WHAT HAPPENED AT DINNER

LOLA

It was already several minutes into breakfast and Connor wasn't at the table.

I looked from his plate of poached eggs and irish fries to the next person's and then the next until I had gone round the table and then back to my own pity plate of a medium sized garden egg sliced in halves and a cooked egg missing its yolk — the one thing that makes boiled eggs bearable for me.

"Eat up," Eddy nodded with a mouthful like he could read my thoughts.

I ignored him---

I wish I could. 

I wasn't sure when I prompted my head for a nod and then my hand had moved, cutting a tiny bit of the white fruit with my knife and going ahead to launch it into my mouth and then I chewed, the next bite sadder than the previous.

Then, Greg, my father in-law, spoke.

That was when it kind of became obvious that it wasn't just me and Eddy on the table, and somehow, that it wasn't just Connor that was absent, Freddy was too.

I wanted to get worried. I wanted to wonder if Freddy had decided to never come for breakfast as long as Eddy was on the table, but I didn't even have time to process my thoughts when Greg's question sent a scary feeling through my entire body.

"Why is Lola eating different?"

While I was trying to collect my feelings, enough to handle the aftermath of Greg's concern in the form of a question, my mind raced up to the incident from last night.

My chest began to tighten to the complexity of my thoughts. The fork fell off my fingers, clattering back into the plate.

I grabbed my glass of water with both hands and gulped it all down. 

Then, adjusting in my seat, I waited for a reply. 

I knew I was about to hear another long section of how I shouldn't even be eating because of my weight, but deep down, I didn't mind being talked down on by Eddy like he would always do, as long as Greg tried to win the argument this time.

"Dad, she isn't complaining. Or did you?" Eddy turned to me.

Eddy was cruel.

I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat. Then, I shook my head slightly — the best response I could manage.

From the corner of my eyes, I watched Greg.

He didn't say anything else as he chewed his food slowly. I bit down on my lower lip. This shouldn't be the end of it.

I could feel my spirit leaving my body to whisper to Greg. He was his father, and I was sure he could stand up against him.

I picked up my cutlery, digging noisily into the empty plate, hoping someone sees my pain and serves justice.

"Who eats garden eggs and boiled eggs for breakfast?" Greg muttered, digging more into his food.

I gripped the cutleries tighter, the cold of the metal finding its way to my bones.

"Did you really choose this? You didn't eat anything last night, remember"

"How did you know?" I fired without thinking, my expression giving away how surprised and curious I have been since the incident from last night.

I was turned completely off the plate in front of me, towards Greg who stared at me like I had just spoken in a strange language.

It was then I realized how much I had overreacted.

Slowly, I adjusted in my seat, my eyes moving back to where Eddy sat.

He had a familiar grin — the type that appears on his face conveniently whenever he thinks about me.

And I know too well that Eddy never thought in my favour.

My mind worked fast between unravelling why Greg reminded me so much about last night and how to break Eddy's thoughts off the track it was sailing.

"It's a good thing for all I care," Eddy's voice came before I was even able to think about anything, causing me to flatten in surrender, out of an attitude I had settled for as the only way to keep peace in an arranged marriage my parents insisted was for my own good.

"I would rather have something else for breakfast."

I was shocked at my own words. It was like someone spoke through me. 

Then suddenly, all my bones came alive, my heart began to beat differently and I felt like I was towering over the roof.

When I found my way to the consciousness of my reality, I was staring Eddy in the eye — not pleadingly, not to be understood, not to negotiate on a ridiculous arrangement, for the first time in two years as his wife.

Even in that moment, Eddy wasn't backing down.

He had dropped his cutleries, his hands lying beside his plate like the food had suddenly become invisible, his eyes furious like a hungry tiger that had been awakened from his mid day nap by an unfortunate prey.

"Maybe you should consider getting surgery," his voice rumbled against the silence of my surprise attack.

Something in me flickered, and then everything came crumbling down. My legs were trembling under the table, but I managed to hold my gaze.

I had stood up to Eddy, he wouldn't let this slide easily.

"A surgery?" Greg's voice came against, confusion etched in every letter.

Eddy didn't reply — he didn't need to. Greg got the message, because he didn't say anything after.

My eyes began to itch. I could tell the tears were gathering up fast.

Just in that moment, Freddy walked in.

He had some branded club t-shirt on and a duffel bag strapped across his chest. His blonde hair looked damp and disheveled — carefree like he had always been.

He walked casually to the dining table, settling into one of the chairs like he couldn't see any of us, his eyes scanning the content of the table — through every plate and glass until they fell on mine.

I watched his face scrunch up in confusion. It was almost like he began to see us after he noticed my plate.

I expected what would follow, but I was more wary of Eddy's wrath.

"What's that?" Freddy spoke casually — more like he was trying to confirm with himself than he was asking someone.

His eyes moved up to my face in a silent interrogation.

I shook my head.

"I'm comfortable eating very light in the morning." 

My voice came off again, without my permission.

Freddy's gaze left my face for Eddy's, then returned on mine again — I knew he wasn't buying that.

My chest knotted tight seeing Eddy heave satisfyingly, leaning back into his chair and picking up his cutleries again.

I hated myself at that moment.

My vision blurred in slowly and I felt like I was on a stage, in front of over five thousand audience, lights on me, energy high but suddenly losing my voice.

Freddy chuckled lightly from behind me, then pulled his bag over his shoulders, allowing it to drop into the floor with a soft thump.

"Eddy---"

My breathing gagged. 

Freddy. No.