I sat in the car for a little while, then decided that I could probably mix in with the throng, perhaps I would catch sight of them again. Locals milled about, hurrying to get to their places of employment. Gated entrances were opened and the general public was allowed inside the various shops...a curio shop here, a book shop there--the odd Chinese Restaurant. I considered on that for a moment. Back in Michigan, you could find a Chinese place almost every city--not quite as bad as McDonald's, but darn close. I wondered if the food in Chinatown would be of the same genre--Americanized for the palate and full of carbs, cholesterol and MSG.
I had almost decided to step inside one of them for lunch that also had a Mongolian BarBQue atmosphere, when I caught sight of her stepping into the tourist trap establishment where they sold all the standard items that tourists buy--chopsticks, whirlygigs and the like. I stepped inside the restaurant and sat down facing the window, which was conveniently quasi-one-way glass, and watched the place across the street for her exit.
The waiter came around and I ordered a minor something--just pointed at the menu really, not wanting to spoil lunch. He bowed at me, and rushed off to the back. When he returned with a coffee and an eclaire, I thanked him, and off he went again, back to the kitchen. It reminded me of the way cockroaches scurried back and forth, and I smiled to myself. Another memory, long before I met my ex, of a CB Radio enthusiast with a household full of those insects that she never did seem able to get rid of. I pushed the eclaire into my mouth and ate it whole--it was pretty small, but a tasty morsel. I downed the coffee quickly when I saw her walk out of the store with a small brown bag (Ah, she bought herself some chopsticks.), and smiled and waved at her paramour, catching his attention at the end of the street, where he was apparently purusing comics. He looked up and waved, and then set the comic down and came to the middle of the street to meet her, linked arms and they walked out of Chinatown toward the train. I left a $5 bill on the table and motioned to the waiter, mumbled a few words and was out of the restaurant and into the bright sunny day.
The L-Train was already waiting, and I climbed into a different car, taking note of their car. I knew this train went downtown. From there, they could walk all over the city, maybe take the A-train topside and get a little view from a little higher up, just for kicks really, since there really isn't much to see on the A-train. It's walled in on both sides with buildings that rise higher than the A-train track sits. So you get a lot of windows with reflections that stare back at you.
The L-train is a nice ride from Chinatown to downtown. It's worth the money. You get to go into a tunnel and come out the other side and there you are--almost to Lake Michigan. It's like taking a stay-cation. You haven't really gone anywhere, but since the scenery changed, you feel as if you have. When the train stopped, I got off where I expected them to get out, and sure enough, there they were a little farther ahead of me, He looked tired to me for some reason. Did she keep him up all night? I smirked. Served him right. They walked along the wharf, and then ducked into the museum. I walked inside, too, and admired the paintings, the ancient arts and crafts and the tall replica of David, then stood beside the statue of Venus, and snapped a pic with my cell phone, trying to blend in. A short, balding, Japanese man came by, pushing up his bigger than life round glasses on his nose, and lifted one his his three Nikon's to his face and took a picture of the grate in the floor.
Don't ask. I'm not sure what that was all about. Chicago grows some weird ones, I think.
My "couple" stopped just outside the door for the museum and sat down in a small garden, smooched (more pictures with my "bluetooth"), while he made a few lurid moves--something about Russian Hands and Roman Fingers? Anyway, they tired of their game and headed back to the train station. This time, hopping on the one headed for the Sears Tower.
The Sears Tower was at one point the tallest building in the world. It wasn't anymore. It was just another tall building. There were five high speed elevators, but only 3 were marked for "visitors", the rest were used by employees there. Getting into one wasn't a problem. STAYING inside was a problem, when you thought about how it might get stuck, or it might fall. The guide told us all about it's high speed "get 'em there quick" motors and how it had never had an incident. Someone extremely fearful muttered, "So? There's always a first time." However, the view from the top was amazing. All three of us headed for a different direction. I went to look at the lake, because apparently you could see Michigan on a clear day, and sure enough--there she was! Home!
I didn't dare to look down, of course. You can only look out. The glass keeps people inside, and a scaffold-like landing all around the tower keeps you from seeing exactly how high up you are. If anyone knew how truly high up you were, you'd faint. She walked up to me, and told me about the view on the other side of the tower, and I pointed "over there" at Michigan. She mentioned that she lived there, which of course, I already knew, but nodded anyway. Then I wandered away, while he made his way over to her, put his arm around her waist and pointed across the water. Any closer, and they could have worn the same pair of jeans. Snap, snap.
The game was tiring, but a game nonetheless. They went on back downtown and had lunch and visited the library and it's copper leaf roof, Then on to dinner, I suppose. I hopped the train back to downtown and then the L-train back to my car. Locked and loaded, I put the vehicle in reverse and made for the toll road, and back home.
When I returned home, I printed the pictures and a bill on my computer, placed the evidence and copies of my receipts for the expenses I'd incurred and shipped them all to an address in Colorado. When the courts decided on the division of property into her benefit due to his cheating, she would send me my due and a hefty hourly rate. The guy wasn't rich, but he had lots of funds socked away, and she intended to find each and every one and take him to task for his indiscretions, as this wasn't the only one, just the most recent.
It was at this point that I returned to Mrs. Draner's account. She was steadfastly hanging on to any shred of hope she could, even though I knew it was a done deal for her. I knew that as soon as he fixed his car, he would leave her behind for someone else's. He was a cretin. A trailer trash, smack talking cootie king.
Oh, I like that. Must remember to put that in my book! I grinned evilly from ear to ear. I have nearly enough now to bury him, but I'll keep this little ace in the hole for now. When I finally lay down my cards, he will have no escape. She will finally have the last laugh. Or was it me?