Birds of A Cage

"Breakable"

Maria. I woke with her name in my mouth. The green light on the bedside clock blinked repeatedly. 6:30 A.M. I breathed out, but the pressure was still there. My body was on fire again as I flung the cover off and stepped out of bed. Sweating and hot, I headed downstairs. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I walked to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. The faint streaks of the sun appeared through the windows; soon the golden ray would smite me in the face.

Maria was in the kitchen, staring outside the window, drinking from a cup. She was wearing a dress with long arms, falling to the middle of her thighs, loose at her waist and fitted perfectly across her breasts.

"Good morning?"

My voice startled her. She looked at me. Something moved across her eyes- something I couldn't pin down. "Good morning."

The sweet smell of Jasmine lingered in the air. She was intoxicating, like wine, rich and dark, and ruby red. Her serene face, her throat, her slightly upturned chin caught my attention. The vein on her neck pulsed like the heart of a frightened bird. She gazed at me. I loved her large eyes, either black or a brown dark enough to be mistaken for black. For a few tormenting minutes, neither of us said a word.

"You're drinking coffee?"

"No, tea. Would you like some?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Sure."

"You can't sleep?"

She cleared her throat. "No."

"Is it because of me?"

Maria stiffened. She pressed a beringed hand to her chest and fidgeted uneasily with fussy fingers, wiggly toes, shifting shoulders. "Yes. All night, I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. I realized that I don't know you very well."

"And what does that realization do for you?"

There was a distant look in her eyes.

"You can speak freely to me."

"I'm afraid of you and I know that I shouldn't be," she said. "However, I'm afraid of you. You pulled out a gun yesterday after those men came over to see you and it didn't seem like it was the first time."

"Why does that scare you?"

Her eyes dropped to my hands wrapped around the cup of tea. She leaned against the sink, facing me with her arm behind her, her face thoughtful and soft.

"I thought you were just a lawyer. The gun... the bruised knuckles ... these all mean that you are far worse than what I thought and that I made a mistake."

"I am a lawyer."

"But?"

"That's not all that I am."

Fighting to keep eye contact, she asked, "What else do you do?"

"If I told you the truth about me, then life as you know it is over. I'd have to protect you from the men you met last night, from me. If I tell you who I am, you'd be stuck with me and not by choice. Is that what you want?"

"I want the truth."

"My truth comes with a heavy burden to bear and I don't think you're equipped for it."

"So, you don't want to tell me the truth?"

"I don't want to trap you to a life that you've not chosen."

I could feel the sarcasm of her silence. Carelessly, I tried to touch her. She threw her hands into the air and moved away from me.

"Please don't touch me." Her lips slightly trembled. "You're right."

"What now?"

Her knuckles had paled a little from how tightly she was gripping her cup and her free hand rested on her hip, drawing attention to her curves. "You're asking that question like I have options, Edward. If I could, I'd distance myself from you as soon as possible, but I can't. I have nowhere to go and absolutely nothing to do to change that situation."

"If you're uncomfortable with staying with me, I could get you another apartment far away from here. I'll cover all the expenses until you finish school and can pay the bills on your own."

Maria spoke slowly and deliberately. "Says the spider to the fly."

"I would never harm you."

"Are you serious? You want me to be a glorified mistress without the perks? As if living among shadows is as romantic as it sounds."

"Don't be dramatic. That's not what I'm offering."

"If that's not what you're offering, then I don't need your charity."

At that moment, she tried to put a mask over her usual mask. She was an intelligent woman. I could see it in her eyes. But her pride was pitiful in the room. It made me feel superior and sympathetic. Unwarranted space crept between us. She felt further from me than she felt the first time we met, curled up in the hospital bed like an ethereal being I wasn't meant to touch.

"I'm trying to protect you. I don't want you to be attached to someone like me. I hurt people."

"How sweet." She smiled with half-closed eyes and bit her grinning lip. "That's very thoughtful of you to care about me."

"I'm being honest and practical, Maria."

Slowly, she picked her teacup from the kitchen counter. The strap of her nightgown slipped down her arms, hanging on for dear life. I wanted to feel her quiver under my touch. But she would give me an inch and I knew that I would take a mile.

"What do you want from me?"

She smiled again, sad and strained, but sort of affectionate. I felt a painful fondness. I remember having a similar feeling when I met Valentine for the first time— scared and confused. It was strange to be having that feeling now for someone I met on the streets.

"I'm either afraid of you, Edward, or I'm not." The tears shimmered through her voice, which quivered like sunlight in a puddle. "The only way I'm not afraid of you is if I know you. Otherwise, you need to stay away from me."

She yanked herself from the kitchen counter, but I grabbed her hand just as she tried to walk away. I felt no response from her. She didn't move or look at me. I sensed another element present in her that I could not define and did not like. Her posture was brittle, not pliant. There was a rigidity that if crackled would yield nothing.

"How do you not understand that I'm trying to keep you safe?"

The sun rays set perfectly on her cheekbones, lighting her eyes. She looked away to the window, gazing at the obscure horizon.

"This is exhausting. I don't want to talk about this anymore. There is no point to this conversation."

"You need a more structured life and a more structured future. I'm incapable of giving it to you."

"You're hurting my feelings," she said. "but I don't think you're doing it on purpose."

I took her head in both hands. Her confusion increased. Tears floated in her eyes. She curled her body against mine. "How?"

"Treating me the same way my father treated my mom. Like I have no sense of agency. I'm a person with a brain, not a beautiful object for you to protect. I can make my own decisions and handle the consequences too. I may have a weak heart but I'm not fragile. Don't treat me like I'm breakable."

"I'm not treating you like you're breakable. You're just not well informed about the situation, about my life."

"Then inform me. I'm already in the middle of your mess. If you wanted to keep me safe, you would have left me on the streets. You didn't. I have a right to know. Truth is the only safe ground to stand on."

"I don't want to trap you." Maria looked at me with puzzled eyes. She blinked. For a moment I had an impulse to embrace her. "My world is ruthless and unpredictable."

"I'll leave," she said. "I'll find another place to stay. You win."

"It's not a competition. I don't want to win."

She shrugged. "Yet you still won."