Birds of A Cage

"Bittersweet Desolation"

Sleep evaded me for the rest of the night. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I found myself back in the middle of an anxious crowd hiding from the blaring sound of gunshots. Suddenly, the fear that had eluded me during the attack found me.

I stayed up until slivers of light peeped through the drawn blinds, casting thin golden stripes across the room. The house was quiet when I headed downstairs. No Edward insight. No workers fussing outside. It was 8:00 a.m.

 I sat on the bench in the hallway where Edward's family picture hung. I had tried to avoid the sad eyes of the woman in the picture for months. Was it out of guilt or pity? Still, I felt connected to her. As if our life's lines were implied as parallels, traced in the same direction. Our destinies knotted into one.

"Maria?"

Edward leaned against the wall beside the painting in just his pants. He was from the gym. Thick sweat trickled down his body. The sun had darkened his skin, creating a sharp contrast of his face. He looked at me like one would an abstract piece of art he didn't understand.

"What are you doing?"

"Just thinking..."

"About?"

"The past," I said. "My parents."

He sat next to me. "What were they like?"

"My mother was a medical scientist at the Kenya Medical Research Institute." I didn't know why I was excavating history. "My father owned a capital investment firm. They met during in the late 80s, fell in love and got married in less than a year. Over the years, they struggled to have a child until they had me."

He glanced at me as I threw my head back to blink back the tears that threatened to spill.

"I grew up in a well-adjusted family. We owned a large house in Hurlingham and a plethora of luxury cars. Then one day I got sick and the doctor said that I had a heart defect. Our lives changed then. My father spent his time working more to cover the medical bills and my mother, although she loved her job, had to resign to take care of me."

I could feel a numbness spreading through my limbs. All the pain and struggle of the past was brought forth now that I had given way to the buried memories.

"I was fifteen when I had an aortic valve replacement. I had a normal teenage after that. Boys. Parties. Disgruntled parents. When I was twenty, I developed a serious infection called prosthetic valve endocarditis. My heart failed. I needed a heart transplant. I was lucky to get one, but when I woke up from my surgery, I found out that my parents had died in a car accident on their way to the hospital for my surgery."

Edward drew me into his arms for an embrace. Although it wasn't the first time, he had done that, it took me by surprise. He cuddled me in the folds of his arms as if I were broken.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's funny how I was the one ready to die, always prepared for it then they are the ones who died at the exact time I was getting a second chance at life."

Emotions I hadn't felt for years had been on a rolling boil and I struggled to keep a lid on it. Tears. Why? I hadn't even shed a tear in my darkest moments. But the intensity...

"What happened? How did you end up in the streets?"

"I remember my parents always arguing about money," I said. "According to his lawyer, he was in debt. The business was liquidated to pay off the debts and our family savings was used to pay off my medical bills. Nothing remained."

"Nothing?" He questioned suspiciously. "Your father owned a capital investor. He didn't protect you financially? That doesn't sound right."

I shrugged. "His lawyer worked for our family for years. I didn't have a reason to doubt him."

"Do you have any information about him? What was his name?"

"Dennis Kimani. I think I have a few legal documents that I signed before we terminated our contract in my belonging."

"Can I have a look at them?" he asked.

"Sure. I'll give you all the files."

I flickered another glance at Edward – he was studying me on the quiet. Empowered by the softness in his eyes, hope filled a thousand empty spaces in me, still tempered, however, by his silence.

"What was your wife like?"

A look of desolation flickered across his determined face as his composure crumbled for a moment, but he shook his head firmly and took a deep breath.

"Her name was Makena. We met at her workplace. She was the head of ICT for an investment firm I represented. I asked her out and we dated for a few months. She fell pregnant and we decided to get married. A few months later, we had Dominic."

"What happened to them?"

"They died in a car accident. They were a pawn in a game I got caught in. Makena was running away from me after she discovered who I was," he said. "She took my son, packed their things and ran away because she wanted to protect Dominic from me but they didn't get to where they were going."

Taking his hand, I intertwined our fingers then ran my other hand up and down his arm. "I'm so sorry."

For a moment, he looked like he wasn't going to move or he hadn't heard. Then his face softened. "It's fine. It's been a long time since it happened."

We looked and looked at each other. And I could feel something new between us, something even more intimate than anything we had ever done.

"I understand now why you want to protect me."

"That's all I can offer you. Maybe one day I can be able to give you more."

I said nothing. Not sure if I wanted to keep talking. And not sure any more if I wanted to listen. It was all getting a bit too much like a therapy session.

He stood and reached for my hand. "Come on – let's get going. I have to see my uncle in a few but before I do, I want to drop you off. Maybe we can have dinner together tonight. Is that okay?"

But I made no move, didn't even look up at him. I trailed my eyes on his family picture, outside the window to the dancing trees and then my gaze finally fell on him.

"No," I said. "No, Edward. I'm not going with you."

"What do you mean you're not going with me?"

"I think it's time for us to cut ties permanently."

A mirthless laugh. "I don't have time for jokes, Maria. Did you not see what happened last night? Do I have to spell out to you what my uncle is involved with, what he's capable of?"

"No. I got the memo loud and clear."

"Great. Then you can understand that I'm just trying to protect you," he said.

"And control me."

He didn't say anything.

"You're not even going to deny it, are you?"

He shrugged. "Control is important to me."

"Control was important for my father too. In the end, it was my mom who was miserable. I loved her so much, but I don't want to be like my mother. I don't want to be a porcelain doll placed on a beautiful shelf for the sanity of the man I love."

He stood there. Didn't move. Didn't even seem to have heard me. I fought an urge to reach out and touch him. He was so close. The sinew of his bronzed forearm bunched and stretched.

"What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?"

"I have friends at the clinic who can help me."

His forlorn gaze landed on me. "Friends like doctor Ken?"

Bittersweet desolation. It was there in his voice. His usual black and white, here-are-the-facts tone had darkened and I was sure there was still something very, very raw in there.

"Thank you so much for everything you have done for me," I said. "One day, I'll pay it all back. For now, I have to get back to my life before you. We both know it's the right thing to do."