Parting of Water - Chapter 2

I have grown to love Maria very much, a love that tears me in half and refuses to repair me. She is worthy of this love, and even more, but does not receive it. She does not receive it from her mocking classmates, and she does not receive it from her teachers who turn a deaf ear to her pleas. She does not receive it from her father, who should love her more than life itself. No, she only has me, and I do not deserve her.

Maria walks with me in public, and all that do not know her closely believe I am truly her brother, whenever she chooses to show me off. Sometimes I push her on swing sets or reach a book in the library that she cannot reach, or explain to her big words she doesn't understand in stories. Sometimes I embrace her in a crowd of parents in playgrounds, and the adults comment all too kindly, calling us sweet and endearing, commenting on my devotion. I nod politely for the most part, as well as push aside my guilt, of my inability to protect her.

She has not told her father about me, and because she always commands that I be invisible in her house. I wish she would tell her father about me, I really do, so he can cower in fear at her power, so she would no longer get bruises in evenings, so I can choke the man to death myself. I wish for that, and so many other things for her, but Maria is not a creature of vengeance. She has made me for company, not to be her protector, and I cannot disobey her desires.

“Why don't you hate your father, Maria?” I asked her once.

“I don't know. But the world hates so much, why should I add to it?”

It hurts to speak to her sometimes.

Helplessness, that is what I feel. I can do very little to help her other than be her friend and confidant. She does not complain to me, but as I go everywhere with her I know what she goes through each day. It has been only a few months and already I have gathered a list of the people in her life who do not deserve their existence.

I wonder sometimes why she does not show me to anyone but strangers. Her teachers do not know about me, nor do her schoolmates. It surprises me, because two of the children in her school have creations like me. One of the boys has a talking wolf, and another girl a flying green fairy. They are very chatty, and the teachers force them to stay out during class sessions. In many ways, I am fortunate that I can turn invisible, as I can follow her wherever she goes and people will never be suspect. In other ways, I despise being unseen, as I can never voice out the injustices she bears in silence.

All I can do is be there for her.

“Ulan, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

I take it back.

“I am thinking about you.”