Uncaged

by Paige Notaro

  "I...no."

  He chuckled almost sadly. "Then there we go. I can't just take you back across the border. We need to get your paperwork and all. Until then you need to stay safe."

  His words rolled over me like a wet blanket. I was tired and hungry and now I was confused too. I had seen the look on his face right? I had seen what he wanted from me. But now he looked so calm, like another stone wall on this house. He was right - I had no way to prove I belonged in the US. Was he really going to help me get ID?

  "Why do I have to stay so far away?" I asked. "Why can't I stay in town?"

  "Where do you want to stay?" Mr. Tarly asked. "Back in that building where I found you?"

  I shook my head quickly. I didn't want to go back to that house of sex, but it bothered me what he had said. He hadn't found me there, he had bought me there. My brain twirled over that. Had he bought me to set me free? Did people do that?

  "This is a safe house, honey. It'll keep you away from the law and immigration and any other crooks out there. Juarez is dangerous you know. One of the worst cities in the world."

  Juarez. I had seen that word before. On signs somewhere in Texas? Trying to remember seemed to use up the last of my mental energy though cause I felt myself go woozy. I sank back against the kitchen sink.

  Concern dawned on Mr. Tarly's face. He came over and rested a hand gently on my shoulder. "Hey now," he said. "I know you've been through plenty and more. You need some rest. Here.”

  He poured me a glass of water from a pitcher in the fridge and rummaged through the cabinet till he came back with a box of pills. I took the water but shook my head at the pills.

  "It'll clear out your head."

  "No.” My empty head was my biggest problem.

  He shrugged and tossed the tablet in the trash. "Can't say I blame you," he said. "Well, get some rest, honey. We'll talk tomorrow."

  He stroked my hair and then just like that, he turned and marched right back out the door. The SUV rumbled to life and then scratched on back up the dirt road until the lights were out of sight.

  The house echoed with crickets and the chittering voices on TV that sounded like other insects. I shut it off and made my way to one of the bedrooms. The cushion was tough and the sheets were flimsy but at least I could stretch out and look out at a real night sky.

  I was alone again, away from everyone that had bothered me. I couldn't buy that things were fixed now, but this was better right?

  I mulled it over for about a minute before sleep swept the worry from my brain.

  ****

  I woke up covered in sweat. I hadn't had dreams the whole night, but when I tried to doze off again, I had a vivid one about being boiled alive. Not very creative, I guess, but it was enough to get me out of the bed.

  I washed my face in the dingy bathroom. There was no brush or paste but I tried to gargle some water and almost choked. It tasted like liquid salt. I tried small sips and could take it, but then wondered if it was safe for me to drink water in Mexico at all. I thought about it seriously for a moment and then just started to laugh. Yeah, like water was my biggest problem.

  I finally had the nerve to have a long look in the mirror. I looked like a starving scarecrow. My skin was cotton pale and my hair stuck out every which way like straw stuffing. I wasn't probably too small to scare anyone else, but it definitely upset me. I wanted to be normal again, so I might as well look normal.

  I found a men's comb and used it to sieve my long hair until it fell straight again. I almost smiled, but then I remembered that the girl looking back at me had let herself be drugged and kidnapped out of her own country. Going back all the way to normal maybe wasn't the best thing for me.

  I went to get more water from that pitcher in the kitchen. It smelled like someone had been cooking and my stomach growled. I looked around to see if maybe there was any food set aside, but there was none in the kitchen.

  I turned and saw a plastic sack on the living room table with steam sifting out of it.

  Then I saw Mr. Tarly sitting on a corner couch, reading from a tablet.

  I gasped loud enough for him to hear. He looked up from his screen with a cheery smile. "Well, good morning, hon," he said. "Sorry, I was hoping to surprise you, but a few work matters drew my attention."

  We both stayed where we were. In the clear light of day, he just looked like a jolly old man. Like he were Santa, shaved and in a beige suit. Something still struck me as wrong about this whole situation, but now it was just a vague feeling, especially compared to my rumbling stomach.

  "Just got here with some food," he said. "It's all hot and packed. I thought we might eat together."

  I sniffed the air and made out seared beef and onions. Was that a hamburger? My mouth started to water. Like a stray dog, I slowly walked over to the couch and sat down.

  It was tacos. I hadn’t exactly been fond of them before, but now I nearly chewed through the wrapper to get one into my mouth. Mr. Tarly chuckled and asked me where my manners were as he took his own. But manners were for civilization and we were far away from any of that. I scarfed down two of the tacos in a few minutes and rifled through the bag for more. There were tortilla chips and a small tub of salsa and I went through those in giant scoops. Mr. Tarly was asking me questions, but I just pointed at my mouth and kept eating.

  Once I started to slow down, the questions started back up. How was my night? What did I do?

  Fine. Nothing.

  I finally set down what was left of the chips and started back for the water but Mr. Tarly pushed over a bottle of soda. It was apple flavored which was weird, but actually tasty.

  "Did you have a chance to check out the place?" Mr. Tarly asked when I finally looked down.

  "There's not much to see."

  "No, I suppose not. Hard to build a mansion in the middle of nothing and still call it a secret safe house. But still, it's got the essentials right?"

  I wanted to ask him why a safe house would need that dingy cement room. Instead I asked, "Who would build a place here?"

  "Business partners of mine," he said. "Just wanting to protect their employees at times."

  That answer made much less sense now. Why would you bring someone out to the middle of nowhere to make them feel safe? Come to think of it, if I was here to hide from the Mexican police, then what sort of business were his partners in?

  "How much longer do I need to stay?" I asked. "Did you talk to anyone about my paperwork yet?"

  Mr. Tarly chuckled like he always did. "Honey, it's a Sunday. The Mexican government barely functions on a weekday. They're not getting anything done on the weekends."

  The happy daze of food soured. "So I'm stuck here for a while?"

  "Oh don't worry, you're perfectly safe. Nothing will happen to you. I'm gonna leave a couple of guys outside for protection."

  One was already outside the kitchen window. He sat faced away, but I knew he was one of the big bulky guys from last night.

  "Why do I need protection?"

  "Juarez is dangerous. It ain't like any place you've ever been up in the good old US, honey. It's good to keep a couple of guys like that around."

  "I don't like it."

  "They won't be any trouble. They're paid about a dozen times more than anyone else they know so they'll just be little guardian statues keeping watch outside."

  He gave me that benevolent smile. I was starting to hate it. He was avoiding my questions by addressing concerns I never had. "I don't want to stay here," I said. "It's not comfortable."

  "Oh, believe me, I understand. Maybe once I get the paperwork rolling I can take you out of here. But just until then, it's really better if you stay put. I'm sorry, honey."

  He leaned in all sad and patted my leg, which I liked even less. I’d rather risk whatever might happen staying in the middle of the city, but I didn’t want to hear him lie to me anymore so I stayed quiet.

  Mr. Tarly looked thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if it might be just to k
eep his hand on my bare knee longer, but then he said. "Is there anything at all I can do to make sure you're more comfortable here?"

  "Books," I said instantly. “I like to read.”

  He beamed. “Well that is something I can provide. Any in particular?”

  "Mark Twain. Gone with the Wind. That sort of thing." I'd spent hours floating on those few books back home. It was one of the few parts of my childhood I could think about happily.

  But Mr. Tarly's eyes were gleaming now and I came right back down to this ugly hard room. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he said. The word took so long to leave his mouth that I wished he'd gone back to calling me honey. I didn’t like how pleased this was making him.

  "That's it," I said. "That's more than enough."

  "Well, all right then." The sweaty weight of his hand finally left my skin and he stood up. "I've got some business to take care of, but I'll see what I can rustle up for tomorrow. Until then, make use of whatever you feel like. Kitchen's stocked and I'll see if I can get one of the boys to come round with a bag of groceries.

  I had no idea how to cook, but the sight of him leaving had me so relieved that I just nodded furiously. I even walked him to the door.

  He stopped at the entrance though and faced me full on. His body blocked out the sun.

  "Alright," he said. "I'll take my goodbye kiss and be off."

  He leaned in ever so gently.

  Goodbye kiss. It sounded so harmless like that. I'd learned that it wasn't so uncommon in certain parts of the world, but I had barely kissed anyone. The first kiss I ever shared with a boy ended up with me running from home and I had never chanced another one. Now these fat lips loomed in front of me, waiting.

  "Sorry," I said. "I don't really do that sort of thing."

  The cheer left his face so fast it was liked a mask had dropped off. Mr. Tarly’s cheeks bulged red like they might blow in my face. I dropped my gaze as if I'd done something wrong. I hadn't, but instinct was hard to fight.

  "It's a lot of work I'm doing to keep you safe," he said. "I'm a busy man."

  "I'm sorry."

  He waited, but I wasn't so sorry that I was going to press my mouth to his. I tried my best not to tremble. Then the sunlight was falling on me again.

  Mr. Tarly pressed on a wide brimmed hat as he backed towards the waiting SUV. "I was gonna make some time to get back here tomorrow, but if that's the sort of courtesy you can extend, then I might be busy."

  He got in and the doors shut. I watched the SUV kick up dirt on its way out. The guard bustled me back in, and locked the door.

  I’d been upgraded from a room to a house and from one guard to two – but I knew the truth now. I was just as trapped as before.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Georgia

  A week passed and Mr. Tarly didn't show.

  I didn't know time could be so painful until I had nothing to spend it on. The house had many rooms but they were all essentially empty, just sheets and space. All I had to look at beyond the TV was the flame on the stove. I would spend my mornings watching emotions screamed out on the flat screen and when that got too much, I'd turn on the blue light in the kitchen and make lunch.

  After I burned a few batches of beans I got smart and found cans of baked beans with meat in them. They tasted pretty ok at first, but I got sick of it fast and ate as little as I needed . My rumbling stomach was its own sort of distraction.

  After lunch, I would go in the other bedroom for variety. The house would be baking by then; I didn't know the world could get this hot. I would lie on the bed with the canvas shades down, wearing just one of the t-shirts and panties that Mr. Tarly had left me. The idea of him picking these out and imagining me in them made me sick, but I couldn’t wash and wear my one set of clothes every day.

  One of those afternoons, I was dangling my hand off the side of the bed and found a bunch of old magazines. One of them had a tan, coy-looking girl on the cover peeking off the page and holding up her enormous breasts. I threw that one aside, and went to the other which just looked like a celebrity magazine. I flipped through all the Spanish names and looked at the scanty dresses. It became clear that this magazine had seen the same use as the first one.

  By day five I was bored enough to start flipping through the first magazine too. The women looked nothing like me. Instead of pale flesh they had bronze skin. Instead of my light hair theirs was rich and vibrant. They carried their bodies with pride - joy even. I couldn’t begin to fathom how that would feel. For years I'd been taught my flesh was a source of shame to be covered so as to prevent sin. And now, I wanted it covered away from where anyone could see or touch. Who were these women to show everything to the world so proudly? Maybe they were forced like the girls back in that place I'd been hidden. The idea of someone choosing to give themselves away like this scared me even more.

  Hunger and boredom would work together and drive me back to a dinner on the couch. The shows were prettier at night and sometimes I could see the news. The world carried on with disasters much bigger than a girl trapped in another country. Eventually I would pass out, or cry a bit and then pass out or I would manage to stumble back into my bed before doing the same thing.

  I slept with the windows open so I could hear the desert. There were grills over these windows to prevent me from sneaking out, but even then the guards never let me linger by them too long. Two of them always kept watch over me. They switched shifts in the evening. I had no idea how they managed to survive the heat, but they sat still even as sweat poured down their faces so I guessed they were just used to it.

  By day six, I was going a bit nuts. I scoured the kitchen for anything in English - anything familiar to put my mind at ease. I tried asking one of the guards what his name was through the window - asked if he could get me some magazines when he came back. He waved me off, and when I didn't move, he stomped up to the window and screamed Spanish in my face until I shrank away.

  How long could Mr. Tarly keep me here? How long could I keep my mind here? I’d been promised books – that was all I asked for. I could survive forever with those; just imagine myself drifting down the Mississippi river, with Huck paddling the raft. I tried picturing myself far away, but all I had clear in my mind was home in Massachusetts and that was no place to escape to. I couldn't think clearly of where else I wanted to be, and that scared me the most. I was almost used to being here, to being alone. I didn't want that. I would take anything but that.

  And just like he'd been waiting for my prayer, on day 7, Mr. Tarly returned.

  ****

  The door opened while I was reading the porn magazine for the dozenth time. I thought it was one of the guards dropping off groceries at the doorstep, but the sound of boots clomping down the hall followed.

  I rushed out into the hall and ended up face to face with Mr. Tarly. He had on the same suit he had when he'd first bought me, brown like the endless desert surrounding us. I stared at it in wonder now.

  "Oh my," he said. "Eager to see me, huh?"

  I peered at his face intently. Some part knew that the right response to that was fury, but the sound of English had cast a spell. I felt myself smile.

  He drew me into a hug and I took it. We went into the living room, and he dropped another satchel onto the table. I rushed into it hoping for another taste of decent food, but got something even better. Shiny hardcover versions of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Moby Dick. I had never read the latter, but I sure had time now.

  "Those were the two they had in English at the bookstore," he said. "I can get more later."

  Later. The word sparked memory in me. I remembered why I was here. "Can I leave soon?" I asked.

  "No, not yet. They're still working on your case."

  "Who is?"

  "Why, the US government." He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion.

  "When will they be done?" I asked, sitting down too.

  "Oh, it's a slow process. Sad state this country is in, let me tell you." He thoug
ht a moment then chuckled. "Well, I mean the US, but Mexico ain't doing any better, that's for sure."

  I couldn't go yet. That's all I had understood. I knew that this wasn't quite right. I knew this was no government problem, that this was him. But I didn't know what I could do about it. At least if I didn't admit it, I could still hope that somehow everything would turn out alright.

  "I don't like it here," I said, meekly.

  "Oh, sweetie." He stroked my hair. "I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm sorry that I got angry last time. But you know, it was just irritating to see all my hard work go unrecognized. To be treated like I was some evil man just for taking you out of that place. "

  His hand settled possessively on my shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it though. I forgive you."

  Had I apologized? I didn't remember that, but I hadn’t been angry. Was that the same thing?

  "I have an idea," he said. "Why don't I take you out for dinner?"

  My mind got thrown for another loop. "Dinner? Outside?"

  "Well, unless you're rustling up something in the kitchen."

  "I can't really cook, and there's not much to eat."

  "Ah." He peered over me with deep concern. "Ok, we'll fix that too. Starting right now. You deserve a night out. What do you say?"

  "Ok, sure."

  He waited, and I thought I knew for what.

  "Thank you," I added.

  His face stretched out in a grin. "Sure thing. It's my pleasure. Why don’t you go get dressed?"

  I went to my bedroom and stared blankly at the mostly bare shelves of the closet. I had on a puffy green blouse and jeans, which seemed ok already, but I had never really been out for dinner even in New York. I wasn't sure what people wore.

  I went into the bathroom to check myself and saw my face gaunt in the mirror. Seeing myself so calm twisted my heart.

  This isn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be a date. I didn't need to get ready to go out with him.

  But I wanted food. I wanted to leave this place.

  This wasn't about that, though. This was a treat for good behavior. It was me giving him exactly what he wanted.