Captivation

12: Incarcerated

Incarcerated (verb): to imprison or confine

“Sometimes I wonder if I were more like my brothers, if then he would have approved of me, or I was just destined to be his least favorite.”

I open my eyes, awakened by the voice. I peek over the covers and see Henry talking, but he’s not looking at me, but I think he’s talking to me. His voice is quiet and low. I close my eyes again, nosily wanting to hear more of what he’s about to say.

“Nothing I did was right.” Henry laughs bitterly.

I hear his footsteps walking in circles around the room, I wonder how early it is.

“I mean, I was his son, and he acted like he wanted to disown me.” A pause. “And I mean I get it, I was a little reckless, I was a dreamer.” He laughs again. “Now I’m a realist. Was a dreamer really such a bad thing to be in a world where everything is real?” Another pause. “Except maybe you. You seem like a dream.” A sigh. “I wonder if you’re dreaming.”

A soft thumping noise is made, and I can’t stop myself to look over to see what made the noise. It was Henry, thumping his head back against the wall. We make eye contact.

He looks at me to see if I just woke up or if I just blew my cover.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him grouchily, I decide to let him believe that his secrets are safe. And they are safe, they’re just safe with me now.

“Good morning.” He says in response, looking a little more at ease.

I lay my face down on the pillow. I sigh. I realize that I can’t keep this to myself. He’s telling me about his life, I can’t just let him know I didn’t hear.

I turn over on to my back. “You were the dreamer and I was the black sheep.” I say to the ceiling. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone leaves their family for a reason.”

I look over at Henry only to see is face reddened. I didn’t know he could be embarrassed.

“Madelyn,” He says, wanting to create a cover for what he said, like he uses women to mask his loneliness.

“I couldn’t be a wife. At least not then, not when everyone wanted me to be. I was eighteen, I was young, I was wild.” I blink. Henry told me I was wild shortly after I met him. I wonder how it was that obvious to a perfect stranger, yet no one who knew me could see it.

“I wanted the freedom that I had been denied my entire life. What I had been denied because of my sex.” I finally sit up and look at Henry, only to see him watching me, his one green eye and one blue eye looking at me. I can tell he’s listening. I think he might be a good listener. I wonder.

“And I loved Andrew.” I say and mean it. “It wasn’t his fault that I left. He was a representation of everything I resented. Which could have been male privilege…that and my instant subordinate position. Or it could have been that fact that people wanted to categorize me. I was either a child, a wife or a mother. Andrew would have participated in making me the latter two.”

I take a moment to breath, and I look at Henry. His gaze in unfaltering, but instead of making me feel uncomfortable it makes me feel like an equal. It made me feel like I was valued, and not for my ability to find people and kidnap them.

“When I stopped being a child I decided that I didn’t want the latter to come immediately. People don’t like what they can’t name.” I sigh.

I look down at the bed. I pick at a stray string, wondering if I had said too much.

Henry’s feet appear in my line of vision and I reluctantly cast my gaze upward.