by Melissa Marr
I step closer and say, “This is not a trick. We are alone, and I am sad.”
“You want to . . .” His words fade as I step closer.
“Yes.”
I don’t expect the bliss I find. Maybe it’s only because I’ve been so lonely. Maybe it’s because I am not asked to be someone I’m not. Maybe it’s simply because I am choosing this. I don’t know. What I do know is that we meet in the dark most nights after that. He tells me about his plans. (He’s going to Europe to “experience life” in the spring.) He tells me about his family. (They are wealthy and indulgent.) He tells me about his best friend. (A sad, messed up man whose father has all but destroyed him.) He tells me that he’s meeting his best friend’s girl here in a few weeks. (She is sweet and innocent, and Leo is going to bring her here to propose.)
It is November now, the day before Leo returns. We are to be having a dinner for a holiday he calls Thanksgiving. Leo has called almost every night, and after he tires of talking, I climb out my window and meet Robert on the beach. Tomorrow, everything will change. I will lose Robert. If he doesn’t keep our secret, I may be set free by Leo’s anger. I would prefer Leo choose to give me my freedom, but I have thought much about inviting his anger.
He need only hit me three times. Then I am freed. I think I can endure three blows easier than the slow death of many years in this cage.
“Do you want to come to my friend’s house with me tomorrow?” Robert asks that night as he’s holding me in his arms. He’s asked me to meet people so often that I can’t help but feel sorrow for the way I’ve kept these secrets. He’s a good person, and if not for my imprisonment, I would stay with him for the next few months. I might even meet him on European shores. I cannot offer either because Leo took those choices from me.
“I like you.” I sit up and look into his eyes.
Robert grins. “That’s good, since I think I love you.”
I wish it could be simple. For a moment, I think I might love him. He’s funny and kind, and he makes me feel happier than I have since I became a prisoner. He treats my body like it is rare and precious—and he treats my words the same. If I were free, I could love him. I tell him more of the truth than I have other nights.
“I could love you,” I admit. “If I were free to do so, I could love you, and if you still want me after tomorrow . . . I would go on exactly as we are. I would meet your friends and walk at your side.”
Robert kisses me before saying, “You’re strange, Edy, but I like it. Is that a yes? Will you come meet Leo? We’ve been friends forever, before his mom disappeared. He’s peculiar, but I think things are turning around. He met someone, and he sounds happy.”
“I will be there.” I brush the sand from my arms and bare chest, stalling before I confess. I do not meet his gaze as I dress and stand.
When Robert comes to his feet, I ask, “Will you walk me to the house tonight?”
“You’re finally going to tell me where you live?” He’s teasing, but there is a happiness in his voice that I can’t miss.
“I don’t live there by choice, Robert.” I glance at him and don’t try to hide my sorrow. “I’d leave if I could.”
He hugs me closer to him as we walk. “My family could help you. We can go to them and—”
“They can’t,” I interrupt. “Not with this. He owns me.”
“Edy, no one owns you.” Robert shakes his head. “Is it like an immigration thing or does he have something he holds over you?” He steps in front of me. “Is it a legal thing? Did you do something illegal?”
“I can’t explain.” I shiver a little from both the cold air and the fear that presses against me. “I care for you, but he owns me. Unless he lets me go, I can’t leave.”
Robert continues arguing as we walk, but when we stop at the side of the house, his words stop. His mouth opens and closes once before he finds speech again. “Mr. Ponties owns you? I know his son, and—”
“Leo,” I correct. “Leo owns me. He is not bringing his girl here. I am here, and I cannot leave.” My anger spikes, and I gesture widely at the house. “It is my prison.”
He says nothing.
His silence continues as I climb up the side of the house and into my room. When I look back, he stands below me staring up at the window, staring at me with confusion plain on his face. I tell him, “I will be here tomorrow when you come, and when he is gone back to university, I will come to you if you still want.”
But he still says nothing. My lips are sore from his kisses, and my body relaxed from our pleasures, but he does not speak to me. I do not know what he will tell Leo.
As I stare out at the sea, I remind myself again that I can accept three blows in anger to be free of these land-dwellers.
I wait anxiously for the sound of Leo’s arrival. The staff has made the house welcoming. Fresh flowers fill vases, and Leo’s bed is made up with clean linens. I’ve been made ready too. My hair is brushed thoroughly, and my skin is scrubbed clean of the salt and sand that usually adorns it. It was when they suggested that I be sure to get the sand all off that I knew that they were all too aware of my secret. They might tell him. Robert might tell him.
And here I sit, awaiting my jailer.
My not-so-secret sojourns at night are the only freedom I have known since Leo imprisoned me. I am afraid that these hours with the sea and with Robert are ending. If Leo takes these away too, I am not sure how I will endure.
“Eden?” Leo’s voice fills the house, and at the unhappy tone in it, I worry suddenly that he’d expected me to be waiting at the door like a faithful puppy.
I go to him and look past him. Dread creeps into my voice, but I blame it on the person he fears. “Are you alone or is he . . .?”
Relief unclouds his expression as he accepts my lie, as he chooses to believe I was not at the door because of fear.
“No, love. He’s not here.” He embraces me. “I should’ve told you. My father won’t be here. It’s just us.”
“I’m glad,” I murmur, reminding myself to be meek. I have almost forgotten that in the joy of the nights with Robert when I am allowed to be myself, to speak as I please, to do as I want. I concentrate though. I can do this again. I can be the Eden Leo has been trying to mold me into being. I duck my head slightly. “I’m glad he’s not here.”
And just like that, Leo is happy.
He talks as is his increasing habit in our nightly calls, and I listen in silence as I am supposed to do. It is stifling, like restraints drawn tighter by his very words, but I stare at him with the affection I would give to the sea. I look on him and pretend he is Robert.
Come evening, I am tired. The burden of being around Leo is wearing, and I almost refuse when he asks if I’d like to go out. Then he adds, “The staff says that you do not even ask to go for walks.” He smiles at me with a strange pride. “You’re a good girl, Eden. I like that you obeyed so well.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the door. “Take off our shoes, and we can go out.”
He stands and waits for me to obey. This is not new, but it has been months since I’ve had to kneel before him. It takes more effort to do so now. I bow my head to hide my face. I can do that now that my hair is longer.
Leo’s hand strokes my hair as I kneel and remove first his shoes and then my own. Then, as I had when he lived here with me before, I hold up my hand, so he can pull me up to stand beside him.
He does not release me.
We walk, and I try to remember that I am to be thrilled by this small gift, by this permission to touch the water that is my rightful home.
“Would you like to wade in?”
This is new, and even though I do so every night, I am still grateful. “Yes.”
“You earned this, Eden.” He releases my hand.
I wade out until the water swirls around my hips. My eyes close, and I tilt my face to the sky. For a moment, I am happy, but then Leo speaks my name. I open my eyes and stare at him.
“By spri
ng, maybe we can go swimming, or”—he holds out a hand—“maybe you’ll be pregnant by then.”
When I reach his side, he takes my hand and squeezes it. Then he releases me and draws a small box from his pocket. “I know we said Christmas, but I feel like we shouldn’t wait. We can be married at Christmas instead.”
He opens the box and withdraws a ring. I was taught about this human custom, so I would know what to do when this moment came. The ring is beautiful, but I have no use for shiny rocks. I know I am expected to be happy, so I smile at him and hold my hand out to him obediently. He doesn’t ask if I want to be wed, but I couldn’t answer freely even if he did.
“In a few weeks, you’ll be my wife.” Leo slides the ring onto my finger and then kisses me briefly, a brush of the lips and then he’s withdrawn. “I’ll be twenty in the spring, and my trust will be all mine then. I’ll find us a place near the university.”
“You mean live away from the sea?” My heart pounds like waves crashing in a hurricane, and I’m afraid to meet Leo’s eyes.
He laughs though. “We can’t live here, but we’ll still visit. The ocean gave me you. I can’t stay away from it all the time.”
“How long is Christmas?”
Leo misunderstands my fear for excitement. “Less than a month. I go back in a few days, but I’ll return for you soon after. I’ll take you to our new home, and we’ll be together every day then. You can learn new things then, other ways to be good to me, and soon we’ll have our first child.” He brushes my hair back, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs as he does so. “They say that marriages made so young don’t last, but ours will. You can’t leave me; you can’t disobey me . . . and I . . . won’t ever need to hurt you.”
I cannot speak around the pain inside me. Leo means to take me away from my sea in a few weeks. He means to make me with child. There are ways to prevent pregnancy. Robert and I have used them, but I cannot disobey Leo. I stare down at the ring weighing down my hand, and I feel warm tears on my face.
“I feel the same way, but”—Leo kisses my cheeks, swallowing my tears, before continuing— “but it’s only a few more weeks that we’ll be apart, and later if you want a big ceremony, we can renew our vows. It would be the third time really.”
I look at him.
“The night I chose you, we were bound more than any church can tie two people,” he clarifies. “The second time, we can go to a courthouse. The third, we can have a lavish ceremony . . . maybe on our third anniversary. The real one, the third anniversary of the night we met.”
Mutely, I let him lead me into the house and into his bedroom.
“I know I wanted to wait till we were married, but we’re engaged now,” he says.
I try to find comfort in his kisses, try not to wince when he holds my arms too tightly, try not to cry out in pain when he enters my body without tenderness. I almost succeed, but then he grips my throat. Each cry only makes him happier. All I can do is stay still as Leo ruts and roars on top of me. Afterwards, when he is quiet beside me, I realize that I have done exactly what he wants.
“You’re perfect, Eden,” he whispers in a tone of near reverence. “Soon, we can be together every day. I’ll teach you how to be a good wife.”
I close my eyes and say, “Yes, Leo.”
By the time Robert arrives to see Leo, I am dressed. I wear a cardigan sweater to cover the handprints that once more decorate my arms, and for the first time, I wear a high-necked shirt to hide the bruises low on my throat. When Robert comes into the room, led by one of the nameless members of the staff who do not speak to me even after all of these months, I look to Leo for instructions.
He takes my hand and tugs me to stand beside him. I barely hide my wince of pain as I stand, but Leo doesn’t notice. He releases my hand and hugs Robert.
“Eden is tired,” Leo says, “but I couldn’t wait a minute longer.” He lifts my hand to show Robert the ring. “I wasn’t sure . . . hopeful, but you know how women can be . . .” His words drift away, and I think of the other girl, the one he’s mentioned briefly. I wonder if she is the reason he chose not to take me to bed before we were engaged. It’s odd to think that, knowing as we both do that I had to say yes, but Leo is—as Robert once told me—a very broken man.
I hear him still talking and force myself to listen as he says, “. . . but she said yes. Eden is going to be my wife in a few short weeks.”
Leo smiles widely at me.
Robert looks at me, and I know that when Leo returns to university, Robert will not be waiting for me in the dark.
“I’ve met her,” Robert says. “While you were away, I met her. I didn’t know. You got to believe me. If I had . . . I wouldn’t have.” Robert looks as heartsick as I feel. “I swear I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I knew.”
“Eden?” Leo asks. There are so many questions in those few letters, and I don’t know which to answer.
“I didn’t cross the threshold,” I whisper. “Robert didn’t know I was . . . yours.”
The hand that was hanging at his side curls into a fist, and I brace myself. I think that it would be better if Robert left—almost as much I hope he will stay. I know this is my path to freedom, but I am afraid.
“We had sex the first night,” I say quietly. “I didn’t know he was your friend then.”
“And after?” Leo prompts. He’s staring only at me now. “Did you stop when you knew?”
I lift my head a fraction and say, “No.”
“I think you should leave,” Leo says, and I know that he isn’t talking to me even though I wish he were.
Robert steps forward and touches Leo’s arm. “Leo—”
“Now.” Leo is not looking at Robert. His gaze is only on me, and I see his father in him. There is fury here, more than I was expecting. I consider begging Robert to stay, but this is what must happen to set me free.
I start to walk away, as if I could go with Robert, and Leo grabs me. I yelp. He shakes me, and I wonder how many ways he can hurt me without striking me.
But I do not want to lose my nights of freedom. They were all I had left, and they are gone too. I have to do this. “I lay down with him every night,” I say quietly.
He lifts a hand.
“Leo!” Robert yells.
And Leo punches him instead.
“No!” I step between them, and the second blow hits me. I’ve never been hit before, and the force of it is unlike my imaginings. I lift my hand to my cheek. “He didn’t know. I seduced him, Leo. I crept out at night and seduced him. He is innocent.”
Leo raises his hand again, but Robert grabs him. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
Trapped as he is, Leo can’t swing at me, so he kicks me. That hurts even more than the punch. I fall to the floor and look up at him. I’m afraid, but I am more hopeful than afraid. Twice. He’s struck me twice. There are rules, and we both know them.
I open my mouth, but before I speak words to incite that third blow, Leo says, “No.” He shakes his head. The anger is not gone, but his control has returned. He meets my gaze, but does not offer to help me to me feet. He swears, “I won’t do it a third time, Eden. You can’t leave me.”
Robert looks between us like we are both strangers to him. He might not understand, but he knows that there is more going on here than what he can see. “Edy, why don’t you go outside while Leo calms down.”
“May I, Leo?”
Leo bows his head, either to hide anger or sorrow, and Robert releases his hold. Leo steps forward, but he doesn’t touch me. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “You know I shouldn’t, but I won’t hit you a third time. I still love you.”
“If you really love me, tell me I can go home,” I half ask, half demand. I stand and take off the sweater. Both Robert and Leo look at the fresh bruises on my arms. “Tell me I don’t need to stay in a cage.”
“It’s not a cage,” Leo insists. “I’ll take care of you. We can be happy; I know it. It’s just that you were alone; I
’ll never leave you alone again. You were weak, but I forgive you.” He stands and comes to me. He kisses me with the sort of tenderness he didn’t show me in his bed and then he tells me, “I know what will happen if I hit you again. That’s why I picked you, so I wouldn’t be like that. I can be better.”
“I want my freedom,” I tell him, being honest as I haven’t been before. It took this: his threat to take me further from the sea, his fist, his foot, for us both to show our desperation.
“No. I’ll be better.” Leo looks at me, and I think of the night he came to me with a bruised face. I think he remembers that same night because he touches my face. “You’re mine, Eden. I’m not going to let you go.”
“You hurt me,” I say.
“I love you,” he swears. “I won’t be like him. I swear it. We’ll leave here, and we’ll be together. Everything will be perfect.”
All the while Robert stands watching us. He looks between us, and my heart hurts for them both. It hurts more for the freedom that felt so close. I cannot lose the little of the sea that I still have. The thought of never touching it, of not hearing it, not seeing it, or smelling the brine—it destroys me.
If we were staying here, I could try to wait, try to find ways to make Leo hit me again, but even as I think it, I know that I do not want to feel the other pains he delivers. I do not want to wear these bruises. I do not want to kneel at his feet. I do not want my voice to be silent.
I could kill Leo; he’s never ordered me not to hurt him. I’m not sure I can take a life, but I think of it now. If he were dead, I could take my other-skin from wherever it is hidden in the house. While he is alive, I cannot even search for it, but if he were to die, I could re-claim my soul.
I could let the sea take me. It is what my kind has often done. Without our souls, without the sea, many of us sink into a sorrow deep as the darkest caverns in the sea. This, I can do.
“May I go to the beach, Leo?” I ask quietly. “You tell me you are different. You say you are not like your father. You say this isn’t a cage.” I hold his gaze and challenge him. “Prove it.”
