“Would you like me to give you a name?” I whisper.
Her eyes jump to my face, a bit wider this time. Then her brow furrows and she cocks her head, as if she’s thinking over my simple question. Sitting on the floor just outside the cage door, I crisscross my legs, resting my arms on my knees, not wanting to rush her.
Slowly, I remove a lace from my boot, tying the ends together so it makes a loop. “Have you ever played Cat’s Cradle?”
Of course she doesn’t respond, so I go about making random shapes with the string around my fingers, not watching her, but listening for her subtle movements. After a while, she’s managed to slide all the way to the edge, her head leaning slightly outside, her focus entirely on the string on my fingers. I pause my twisting of the string, glance up at her without moving any part of my body other than my eyes. “Would you like to learn Cat’s Cradle?”
A thin shoulder lifts, but she doesn’t lower her gaze or lean away, so I inch closer, holding my hands a few inches from her. “It may be easier for you to start? Would you like to hold it, and I can show you the first move?”
Her gaze is wary but she nods, so I hold my hands up and instruct, “Hold your hands like this.”
She lifts both her hands in front of her. I loop the string around one wrist and then the other, moving them just far enough apart to make the string taunt. “Keep tension on it, like this.”
She continues to stare at the string, her eyes tracking my movements as I adjust the strings across to hook on her fingers, creating a cradle. “See, there’s the first one.”
Her eyes lift, the first glimmer of excitement shining back at me. Not wanting to lose momentum now, I explain, “Now I’m going to hook my fingers on the exes and as I pull, you’re going to bring your hands closer together, releasing the string to me.”
Slowly, I do as I said, talking her through it as we go, and then I’m sitting there with the string once again around my fingers. “See, just like that, great work.”
She beams at me, those tired eyes not quite as shadowed. “I can show you more later, if you want.”
The shadows are back, darker this time, her body coiled to bolt at the first sign of trouble. So I lean in slightly, catching her gaze. “Everyone’s gone. You’re safe.”
She relaxes a little, but her eyes continue to glance around, as if she’s waiting for someone to pop out at any moment. Quickly, I set up the cradle on my own hands, holding it out to her, “You wanna try to do it?”
She immediately looks back to the string, so I inch it closer, so she’ll more easily be able to reach. Her arms lift, her hands moving tentatively, fingers pinching the string as I showed her. “That’s right. Great job. Now pull them out,” she pulls them out, “and bring them down,” she brings them down, “and now around and up the middle.”
She follows my instructions, and I ease up, letting the tension give way. “Hook the string, yes, just like that. Move your hands apart, so there’s tension on the string. Amazing.”
The pure joy on her face as she stares at the string around her fingers makes my chest hurt. I clear my throat, pushing down the unadulterated rage pulsing through me, knowing this isn’t the time or place for it. She lifts her shining eyes to mine, and I return her smile, clapping my hands in front of me. “You’re a natural.”
A low giggle escapes, and she sobers immediately, her gaze once again looking around the room. Untangling the string from around her hands, she tosses it back at me, turns slightly away so I say in a rush, “I can show you all these moves later, if you want.”
She stops, her expression once again suspicious, so I add, “You don’t need to stay here anymore. You’re safe now.”
I lift my arm so my hand is about eye level with her, but keep it just outside the cage door. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her bottom lip quivers, those shadows dancing with grief and hope as I wait, hand extended. After a long moment, she scoots right to the edge of the door peers out as if it’s a whole new world. Tentatively, she takes my hand, easily fitting out the door until she’s kneeling on the cold concrete floor.
I slowly come to my feet, not wanting to startle her, and then I put my other hand out, wait for her to take it. This time she only hesitates for a moment before gripping my fingers with her tiny ones, and then I’m helping her to stand.
She wobbles some, grimaces, her brow creased in concentration, so I give her a few minutes to adjust to her new position. Once she seems steady, I release her, turn toward the door, ready to get the hell out of this dump, but a tug on my jacket stops me. I turn back to find her staring up at me, so I ask, “What is it?”
“N-n-n-name?” she whispers, her voice gruff, as if she hasn’t used it in a long while.
“You want me to give you a name?”
She nods, so I squat in front of her, give her a good look. Tangled dark blonde hair, hazel eyes that appear more green in this dim light. I smile, my fingers brushing her cheeks lightly as I say, “How about Cassidy?”
She frowns slightly, her lips moving as if she’s trying to wrap her head around it enough to force it from her lips. “C-C-C-as-s-s-idy,” she stutters. Her lips press together, her little face scrunching up in concentration and then she rasps, “C-C-C-assidy,” a quick shake of her head, a deep inhalation quickly expelled, “Cassidy.”
Her sparkle is back, and I laugh, standing as I exclaim, “perfect.”
Her closed lip smile is shy, so I turn toward the door, holding my hand slightly behind me as I say, “Let’s go home.”
I pause, waiting to see if she’s ready to move forward or if I need to take a step back. Her fingertips brush mine, slowly sliding up until she’s gripping my hand tightly. Squeezing her hand gently, I slowly make my way toward the door, being sure to not rush her. She’s hunched over slightly, limping heavily on one side, so I stop and turn back to her. “Cassidy, may I pick you up?”
She stares up at me, frowning slightly. So I add, “It’ll get us out of her faster if I carry you. And then, if you want, you can close your eyes and pretend you’re flying.”
