Caged

by Onaiza Khan

  “Cute,” he replied which was crazy as I would never consider this name cute. In fact, when I was little, we had a fat neighbor with an old grunting scooter and a white beard whose name was Noor Mohammad. Seriously, with his image in my mind, I can never call this name cute. And I gave my father a very hard time about it and then he’d always tell me ‘What else could I call you baby, you’re the light of my life, my Noor.’

  Oh, Dad.

  “I’m sorry by the way for being so rude that night; I had just…umm…” I had just realized that I don’t remember my name. And my mind, in fact, my whole life was seriously screwed up.

  “Oh come on, it’s okay, I figured you’d been menstruating.”

  Menstruating? Did he say that? No, I’m not going to roll my eyes. I want to break his nose this time.

  “How can you be so smutty and indecent?” I was glaring at him like a wild animal.

  “How can you know more English words than me?” He eyed me pretending to be curious. Idiot.

  Is there a point talking to him? I decided I’m not going to say another word. I don’t even want to ask where we’re going not until it's necessary. I thought I’d rather concentrate on the road. This was the same road which led me here, to my cage.

  “Okay let me tell you an interesting story. When I was in High School, there was this girl…blah blah blah…blah blah blah…”

  There he was again jabbering nonsense. I wasn’t listening to him. I remember the last time I was on this road. We were on our way home, tired with endless flights and a long journey from U.S.A. He was driving, Daniel, slowly humming a tune. It was so soothing to my ears. He was looking straight at the road. He didn’t talk much, but I didn’t care, I could spend days just watching him. Driving, reading, smiling or just blankly staring at the sky. Everything he did was the most remarkable spectacle in the world. In my world.

  He wasn’t the best-looking man I’d ever seen. But there was something so beautiful about him; his shyness, his calm, his silence. It was magnificent. Captivating. He was like a treasure that I had found and would hate to tell anyone that I had it. I wanted him for myself always and forever. Nobody should look at him or like him or want him. He was mine. Mine forever.

  I was thinking about touching his cheek, but I didn’t want him to notice that I was soaking in his features and drowning more and more in his love. He caught me anyway. He half-smiled and grabbed my pinkie finger. That was a cute thing he always did, knowingly or unknowingly, intentionally or just absent-mindedly. Initially, I thought it childish but every time he grabbed my pinkie finger, I was drawn more and more to him.

  They say that a nerve from the heart goes straight to the engagement finger, but there is no doubt my heart is connected to my pinkie finger because when he touched it, my heart skipped a beat.

  “You look tired,” he seemed a little too concerned over a petty thing.

  “Just sleepy,” I rubbed my eyes.

  “Don’t sleep now; we’re almost home. Or I’ll have to carry you to our room, on the third floor and there is no elevator,” he chuckled.

  “Would you mind doing that?”

  Snickering he said, “Actually, I was kind of looking forward to it.”

  I blushed.

  I didn’t sleep, though, I was very excited to see the house. My house, where I will spend my perfect life with my perfect man. It will all be magical, but when we reached, I was shocked.

  “This house,” I said. “This exact house, I saw it in a dream while I was sleeping on the plane.”

  “How’s that possible, I never even showed you a picture,” he wondered.

  “But it’s more beautiful now, in real. Danny, I love it. I love our house.”

  And the inevitable kiss again. His hands on my shoulder and my waist, his lips locked with my lips, his nose touching mine and all those beautiful feelings were creating a twist in my stomach. For real I mean. In the present. I had to snap out of that kiss before I… I don’t know… before I fell in love with him again.

  “And that’s how I graduated High School, but Grandma was still so excited like a little girl…”

  People say women are chatty. Well, ‘people’ say hello to Christian.

  Chapter 10

  “Oh Boy, all I need right now is a roasted chicken, two cans of beer and a… umm… Never mind,” he’s still talking folks. Can you imagine?

  We’ve come a long way from the house. It’s just an endless road that’s taking us nowhere. There weren’t any signs of a city or any settlements initially. But now we can spot a house or two every couple kilometers. Christian had no idea where we were, but he kept guessing. And talking.

  And I can’t afford to go back to Daniel’s memories to take refuge from this chatterbox. That might be dangerous. Unhealthy. I’m not doing that.

  We’ll soon run out of gas, and we haven’t come across a gas station which is disturbing, although my dear ally doesn’t seem to see the urgency of the matter.

  “Is that a Church?” I jumped in my seat.

  “Sure seems so.”

  “Pull over.”

  “I had a fight with Jesus decades ago. I don’t see him; he doesn’t see me,” he said pulling over. He obeyed. Score for me.

  “You’re welcome to stay here,” I just got out and went straight inside.

  Honestly; God was far from my mind. I was just tired of endless driving, I mean sitting in the car, aimlessly. I had to take control. Christian wasn’t serious enough about this, but I had to be. I wanted to know where I was and what I was supposed to do next. I couldn't sit back and let Christian pull the strings anymore.

  The church was grand and beautiful. And empty too. There was no one in there when I strode in. It was so cool and calm and peaceful. It put my urgencies and action plans to the back of my mind for a little while. I just wanted to sit there and be no one. I wanted to be as motionless and blank as the furniture around me. I wanted to disappear.

  I believe I had pretty much dissolved when a priest walked by me towards the front to pick a book from the podium. He did not notice me or purposely ignored me, I couldn't tell. I called out to him; I had a lot to ask.

  I was back in ten minutes when I saw Christian leaning against the car in front of the gate whistling a tune.

  “We’re in the Yukon territory of Canada. The nearest big city and train station is around twelve kilometers from here. The gas station is around two kilometers from here.” I spilled out all the information with pride.

  “Now listen, we’re running out of gas, you must be tired from all the driving, and even though it won’t be dark soon, we might need a shelter after all. So what’s the plan Christian?”

  “Why didn’t you ask them about some B&B nearby?”

  “We don’t have cash or IDs. There’s no way we can get in a B&B. I bet not even you can pull that off.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We can spend the night here, in the Church,” I suggested.

  “Breaking into a church? How savage.”

  “We don’t have to break in. We could ask nicely.”

  “Let me know if they agree; I’m right here.”

  “You’ll stay too? Won’t you?

  “Do I have a choice, my lady?”

  The priest was a sweet man. When I told him we were penniless and lost and needed shelter, he was more than happy to let us stay in the church. There was just one problem. He had to go home at 9 pm and had to lock the premises from the outside. If we were cool with it, then we could stay.

  Well, we weren’t in a position of negotiating anyway. There was a tiny classroom, an office, another couple cabins, and washroom, etc. in the backside. I never knew churches had these things.

  Christian immediately spread out on a bench, but I was a little nervous. Though it was undoubtedly a holy and pious place, the silence, and bigness of the whole place was eerie.

  “The priest said there’s some cake in the office at the back. I bet you’re as hungry as I am, let’
s go check this place out,” I suggested.

  “Sure” he was tired enough to follow me quietly without another word. The offices were locked. A loaf of cake was sitting on a desk in the corridor. The classroom and toilet were probably somewhere in the basement, so we had to take a short flight of stairs when I accidentally slipped.

  “Ouuuuuuchhhhhhhhhh,” that hurt but it could’ve been a whole lot worse if Christian hadn’t grabbed my hand and steadied me. He was still wolfing down the cake with one hand.

  “Thanks, I need to go to the washroom, see you upstairs,” I told him and he turned and went up immediately. I stomped towards the washroom and stared at myself in the mirror. The free me looked exactly like the caged me. No difference whatsoever.

  I thought I’d shower and change and then see if I could spot a difference. While taking out a sweater from my bag, I noticed my hand was bruised from when Christian grabbed it and steadied me as I was falling. I could see his fingers imprinted on my skin already turning green.

  I remembered my skin was always like this; too sensitive. Hold my hand, and it’d turn red. It’s strange that I never saw a bruise or cut or even a scratch on my body in the last three months.

  The atrocities he did to me, beating, burning with cigarettes, digging his nails into my skin never left a mark. How was that possible? I knew he did all these things to me. But never a bruise or a mark, not even a small scratch.

  That did not make sense. I tried to recall some instances when these things happened and I couldn’t.

  Not even one single memory of him beating me or hurting. No visual. No image. If I could remember the romantic moments between us, then why not this? Did he even do those things to me or not? Somewhere deep down I knew he did. I went through that pain, horrifying pain, many times. But there was no doubt that I never got bruised. Every day I used to stare at myself in the mirror after showering and talk to myself. If I had ever got any mark or injury, I would’ve noticed it. Something was wrong.

  “If you don’t come out immediately, you won’t even have crumbs left to eat.”

  Christian was suddenly banging on the door.

  I tried to look normal and went outside. He led me to the office then handed me some cake. “There’s a phone, you want to call someone?” he asked.

  “I don’t remember any numbers,” it just slipped out. I wasn’t planning to tell him that I’m crazy and that my memories were all whipped up. But Christian just like Christian never took anything seriously.

  “Technology has spoiled this generation; you should at least remember one emergency contact,” he glared. “OK go now, I’m going to call my grandma, don’t you dare make a sound.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I haven’t been home in weeks; I don’t want her to think I’ve been fooling around with a girl all this time.”

  “Alright, I’m in the hall.”

  I sat on the bench and crossed my legs starting to think about Daniel again. That bruise thing was really killing me, but the thought of Daniel reminded me of that necklace too. What I’d felt was terrifying but unfathomable.

  Christian was back in a minute. He stretched himself on the floor holding his book. His newly stolen book, The Count of Monte Cristo.

  “He sees you, by the way, you’ve got nowhere to hide,” I wasn’t exactly looking at him, but he eyed the statue of Jesus Christ and frowned.

  “I told him not to,” I couldn’t help but smile at his childishness.

  “This is my very favorite book you know, I’ve read it six times, and you should read it too.”

  “I will if you lend it to me,” I giggled. I had to admit; he wasn’t that bad.

  “What’s your favorite book by the way?”

  The word Twilight had already formed on my lips, but I stopped myself. That was my favorite book when I was an idiot. These three months changed everything. All those cheesy love stories I’d read I wanted them out of my system. I hated the writers, the characters. They were just a beautiful lie.

  In Twilight, Bella had fallen in love with a monster. And by a monster, I mean a saintly vampire who never hurt anyone, always protected and guarded Bella and was ready to die for her. My definition of monster had changed.

  If Edward had hurt Bella half as much as Daniel hurt me, would she love him?

  “Can’t decide?”

  “It’s The Stranger by Albert Camus,” I said.

  “Yeah, good work,”

  “Uhuh… Changed my life.”

  Chapter 11

  “Stop Rhon! Don’t. Don’t Rhon. Wait, Wait. No. No…” I was bellowing in a voice that I couldn’t even recognize.

  Christian was startled. He screamed and jumped.

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to scare me off on purpose? My heart’s racing you little shit.”

  “He jumped off the cliff,” I wasn’t entirely back to my senses.

  “Who?” he questioned.

  “Rhon, I tried to stop him, but he just… he died,” my last words were only a whisper, and I choked at ‘died.’

  “Who the hell is Rhon?” Christian frowned.

  “He was a knight, a warrior; he had a massive sword. I was right there screaming. He wouldn’t listen to me like he didn’t hear me. Like I don’t exist...” And soon my heartbeat and my breath was the only sound in the room.

  “You are mad,” he growled and was fast asleep again. But I couldn’t shake that face away; the man with long hair, armor, and a sword; he looked so brave, yet there were tears in his eyes, and then he just jumped off.

  My dreams were getting weirder by the minute. That day I’d seen a man in the hatch and now this. Was there something wrong with me?

  All my confusion over Daniel and his tyranny were dawning on me. My mind was ready to burst when I heard the door unlock.

  The priest was back, and I tried to look normal and grateful. We needed to clear out of here after all.

  We were all set to go when I reeled back to the office and asked the priest permission to use the internet for a minute. I was desperate to find out what was in the hatch. Before I moved on with my journey, I wanted one less thing to worry about. When I looked it up, it was a man. The man. The one I saw in my dream that morning.

  It was terrifying for me to find out that I had already seen this man in a dream. It was pretty nonsensical, but my reasoning had altered in the past few days. I, therefore, settled with the conclusion that my dreams are real.

  I had seen Daniel’s house in a dream without ever setting eyes on it for real. Earlier I brushed it off as a coincidence. But now I was going to take my dreams seriously.

  Only, I had no idea how to interpret my latest dream. I saw a strange man. In strange clothes. Someone from some other time. Hundreds of years ago maybe. I shouldn't have anything to do with him. Then why did I see him? And what does it mean?

  “Let’s go Noor,” Christian was standing outside the office with a formal look on his face. I bet it was because of the priest’s presence. Such a child.

  I thanked the priest heartily and went outside. Christian had somehow arranged to sell my gold chain and get some cash even in this remote village. We decided we’d leave the car on the wrong route and take a bus to the city.

  He was a Canadian, and the bus was full of them. He chattered all the way to the city. But I hadn’t slept well, so I decided to take a nap. A part of me was worried that if I slept, I would again have a weird dream and start screaming. We’d be thrown out of the bus. But I slept anyway.

  I didn’t dream or anything, the only thing that went wrong was that I was leaning on Christian’s shoulder and when I woke up I heard him talking to someone and calling me his girlfriend. I was infuriated. Staying with him was getting impossible now. More than impossible. Last night I’d thought he was cute, a nice person but all that was history now. I hate Christian.

  Even if he was the last man on earth, I wouldn’t be his girlfriend.

  “Always frowning,” he complained.

&n
bsp; “Who the hell do you think you are?” I said under my breath, and he started to whistle and sing.

  “It’s been so long, it’s been long, maybe I’m fireproof,

  Cause nobody saves you baby, the way I do.”

  Reminded me of India where guys would whistle and sing eyeing girls that passed by.

  “You’re singing it wrong; it’s you’re fireproof…”

  He smirked at me. Idiot. Not that it matters, but the song goes like this

  ’Nobody knows you baby, the way I do.

  And nobody loves you baby, the way I do

  It’s been so long, it’s been long, maybe you’re fireproof,

  Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do.'

  Putting up with Christian even temporarily is testing my patience. But there’s a lot to be done. And I need him. That is my best excuse for tolerating his nonsense. Once we sell the necklace and get our cash, we’ll be free of each other. You know the one that was my wedding gift. With all those exorbitant diamonds. But right now, we’re partners in crime. Figuratively. Christian believes that he can arrange a deal. And I just hope it works.

  When the bus came to a sudden halt, Christian jumped from his seat and asked me to get down with him. For breakfast. At least that's what he said.

  When I asked why he just shushed me, saying the city's close by and we’re better off here. Stepping outside the bus, I noticed a huge eating place, a restaurant. That made my stomach howl. We had stopped for our first meal after the breakout

  “Get us cans of beer, two plates of fish and chips and…” The waiter was staring at Christian angrily causing him to immediately change his hero tone, “or anything that you have, my friend.”

  It was a nice place, big and empty. Very few people were having breakfast. Some young guys were lurking around the entrance, and the staff looked infuriated and bossy. It wasn’t very much of a safe ambiance but still I was at peace. The fear of being on the run or being chased by my husband wasn’t chafing me anymore. In fact, I could feel a spark of exuberance inside of me. I was finally going to reach the city where I could see some crowd. All these empty and big spaces and the peace and quiet weren’t very appealing to me. I’m a true Indian, spent twenty-one years there. Getting stuffed in trains and buses, sidestepping on footpaths and breaking through crowds had been my life.