Page 2 of Beneath the Watching

When I opened my eyes, I looked at the ground. Pieces were everywhere, the shards coated with a glittering liquid that dotted their surface like tiny constellations in a nightscape.

When I lifted my head, I saw and heard the flaps of wings and cawing of crows. They were as startled as me at the sudden sound disturbing the silence of the forest. They swooped and dived, angrily voicing their complaints until they settled back in the trees. “Sorry, crows,” I muttered, as if they could understand me.

Slowly, I approached the fireplace, coming to a stop directly before it. The interior was littered with pieces of the bottle and trickles of wine traced a path between thick mounds of moss as it dripped its way to the base of the structure.

Backing away, I rubbed my arms and wiped my face on my sleeve. Small specks of the wine were sprinkled on my coat and residue had splattered my face. It was strange, the force with which the bottle had disintegrated; it wasn’t like it had been airtight and under pressure. The opening had been wrapped with leftover foil and there was no reason it should’ve burst like a landmine. A coppery herbal taste lingered on my tongue, and I tried to spit the flavor out onto the ground.

I walked back to the house and stared at the front door. The crows lifted from the trees and circled, cawing overhead, chasing each other in the wind. Everything else was quiet, the large old home standing vigil over the landscape.

What if there was another bottle, I wondered, one hidden in another cubby? There was no true way to tell if the bottle was responsible for anything that had happened. That’d be too easy, and it was all my speculation.

It was almost as if there had been a higher power encouraging me to destroy the wine. One of my foster mothers had called it “the voice of reason” and credited it for saving her from catastrophe. Now, that intuitive voice was telling me to look in the cupboard again.

I ran up the porch steps one final time and reopened the cabinet just to make sure.

The bottle was back.

2

MABEL

“Don’t drink too much tonight,”Al said, as we entered the parking garage lift that would bring us to the casino. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Externally, I nodded my head. He knew I wasn’t much of a drinker.

The elevator shot up smoothly, and I watched my boyfriend run a hand through his hair like it’d make a difference. The brown curls did whatever they wanted to, the wiry texture reminding me of the brittle metal of one of those sponges with the weird pink soap inside. His mustache and beard weren’t much better. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, he was just unfortunate enough to have unruly, wiry hair.

We wound our way through the crowds to the club we frequented with our friends, passing decor designed to resemble the New England countryside. The air was charged with a sense of excitement and desperation, and smelled of cigarettes, booze, air freshener and cologne. The building was considered non-smoking, but as with many things in this place, the rules were disregarded.

After traveling a narrow glass hallway and passing through a security checkpoint, we found our destination and settledat a table while Al greeted my friend Madison’s boyfriend, James, and then moved on to the other men. He was always schmoozing, but it was part of his job, I suppose.

James was a venture capitalist, and Al was an investment banker. Madison was an event planner, but she only worked part-time at James’s encouragement. I did nothing. Or I was as I liked to say, “between jobs.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, or what I was supposed to do, so I spent my time taking care of Al’s and my apartment, cooking, baking, and cleaning. He still had a cleaning lady pointlessly coming in once a week and I made all our meals.

Nothing had really interested me enough to dedicate my time and attention to other than preparing food and I didn’t like making a commitment to anything. What if I made the wrong choice? Talking to Al about it never got me anywhere, he’d said all I had to do was “exist.” I’d pointed out that I would either way and all he did was shrug.So helpful.

My primary focus lately was the fact Kiara had eyes on her and that kept my brain busy. The gaze of some members of our social circle had recently turned into an intense curiosity, as if she were a shiny new toy they’d never seen before. It was unnerving the way their gazes tracked her, as if they were predators and she were the prey. The others, the ones I spent the most time with and considered my inner circle, watched her with a sense of caution.

Kiara had arrived tonight with Madison, and I smiled at the two of them while drinks were brought to our table.

“How long before Kiara runs to the bathroom,” I whispered to Al. He laughed and I giggled. It was wrong to use her angst for humor, but it had become a private joke between the two of us.

I watched as one of the men, Stefan, grabbed chairs from other tables and brought them over to our area. He’d show up most times when we were all here and just sit quietly,sipping what I assumed was vodka. He caught me staring as he rearranged furniture, smirked at me, and proceeded to push a chair under a neighboring table before I looked away.

Another man, who I’d seen around but didn’t know, was watching our group from across the room. When he caught me looking, I averted my gaze.

When I glanced up again, he was focused on Kiara. She was now across the floor, over near the bar with Julian.

Julian was an odd man who occasionally lurked about, trailing our group but never contributing to anything. A “hanger-on I think it was called, when people behaved as he did. The two of them were near the counter and he was standing much too close to her. She looked annoyed but wasn’t making any moves to get away.

Searching the crowd, I found the man across the room again. He stood unmoving, holding a small glass, completely focused on an unsuspecting Kiara. I gasped when I thought his eyes began to glow with a faint reddish light. Was it a reflection? I stared at him, trying to determine whether the lights were hitting his face just right, or what was causing the unique effect.

Al stood up, interrupting my investigation. “Remember—don’t drink too much.” He eased past me while I cast a dirty look at his retreating shoulders. If there was anyone to worry about, it was Madison and Kiara. The two of them drank such an astonishing amount of alcohol it was a mystery they weren’t dead or attending recovery meetings. They were the stars of our group compared to me, so no one ever said anything to them when they overindulged in copious amounts of liquor.

“You see it, don’t you?” Stefan surprised me by sliding into the booth Al had just vacated. He’d never said a word to me before, and now here he was both right next to me and talking to me. I was used to his gaze, and I tried to watch him when he wasn’t paying attention, but this was the last thing I’dexpected. He was stunningly attractive, and his self-confidence was alluring—the direct opposite of the woman he’d decided to speak to.

His perusal was always too intense, and I’d squirmed under the weight of it more than once, confused by my own conflicting feelings. Was he wondering why I was here? Wondering why Al bothered with me?

Perhaps he wondered why Kiara and Madison were friends with me. It was something I’d struggled with my whole life, thinking others only entertained me because they felt bad for me, or felt some misplaced sense of obligation. It was repeatedly instilled in me, at any early age, that I was mostly useless. I’d managed to come as far as finally enjoying my own company, but I frequently struggled with my intrusive thoughts.

Stefan leaned back against the seat, spreading his legs so his thigh touched my own. My body heated under his searching gaze, the force of it seeming to reach the recesses of my mind. Still dumbfounded he was speaking to me; I remained silent and examined him. He was dressed formally, as the men in my circle tended to, with a jacket, vest, dress shirt and slacks, leather shoes. His dark brown hair was swept back from his forehead and light stubble lay below high cheekbones. Full red lips curved into a smile.

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