Maisy

Chapter 7: Maisy

I was the elephant in the room as Jon addressed his team, my team and I. My parents, Caleb and I were escorted here by Holland, a new member of Jon's said team. I looked over to a group of about 7 guys, all in black suits, all mimicking a stoic, dominating, almost menacing demeanor.

Jon went around the room saying everyone's names and I was grateful he hadn't asked us to introduce ourselves. His voice was emotionless and polished, it held little variation- straight diction. If his voice was a texture it would be silk. It would lie flat down my back, cooling as it swayed to and fro atop my skin. If it were a color, right now it would be white. A white silk slip, hanging from my body as I stood alone in a cold room. If his voice was an odor it would smell how cold feels. An icy early morning, either awoken too early or stayed up too late. If it were an object it would be a table. And not a warm wooden family dinner table, one of steel for examining bodies.

I looked at him and thought, 'what's wrong, Jon?'

But then he introduced me, "Maisy," and my name became a song.

I looked around the room, looked for confirmation from someone's eyes, looking to find some kind of verification, that how he said my name had been different, that he didn't say anyone else's name as he said mine.

His next words sounded practiced, like a knife chopping against a cutting board, think white lines of onions, chop, chop, chop. He said something like, 'because of the rise in awareness,' chop, 'and because of a few recent events,' chop, 'we are adding more security persons to my team,' chop, 'because this has built up so quickly,' chop, 'it was something that we could not have foreseen,' chop.

I pressed the back of my earring into my neck, and tried my best to listen, but this chopping effect was so distracting, I couldn't keep up with what was being said. I imagined how a butcher's knife would look in the breadth of his hand. Would the knife be the weapon or this man? Would he want to slice a path down my belly? Put his hand against my throat? Lock me away in a tower? Abandon me alone on a boat?

'This man had once caressed me,' I wanted to whisper to no one in specific.

I came to notice the room had grown silent, and I pressed my lips together as if thinking I may have spoken out loud, as all these faces looked to me.

"What?" I questioned, clearly having missed something.

"Are you okay with that?" My mother asked me, I felt zero control.

"Okay with what?"

"Okay with those changes?" She replied, and I just looked around the room til my eyes settled on Jon with a sigh.

"You know what, we can figure out those semantics in a minute, this was just more of an introduction to the team and a showing of where we were heading with the protocols, guys, you're free to get started, um, Maisy, Mary, Tim, you can hang back."

"I'm going to step out, if you don't mind," said Caleb, "gotta call Laura."

"Yeah, of course, we shouldn't be very long," my mom told him.

Suddenly Jon sat across from me, my parents at my side, as Jon began to review what he had apparently already said. His voice was now soft and warm, like a freshly baked cookie. It was gooey and I climbed into it, listening to his words.

He said that there would be more guards around basically always, but someone around now 24/7, who would not always be Jon, and more cameras; to all of which I agreed.

"Thank you, Jon! I know things will be better now." My mother and father shook his hand.

"Thanks," I added, almost as a question.

When my parents reached the door, I turned back to Jon and clarified, "I wasn't trying to be rude earlier, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, no problem," he said as he turned in his chair.

"It's just... an out of body experience to have your life boiled down like that."

He got up then and seemed to survey out the door, and when he saw that it was empty, in a forwardly rushed kind of way, said, "I'm sorry for all this, I'm sorry for being this factor in all the awful sides to what you do. Just know that I will keep you safe... Just know that you are safe, so you're free to explore all the great parts of what you do. All the great parts of life."

He ran his hand through his hair, giving the wall a reassuring smile, and I tried to think of a thought to say, but my mom had returned to collect me.