Chapter 15
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Shondell watched as her brother exited the car, heading toward one of those hideous three-story white brick apartment building that could most kindly be described as utilitarian.
A walkway and, above that, a balcony, ran the length of the building.
Residents accessed doors from this walkway, this balcony.
Shondell leaned over a bit more in the passenger seat, her head against the glass, to observe her brother ascending the stairs.
It was dark and starless. Winter. But there was no snow falling—only a bleak, moonless sky dyed a sickly yellow-orange by light pollution.
What snow there was out there piled up in ugly, grayish-black mounds beside the road and at the edges of the parking lot.
That busy road swarmed with cars and semis, even though it was well after midnight.
Shondell couldn’t imagine a bleaker place to live. She also couldn’t imagine what she was doing here, with her older brother. He’d come by earlier, saying he wanted to take his little sister out for an ice cream sundae. They’d been to Marge’s in Wicker Park and gorged.
Happy memory intact, until…
They were done and she thought they would head home, maybe watch a little TV.
But Josh insisted they ‘take a little ride.’ He drove down to the Bridgeport neighborhood. Shondell only knew of it because it was where Mayor Daley was from—it was famous for that, its working-class roots, and the back-of-the-yards kids talked about.
She started getting impatient, alone in the car with nothing to do.
Josh had given her no clue whose building this was or why they were there.
Shondell wondered if her brother was now into drugs and was looking to score.
This decrepit apartment building seemed like the perfect place to pick up some weed or coke.
But that didn’t seem likely. Her brother was a prude who didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t date.
Shondell often joked that he was like a monk.
When she did, he’d scowl and say something like, “What? You want me to end up like Mom?”
And even though Shondell agreed with this critical judgment, she knew in her heart, she still loved their mother.
Sure, Mom had plenty of faults, the list topped with drinking, many men, and abandoning her and Josh, but there was still an indescribable link to the woman.
Shondell had all these memories of childhood games, bedtime stories, and summer trips to their aunt’s little cottage by the lake in Indiana.
Mom had once been sweet, before it all turned sour and Shondell kept the sweet memories close to her heart, although, these days, she rarely spoke of them.
How long had it been since Mom had even visited, let alone do any kind of mothering? Years?
Shondell stared and stared at the bleak night, wondering if her brother would ever come out.
Minutes passed, then a half hour. Her head drooped and she woke herself with a sudden snore that sounded like a pig’s oink.
Josh would have teased her. She sat up straighter in her seat.
Her head drooped again, and the next time she woke, drool dripped down her chin.
“Geez.” She wiped the saliva away with the back of her hand.
Fresh air would return her to the land of the living.
Even though Josh implied she should simply wait in the car, she could comply no longer.
She pulled up the handle to open the car door.
The interior light came on and a dinging noise commenced because the keys were still in the ignition.
Shondell quickly closed the door to silence the dinging and to darken the sudden illumination. She had no concrete idea for why, but she knew Josh would be mad if he saw her getting out.
The air outside wasn’t much of an improvement. It stank of smoke and car exhaust. She peered north and could make out the twinkling towers of the Chicago skyline.
It seemed like another world.
She took a few steps toward the stairs she’d seen Josh go up such a short time ago. Should she follow? She looked up and saw that only one apartment, on the third floor, had its lights on, but the curtains were shut firmly in the window.
Something told her not to dare.
And then Josh came out, closing the door behind himself. He hadn’t spotted Shondell standing just below, maybe the walkway blocked his view. But she knew she didn’t dare dash to the car now; he’d see her.
He saw her anyway as he rushed down the stairs. Their gazes met and he frowned. When he got to her, he said, “I thought I told you to stay in the car.”
“Shut up. You’re not my boss. Besides, I was getting sleepy and had no idea when you’d come back. I needed some air. What were you doing, anyway?”
“Nothing.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. He simply got in the car. She waited a second and then joined him.
Josh stared ahead for a long time before he lowered his forehead to the steering wheel and began to sob. Shondell had never seen her brother cry. And seeing his anguish aroused little empathy in her.
What it aroused was rage. The anger grew inside, like a trapped wild animal.
Something with fangs. Something protective, yet cruel.
As they drove away, she stared up at the yellow lights of her mother’s run-down place and vowed she’d never love the woman again.
Shondell was like that. Her love could wither and die quicker than a blink.
But not for Josh. No, never for him.
*
Now, Shondell pulled the earbuds out and set them on her nightstand. She slid down in her bed and pulled the sheet and down comforter up over her. She wondered aloud,
“Why didn’t I tell him the truth? An omission is a lie and your lies to Bailey Anderson could have lethal consequences.
” She shrugged. It was better, she thought, to put him off Josh’s scent.
She’d always been the little sister, but she’d never been the one who needed help, who needed looking out for.
That was Josh.
She recalled when they were little kids and how he’d play Barbies with her. He’d kill her if she ever revealed how much he enjoyed dressing Barbie and Stacy up in various ball gowns and glitzy outfits.
Who’d care? Especially these days, when everything had become gender neutral. Boys could play with dolls and girls?
Well, Shondell thought, smiling, girls could play with knives.
She recalled how Josh had come into her room one time to find her creating a murderous tableau with her dolls.
She’d made the scene hyper-realistic by removing the heads of one of the dolls and cutting off part of her neck.
She’d filled Barbie’s body cavity with watered-down ketchup.
The ketchup looked realistic as poor Barbie, wondering in to a bad part of town, was stabbed over and over again in her back.
It was a nightmare scene and Shondell recalled being weirdly excited.
When Josh had seen her, hands “bloodied,” he’d simply turned and walked out of the room.
The two of them never mentioned the scene again.
Maybe Josh had begun to think he’d imagined it.
Shondell shrunk further down so the sheets were almost over her head. The guilt she had lived with and rationalized over these many years hurt her deep in her gut. The guilt was so strong she sometimes felt like she didn’t deserve to live. Do I?
But then she remembered how devoted Josh had been to her when they were growing up. How he filled the space of parents that were, present or not, in absentia. He was devoted and gave her everything. Most important among these things—his time, his love, his presence.
Sure, things had changed over the years.
They’d grown apart, especially after her marriage.
He didn’t come to her wedding and seemed to want no part of her life once she’d become a wife.
The chasm grew wider after the birth of her first child.
And even when that child, a little boy, perished because of what they referred to as crib death back then, Josh still didn’t come around. He didn’t even send a card.
But now…
Now, people were in danger once again. She’d rationalized Reginald Baker’s murder, told herself that some folks didn’t deserve to live, especially if they harmed her brother.
The fact, though, that the police stopped seeing Josh as a suspect or person of interest ten years ago only served to relieve her.
Now, though? She had cause to worry once more.
The weight on her shoulders was growing.
Even though she adored her brother more than anyone else on earth, even she had to admit—he hadn’t been innocent for years. She wondered if he ever had.
They were both rotten, twisted in their own ways. That’s what made them such a bonded pair.
She sat up suddenly in bed, trembling, and wondering when or if she could ever get enough courage to speak out against him. To accuse, if only if it would relieve her own worry, her own shame and guilt.
Because in the end, as much as she loved her brother, she feared she could no longer hold him in her mind as worthy.