Infinite(46)

Sarah had no problem believing my story, but she didn’t have much information to offer. “I’m sorry, Dylan. Karly and I lost touch after college. I haven’t talked to her in years. I’m afraid I have no idea how to get hold of her.”

“Sure. I understand. Am I right about the name of your friend, though? It was Karly Chance?”

“Yes, that was her.”

“Do you know if she stayed in Chicago after school?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, she was planning to continue at Northwestern and do graduate work in English. I don’t know if she did, but you could probably check with the university. They might have a way to track her down.”

“I appreciate it, Sarah. I’ll let you go. Roscoe says hi.”

I hung up the phone. I did another online search—this time adding the word Northwestern to the name Karly Chance—and not only did I find a record for her, I discovered that she was a junior member of the Northwestern faculty. The idea of Karly teaching English didn’t seem far fetched to me. Her father had been a poet and high school teacher, so it seemed as if she’d followed in his footsteps in this world rather than in the footsteps of her mother.

The online biography didn’t include a photograph, but the website listed her office location on the third floor of University Hall. That was only about five minutes away from where I was.

I could feel my heart racing as I drove to the campus. It was late, but being so close, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to get an answer. My instincts all told me it was her. My Karly. My wife. She was leading a different life here, and for all I knew, she was married to someone else. The one time we’d met in this world had gone poorly. But none of that mattered. I needed to see her again.

At night, I had no trouble parking. I walked along Chicago Avenue toward Sheridan, and I shivered a little in my thin red shirt, because the lake breeze had cooled the air. The serene stone buildings of the university surrounded me. I crossed under the black arch that led into the heart of the campus and saw the clock tower of University Hall down the path in front of me. The closer I got, the harder it was to breathe. Just by seeing her, even for a moment, I felt as if I could get a little bit of my life back.

The doors of the white, rough-stone building were unlocked. Inside, I heard muffled voices. From somewhere nearby came the acrid smell of an illicit cigarette. The building stairs were ahead of me, and I climbed to the third floor. In the corridor, I passed a long lineup of offices, a few with doors cracked open. I could see a couple of faculty members tapping at their keyboards. Otherwise, the hallway was empty and museum quiet.

I found the room number listed on her online bio. The door was closed and locked. There was no window to see inside. But there was her name. Karly Chance. She’d posted no photograph on the door, but it was her. I saw a handwritten listing of her office hours pinned to a bulletin board, and the handwriting was unmistakably Karly’s. I’d found her. She came and went day by day down this same hall. She worked on the other side of this door. I thought about breaking in, just so I could smell the fragrance inside, because I knew it would smell like her.

“May I help you?”

I turned around and saw a slight Indian man studying me suspiciously from behind a pair of red glasses. He was one of the faculty members I’d seen working in his office.

My mind was getting accustomed to lying. “Oh, I was supposed to meet Karly here, but we must have gotten our signals crossed. I tried texting her, but my messages aren’t going through.”

“Are you a student?” the man asked, even though I obviously wasn’t.

“No, no, I’m her cousin. I’m in town from Seattle on business, and I was supposed to take her out for a late dinner. Do you know Karly?”

“Of course.”

I took a chance that the world had only changed so much.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing her,” I went on, inventing a new story. “I don’t get out this way very often. Her dad is my favorite uncle. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Tom’s a teacher, Karly’s a teacher. I used to really like Tom’s poetry, too. I loved listening to him read his poems when they’d come out to Washington for Christmas dinner.”

The faculty member visibly relaxed. He was obviously protective of his colleague, but I’d passed the test by talking about her family. “Yes, Tom is an accomplished poet. As is Karly, of course.”

“Yes, she’s incredibly talented.”

“Great trauma can bring that out in a person,” he added.

I stuttered with surprise. “Yes.”

Trauma.

It scared me to hear that word, and I wondered what it meant. He assumed I knew something about Karly that I obviously didn’t. Something terrible. I realized that the more I said, the more it would become clear that I didn’t actually know her. Not in this world.

“Well, there’s not much I can do but head back to my hotel,” I said. “Nice talking to you. I’m sorry I missed Karly. Hopefully she’ll check her phone soon.”

“You know, she doesn’t live far away. She’s the faculty rep in Goodrich.”

“Goodrich? Is that one of the dorms?”

“Yes, it’s just a few minutes’ walk up Sheridan. If you go up there, one of the students can probably let her know you’re outside.”