Seeing Black

by Sidney Halston

  “No, no. I should’ve said something.” Embarrassed, Alexander quickly slipped his clothes on while a mortified Miriam turned around and busied herself by straightening his room.

  “You can turn around now. Sorry again. That was kind of—”

  “Mortifying?”

  “I was going to say unexpected.” Completely flush-faced, she continued to clean up. Alexander kept looking at her as she helped. The last six months had been completely awful, and the first time he got out of bed, he flashed the woman who may or may not have been the cause of the shittiest time of his life. A nervous snort left his mouth, and suddenly he was bowled over in hysterics. Confused, Miriam looked at him, and his infectious laughter caused her to start laughing until tears streamed down her face. After a few minutes of non-stop laughter, they both fell onto the bed, clutching their stomachs and gasping.

  “Sorry, it’s just . . . My life has been hell, utter hell, for the last six months, and then you come here from nowhere and I crash right into you completely buck-ass naked, while you clean my room. Plus, I looked like some sort of homeless yeti-person with long hair and a beard. It’s just so unreal, as if it were happening to someone else.”

  Miriam didn’t speak for a while.

  She reached for his hand, “Hey, you know it’s going to be okay, right? You will get through this. So long as you stay clean and focused, we will figure this out.”

  “I’ve never fallen off the wagon, Miriam. I don’t plan on doing so now. I feel so lost without Jill, and I’m so scared for her. I’m just completely helpless to do anything.” The tears of laughter that had filled his eyes changed to tears of sorrow.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Come here.” She turned her body and hugged him, both still lying in bed.

  A minute or so after he realized he was lying in bed with Miriam crying, he pulled back. “Okay, enough with the pussy shit. This crying doesn’t resolve anything, nor does it get Jill back.”

  “It’s not pussy shit. You have a right to mourn.”

  He winced and jumped off the bed. “Do not use that word again.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as in she passed away. You have a right to feel emotions, Alex. Men, even tough, macho men like you have feelings. Sometimes they cry. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m done. I’ve allowed myself two days of brooding. I’m done. I have to find her. She’s alive,” he said it matter-of-factly. “I know you think she’s not. It’s been six months, but I know she is. I don’t know how to describe it, but I know she’s alive. I know she needs me to find her. She wouldn’t have just disappeared.”

  “Okay, Alex. I believe you. We’ll find her.”

  “How long are you in town?”

  “I have a job interview the day after tomorrow in Houston. I was just driving by because I was worried. I’m leaving tonight.”

  “I’m just going to make some coffee. You want some?” Alexander asked. Miriam nodded.

  A few minutes later, Alexander was pouring coffee into two mugs. Miriam sat down on the kitchen counter quietly.

  “How you’ve been holding up, Miriam?”

  “I’ve been good, real good. Been clean a little over six months. Been staying with my sister. But it’s time to sort myself out, get a job, and go back to the real world.”

  “The big bad world,” Alexander mumbled into his coffee cup.

  “Yeah. The big scary bad world.” Alexander smiled up at her and she smiled back. It was awkward. He wasn’t sure if it was the naked incident of a few minutes ago or the fact that he’d been harboring a lot of anger towards her for the last few months, but there was an awkwardness between them that hadn’t been there before. They attempted to make small talk for about half hour. They talked about the weather, her nieces and nephews, the job interview—a lot of nothing was spoken. “I’m just going to finish tidying up a little before I head out.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Really, it’s fine.”

  “No. I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. I want to help. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I think I’ll order pizza. You up for some food?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  Miriam stood and walked back down the hall towards the bedrooms, and Alexander stayed in the kitchen. He ordered the pizza, and after he finished, he began to clean up the two weeks of dishes that had piled up.

  When the pizza arrived, Miriam served them on some paper plates.

  “I’m just going to run to the bathroom. Start without me,” Alexander said.

  Alexander looked at his freshly cleaned bathroom and his heart started pumping faster. “What. The. Fuck?” he hissed. He knew he was losing it again, but he couldn’t help it. He stomped to the kitchen. His fists were tight against his sides. “Where’s her stuff?”

  “What?” Miriam grumbled, with a mouthful of food. She stood up and moved back.

  “Her. Fucking. Shit! Where is it?” Alexander stalked towards Miriam. She took another step back.

  “I . . . I don’t . . . What?” She held a glass of water in her hand and put it down in order to control her shaky hands.

  “In the bathroom, there was a small bottle of hair gel. There was a blow dryer, a lavender cream bottle, some shit that said makeup remover, a lip stick, a ChapStick, and a small oval perfume. Where the fuck is it?”

  “I, um, I threw away the—”

  “You what?” He took an intimidating step closer.

  “The lotion bottle was empty. I put away the blow dryer and some of the other things. I . . .”

  Miriam’s back was against the refrigerator, and Alexander took a final step closing the distance and slammed his fists against the refrigerator, one fist on each side of her temples, locking her in.

  “God damn it!”

  “Alex. I’m s-s-sorry. I was just trying to—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you were trying to do. Don’t fucking touch any of her shit. You can’t touch any of her stuff.” He just held her stare, not hearing or feeling anything around him. Arms were suddenly around his biceps pulling.

  “What are you doing, brother?” It was Oliver. He was pulling. Miriam stood still, plastered against the refrigerator.

  “Bitch threw away Jill’s shit.”

  “She what?” Oliver released Alexander’s arms and looked at Miriam.

  “No. I—I, uh, I just cleaned up the bathroom. I threw away an empty bottle. I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.”

  Oliver took a breath. “You’re losing it again, man. She’s just trying to help.”

  “Sugar, it’s okay to clean up.” Heather took a cautious step forward, but Alexander’s face swung back to look at her. He must have looked even angrier than he felt because Heather flinched and Oliver took a step between him and Heather. “Calm the fuck down, Alexander.” Oliver rumbled.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. This bitch . . .” He pointed at Miriam. “It’s all her fucking fault. If she hadn’t been weaseling her way into my life, I wouldn’t have had a fight with Jill and—”

  “And what? She wouldn’t have been abducted, or she wouldn’t have run away or what exactly?”

  Alexander didn’t say anything, so Oliver continued to talk. Heather stayed behind Oliver, and Miriam stayed still, back against the fridge, slightly trembling.

  “You’re feeling guilty because you and Jill left things on bad terms. But what happened, whatever it was, isn’t Miriam’s fault. She fucked up—I’ll give you that—but Miriam isn’t the reason Jill’s missing. She’s just trying to help. We,” he pointed at himself and at Heather who was now standing closer to Oliver, “are all just trying to help. I love her too, Alexander. You know I do. It kills me that she’s missing, but we need to focus in order to find her, not turn your house into a museum, and not scare the shit out of Miriam.” Oliver took a step towards Alexander, and Heather made her way to Miriam, pulled her away from the refrigerator, and led her to the couch. When Oliver reach
ed Alexander, he cautiously put a hand on his shoulder. “We need clear heads.”

  Alexander nodded and then looked over at Miriam and gave her an apologetic grin.

  “I think it’s best if I go,” Miriam said.

  “You okay to drive, sweetie?” Heather asked.

  “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Alex?” Miriam took a cautious step towards Alexander. “I came by today because I was worried that you didn’t call me back. I’m so very truly sorry about any part I’ve played in Jill’s disappearance or in your misery. I hope you know you can call me if you need anything.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just nodded, his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Love you, Alex, and I’m really sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I hope you find her. I really do.” She reached up on the tips of her toes, gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to Heather and Oliver, and then left.

  ***

  A week of wallowing and moping was enough. He gave himself a little pep talk: Time to man-up. Get your head out of your ass and do something productive. Stop being a pussy. First thing he did was put on a pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers and went for a run. He needed to sweat off all the bad energy. Of course, the run reminded him of jogging with Jill, of competing with Jill, of how a simple jog with Jill would turn into an all-out speed racing marathon. Every time she appeared in his thoughts, he ran faster, pushed himself harder. When he finally saw clearly again, when the thoughts were back to finding her instead of pining for her, he ran back home. He was rejuvenated and more determined than ever.

  Alexander sat in the middle of his living room. Notebooks and papers were everywhere. He heard the front door open and close, but he didn’t look up. He just kept digging and searching.

  “What are you doing?” Oliver asked. Alexander ignored him. Oliver took a few steps closer. Alexander knew he must have looked like a madman to anyone around, but he needed answers. Anything. Rocco was involved. He had to be, but without proof—a reason, a motive, something—the walls around Rocco were ironclad and no one, not even the captain of the police force, could penetrate the wall.

  A nearby cough startled him out of his stupor. “Brother?” Alexander looked up to see a worried Oliver reaching towards Alexander’s shoulder.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been talking to you for a few minutes, and you haven’t answered. You okay? What are you doing?”

  “Stop looking at me like that. You look as though you’re talking to some deranged lunatic who’s going to break at the first sign of stress.”

  Oliver lifted a brow and tilted his head as if confirming those exact thoughts.

  “I’m not going to break. I have a plan. I know I was lost, angry, confused, but I have clarity now. I remembered about these. The answers are here,” he pointed to the boxes and notebooks that surrounded him on the floor of his apartment.

  “Aren’t those Jill’s notebooks?” Oliver reached down and grabbed one.

  “Yeah. Helen’s really, but yes, these are the notebooks Helen gave Jill.”

  “And you’re doing what exactly? We’ve gone through them already.”

  “We missed something. We must have. You may have given up on her, but I sure as hell haven’t. I will not stop until I find her. I need answers.”

  “What if that never happens, Alexander?

  From the floor, Alexander looked up at Oliver. “If you ever say that shit again, I swear to God I’ll break your fucking nose.”

  Oliver shook his head and kneeled down. He grabbed the closest notebook. “I’ve been giving you a lot of space and letting you vent, but, if I haven’t told you, I’m telling you now. You are being a dick, and if you continue to be this asshole, you’re going to alienate everyone around you. Tone down the anger, and you’ll probably have more people willing to help. Stop fighting me on everything. You don’t realize it, but I’m hurting too. I think that at some point—”

  “At some point you just say, ‘I quit. Fuck it. She’s gone.’ You throw in the towel. Move on to the next chick. At some point? That’s what I’m supposed to say? That’s what I’m supposed to do? Well, I can’t do that! I just . . . I can’t. I know it may seem irrational, but I know she’s alive. She’s waiting for me to find her. I will not give up, not now, not in another six months or six years. Until I have my answers, I’ll continue to look for her, and if you don’t understand that . . . If you tell me I should stop, give up, then, brother, you’re not welcome in my house anymore.”

  “Okay, Xander. I understand.” Oliver took a deep breath and leafed through the notebook. “What can I do to help?”

  “Just sit there and read. Anything that looks off, tell me.”

  Oliver nodded and began to read.

  The big breakthrough happened a week later, in the form of an unexpected visitor.

  Chapter 11

  Adversity is a good teacher.

  -Helen

  Alexander sat at his dining room table, reading all of Helen’s journals again, still elated from the leverage he now had. A written journal may not mean much in terms of incrimination, but he’d bet his right arm it would mean a lot to Rocco and Josef if they knew the information was out there for someone to read—to investigate—especially if those someones were the people they stole the money from. Oliver was online searching for a plane ticket back to Onion Island—it was the only place they hadn’t searched—when there was a knock at the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Black?” Alexander took a step towards Paul Black, the last person he expected to see when he opened the door, the last person he wanted to see. Even though Paul was a tall man, Alexander was taller, much taller, and angrier, much angrier. Alexander looked as if he towered over Paul. To Paul’s credit, he didn’t waver at Alexander’s invasive stance.

  “I’m coming in, and you need to promise me you will not go the police after I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

  Alexander took a final step forward, fists clenched. “Promise you? Pfft! You’re a lying, deceitful sack of shit that used Jill to try to get to her father. How do I even know that you’re not the reason she’s missing? Why would I promise you anything?”

  “Because I know where Jillian is,” Paul deadpanned. The mood in the room shifted, and the tension became palpable. The silence, deafening. The words, a blow right to his chest. Instinctively, Alexander reached for the lapel of Paul’s pretentious suit and pulled Paul towards him and shook him violently. Quickly, Oliver pulled Alexander back, almost ripping one finger at a time from his death grip on Paul. When Oliver had a handle on Alexander, Paul walked in, looking unfazed by the attack, and closed the door behind him.

  “What the hell are you doing, Oliver? Get the fuck off me.” Alexander pushed his brother out of the way ready to charge Paul, again.

  “Wait!” Oliver grabbed Alexander’s arm. “He says he knows where she is. We have to hear him out. You can kill him after that.”

  Alexander took a moment to think it through. He hated, no loathed, Paul, but he had not one single lead on Jillian’s whereabouts. Paul, who was somehow connected to Rocco, had just claimed to know where Jill was. Nostrils flared, face beat-red, Alexander took a small step back. “Talk. Now.”

  Instead of talking, Paul slammed two large heavy canvas bags on the table, flipped them over and a dozen or more notebooks fell to the table. Oliver picked one up and flipped through it. Alexander followed.

  “Fuck. Me.” Oliver spoke first before plopping down on the nearest chair.

  “Esther’s journals,” Alexander said to no one in particular. It seems Oliver wouldn’t be flying back to Onion Island after all.

  Paul sat at the nearby dining room chair and pointed at Alexander. “I warned you. At my office, I warned you. I told you not to let Jillian near her father. He is an evil man.” Paul took a second before continuing. “He has her. Rocco has her. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Even though Alexander he
ard the words that had come out of Paul’s mouth, more importantly, he heard what did not come out, that she was alive. Even though he knew—deep in his bones, he had known all along—it was a relief to have it validated. Jill was alive.

  Blood rushed down Alexander’s body as he felt the tightly wound rubber band of tension snap. He felt all the worry drain, the vein on his neck throbbed, and his heart pumped faster. He was still worried, unbelievably so. His worry would only end when he had her in his arms, but the fact she was alive was huge. Oliver placed his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, steadying him, and pushed him down on the chair across the table from Paul.

  “Explain,” Alexander managed to say. His jaw was set so tight that he almost chipped a tooth.

  “Look, I know you hate me and don’t trust me. I understand that, but—”

  “No, asshole, you don’t know. I know about—”

  “About the text Heather found. Texts I sent to Brian in order to keep him believing I didn’t know about Jill or, better yet, I didn’t care about Jill? Yeah, I know you know, and I know Jill knows.” Paul interrupted.

  “How’d—?”

  “Jill told me.”

  “When?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “You saw her?” Oliver leaned closer to Paul, not in a confrontational tone, but more as if he was in complete disbelief.

  Alexander, on the other hand, had jackknifed off the chair and was mere inches from Paul’s face and repeated Oliver’s question. “You’ve seen her?”

  “Yes. But this is important, and you standing there, eyes shooting daggers, ready to kill me, isn’t going to accomplish anything. Nothing you tell me or threaten me with will make me feel worse than I already do, so can you please take a damn step back and sit the fuck down so that we can have a civilized conversation?” Paul stood unwavering. He was toe to toe with Alexander.

  Oliver didn’t wait for Alexander to reply. He pulled Alexander back and nodded at Paul, conveying to him to have a seat, which he did. Alexander reluctantly sat as well. Once all the men had somewhat composed themselves, Alexander repeated, “Explain.”