

"So you're out of school."

"At the moment. I might get a doctorate
someday, but I have to save up for it. The bank of Mom and Dad
stopped at a Masters."

"Still, nice bank."

"I guess so, yeah."

I smile. "So Qasim, who engineers chemicals
with his masters’ degree, and sings, and plays guitar for a band
called Condition, What's your last name?"

He pulls into a shallow driveway and turns to
me. "Landry."

My eyes go wide and I blink several times. "Are
you joking?" Oh shit, that is so un-PC, but I would have bet money
he'd have a more complicated surname.

He laughs. "My dad's half white."

"Oh, Qasim Landry. I wonder if I'll remember
that."

"You'll remember."

Ha! How little he knows me. I look out the
window. I have only the vaguest drunken recollection of this place.
It looks respectable. Qasim hops out of the car and strides around
to open my door. That's nice. "So how old are you?" I ask as I
stand up.

"Twenty eight." He replies. "Too old for
you?"

I shrug. "Hell if I know." This makes him smile
which is also nice. "You smoke? I don't remember."

He makes a noncommittal face and places his
left hand on my back. "Sometimes." We climb the steps and he lets
me in. We enter the kitchen.
This
I remember. Its good sized
with dated cabinets and large chunky appliances. I set the shoebox
on the white Formica table. Qasim's hand is still on my back. I
look up at him. I like his face. His skin is so pretty with that
stark white shirt. It feels like one of those moments, the kind
that either pass unmarked or dissolve into face sucking. After a
beat he breaks eye contact. I smile a little, pass
unmarked.

"What?" Ha asks.

"Nothing." I unzip my jacket. "Are we going out
now, or after a while?"

"After a while. The opening starts at
eight."

I remove my jacket. Under it I'm wearing a
loose green V-neck sweater. I check my phone, 7:25. "How far away
is it?"

He shrugs. "Five minute walk."

"Hmm, thought you said cab." I jest. Qasim
removes his hand from my back and looks affronted, like I'm being
unreasonable. I just smirk at him until he realizes I was joking.
It takes about ten seconds. He blows out some air and smiles at the
floor. I brush some hair behind my ear. Silence grows. He takes off
his coat and I stare at his hands. "Wanna read?" I ask. I can't
wait to get to these letters.

He grins. "You'll let me?"

"Oh yeah. Just keep in mind that I don't know
what's in these letters at all, so I'm not responsible."

"Okay."

"And if you can, it would help for you to jot
down pertinent information that I could use to research these
girls."

Qasim gestures for me to wait and speeds off
into the house. He returns momentarily with a legal pad and a pen.
"You want to read here, or in the living room?"

"Be more comfortable on a couch I
think."

"Yeah." Qasim picks up the box and leads me
down the hall. The bedroom I remember is on our left and after we
pass that, we enter a large living room on the back side of the
house. The walls are white. The furniture is blue. There's a couch,
a loveseat and a recliner, obviously a set. It looks like a
bachelor pad: sparse, plenty of electronics, huge TV, almost no
decorative style. There's a poster of some chemical formula on the
wall that's probably a joke I wouldn't get. It’s cleanish in here.
By that I mean that there's no trash lying around, and no spoiled
food, but the floors need to be swept, and may never have been
mopped.

We settle in on the couch. I'm sitting cross
legged facing him. The box is between us. "I have no idea what's in
these." I reiterate.

"How do you want to do this?" His voice has
gone a little horse. "Do we just dig in, read in order or
what?"

I take a deep breath. I don't like the idea of
him reading letters I haven't read yet. "I want to read them
first."

"Let's read at the same time. I'll read over
your shoulder and you can tell me what details to write
down."

I nod slowly. "Sounds reasonable." I lift the
box and scoot over next to him. My heart rate is increasing. I'll
just pretend he's not here. That's the only way to do this. I lift
the lid and pick out the top paper. It's to Madeline from Kelly...
"Holy shit. They jut start right in don't they?" We read silently
for a minute. I'm intently aware of Qasim's breathing. Wow. I have
to agree with the roommates, Kelly really knows how to
say
things. When I've read it, I turn without making eye contact. "You
done?"

"Yeah." He says softly.

"So... We learned Kelly lived in South
Florida."

"We did?"

I nod. "We did. Write it down."

Qasim shakes himself and writes
Kelly -
South Florida
on the legal pad. "Okay."

"Also it sounded like she had a boyfriend that
she..."

"That he doesn't..." Qasim offers.

"Yeah, just keep that in mind while we're
reading in case either of them mentions a name."

"Okay."

"Ready?"

"Ready." Qasim wraps his left arm around me.
It's all warm and comfortable. I smile and carefully set the read
letter face down to one side, while picking up the next one from
the box. This one is from Madeline to Kelly. What can I say? More
graphic, but less juicy if that makes any sense. The writer of this
pair is definitely Kelly, while it seems the entrepreneur is
Madeline. There's nothing to learn in this letter except maybe
which lube to avoid during oral.