I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF

LOLA

I had been sitting at the table for over fifteen minutes. Alone.

The dining room was the kind of large that feels larger when you are the only person in it. I sat at my usual spot - the chair closest to the window that nobody else wanted because the morning light came in at an angle that made it difficult to see your plate - and looked at the empty chairs, trying hard to not think about the chef.

I couldn't stop myself.

Eddy had called Mrs. Adama into his study three weeks into our marriage and given her instructions about my meals. 

I knew because Mrs. Adama had come to me afterward with the expression of a woman who had been asked to do something she found distasteful but was being paid enough not to refuse. 

My meal routine changed immediately - smaller portions, no carbohydrates after noon, no sugar, no butter, no cream. A card placed beside my plate each morning with my calorie allowance written on it in Mrs. Adama's careful handwriting, like a punishment dressed up as concern.

For your health, Eddy had said the one time I spoke to him about it. I didn't bring it up again.

The noiseless footsteps approaching from the corridor drew me out of my thoughts. I straightened my back and fixed my expression.

Freddy. Shower-damp hair, a t-shirt that had no business fitting the way it did across his shoulders with a black light under piece.

With the easy unhurried movement of someone whose body had never once been a source of shame, he walked leisurely towards the table. 

As soon as he saw me, something crossed his face - quick and warm, but he didn't say anything, just pulled out the chair two seats from mine and dropped into it.

Few seconds after, he made a sound like he had blown out a puff of air slowly through his mouth.

"Morning," he muttered, glancing quickly at me, before reaching for the water jug which was the only thing on the table, aside the drinking glasses and cutlery sets placed in front of each of the seats.

"Good morning, Fredmon."

He didn't look at me again but I felt the awareness between us the way you feel a bruise - not constant, but present, and tender in a specific place.

I looked at my hands against my lap.

From a distance, I heard the entrance door open with a beep. Connor appeared, and the room shifted in an entirely different way.

He was dressed casually on a shirt and pair of brown flared pants, yet he looked like he had jumped out of London times model magazine.

His hair was cleanly combed into a middle parting and his glasses balanced against his nose with a certain kind serious aura.

He caught my eye across the table and smiled - warm, reassuring. I could tell he was trying to tell me to not think so much about last night, but my mind went a bit overboard. I couldn't help it.

I smiled back.

"Lola." He took the chair directly across from me. "You look well."

"Thank you," I said, as careful as possible, worried he would notice how hot I was feeling down there from the tone of my voice.

Freddy poured his water and said nothing.

Gregory arrived next, robe exchanged for a pressed shirt and soft pants, every inch the patriarch regardless of the hour. 

He took the chair at the far end without being invited to, surveying the table the way he surveyed everything. His eyes moved over me briefly, settled nowhere, moved on.

Then Eddy.

He came in straightening his cuffs, phone in one hand, the particular energy around him that I had learned to read the way sailors read weather - something was coming, and it had already decided its direction. 

He took his seat at the head of the table without looking at me and set his phone down. Then, he looked around at the assembled faces with the satisfaction of a man who liked what he presided over.

"Good morning," he said, to the table generally. No one responded, and I thought I had heard wrong.

As dumb as I always turn out in his presence, I opened my mouth to reply, but his voice came again, forcing my words down my throat.

 "Mrs. Adama," he yelled loudly. "We're ready."

Mrs. Adama appeared in the doorway. She was a small woman with a large presence and the expression of someone who had learned to keep her opinions entirely behind her eyes. She nodded once and disappeared.

"I want to say," Eddy began, "that it's good to have family at a table. Connor, you've always been family. Dad." His face turned slightly in Gregory's direction. "And Freddy." A pause that lasted exactly one beat too long. "It's been a while."

Freddy looked at his glass of water. "It has," he replied flatly.

I sensed an energy between them that intensified my fear. I thought about how I was connected with the two brothers, a lump enlarged in my throat

Mrs. Adama and her assistant came through with the food causing the table to be filled with the warm, generous smell of a proper breakfast - eggs, toast, grilled tomatoes, good coffee.

My mouth watered and my heart continued to beat for my fate.

Would Eddy be merciful enough to let me eat the same dish as the others?

I had clasped my hands together on my laps in silent prayer, when I heard a chair screech loudly across the floor.

"I'll eat later," Freddy said quietly, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I wasn't sure what happened, but from the look on the faces of the men, I could tell it wasn't something they wanted to address at that moment.

I readjusted in my position, returning my attention to Mrs. Adama's tray.

Finally, a plate was set in front of me.

I looked down at it.

Three cucumber slices. A wedge of unseasoned boiled egg white - no yolk. Four almonds in a small separate dish. A glass of water with lemon.

I sat very still and continued to stare at my plate like it could get filled soon with something more palatable.

"Good." came Eddy's voice across the table, pleasant and light. "A woman should exercise discipline, don't you think? Especially at the table."

His gaze shifted fully to me. Not with cruelty - with something more precise than cruelty. 

Connor was looking at his plate.

Gregory was cutting his toast.

No one said anything.

I picked up a cucumber slice. Put it in my mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Set my hands flat on the table on either side of my plate and breathed through my nose until I was certain of my own face.

I couldn't do this. I pushed back my chair.

"Excuse me," I said before hurrying towards the stairs

My feet felt heavy as I took a step after another. My head felt empty and my vision blurred into a storm of sadness I should have predicted.

On getting to the first floor, I halted, gripping the banister tight as I listened.

Curious than ever, I turned with a heavy heart, my eyes inspecting the flight of stairs below me.

Nobody was coming. They had chosen silence, like I was truly a piece of furniture that doesn't deserve any attention.

Something in my heart built up quickly.

My body stilled into my thoughts. My legs moved. Not towards my room. Not downstairs to the plate of shame I had been served. 

I rounded the stairs and continued to climb.

Freddy had gone up earlier and I knew his room.