Captive{ated}

Twenty-Two: Tightrope

Just a couple days after our conversation in the rain, I woke with you already absent from bed. This wasn't unusual, but what wasn't normal was the fact that you hadn't told me you would be gone so early. Usually you would tell the night before or wake me in the morning to let me know.

Nothing today.

Not pondering on it too much, I turned away from the light flowing through the windows to get more sleep. I had almost succeeded when I heard the door creak open, the aroma of eggs filling the room.

"I thought you had left for the day," I murmured sleepily.

Suddenly, your voice was filling the air a few decibels louder than I would've liked. "Happy birthday!!"

My eyes shot open, blood curdling. The news wasn't what I expected to hear, nor was it something I wanted to. 22. I had spent most of my 21st year here, and now I was beginning another one.

Happy birthday to me.

At least it provided me with one thing: the date. It was June 5th. You brought me here at the beginning of August. That's 10 months I've been confined here. 10 months I would never get back.

For some strange reason, I wasn't as excited as you.

I heard your footsteps across the wooden floor. "I brought breakfast in bed for the birthday girl."

Groggily, I sat up and finally looked at you. You were already all dressed for the day, adorned in a black button up and black slacks. It was a little dark, but you pulled it off with your hair slicked to the side. Too bad you would ruin it when you would inevitably run your hand through it. In your hands, you carried a plate with eggs, ham, and toast.

"Thank you," I said taking it. I hid my true feelings well, knowing I wouldn't dwell on them for long. "I didn't even know what date it was."

You shrugged, "I listen to the radio every few days to keep up with what's happening in the Outside."

"Let me guess, a lot of bickering and fighting and name calling, right?"

You chuckled, "Wouldn't expect anything less?"

I looked at my tray then back to you. "So, are you going to make me eat as you sit here and watch?"

"I have my own waiting for me downstairs," you informed me.

Not being one to eat in the same place that I sleep, I said, "Let's go then."

We migrated downstairs and enjoyed a pleasant meal together. You were overjoyed, and I tried to match your same energy without much success. As we neared the end of breakfast, you informed me, "I'll have to leave shortly here, but I'll be back around midday."

"Really? That's early," I commented.

"Well, actually," you started sounding slightly nervous, "I'm coming back early from checking on the fields to help tidy the house up and prepare dinner."

"For what?" We never did anything too special, and while we collectively kept the house clean, it was never spotless.

You stood up, taking your plate to the sink. "Our family is joining us later for your birthday."

"Our family?" I questioned, the phrase sounding so foreign, so wrong, coming from my lips. You quickly rinsed your dishes. "You mean your father-"

You strode over to me, quickly grasping my hands in yours. The sudden movement startled. "Listen, I know your relationship with my father is... strained to say the least, but don't worry about it too much? Water under the bridge, right?" That was much easier for you to say than me, but before I could respond, you continued, "Besides, my mother and Becca will be over, too, and you get along with them."