Hidden in Plain Sight

“Gustavus, I saw him die.”

“Marilyn, how sure are you it was him you saw? You witnessed something terrible, it could have been too much for you to take in.”

“I saw him Gustavus, I saw him die.”

“Okay, I believe you, but what if you saw someone else? What if in the shock of that you mixed things up and had it all confused?”

“Cut the crap Gustavus, I'm his girlfriend. Er—was his girlfriend.” I maintained, anger swelling up in my chest.

It was three days ago Benjamin was by my side, telling jokes and tickling me until the early hours of the morning. Benjamin turned momentarily to kiss my lips and said his goodbyes before sneaking out of my window before my parents woke up. How could I have missed the fact that my boyfriend was shot while walking away from my house? Three guys came and started shoving Benjamin in the street. Why? Was he trying to defend us, no—me? I wasn’t desperate to lose him; I couldn’t have concluded if I wasn’t sure he was dead.

Benjamin was an obstinate one, he was a bully resistant. Just, but always ready to fight to defend what he believed. In my mind I had begged him to let them have their fill of whatever business they thought they had with him that morning, but I knew Benjamin was as stubborn as a goat, so all I could muster was a feeble hand to cover my mouth and hope for the best. He had them for a while, had them enough, but he was stupid to have thought he could fend off all three of them alone. Benjamin maybe could have retreated—if they didn’t have a gun. I couldn't help but to think it was my fault. If he hadn't have stayed the night at my place, would he still be alive?

That evening after work, I had the nudge I needed to go out, a text from my boyfriend. We planned to take a walk and catch up after a whole week’s worth of work and school. When Benjamin showed up at the restaurant I work at, a couple of minutes before I was set to leave, I couldn’t resist his alluring device to get me to take that walk with him. I wish I had not, then maybe he’d still be alive and I wouldn’t be arguing with his best friend over how vague or material my experience with him was. 

“They can’t find a body, Marilyn, there’s no proof that he’s dead.” Gustavus was getting on my nerves with all that talk about me being wrong about watching Benjamin take his last breaths. It was bad enough he actually died before me, why was I being told he could have faked being dead and for what? People who get shot don’t play dead, they actually do die. 

“I am the proof of that, Gustavus, I am the only witness. I saw them carry him away. If he had life in him he would’ve fought, Benjamin was a fighter.”

“Exactly, he’s a fighter. I understand you being scared.”

“Oh, it’s more than that Gustavus, but I imagine you have no idea what that could feel like.”

“Marilyn, please, let’s not do this.”

My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met with stifling familiarity. Slivers of light shone in through his bedroom window, revealing the golden brown hues of his eyes as they flickered in what I could only describe as fear in my direction. The cool silence of the darkened room sent a wave of chills down my spine. The sharp sound of my text tone sliced through the room and our locked eyes. I fumbled for my phone, relieved for the excuse from the tension.

“The detective says a body was found and he wants me to come down to identify it, I have to leave. You can go on with this, whatever this is, and leave me out of it.” A fear had already settled in my heart that Gustavus might actually know more about the events that I did. Breathe, I thought. I only had to go down to the station and see what they got, maybe that would the end of it, or the beginning of something more.

“I’m coming with you Marilyn, Benjamin is my best friend—was, if that sounds better to you. I’d like to see for myself, you may be right and I may be wrong, but whatever it is should settle it for me too.”

I could see the pain hiding behind that hope Gustavus held on to, and I understood why he would rather hope—believe maybe, that Benjamin was alive. Friendship of over ten years, doing practically everything together, and with each other in mind—Benjamin was his best friend, like a brother to the only child Gustavus. But, Benjamin meant the same to me, and his death was not something I wanted to accept so easily. With one last reassuring nod, we were on our way.

The texts from the detective said they had identified his clothes; he wore all black, except for the almost inconsequential yellow stripes at the heel of his shoes. I decided not to tell Gustavus this bit of information, his movements were rapid and unpredictable. I couldn't bring myself to trust him wholeheartedly. He hastened his pace and I had to fasten mine to keep up with him, he was afraid after all, he feared that it could be true he had lost his best friend and brother for real. Or at least I tried to believe.

“Gustavus,” I called out as we approached the doors of the police station, “Hold up a second.” I said, not knowing how to say the words to him. The young man turned on his heel looking almost annoyed.

“What?” he said, his brows stitched impatiently.

“You shouldn't go in Gustavus, the detective sent me the description, and it is him. There's no way it couldn't be.” I couldn't get the words out fast enough. Gustavus stood looking dazed, transfixed on something behind me.

“Turn around Marilyn,” he said, almost choked up, I did as he said. “You thought he was dead,” he continued, not even believing the own words leaving his lips.

Benjamin was walking in our direction in the road with a sheepish smile while waving.

"What's poppin', guys?" He called out, "You look like you've seen a ghost."