ALL EYES ON ME
FARIDAH ÀBÍKÉ-ÍYÍMÍDÉ
DAILY NEWS
The Circus from HELL
Following an explosive one-night circus in the town of Nowhere last week, a string of missing persons has been reported in the area.
Local authorities are currently treating these incidents as connected; however, there are no current leads on the case.
If you have any information that could help please contact the police department at 555–0125.
1987, Middle of Nowhere, America
A FEW DAYS BEFORE
Once upon a time, in the town of Nowhere, Helen Thomas was trapped in a box, slowly suffocating under the weight of the world, and scared she’d stay trapped forever, never to be seen or heard again …
* * *
“I’ve been thinking about this for a really long time now, and you’re great … I just think we’d do a lot better if we had more time apart…,” Helen said to her reflection in the rearview mirror.
The car was empty and mostly quiet, save for the heavy pelting of rain against the metal roof of the beat-up Mustang, accompanied by the swishing of the windshield wipers, which made a disturbing screeching sound each time the blades cleared more rain away.
She sighed, cleared her throat, and tried again.
“Asher, I think we should take a break. It’ll be good for the both of us. In a few weeks, summer will be over, and then it’ll be senior year. You can finally focus on football and college applications. And I’ll be working to save up for the move to Los Angeles. I want to focus on my future, and I don’t think I can do that with a boyfriend … we can try again maybe in a year or so or…” She stopped herself mid-lie, slumping a little in defeat, but then a moment later, she sat back up again.
If she was going to do this, she had to do it properly. She had to be honest. But the truth was so much harder to acknowledge, let alone admit to herself in the dark.
She adjusted the rearview mirror, flicking the car’s interior lights on above her.
Now illuminated, she could see herself more clearly, though it took her a moment to recognize that the girl in the reflection was indeed herself.
Or rather, an exhausted-looking version of herself. There was a subtle dullness to her dark skin, her relaxer-reliant hair a mess and frizzing up from the rain she’d gotten caught in minutes ago, and her red lipstick smudged from the day’s wear.
Helen quickly pulled her bag onto her lap, dug around in it, taking out a small golden tube she’d swiped from her mom’s dresser some weeks ago. After pulling the mirror down some more, she popped the lid off the lipstick and pressed it to her mouth, staining it bright scarlet. She pressed her lips together, smoothed her damaged hair down with her hands, and began her breakup monologue again.
This time with all intentions of telling the truth.
What was the truth? She wasn’t sure anymore.
She’d been living the lie for so long.
Helen cleared her throat. Pulled on a serious face. And opened her mouth.
“Asher—” she began, but was immediately cut off by the sound of the car door being thrown open as the pale grinning face and bright blue eyes of the devil in question appeared before her.
Helen’s heart stopped for a moment, her deep-brown eyes widening as the truth lodged in her throat.
“Shit, Asher. You scared me!” she said, placing her hand over chest and her now erratic heartbeat.
Asher scrunched his eyebrows together, his wet brown hair plastered to his forehead as he stared at her in confusion. “Were you just … talking to yourself?” he questioned, as he maneuvered his lanky body into the driver’s seat of the car.
Helen felt cold rush through her, both from the open door and from the thought of nearly being caught. “No…” she replied—another lie.
He didn’t look convinced, but it was obvious he found it all so amusing.
“I’m pretty sure I even heard you say my name … Were you having some alone time?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he placed his large pale hand on her dark brown knee. “Because if you were,” he whispered, “I can help finish you off.”
She watched as his hand slowly moved under her dress, and she quickly shoved it away. “Stop being such a dog, Ash. One, I’m not doing anything here with you. We’re at a gas station because you wanted to stop and pee. Two, we’re already late for the movie,” Helen said sternly, pulling her dress back down over her knees.
“You’re right. Let’s get to the movie,” Asher said, in an uncharacteristically resigned manner. The usual Asher would shoot back a retort of some kind, something that would definitely result in Helen rolling her eyes while ruminating more on why she was still with him in the first place.
But instead, Asher moved away, tipping his head back onto the headrest, his expression flat and subdued.
For a moment, she feared he’d heard her breakup speech. She wasn’t sure why that made her feel sick, but it did. She didn’t want to hurt him, though maybe him overhearing her would make things easier. It would mean she’d finally gotten this over and done with.
But then why did the idea of no longer being with Asher make her feel worse?
“Are you okay?” Helen asked hesitantly, waiting for him to turn to her with his big glassy puppy-dog eyes and tell her that she’d betrayed him or something, but instead he did something else entirely.
Asher shook his head but didn’t look at her. “Bowie died over the weekend,” he said.
It took Helen a few moments to process that sentence.
“Oh…” she said, blinking at him slowly. “The singer? I didn’t know you were a fan—”
He shook his head and finally looked squarely at her, those eyes of his disarming her in an instant. “No, not the singer, my sister’s poodle named Bowie. I guess she must’ve named it after the guy. I was pretty close to him even though he wasn’t mine,” Asher continued. “I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to ruin our date, but then you said the word dog, and I remembered—”
“Oh, Ash, I’m so sorry,” Helen said, taking his hand and squeezing.
“No, no, it’s fine, I don’t want to bring the mood down. I’m good.”
“You sure?” she asked.
He nodded and smiled at her. “Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for asking though. You being so caring is one of the many things I love about you.”
Helen felt her stomach twist. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the food truck burger she’d had earlier or if it was this whole situation with Asher. He looked at her with so much expectation, like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she wasn’t a liar.
She needed some fresh air.
“I think I’m gonna get a water from the 7-Eleven. You want anything?” she asked him, opening the car door as she did.
Instantly, the cold swept inside and the rain along with it, which grazed her arm and gave her goose bumps.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got everything I need right here,” he said, stroking her arm now.
His touch felt like one thousand little critters dancing on her skin.
“Cool!” she said, pulling away from him and clambering out of the car into the rain. “I won’t be long—don’t get impatient,” she said, then slammed the car door behind her and hurried into the 7-Eleven before Asher could touch her again.
She couldn’t remember a time she’d actually enjoyed Asher’s touch, and they’d been together for three years now. All through freshman, sophomore, and junior years. He was her first boyfriend, her only boyfriend. Her first everything really.
Was that weird? That she didn’t like the feeling of making out with her boyfriend after all this time? Or holding his hand? Or telling him she loved him? Or doing anything intimate at all?
Asher wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t a terrible person either. He liked watching films as much as she did, and he treated her nice. Got her expensive gifts. Complimented her all the time.
He’d always tell her how much he loved her hair, her skin, her body.
Her friends would see them together and remind her of how lucky she was to have a boyfriend who adored her.
But why did she feel the opposite of lucky?
The chiming of the store’s bell as she entered the 7-Eleven disrupted her thoughts.
That was enough thinking about him now. She clearly couldn’t end things tonight, especially not when his family dog had just died.
“Hello?” a voice called out from somewhere outside Helen’s head.
Helen looked up to find a girl standing in front of her.
She had dark brown skin, a small coily Afro, and circular spectacles that framed her face perfectly.
“Do you need any assistance?” the girl asked, with an arched eyebrow and a smile. Her face was so striking, filled with all sorts of perfectly placed angles and contours. Helen almost forgot her words.
“Um, yes, water, I need water—a bottle of it preferably,” Helen said, her voice a little high-pitched.
“I believe we do have that,” she replied in an almost-teasing way. “It’s over here. Follow me,” the girl said, and Helen did.
As she walked behind the girl, she noticed her peculiar fashion sense. Not that Helen could judge much, seeing as her own go-to colors were boring earth tones.
But it was hard not to notice the brightness of the girl’s orange waistcoat, light-green corduroy bell-bottoms, and her chunky bright red boots. They were colors that were meant to stand out. She clearly didn’t mind being seen.
“Here we are,” she said, sliding open one of the refrigerator doors and handing Helen a bottle, their fingers brushing together for less than a nanosecond as she did. Yet that fraction of time felt much longer.
“Th-thanks,” Helen quickly said, and the girl smiled even wider, revealing an endearing snaggletooth.
“No problem at all. Need help with anything else?” Gas Station Girl (or GSG for short) asked.
Helen shook her head. “I should be, uh, good with finding the rest of the, um, stuff myself.” Her words stumbled clumsily out of her mouth, like she no longer knew how to structure a sentence.
She didn’t even know what else she was looking for or if she even needed anything else. She just knew she wanted to be normal again and was struggling to be right now.
“Okay, well, give us a shout if you need anything,” GSG said, before turning away and going back over to the checkout station.
Helen couldn’t help but watch her walk away. Taking in more details, like the lemongrass scent she left behind and her movements, confident and strong.
The more Helen looked at GSG’s clothes, the more she found herself liking them.
It wasn’t necessarily something Helen would wear herself, but they somehow suited this girl. Made her look good.
Helen’s eyes traveled up to the girl’s face, and she startled when she saw the girl staring right back at her. Catching her red-handed.
Helen shifted her eyes away, pretending to find interest in the jar of pickles in front of her, grateful to her own complexion for hiding the heat slowly creeping up her face.
A few moments later, Helen found herself in front of the girl once again, ready to pay and go back to the car, where she could no longer hide from her own man-made house of horrors.
She placed her items on the counter, and the girl smiled at her in this strange knowing way while tapping the objects’ values into the cash register.
Helen pretended not to notice the girl’s expression, looking instead at the bulletin board behind her, where several rows of the same bright poster hung on the board.
Circe Des Rêves —Here for One Night Only
A circus like no other. Come and see our world-class acrobats, our trained circus pets, our fire-breathing men, and our terrifically terrifying Clowns!
This special event will also be televised for the first time!
Helen felt a jolt of excitement at the mention of cameras. Her sudden interest must have been obvious because the girl was now turning to look at the poster too.
Copyright © 2024 by Terry J. Benton-Walker
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