Eden
Patsy/Eden met Porter three months after Tony died. She’d been mourning, sad and depressed, and rarely left the house. Her parents, worried about her state of mind, finally convinced her to come with them to a church fundraiser in Quincy. They were no longer Catholics, due to the never-ending priests’ sex scandals, and now belonged to a Presbyterian church. The church had organized a fundraiser to help fight the opioid crisis, which was hitting the Midwest hard.
Eden never quite understood why Porter had turned up at the church in the first place and was too polite to ask, but it had only taken him a few minutes to catch her eye. She remembered the flutter of attraction deep in her stomach when she checked him out, the flutter that told her she might recover from Tony’s death after all. Porter seemed to sense her vulnerability and need, and he sparkled with personality and charm. He was the magnet, and she was steel. She didn’t stand a chance.
Now, “Lisa” disembarked from the train and walked into Union Station. It had changed since she and Tony had hurried through twelve years earlier, focused on checking into their room and getting down to sex. When you were nineteen, your life was ruled by hormones. Now she noticed that the cavernous room had been restored. Daylight poured in from a huge skylight that ran the length of the room. Benches where weary travelers could rest had been refinished, and a huge electronic sign in the center of the room listed arrivals and departure times and gates.
Once someone descended the stairs to the underground, though, it was possible to get lost. Signs pointed to various subways and streets. More signs directed people to the El, back to the train station, or to a few office buildings. But the majority of the underground corridors consisted of shops filled with traveling gear, electronics, and food. Those shops seemed to crook their finger at her, and she took her time exploring the maze, whose twists and turns stretched at least a football field in length. Even though the shops had changed in the years since she and Tony had hurried through, she still had the same thought. For Eden, the underground was a secret city buried underneath the real one.
She walked around until she found a subway map of Chicago and eventually emerged on Randolph, one of the few loop streets not named for a president. Busy noontime traffic clogged the roads, and pedestrians hustled up, down, and across them. The only indication of Covid were the masks worn by most pedestrians.
Eden recalled how much she liked the clatter of the El perched fifty feet above the streets as it rounded a corner, the car horns honking endlessly, even the never-ending traffic. There was an appealing anonymity to the big city. She was no longer Eden Christiansen, mother of three, Mormon wife. She wasn’t even Patsy Ryan from Quincy, daughter of Harvey and Ruth. Here, she could be Lisa or whoever she wanted. Go wherever she wanted. The fear she’d been harboring melted away. Feeling almost carefree, she joined the throng of pedestrians.
As she walked west on Randolph, she remembered it was impossible to get lost in downtown Chicago. Lake Michigan was always east, so she could never lose her bearings. That wouldn’t apply the farther away from the lake she went, but she’d only been to Chicago twice, and both times she’d stayed close to the water. She reasoned that hotels, apartments, and homes were less expensive the farther away one went, and she recalled that Chicago’s city limits were something like twelve miles from the tip of the South Side to the Evanston border. She would need a place as far from downtown as she could afford. And a job. But which first? She only had about a hundred dollars left.
She was walking past the Marshall Fields building wondering why the store had sold out to Macy’s—Fields had been as much a Chicago landmark as Lake Michigan—when two burly cops approached from the opposite direction. A moment of panic rolled over her. Had Porter already contacted the Chicago police about his missing wife? She was ready to duck into the department store before she realized the timing was wrong. They couldn’t have been notified so soon. It had been less than twelve hours since she left. These were just patrol officers. They might even be useful.
She smiled as they came abreast of her. One was decidedly younger and taller than the other; his face still open with the promise of youth and an exciting career. The other slouched, beer belly hanging over his belt. Underneath his hat, she spotted gray sideburns and a jaded expression that said he’d given up on the goodness of man.
“Excuse me officers, could I ask you a question?”
“Sure, miss,” the younger cop said.
“I just arrived in Chicago,” she shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder. “I’m looking for a room in a boarding house. Would you know of any?”
The older cop looked her up and down. “Where ya comin’ from?”
Eden’s heart skipped a beat. Think fast. “Rural Missouri.”
The older cop shrugged. “You won’t find many here. Maybe west. Or South. But I wouldn’t go in those directions. Go north. But it’s hit and miss.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “I guess there aren’t any inexpensive hotels.”
“Not that you’d want to stay at,” the younger cop said. Then his face brightened. You try the Y? They might be able to help.”
“Where is it?”
The younger cop scowled. “I’m not sure.”
The other cop yanked his thumb backward. “A few blocks that way.”
“What about a computer? Maybe I could search online for something.” She hadn’t used a computer since she married Porter. But she remembered Google.
“The Harold Washington Library’s just a few blocks that way.” The younger cop pointed in the direction from which she’d come. “They have computers you can use.”
“Sounds good.”
“Just turn right on Michigan. It’s a few blocks south. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you so much.” She was about to turn away when the older cop called out. “Miss?”
Eden felt a frisson of fear. “Yes?”
“You’d probably have more luck at a woman’s shelter. There are a couple that aren’t bad if you need a bed for a night or two.”
“A shelter?” She looked puzzled.
“For abused women…” He let the words hang in the air.
Eden stared at him. How did he know? Then she realized she was naïve. A single woman, with a backpack, new in town. He was making an assumption. It made sense. Still, a shelter would also be one of the places Porter would search for her.
She held up her palms. “Oh, it’s not that. I mean, I don’t need to be there. But thanks for your concern. I’ll try the library.” Anything to get him off the scent.
The older cop hitched up his pants and nodded. She could tell he didn’t believe her. Still, she shot him her most gracious smile. “Really. Thanks a lot.”
This time she turned away and hurried back the way she’d come.