Page 19 of Beneath the Watching

She was my opposite in many ways. My stick-straight hair was so dark it was almost black, my skin pale, and my body average. I wasn’t fit and lean, or skinny, or even full-figured. My exterior displayed my inner—nothing of note.

From what I’d gathered listening to the ensuing monologue, her impromptu visit to grill the authorities over our friend’s disappearance had been barely tolerated by the police, although I doubt she’d noticed their annoyance. They’d given her the standard “we’re doing everything we can” line, and she’d tacked up Missing Person flyers wherever she could around the city.Hypocritically, I thanked her for her efforts while my thoughts wandered to a mysterious man and what he may know. I suspected it was wrong not to open my mouth but then again,shewas hiding things from me.

It was normal to keep things to yourself to preserve relationships and it wouldn’t do any good to stress her out more than she already was with fantastical theories.

The urge to voice my concerns and possible knowledge kept welling up inside. If I said anything, what if I was wrong? What if I provided false hope? I learned long ago my voice didn’t matter. Nobody truly cared what I had to say, and I was a hinderance more than some help. I stuck to my guns because speaking up would most likely just cause problems.

Al, James, and their friends were transfixed, watching a sport on some television screens where the men were beating each other up playing an extra-violent version of hockey called bandy. I tucked myself into a seat next to Al as James winked at me.

“What’s that look for?” James asked, wrinkling his nose at me. Was he winking because he knew something? He did seem perfectly at ease with Al and Madison’s constant flirting.

I ignored him and Al tossed me a quick glance before rising from his seat in excitement, pumping his fist in the air while his knees knocked into the table. Everyone started yelling before cheers were hollered out along with some overly vocal groans of defeat.

My boyfriend lowered himself back down, grabbing my hand and squeezing it as banded stacks of money were tossed to the center of the table. One man, wearing too many thick gold chains around his neck to be fashionable, lit a cigar while Al’s overly long pinky nail scratched my thigh.

Straightening up in my seat, I leaned forward when a glass of red wine was deposited in front of me. Madison sent me a questioning look because I rarely drank, and I shrugged myshoulders. Her inquiry was rapidly diverted by a stocky man tapping her on the shoulder.

“Mister Hamburger,” she said excitedly. The man bent down and mumbled something I couldn’t catch over the rest of the noise. “She’s gone, she’s missing,” Madison said.

The man leaned toward her again. “I will,” she said. “Let me know if you see her, please?” she pleaded with the man, her eyes wide. He tilted back down to speak in her ear a final time before leaving.

Someone brought out a metal box and the stacks of money were tucked inside as James leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Who was that?” I asked Madison.

Her eyes sparkled. “He’s now Hamburger Helper.” She giggled. “He’s gonna look for Kiara, too.”

The moniker was ridiculous. “That’s nice of him.”

She picked up her cranberry vodka and took a sip, wiping the table with her hand before grabbing a coaster for her glass. “We met him here last week. Or the week before? A few weeks ago?” She shook her head at her own forgetfulness, and I nodded.

“He liked Kiara,” she offered as explanation for him stopping by. “He said something about hamburg when we met him, so...” She trailed off.

James and Al stood up and left the table, moving further into the club while the screens changed to dog racing. “I thought that was illegal now?” I asked my friend, gesturing to one of the monitors.

Madison raised her eyebrows. “I have no idea. Maybe not here? Seems cruel.”

It wasn’t as if anyone around us would care so I dropped it. If it was outlawed, neither of us would be able to change anything, we’d be laughed out of the club. People seemed to do whateverthey wanted here at the casino, as if the place had its own set of rules. It was a whole, other world.

“Since when do you care?” Madison snarked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Her tone forced me to whip my head around, the spite in her voice so uncharacteristic. My stomach sank and I took a quick sip of my wine. “What do you mean?” I asked, carefully.

“I mean...Never mind. I’m just really broken up about Kiara and you’re out here acting like nothing happened, like this is totally normal. Don’t you care?”

I did. I cared a lot. The wine in my belly felt as if it were congealing. “I do care. I miss her, too. It doesn’t matter how I feel about it, it won’t change a thing.” I replied quietly.

“Your feelings matter.” Madison’s face softened a little.

Not really, they didn’t. They didn’t matter to anyone but me because nobody cared how I felt; they never did. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d asked me how I was, or anything about my life.

“Maybe she’ll turn up? Sometimes people do,” I said. It was odd she suddenly mentioned my feelings when she seemed to think so little about them in general.

Madison’s shoulders slumped. I’d been toying with the idea of digging tonight for information about her and Al, thenatureof their relationship and decided not to. It wasn’t a good time for that discussion.

“I just miss her and her craziness,” Madison’s eyes watered and she sat up, thrusting her shoulders back and flicking away her tears. “Maybe you’re right, being sad won’t change a thing.”

I wanted to tell her not to be like me, to keep crying so I could experience it through her. If I started, I feared I’d never stop. One of us had to let it out.

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