Uncaged

by Paige Notaro

  "You're going to be the end of me," he said.

  "That's what I'm afraid off," I whispered.

  He chuckled. "I wasn't being serious, baby. Trust me, though, any end you gave would be a sweet heaven."

  "Well, I'd rather you stick around here with me."

  "Me too."

  I nestled deeper into him and just as we’d come together, we fell asleep together.

  The next morning I woke up alone again, feeling renewed, like my life was starting over and over, fresh each day. My legs were sore but a warm shower loosened it up and I felt right enough to get to the bar at a more reasonable hour.

  Maria wasn't so chipper and welcoming today. She tossed me an apron and nudged her head at the filled tables.

  "Let's get this done," she said. "It is just half a day today."

  "Half a day?" I asked.

  "Yes. This afternoon is my niece’s quinceañera. She is turning 15."

  "Oh, you sure you don't want me to stay and keep the place open?"

  She laughed. "Ah niña, I do not think you're ready for that yet. Besides you’re coming."

  "Me? But I'm not -"

  "What." She folded her arms. "Did you forget what we talked about yesterday?"

  "This is your real family, though, Maria."

  "And you are what? Hmm? Some fake one?" She swung out of the bar and held me by the shoulders. "You are my sister now. I mean what I say. So we will go see our niece, OK?" She winked. "There will be steak. And Tesol."

  It sounded nice, but too nice for me. I believed Maria, but her family might not have the same idea and I couldn’t even talk to them, maybe. "Dennis will be there, right?"

  Maria's expression went sour. "Are you nuts? We're not married. My family is extremely Catholic."

  “But, he must be family.”

  “Yes, of course, but some family you take out, and some you keep secret.”

  I threw up my arms in defeat. "Ok, ok. Of course, I'll go."

  Which isn't to say that I wasn't nervous later when Maria was driving the two of us in her little hatchback through the east of the city. I had on a bright yellow dress and vaguely hoped that and my skin would make me glare too bright for people to want to approach.

  "Do any of your relatives speak English?" I asked.

  "Of course they do," she shot back indignantly. "Not very well though."

  I sighed and watched the faded plaster buildings whishing by, bringing us closer and closer.

  "Don't worry." Maria patted my bare leg. "Today is not about speeches. It is about emotion. Trust me, you will feel the emotion.”

  We wound up not at a house, but a vast green park. A large crowd of people milled in the grass, some among balloons and tables stacked with food, others further away. When we were walking towards them, I realized with some shock that every one of these people were Maria's relatives in one way or another. She must have felt me go jittery, because she took me by the arm and pressed us forward into the thick of it.

  Faces lit up as we passed. Maria tossed off excited screeching greetings and traded cheek kisses, then kept me moving ever forward, until we were in sight of a table where a couple older women and men were sitting. Finally she let go and ran screaming over.

  "Papa, mama." Those words I knew - not that I had ever said them that way. They hugged and kissed and beamed at each other like they hadn't met in months, even though I knew she'd seen them just a few days ago. I fidgeted and looked away at what felt like a private moment.

  It was one I could never ever have. This might be Maria's closest family, but still, how could she ever open up to a person like this? Would Andre want this from me some day? This unchained affection? I trusted him with all my heart - of course I did - but this was something else I’d never learned.

  Maria dragged me away from myself and introduced me to her mother and step-father. Her parents had sweet, confused faces but greeted me warmly and beckoned to open seats. I took one, but Maria didn't join.

  "I'll be right back, ok? I've got to say hi to the other girls."

  She ran off. Her mom was beaming at me. I tried to smile back.

  "No hablas Español?" she asked.

  "Un poquito," I said, hoping that was the word for 'little' and not 'spicy'.

  "Ah." She nodded gravely.

  My stomach was winding itself into knots. Maria was far away clapping the face of a young girl in a puffy version of my dress. She looked like a beautiful piece of candy, but also way younger than 15. Was I that mature now for high school kids to look like children? There were a few other girls dressed the same and it occurred to me that this wasn't the birthday girl.

  "La fiesta," I said to Maria’s mom. "Muy grande. Muy bueno."

  I knew those were right, cause I used them to describe Steako Ranchero.”

  "Ah, sí," the mother nodded. The stepfather stared at me and then, as if each word was like lifting a weight, he said "Today, she is become... woman."

  I nodded, but the way he said the last word made me giggle. I thought he’d be offended, but he just seemed pleased. Maybe speaking this little Spanish was good in its own way.

  Maria sat next to me.

  "I can hardly believe it," she said, wiping her own cheeks. "That is Selena - my niece's younger sister. Even she looks so grown up today. I remember picking her up over me at my own quinceañera."

  "She looks beautiful," I said. "She grew up very well."

  "Ay," Maria said. "I must not be sad for the past today."

  Sad for the past – another thing I couldn’t understand.

  Maria’s cheek sparkled with tears and then I saw that my curse was a blessing in her own way. I would never experience all that she had, but that would mean it didn’t sadden me to lose it either. I was free to face the future.

  This time it was me placing a hand on Maria's back. She smiled a bleary smile.

  A car pulled up. Someone whistled and the crowd settled down. A boy in a suit opened the car door and an explosion of pink frills started to pour out. When the dress finally emerged in full, it had a girl’s head sticking out the top. She looked downright terrified as the boy escorted her across the lawn. She must be barely older than Selena, but her face was covered in heavy makeup to make her look like a woman.

  A stereo started to play music, and the young man passed her off to a much older man in a suit. The two of them started to dance to a slow elegant song, but both of them were in tears.

  "That's the papa," Maria said, but I already knew somehow. Just watching, I knew deep down how she must feel to have someone who cared so much. I didn’t need to have experienced it myself for my own eyes to start welling up.

  My tears set the afternoon in a blur. The dance ended and Maria's parents were up and with a microphone and talking, their voices cracking the whole time. Another slow dance followed, with another young man who might have been her brother or cousin. A waiter came by passing out drinks. I took a sip to dull the emotion of the moment and then it seemed just moments later there was food before me. Then the plates were gone and the speakers were blasting pop music and the grass was full of people dancing.

  Maria handed me one last drink and then we were both out there, her moving her body to the beat, me just mostly hopping around like a nervous bunny. A swell of joy enveloped us, and then we were in a circle with the birthday girl and her friends. I looked around and recognized with some curiosity how odd I seemed in this crowd. I didn't belong. I couldn't even talk to these people.

  Right then, it didn't matter one bit. I was happy to be there and they were happy to have me.

  Maria came to my side and said, "Family can be fun, sí?"

  Never in my life did I ever think I'd answer the question the way I did: "Sí."

  I got home and changed just before Andre came back. He took one look at me and lit up with that wide smile. "That pleased to see me?" he asked, setting his bag down and picking me up with one arm.

  "Among other things." I leaned into him for a kiss.
"This city is good for me."

  "And you're good for me."

  “I’m not sure when I ever want to leave.”

  "So stay."

  "For as long as I like?"

  "Or for as long as I like. That's going to be a good while longer, is my guess."

  "I suppose we'll find out." I shrieked as he carried me off towards the bedroom. Soon after, as I pulsed with the pleasure of his cock rushing into me, it struck me that this was how I had become a woman. Andre had been my quinceañera. I started to giggle, but Andre took it as invitation to sink deeper into me, and my smile left as a moan, and then a squeal as I came out all over him and the sheets.

  All my past, all the cruelty I had faced had set me free to face the future. What I couldn’t know was how fast it was rushing toward us.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Georgia

  The day began like all the others did now. Me warming up muscles that hadn’t quite recovered from the night before in the shower, then rushing off to the bar to help Maria, only to find out I was not early enough. It was kinda ironic, our new closeness meant she felt freer to yell at me for messing up. Which apparently happened a lot more often than I'd thought.

  "Blanca, less telenovela, more serving."

  I was mouthing along to a very distressed looking woman on the TV. "I'm practicing my Spanish," I yelled back.

  "No no no, this is not good. You don't use the same language on my customers as you do an abusive cheating husband."

  She had a point. I hustled off toward a merry older couple who were down to afterwash on their pints and seemed cheery enough to order another round. When I returned with drinks, the woman touched my upper arm and said something about beauty and her granddaughter. I was trying to figure out how to thank her for the compliment, when the door clinked and told me that another thirsty customer needed attention.

  The bar kept on being noisy, but my ears picked up a shift right away. It took me a second to realize what it was - no one was speaking Spanish anymore.

  I turned to the door and saw two men pushing up to the bar. They were Mexican but both had light features and both wore khakis with buttoned short sleeve shirts. I saw their shoes through table legs and it looked like soft expensive leather. It was a bit early for lunch, but other than that they looked like any high level office worker. The direct way they moved though, the way they were fixed on Maria, sent a chill up my spine. It all felt familiar, and not in a good way.

  They stopped at the bar in front of Maria. One glared at a pair of American tourists roaring drunkenly just to the side.

  Maria talked softly to them. Her face looked calm but her body was all bunched up. Her lips moved in Spanish and I moved in to try to make out the words.

  "Sí, sí patron," was all I heard.

  Her boss? Her family owned the place and this sure as heck wasn’t her papa. I saw her reach under the counter and pull out a cloth sack. The taller of the men peered into it. The other glanced around the bar and said a few more words. Maria's eyes widened but she seemed to hold her own. The man kept speaking and glancing around wider.

  He stopped on me.

  He flashed his eyebrows and said a few words I couldn't make out. Then he beckoned with his fingers.

  I glanced at Maria. She pressed her lips shut but nudged her head. I understood. Quietly, I came over.

  "¿Cómo te llamas, señorita?" he asked.

  I knew what that meant, but I didn’t give him even the fake name I used around here. He frowned, glanced at Maria and back. "English?" he asked.

  My mouth wanted to stay shut, but his eyes were like winter dirt back on the farm, hard and cold. I didn't want to be buried by them.

  "Yes, I speak English," I said.

  "Ah, American," he said. "Very nice." He flashed a thumb up at Maria.

  His buddy shut the sack and nodded to him.

  "You are very beautiful," the man said, and it sounded more like analysis then a compliment. "How come I don't see you here before?"

  Maria jutted in and yammered something in Spanish and the guy listened bemused before turning to me.

  "New huh? My friend and I are just taking a tour of the city. I can show you around."

  This wasn't a question. I knew that refusal was not an option. "I would love to," I said. "Once I learn some more Spanish. I am very new here."

  "Ah," he said. "A girl with such perfect eyes does not need to speak. But alright, that's fine. I know where you are. So this is reason to visit more often, eh?" He grinned at Maria and she gave him a wan smile back.

  "Ok, bello," he said. "We'll talk later."

  He winked and the two of them walked out the door.

  A relieved murmur swelled under the oblivious English, but next to me, Maria oozed panic.

  "Oh shit," she said.

  "What?" I asked. "Who were those guys?"

  "They are Cartel," she said. "Those men come once a month for the cuota. It is protection."

  “Protection? They’re the only dangerous thing I’ve seen here.”

  “It is for protection from them.”

  Of course it was. No wonder the city was stuck like Dennis had said. How could anything grow if someone took its water?

  "Why is Cartel bothering you? Don't they know you work with Andre?"

  "They don’t. Business is good, so I don’t mind losing the money. Money is easy to give, but if they know you are connected to other people, that is more valuable to them." She slumped on the counter. "This guy may not just want money anymore."

  She didn't have to explain. I had been sold like cattle by people like this. I had heard his voice right. He would take anything he wanted. The cuota or whatever was simply courtesy.

  "I don't get it," I said. "I'm nothing special. There's so many beautiful women around here. You're way prettier than I am."

  I wasn't even exaggerating and the look Maria shot me just proved my point. "You are a rare beauty, blanca. You stand out. Even dying your hair can't hide that. Your eyes -"

  She frowned at my face. "Yes, your eyes drew him. We need to get you some brown contacts. We will make those jewels in your face forgettable and maybe he won't see you anymore. It's like you said, a man like him can take any of 100s of women. Maybe we will keep you at home for a bit and let him lose memory of you."

  Dark eyes, dark hair. Everything about me didn't fit in here, as much as my heart wanted it. I nodded though. "Whatever you think is right."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you don't want to live in hiding."

  Her, apologize to me for anything? No I couldn’t have that.

  "You should be sorry,” I said. “I wouldn’t have to worry about this at all if you had turned me away and I was dead somewhere."

  "Aha. I see you are learning to be a proper waitress now."

  I went back to busing table feeling calmer than I probably should. It might be worse if I had understood everything that man said. Sometimes it was good not knowing. Dennis met us for lunch, and Maria didn't mention a word about the Cartel, so I followed her cue. If Dennis knew, Andre would know and who knew what he would do about it.

  We went to handle the matter ourselves after we'd eaten. Maria took me to a small beauty store and got a hazel pair of contacts. I went to put em on, but Maria told me to wait till we left for the day. I found out what she meant when I was back in the apartment and dry eyed in front of the mirror after half an hour of pain. The contacts were finally in and my eyes weren't green anymore, just more red than brown.

  Andre showed up an hour later. My hopes that my face had cleared up were dashed when his eyebrows shoot up in worry. He dropped his gear and rushed over.

  "What's wrong, baby?" he asked peering into me. "Tell me what happened."

  I leaned into his touch, happy for it, but feeling giggly at the same time. "I wanted to try a new look," I said.

  He frowned and studied me deeper. "Brown eyes?"

  "Maria just said it would easier for me to fit in," I said. "Does it l
ook ok?"

  "Hell, no," he said, and my heart leapt. "You look like you been up crying for hours."

  "I mean other than that."

  "That’s really the majority of your look right now."

  I laughed and slapped his hand away. He leaned in and kissed me. "You look however you want to. She’s right, it’s better to slip in." His face scrunched an instant and it looked like he was going to dig the truth out of that idea, but then he just sighed. "Just don't do any of it for me. I could spend a lifetime staring at you and never get bored."

  I stood up and gave him a kiss back. I was doing this for him in a way. As long as I got to hear sweet things like that, it was more than worth it.

  He grabbed his bag and set it down on the kitchen. "Feeling hungry?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said. "I'm just about ready to head out. Where are we meeting them today?"

  "Actually, I was thinking we could eat in today."

  "Delivering food and sex?" I asked. It was a joke, but the idea actually sounded kind of good.

  "More like me cooking."

  He pulled things out of the bag and set them on the counter. A pack of bacon. A plastic bag of cheese. A big box of macaroni.

  "I thought you might want something to remind you of home," he said. "Well, not home, I guess, but America. You like mac and cheese?"

  "I. Love. It." It was of the few genuine pleasures from my childhood. Fresh cheese was a small perk of living on a farm.

  "Good. I can't cook, but I can boil and melt just fine. That's not Monterrey by the way. It's pure Vermont Cheddar."

  I eyed the shredded bag of goodness. "I want all of that inside me."

  He started to laugh. "Yeah well, that's the intent."

  I gave him a big hug. "This is so perfect, but let me help you cook."