His Silence, Her Freedom

Maya wakes to another cold morning in her husband’s mansion "Are you going to stay there like that all morning, Maya?" The words were sharp like a knife cutting through glass. I can't stop looking at the tea in front of me, no matter how much my body hurts. The voice is sharp, well-controlled, and has a hint of contempt in it. The mother of my spouse. I press my lips together and wrap my fingers around the tiny cup even more, as if it could hold me steady. "I asked you a question," she says as she slowly clinks her teacups together to mix the tea. "Yes, Mother," I say softly, trying hard to get the words out because my throat is dry. "I'm going to eat." She lets out a little laugh. "Eat?" You haven't really done anything. That's why your skin looks so pale. A good wife shouldn't disappear like a shadow. It makes me sick. The butter on top of my toast has hardened, and the toast is cold. I pick it up anyway and eat it slowly, forcing myself to take a bite. It tastes like dirt. Daniel doesn't look up from his phone on the other side of the table. He moves his thumb across the screen without making a sound, as if he doesn't know me even though we're sitting at the same table for breakfast. "Daniel," his mom says, and her voice is as sweet as honey that doesn't taste good. "Don't you think your wife should do more for herself?" "Looks are important." He finally wakes up. For a short time, hope sparks in my chest. Today could be different. This time, he might stand up for me. He only says, "She looks fine." The words sink to the bottom of the still water like a rock. Not enough. Not enough. He sounds like someone who is talking about the weather: he is neutral, not involved, and has already forgotten what he said. The smile on Mrs. Ross's face grows wider. "Cheap language is good language." Not every family is the same as ours. I can feel heat behind my eyes. I tell myself not to cry in front of her as I look down at the plate. In front of him. Every morning, I wake up to the sound of her spoon hitting the china, Daniel's newspaper rustling in the background, and the clock on the wall ticking away. I can tell by the way you sound that you don't belong here. I put down my fork and stand up. Mrs. Ross says, "You'll never be enough for him," in a way that sounds almost sweet, like she wants to add cream to my tea. The plate I'm holding is getting tighter in my hands. What she said weighs on me like a rock in my chest. I push my legs to take me out of the dining room and down the long, shiny hall, where my footsteps sound like accusations. I lean hard against the door and close it when I get to my safe place in the bedroom, like I just ran a race. In the mirror, a stranger looks back at me from across the room. They have skin that is pale, eyes that are hollow, and lips that are pressed together into a thin line with no blood. I have too much hair pulled back, and each strand is being pushed into place. When did I turn into someone else? When did I become a ghost that haunts my own life? I lean against the bed and put my hand on my stomach to help me breathe through the tightness in my chest. I remember how bright-eyed and loud I was five years ago, and how sure I was that Daniel would keep all of his promises. He looked at me like I was the only woman in the world back then. He promised that his mother's sharp tongue would never hurt us and that we would make our own lives. Lies wrapped in silk. I get up when someone knocks on my door. Not simple. Not waiting. I tuck in my shirt, swallow, and do my best to keep my voice steady. "Yes?" The door opens by itself, without asking. Daniel. He walks in with his tie around his neck and his phone in his hand. His eyes scan the room before settling on me, but he doesn't really look at me. Not like he used to. A husband shouldn't act that way. "Mother says you made her feel bad at breakfast," he says in a quiet voice. I have a bitter, sharp laugh. "I hurt her feelings?" She made me look bad. He lets out a breath, already mad. "Why do you always get so mad about things?" "She just wants the best." It hurts my throat. "Best for who, Daniel?" "Because I'm not there." His eyes are dark and hard to read when he blinks. I see something there for a short time. Do you feel guilty? Do you feel bad? I don't know. It's gone after that. He shakes his head and sighs. "This doesn't work with my schedule." "I have a meeting." He quickly turns around to go to the door. I can't stop the words from getting stuck in my throat. "Daniel, when was the last time you defended me?" Tell me what you mean. He stands up straighter and puts his hand on the knob. There is a lot of heavy, suffocating silence. He finally turns around and looks back quickly. "Don't start, Maya." "Why don't you begin?" My voice sounds rough and crackly. "Your mom tells me every day that I'm not good enough." She brings in people she doesn't know and treats them like her daughter, while I sit next to you and don't see them. And you— My hands are shaking at my sides as I try to talk. "You let her.""Whenever." His eyes and jaw are tight all the way around now. "What should I do?" "She's my mother." "I am married to you!" The words keep bouncing off the cold walls. There is silence that is louder than my yell after I yell. He needs to get closer to me, agree with me, and promise that things will get so bad that my heart will slam into my ribs. But Daniel just stares, his face closed and guarded, which is how it always is when someone says his mother's name. Then he shakes his head slowly, like I'm a kid throwing a tantrum. "This is too much for me to deal with right now." He leaves through the door, and it closes behind him. I'm alone now, and I can hear his footsteps fading down the hall. My knees give out. I press my hands together over my eyes as I fall to the floor to try to stop the tears that are already coming out. It's quiet the first time I cry. Then it shakes my whole body, and my hands block out the sound. It goes around and around. His mom hurts me. Please come to see me. He leaves. How much longer do I have to be here? I glance over at the closet. My bag is ready to go here. I would pull it down, fill it with what little is mine, and walk out into the night a hundred times if I could. I'm just as scared of leaving as I am of staying. My phone's alarm wakes me up. I finally get up and reach for it, but my hands are shaking. A message from a number I don't know. "I don't know you, Maya, but you need to know the truth about Daniel." Please get in touch with me. My heart races as I look at the screen. My thumb is on top of the button to call. My fear and interest are fighting each other inside me for control. If I push it, everything could change. If I don't do it, I'll be in this cage for the rest of my life. The screen gets dim when I hold it. I can't get any air. After that, knock. Get help. Get help. This time, it's not Daniel's sharp beat. It moves faster. Fast. Another person. Knocking is getting louder. Three quick raps, and then another set that was quick and loud. I stop moving and hold on to my phone tightly. Who might it be? Nobody comes to see me. No one ever comes to see me. I think for a second that it could be Mrs. Ross, here to give me another dose of poison. Or Daniel returning to finish what he started. The beat, on the other hand, makes my skin crawl. Fast. Very much needed. I put my phone in my pocket and quietly walk toward the door. My bare feet don't make a sound on the carpet, but my heart beating sounds like thunder. Knock, knock, knock. When I grab the knob, it shakes. I don't know. I have to keep it shut. That is not something I should do. This house never gets anything good. I do think of something angry, though: What if someone is trying to set me free? I twist the doorknob and pull it open. The hall in front of me is empty and quiet. I frown, lean out, and look to my left and then my right. No one. Then I see it: a little envelope on the ground at my feet. It quickly wrote my name on the front. My throat is dry. My fingers lightly touch the paper as I crouch. Because it is so heavy, it seems like it holds more than just ink and folded sheets. I quickly shut the door with my back against it and ripped open the package with shaky hands. There is only one sheet of paper inside. "He's not who you think he is." He has a lot to hide besides being quiet. The old waterfall is behind the east garden at 9 p.m. tonight. If you need help, come by yourself. I can't see clearly. I blinked and read the words over and over. I feel dizzy because my heart is beating so fast. The paper is wrinkled because I hold the note so tightly. No, it's not possible. Maybe a mean trick. This is a different game his mom is playing. Or even worse, Daniel himself, being sneaky and waiting for me to make a mistake. I try to ignore the voice in the back of my head that says, "What if it's true?" For years, I've been lying to myself that Daniel is just confused and that his silence is a sign of weakness, not choice. But now they feel weak. Can be broken. My phone rings in my pocket again. I mess it up, and the screen lights up with another message from the same number I don't know. "You should know." Don't let him hold you forever. My stomach is turning. Outside of the east yard. At nine. I look out the window at the morning light coming in. It's still light outside, but my mind is racing. If I go, I might find out the truth. If I don't, I'll keep living this way. Stop talking. Not seen. The choice makes my chest hurt. There is noise coming from a board outside my door. I can't get any air. The note is under my pillow, and my phone is locked. The handle moves once. Then, a sharp, familiar voice comes out of the woods. "Open this door right now," Maya said. Hello, Mrs. Ross. From the way she talks, I can tell she already knows something.