Watch Me Live

“Frieda. Frieda!”

I rubbed my eyes and found my friend shaking me. “Fritz?”

“Are you awake?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I grumbled, sitting up. I wiped some hay from my shoulder, wanting to lie back down. “Fritz, it’s still dark.”

“Frieda, listen,” he whispered. He paused, looking over his shoulder again.

“Why aren’t you sleeping? We gotta get up super early tomorrow. It’s time to bring the sheep to graze—”

“No,” he said sharply. For once, his soft brown eyes became hard. His mouth drawn in a straight line. “We won’t bring the sheep to graze tomorrow. Frieda, let’s leave.”

My mouth hung open. Agape. Flabbergasted, I could not say anything. Anything but a simple, “What?”

“Alright, listen. The rest of the workers went to sleep early, like you. I told Markus I’d take his night hours, so he’s in bed too.”

“What about Gutherd?” I said simply, trying to bring up an excuse. As if i needed one.

“He agreed.”

“But—”

“No, Frieda. Listen to me. We’ve been stuck on this farm all our lives, our parents before us. Theirs’ before them.”

“This is our life.”

“And it will forever be. We won’t ever be anything but farmers, handymen, workers on our lord’s land. I know you dream of more, Frieda. I know you one day wish to get married—”

“Yeah, and you intend on getting a good life by running away?”

“There’s the road, Frieda. You know what they say, that opportunity lies upon the road. The road could take us to the capital. I could become a knight, you could marry a rich man, or join a group of minstrels. Remember all the stories? The capital can make you into anyone you want to be. Not here. Here, we are nothing.”

I thought for a moment. I let the words sink in. But I heard the familiar flutter.

Even so, I let Fritz grab my hand. I let him pull me to my feet. We started running.

The fluttering came to a stop behind me. I gasped and stopped. Glancing back, I saw the owl. It’s gaze, glaring into my soul.

I gripped Fritz’s hand tighter. He could take care of me. But the thoughts, the reasoning, it faded slowly.

The owl flew away. “I can’t,” I whispered suddenly.

“What? The guards are even getting drunk tonight—this is the perfect chance!”

“I can’t leave,” I said, quivering, hearing the wings beating away in the night. Wolves could eat us. Thieves could rob us. We could starve. We could get caught.

“Frieda, you don’t have to be afraid. Don’t you trust me?”

“The owl, it always watches,” I said, a little sadly.

“What? What owl?”

My sadness left steadily. Replaced by certainty. “Fritz, it’s not safe out there. Here, we are fed. We have work—hard work—but we have a roof over our heads and we are looked after.”

“No, Frieda, listen.” He took my hands. His eyes desperately gazing into mine. “I can take care of you. We can dream bigger than this.”

I smiled a little. “No, we are good here. Fritz, we’re too old for this.”

“Fritz!” someone shouted in a whisper.

“Gutherd awaits,” said Fritz. “Come on!”

I shook my head and stepped away, sliding my hands from his. “Please stay,” I said, no longer whispering.

“Frieda, come on.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” I said. “I’m going back to bed, before we get caught.” I turned around, took a few steps, then stopped. I turned. He still stood there. “See you tomorrow?” I said casually. “I need help getting those sheep out there.”

He shook his head slightly. He opened his mouth but I turned and trotted back to the barn. Overhead I heard the flapping. Once again, the owl had saved me from a reckless decision. I was able to reassess, and refrain from doing something stupid.

I lay down and eased into sleep.

The next morning, it was only me and two little girls that brought out the sheep to graze.

“There he is!” one of the girls exclaimed quietly.

I turned and saw Lord Rayford himself. I gulped. He wasn’t usually out here, talking to the working hands.

Instantly, I turned away.

Tell him!

You can’t betray your friend! Duck, so he won’t see you!

I did nothing. Once again, frozen in my tracks.

Lord Rayford talked to more people, and slowly made his way towards us.

I shouldn’t tell him. I shouldn’t tell him anything.

I saw the eyes in the tree. The keen yellow eyes of the owl. Of course, I knew it was right.

Rayford stood in front of me. A tall shadow, glaring down upon me. I glanced only once more to the owl.

“This morning,” said Rayford, walking back and forth in front of me and the girls, “we found two of my workers missing. Does anyone know their whereabouts? Does anyone know what happened?”

I stepped forward. After having had tanother moment to think, I realized that I knew nothing of their whereabout anyways. “My lord.”

His sharp gaze fell upon me. “Speak.”

“I know that Fritz and Gutherd didn’t want to stay anymore, my lord. They wanted to run away with me.”

“You stayed.” His expression softened. He suddenly didn’t seem so terrifying anymore. He was just a man. He was my lord. He took care of all of us. “Do you know where they might have gone?”

“The road is vast, my lord. It could have taken them anywhere.”

“Yes. Yes it could. Thank you, girl. Here.” He dropped several gold coins in my hand.

It’s Frieda. But no, that was just ridiculous. I curtsied. “Of course, my lord.” I breathed a great sigh of relief, so grateful that I had listened to the owl. If I had remained silent, the lord would have been angry and distrusting. I didn’t betray my friends. It was common knowledge they left, but not where.

The day resumed to normal. The days continued.

Sometimes the lord would have company. I got excited, watching other people interact with our lives, even if briefly and never again. I watched them wistfully, and a little sadly as they said goodbye to the lord. Sometimes, I imagined I caught a hint of that sad loneliness from him, even if I just saw his figure and no features from far away.

Weeks past. Sometimes I saw the lord, wandering the fields by himself. He had company and people to talk to, but they always left.

Months of my life were spent as they always had. I didn’t consider anything else to be better. And each time I was tempted to do something stupid, the owl flew overhead. Glared at me. Reminded me of my place. Kept me safe over the years.

One afternoon, after I milked the cow, a boy came running to me. He waved a piece of paper in his hand.

“For you,” he panted. Then whispered. “I think it’s a secret.”

A secret? I took it and stuffed it in my apron’s pocket. Careful not to spill the milk in fear of damaging this letter, I delivered the milk and went back to feed the chicken.

I stopped, making sure no one was near or looking my way, and then I took out the letter.

Dear Frieda,

It’s been a few years, but I never forgot you. Or the night you didn’t come with me. I regret leaving you every time I think about it. The first year of my runaway life was hard. Just like you said it would be. But we would have gotten by. Both of us. But now, I do more than get by. I actually found an opportunity. No, not as a knight as I always dreamed, but rather, I began an apprenticeship at the tailor’s shop. I stayed with my master at a small town just a little east of here—I’m joking. Did you believe me? You see, I’m actually with a band of playactors and minstrels now. I’m learning all these different acts and apparently, I’m fairly good at acting and quoting poetry. We travelled through the citadel, can you imagine? It was so exciting. But I need to get to the point. We are leaving, travelling to our next destination. We are going to travel the continent, Frieda, explore new countries, and bring our entertainment to all the different places we go. It’s good money too. And so much adventure. But again, to get to the point. I want you to come with me. We were going to leave two nights ago, but I convinced the group to stay a little longer. Tonight, I will be right outside the gates from Lord Rayford’s estate. There is an open spot in our group, Frieda. For an actor and singer. And you’re good at both. That night when I wanted to run away with you, I thought you were fooling me once again. But you were serious. And so am I.

From your friend, Fritz.

I gasped. I reread it. Again and again. Each time I grew more excited. Each time I felt a feeling I hadn’t for years. I hadn’t dare let myself. Theatrics, singing, dancing? An open spot? He really found a promising future in the dangerous lifestyle of a runaway? And there was a spot for me. I could be with Fritz. After these three years, I’d thought I’d never see him again. I’d made my peace with it. Well, I thought I did.

I put the letter back in my pocket. I quickly finished all my chores. I ate and waited for everyone to go to sleep. But I did not. I read the letter just to make sure it was real, and snuck out of the barn I slept in. I made sure to be quiet. Even the animals didn’t stir as I passed by. I was unnoticed. Everything was silent as I made my way to the gates.

Until the wings flapped above me. I stopped and looked up. The owl circled my head, looking down upon me. It’s wise yellow eyes glaring at me. I ignored it and looked ahead of me. There were the gates. So close. I heard a rustle. Was it Fritz, perhaps?

I heard the owl whoosh over my head, and I watched it land on a branch. It hooted. Then silently gazed at me.

“Why?” I asked, feeling pulsing heat come to my face. I saw the barn. The houses, the fields, then turned to the gates.

Why? But I knew why. The owl was right. It had always been. It would be folly to go.

My excitement began to turn sour. I clutched the letter through my pocket, knowing I could never just ignore this other instinct I was privileged with. This second voice looking out for me all my life. This voice of guidance that had kept me safe all my life.

Slowly, I took a few steps back. Away from the gate. Then I turned around. Back to the barn, to the house, to the fields. Away from the gates. I heard another few twigs snap. Fritz! But I saw the owl. And I picked up my pace.

I walked that same dirt path I’d walked so many times. Back to the same barn I’d lived in all my life. But even as I knew I’d been saved from a dumb decision once again, my throat started to swell, my eyes started to sting. I covered my mouth so as not to emit a sound. I hurried a little faster.

I could turn back, anytime. But I ran into the barn and shut the door. I lay down but could not sleep. I pulled the blanket over my face. I covered my ears and shut my eyes. Willing for the time to pass. For it to be too late to go. I started to sweat. My heart hammered. But I just waited. For hours . . .

I must have dozed off.

I removed my blanket and it was just a bit brighter out. It was too late. Dawn was here. Fritz would be gone.

The owl flew away but I suddenly felt heavy regret wash over me. I’d missed my chance.

And then I thought about all the other times I’d looked the other away. How many other time I had listened to the owl and gratefully accepted my status in life. But suddenly I felt like perhaps I had been wrong to turn away from all those . . . opportunities. For the first time in my life, I questioned this decision. I could have lived a life with Fritz.

Perhaps he would still be there, I wondered. If so, then surely it was a sign that it was maybe a good idea. I ran down the path again. Down to the gate. “Fritz, you there?” I asked. Dread overcame me. There was only silence but for the birds chirping. It was too late.

I looked to the brightening sky. I saw the owl look down upon me. Intense loathing came over me. And something akin to fear. But this time, I felt like I had messed up listening to the owl. To safety.

No, it had always been fear. Fear to start something new, fear to risk. I began to cry. I sank to my knees and glared bitterly up to the owl. “All my life,” I said, “you watched me. I should have never listened to you!”

I looked to the gate, wanting to run suddenly. I’d missed my opportunity with Fritz. I’d probably never see him again. But I wanted to run anyways. I stood and ran, grabbing the gates.

The owl hooted. Several times. For a second I wondered what the hell I was thinking, but no. I’d wasted so many chances at a different life.

The owl hooted again. Low and warning.

“Go away,” I said, shaking with anger now. And so much regret.

But it would not go away. It stared harder now, making me want to shiver and disappear. But I did not. I stood my ground. “I won’t listen to you anymore.”

It became silent. I gasped, suddenly unsure of myself. Suddenly the possibilities seemed endless. I could do . . . anything. I couldn’t go with Fritz, but it was time to do something. Anything else. I grabbed the latch of the gate. I could run. I could simply just because I’d tell my legs to run. And there was nothing stopping me.

But I didn’t want to run. A brave and stupid idea formed in my head. I could search for a new life out there. Find a man to marry. But I had a good life here. I could stay, but not as a servant.

I thought of Lord Rayford. How gentle and equally lonely his eyes were when they looked upon me. It was a childish thought, but what if he had an owl watching him too, keeping him from expressing his true feelings and chasing his dreams. I turned. The owl seemed to approve as I put my back to the gate.

“I want to marry Lord Rayford,” I said stoutly. The owl’s head snapped down, its gaze piercing me.

The words shocked me. My heart pounded. He might well cast me aside, might punish me, might slap me, and say I was foolish. But this was what I wanted to do.

“So watch me, owl,” I said, glaring up at it and walking down the path to the house. “Watch me ask the master a ridiculous question. Watch me get cast aside and get laughed at, or maybe get welcomed. Watch me make stupid decisions. If you won’t leave, then watch me. Watch me cry, watch me laugh. Watch me live.”