His Songbird

The birds chirped and pecked at the stones beneath the patio in the morning sun, while she sat sipping her coffee. There was a gentle breeze that rustled the trees in the courtyard carrying the sounds of the plaza to swirl around her. She was lost in thought, the images hiding behind her eyes were ones of sadness and loss, yet they did not mar the small smile on her face. The perfectly painted red lips curved upwards accenting the cupid's bow. Anyone who gazed upon her face would have thought she was lost in dreams and melodies of love. She had perfected this face, this pose.

She knew that he would be walking onto the patio to break his fast with her before his day of meetings soon. His meetings were just endless shows of politics and facades. They were like watching two Cocks size each other up as they danced around, circling, clucking, pecking, and circling some more. This was his job, his way of using his father's name and money to make himself important. He had never worked a day in his life, he had never earn a living or knew what it meant to scrimp, save or savor anything.

He expected nothing less than perfection from her. She was his. His work of art, his finest work. In his mind, he had saved her from the gutter she grew up in. He had opened her eyes to a world that she had never imagined could be open to her. He had brought her into a world that she dreamed of as a child. Dreams of being a princess, being whisked away by a handsome prince to a beautiful life. Only she felt like a peacock on a tether. One that he was holding.

She did not belong in this world of privilege, he reminded her of it as often as he could. With the cruelty of his words and sometimes the marks he left on her body. He made sure she knew that he owned her. Owned every inch of her body and he would do as he pleased with it. He divulged her in the finest clothes, sweets, handmade shoes, and perfumes. He took her to the best parties, and she knew all the right people. He taught her how to walk, talk and act like a lady. She owed him a debt, a debt for loving him. A debt that she would never be able to repay.

The sadness that sat deep in her chest often overshadowed her, making her shrink inwards. Feeling small, smothering the child, the laughter, her melody. The darkness was drowning her, suffocating her as it encroached on her lungs, making them burn. She wanted to scratch and tear at her throat, run and getaway. She couldn’t. She chooses the sadness, the darkness, and the fear every time.

She often dreamed of the days that she spent dancing, singing, and laughing. The days that her melody was strong and true, when she could feel it in humming in her body and see it twirling around her.

The dirt swirled in little plumes around her barefoot as she spun faster and faster. The dizzy melody her Papa was playing was intoxicating as her curls swung about. She felt like she was dancing upon the guitar strings with each strum. His music was magical. Even as a young girl his music burned in her blood. It was as if there was a constant melody playing in her ears, ringing in her head and being tapped by her fingers.

Play it again, Papa. Again!

Even at a young age, her voice was a melody an airy enchantment that would float on the breeze. Nothing like her Papa’s deep baritone voice that flowed like the sweet velvet of chocolate. Her Papa would play, his guitar for her and watch her twirl. His fingers strumming the beaten and worn guitar making it come alive and sing for him. He loved watching her twirl and laugh. He would play for her, for hours. For Lily could do no wrong in her Papa’s eyes. She was the apple of his eye. Her radiant beauty shone through in her fairy-like face, the deep golden hues of her skin, sun- kissed with pink cheeks and lips. Her smile shone bright as the sun and could warm even the coldest of hearts.

Her Papa was gone for months, playing in clubs, sleeping in other women’s beds and carousing through the night. He came back not because of Liliana’s mother but because of her. To watch her twirl, to see her laugh and let the sounds of her sweet voice fill his soul. The melodic enchantment of her laughter and beauty boosted his creativity, often helping him create a new tune or song that would bring him the promise of more money. He would then be gone as fast as he came.

Her Mama loved Papa so deeply that she hated him. She hated that he would not stay with them. Because she loved and hated him with all the passion of a woman when they were together it was volatile. It scared Liliana to hear them yelling, screaming at each other and then the quiet passion of their fervent kisses as they fell into each other's arms. In the morning Papa would be gone again and Mama would have that far-off look in her eyes of sadness. This became the image of love to Liliana. A love that was passionate, angry, and violent.

Liliana would wander out into the surrounding wealthy neighborhoods to dream. The neighborhoods where the houses looked like a puzzle, with so many different colors, and windows fit perfectly together in a straight line. Her house was like a box with other boxes stacked on top. Only they were not neat and straight like these houses. It was like someone dropped each on the other letting it settle wherever it fell. The hallways where all the children played were like a maze. The darkest parts of the maze were the corners where you knew not to play. Children were known to go into the dark crevices of the maze and never come out. The

When she wandered into the wealthy neighborhoods she would stare at the women walking along the street with their purses clutched tight, their heels clicking on the sidewalk. They were so perfect. She would come here and watch them. Wondering where they were walking to and who they were going to see. Longing to be a part of their simple and beautiful life. The men walked around in suits and hats. The clean crisp lines of the clothing made the people seem unreal. There were no stains, no threads hanging from tattered hems, their clothes did not fit too tight or hang loosely, they were perfect. They did not yell at each other, they politely spoke with each other and exchanged laughs, casual touches of the arm, and smiles. Liliana often wondered if they yelled at each other behind closed doors, she never questioned her vision of love.

She dreamed of a handsome suitor that would whisk her away to the puzzle houses and showered her in beautiful clothes and things, and she would sing and dance for him. Their house would be filled with musical instruments in every room. In her dream he would elegantly walk over to her, bowing to her and reaching for her hand taking it gently in his and kiss it, or maybe just brush it softly with his lips never losing eye contact.

Such intricate dreams for a 13-year-old. In her heart, she knew this would one day be her truth. She knew that one day she would be one of those ladies walking down the sidewalk with her shoes clacking out the melody.

The street dogs barked fervently as they chased something onto the Avenida breaking the invisible barrier of reality. The clacking women were just as startled as she was. The dogs were a reminder of the ugly parts of city that existed beyond their comfort zone.

“Stop Now!”

“Stop!”

Liliana’s yelling did nothing to deter the dogs from whatever it was they were after. She ran over to the pack who was now circling the small ball, sniffing, pawing, and growling at it.

It was shaking, with patches of missing fur, crusted mud, and blood. Before she could figure out what it was, she was holding it in her hands. The dogs began to lunge at her, not happy that she was holding what they had so tirelessly chased and were about ready to tear apart. As the dogs lunged, she closed her eyes tightly wrapping her arms around the small bundle just waiting for the yellow teeth to sink into her arm. Instead, she heard a yelp, and then another.

A strong loud voice yelled, "Be gone" the voice was not rich and sweet like her Papa’s it was dangerous and silky. The words felt like a snake slithering around Liliana’s neck. She was entranced by the young man who had come to her rescue. His suit was finely cut, it was slate grey which matched his eyes. He reached out to her, asking “Are you ok?”

Her mouth hung open, as she stared at him. He was beautiful.

Had he come to rescue her?

"Miss?" came that silky voice again as he sunk to one knee.

She watched, as he hovered before her, his knee did not touch the ground for fear of dirtying his pants. She was puzzled at how he could hover above the dirt and not fall over.

His hand reached up and stroked her cheek. She blinked, transfixed by this man in front of her. She had never noticed men other than her Papa. He took the small ball of fur from her hands. Softly petting it. As he did the animal reacted to his gentle touch. Slowly uncurling itself to reveal what one could assume was a kitten. There were no whiskers, one of its ears was flopped over and its nose rough and bloody. Liliana’s trance broke as soon as she heard the broken cry of the kitten. Her hands reached out taking the dirty ball and clinging it to her chest. She began to sing to the kitten, soothing it and herself.

The man who rescued her sat back on his heels staring at the child before him. Wondering how such an enchanting voice could come from such a creature. His eyes adjusted to the sunlight as it danced with the golden tones in her skin, her curls that bounced around her shoulders, and the small angelic face with pouty lips. Her voice, magical and enchanting almost unearthly. The sound, the melody was making him drunk. Was she a child or an angel?

Her heart started racing as he stared at her, could and steely just as the grey color of his eyes. She felt an uneasiness creeping up her spine, her brain was screaming at her to run, yet her legs would not move. They were locked in place. He reached up and touched her cheek again, was she real?

It must be the oppressive heat he thought to himself creating an illusion of enchantment. He wanted to scoop her up, take her home and keep her. A mystery to be solved. An enigma. A prize.

She panicked as his long fingers started to wrap around her arm. Her legs started to move, faster and faster. Clutching her precious cargo, she ran all the way back to her home. As she neared the doorway, she listened for any signs of the inhabitants inside. As she moved towards the back room with the beds she slunk down in the corner against the roughness of the adobe wall. She cradled her new ward and all the events of the morning dragged her into a fitful slumber.

She awoke unaware of her surroundings and fresh on the edge of being chased by a monster and his dogs in her dreams, she was panicked when she realized it was dark. Tears of fear fell down her cheeks, and then her new ward started to wake and move around in her lap.

Her breathing stilled and her attention became completely lost in the kitten, as she carefully unfolded it from its ball. He was missing patches of fur, one eye swollen shut, bloody paws, and nose. Still, with all its mangy fur, she fell instantly in love. She rubbed his cheeks and chin as she felt the kitten purring deep into its little body. Cradling like a babe she nuzzled the kitten closer.

She fell into another unrestful sleep revisiting her dream of a Prince, a dark evil prince who stole the voice from her throat and locked her way. His dogs always barking, growling and trying to reach her only she could not scream for help. She awoke in the night in a cold sweat, a blanket draped over her. The kitten was nowhere to be found. She was startled as her Mama snored in her sleep, her hand flopping over the bed. She franticly searched by touch in the small beams of moonlight for the kitten. She found him curled up under the bed safe from harm's way.

Mijo rubbed against her legs, causing her to misstep in her journey through the streets. Mijo, had never really grown back all his fur or his whiskers, but his dedication to Liliana was unstoppable. Wherever she went he was. He had become her shadow. She had grown tall and lanky, her hair was thick and hung beyond her shoulders, her eyes were wideset in a face that still had not released the roundness of her youth. She was a rosebud about ready to bloom, waiting for the dawn to bring the light. She felt unsure, intimidated by the changes in her appearance, because of this she often found herself folding herself into the crowd so she would blend in and not be seen.

The one thing that had not changed was her voice, that beautiful flawless melody that so easily flowed from her captivated anyone on the street. In fact, it had gotten richer, sweeter, and more enchanting as the years passed her.

The boys chased her, pulled her hair, and laughed at her. Her Mama warned her to never trust them, never let them get her alone. Mama never told her why. Never explained the evilness that she spoke of.

She had gotten used to navigating her way through the maze of hallways and darkness in her neighborhood. She knew the corners to steer clear of and the alleys that you did not walk no matter how short they were. She could hear the evil lurking in them, the evil laugh, the quiet screams of the other girls. If nothing else, her Papa and Mama silently agreed on one thing to protect her innocence and keep her in the darkness of the evil ugly truth about men. Her mama forbade her to be alone with a boy and kept her away from the path a lot of the other girls took at this age. The path to being a woman of the night painted faces and broken souls. They would not let her be a lost soul.

The memories of her life came in swaths like bolts of fabric. There was no rhyme or reason them them. Memories, distant memories of how she came to be sitting on the terrace in quiet terror surged through her. How long was it now since he had swooped into her life? How long since she sang? How long since she smiled and laughed? The painful memories swarmed her again.

Her skirts swayed as she twirled, wrapping around her legs. Her voice velvet silky smoke flowed to the inhabitants at the tables in the club. The melody weaved a magic spell enchanting her audience, pulling them into her.

The owner and barkeep had begged her to sing and take the spotlight. She was a waitress, bringing drinks and food as the customers sank into the darkness of the club to lose themselves in each other. She was to be transparent, invisible. The other girls in the show could sing much better and were much prettier than she was. They were gorgeous in their gowns and makeup. In her mind she was a plain girl, a girl no one took notice of.

She was unaware of the magic she weaved with her melody. She was lost in the guitar and the silence of the room. The ballad that she sang was full of emotion and tension. Every eye was transfixed on her. Their drinks sat on the table, conversations fell silent, heads turning and breathing hushed as she made her way to the stage between the tables. She gave her body and her voice over to the seduction of the song and the music, as she did the audience fell in love with her. She pulled them into her spell, seducing their emotions and entrancing them in the movement of her body.

He felt her before he saw her. Her voice. Her melody, enchanting him to the point of intoxication. He stood outside the club his skin humming with the sound of her voice. There was a sudden need, a gripping pain that pulled him towards her voice. He felt a thirst for her, a thirst to find who this voice belonged too consumed him. He could think of nothing else, as he strode away from the group of women he was with. He was a man possessed, by what he was not sure yet.

He followed the song into the club, as he rounded the corner, he saw her, and his heart clutched. Stopped. His breathing labored. He felt like he was trying to breathe through a straw. His chest burned with a deep desire he had never felt before.

Women had always flocked to him. The looks: the air of authority and a rich influential father didn’t hurt. His father owned an import company and had made his name from the ground up. Hernan had lived a very plush and comfortable childhood. Everything had come easily for him, and he had gotten everything he had ever wanted. He was quite happy being a carousing playboy in the life of luxury provided to him.

His eyes locked on her, the world fell away around him, and he could see nothing but her.

She would be his, she had to be his. There were no other options, no one else would do. Imagine what he could do with this songbird. Her voice, her beauty, her innocence. He had to possess all of her. In his mind she was his from that moment, she was another possession a trinket in his collection. His madness, and desire to own her body and soul took over.

Their eyes met as her song ended. The smoky haze of the room dulled her sense of danger as it lulled her in. She knew those eyes, cold steel and grey. She flashed back to that day in the puzzle house neighborhood where he saved her from the vicious dogs. Bile began to burn in her throat, she felt her pulse quicken and her breath shorten in tiny rasps. She felt like a trapped animal. She quickly turned to head back to the stage and he followed her. It was everything she could do not to run and cower in the darkness of the corner.

She felt the coldness of his hand at first on her arm, then the warmth of his breath on her neck and the intoxication of his voice. She was entranced by his voice as he spoke, "Hermosa. Please forgive me but I have never heard a songbird's song quite as beautiful as yours. "

Songbird? He had called her beautiful and a songbird. She had never had anyone tell her such things. Her fear turned to intrigue as she questioned herself. Was her fear due to the dogs that were going to attack her? She tampered down the fear in her stomach and introduced herself.

"Thank you, sir. I am Liliana."

His hand slid down her arm from where he was still holding on to her hand. He raised it to his lips never breaking eye contact. She expected the hairs of his thin mustache to be bristly and instead, they felt like a whisper as his lips brushed her hand, warm and soft. Her head swam like she was intoxicated. She was all be lost when he murmered, "The pleasure is all mine Hermosa."

There was that word again, Hermosa. It felt seductive and dangerous. She felt her cheeks flush with the excitement of it all.

" Hermosa, forgive me for I am spellbound by your beauty and your voice, I seem to have lost my manners. My name is Hernan."

Hernan, the name fit, it felt comfortable like the words on the page of a beloved book. She wanted to repeat it over and over.

"Please, come and have a drink with me." he crooned.

Her instinct was to turn and walk away, savor this moment but keep walking. Her head told her that her boss would be mad if she turned down the requests of such a high-end customer. Her heart was somersaulting as it fell madly in love. She stood for a moment contemplating what she should do.

As she sat on the patio awaiting pondering her life and how she rose to be the songbird in the gilded cage, her thoughts brought her back to that moment. That moment of choice in the club. What would have happened if she has chosen to walk away? Would she be happy? Would she still have her melody?

"Hermosa, there you are daydreaming again! I've been talking to you, pay attention!" He snapped at her and she snapped back to reality. The china of her coffee cup clattered back into its saucer as she fumbled through the emotions, placing her mask back in place.

"I am so sorry, my dear. I was daydreaming of the night we met."

"Ahhhh, yes. Back when you could sing." he commented.

She shrunk inside knowing he was looking for a fight, looking for a reason to yell or punish her. She was used to this game and knew how to play it. She calmly replied, "Yes, you are right." She served him coffee and started the same dance they performed every morning, asking about his day, how she could be of service and fawning over him.

As her day came to an end she lay in her bed, the windows open to the music from the plaza. She dreamed of a simple life when she danced and sang to the melody of her joy.