Off Morning
OPAL
I wake up with the sun in my eyes and blink several times until my vision clears.
There's nothing quite like waking up in a strange room. Last night, I couldn't get much sleep. I had this vague feeling that I was being watched even though I knew it was just paranoia.
Nobody was watching me.
I feel tired—my eyes are gritty and this is proof that I didn't sleep well. My eyes burn when I keep them open for too long.
I wish I could sleep more but I'm not that crazy—I know that I'm in a strange home and I have to find out what awaits me downstairs.
I check the time on the clock on my bedside table and sigh in relief when I realize that it's only seven in the morning. I woke up pretty early considering how late I slept. I'll blame this on my stress and anxiety.
Rising, I head into the en suite bathroom and clean up for the day. I don't have any clothes—all of my things are yet to arrive. I slept in the chemise I had under the wedding dress. I can't go downstairs dressed in this; it just wouldn't be appropriate.
A knock on the door interrupts my train of thought. I tense up immediately before slowly exiting the bathroom. A feminine voice says, "Good morning, Luna. It's Gladys. I'm one of the maids. I have your things here."
Relieved, I open the door.
"Apologies," Gladys says before lowering her head. All by trunks and suitcases are behind her. There's a mountain of stuff and to be honest, I didn't think I owned so many things. "I didn't mean to wake you."
I wave her off. "I was up already. Please, come in."
Since I'm not the one who packed, it takes me a long time to figure out where everything was put. Gladys spends the whole time with me as I sort through my things, doing most of the work.
"When's breakfast?" I ask curiously. Although I'm not happy with this marriage, I wouldn't want to miss the first one and give everyone a bad impression of me. "I would hate to miss it."
"It's at half past eight," Gladys answers with a smile. Her vibrant personality has really helped lift my spirits. I feel more optimistic about the whole thing even if it's just an illusion.
I get ready on time and make my way downstairs while Gladys is still packing my things. I wish I could stay and help her but I've run completely out of time and, like I said, I don't want to miss breakfast.
I'm stunned to see everyone already seated around the table when I reach the bottom of the stairs. However, I'm even more surprised by their silence and how nobody seems to be saying a word to each other.
Nobody even looks up when I approach.
"Good morning," I say right before sitting down.
Nobody answers me.
Bad manners, I tell myself. That's all this is. I refuse to feel bad for doing the right thing. Staying silent wasn't an option, was it? Coincidentally, the only empty seat at the table is right next to Quinton, who flashes me a small smile and eyes me behind his sunglasses.
I don't return it.
Everyone starts to eat almost immediately, which makes me wonder if they were waiting for me. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and have some Greek yogurt and feta cheese on some toast. It's a breakfast I've had for ages—it's simply my favorite.
Quinton surprises me by nudging me with his elbow. It's so silent at the table that even this small movement is loud. He mouths, "I'm sorry about yesterday."
I simply nod and continue eating and that works for a few seconds before I feel Bruce's eyes on me.
I steal a glance at him and it confirms my suspicions. He's watching me and looks away right when our eyes meet. The look he gave me wasn't a normal one, though; it was charged with something and I can't help but wonder if that's because I was talking to his brother.
Clearly, these two have a problem with each other.
I go on eating, not minding any of it, not even how his mother and sister, Megan, who are seated right across from me, haven't looked up once since I sat down. It's obvious that I'm not welcome here—I noticed that even yesterday during the wedding reception.
Why is that? Why do they have such a problem with me?
I didn't do a thing to them. They don't even know me.
I catch Bruce watching me again. This time, I act like I don't see it but it's heating on my nerves. If he has something to say, why doesn't he just say it? Am I breaking some unspoken rule or something?
At last, half an hour later, everyone is leaving. His mother goes first, followed by Megan. They do it wordlessly.
Quinton follows, leaving only me and him. I've already finished eating and I'm contemplating leaving the table as well it occurs to me to ask out loud, "Are breakfasts always like that?"
Bruce shifts in his seat. "Everything takes some adjusting, Opal. In no time, it'll be like nothing happened."
I don't even know what he means; that doesn't answer my question.
His eyes meet mine. "In the meantime, I'd like for you to remember the rules."
"Do the rules include not answering when someone greets?" I counter. "Because that's pretty damn rude."
Bruce rises. "If you wish to do anything, you know who to go to."
"I'm not going to talk to your mother and sister."
"Then come to me. If I'm around, I'll attend to whatever you need."
I fold my arms. "Am I allowed to leave?"
"Presently, no."
"Why?"
"It's too dangerous?"
"Why?"
"It just is," he grits out. "You can't leave without supervision or protection. If you want to go somewhere, all you have to do is communicate it."
A prison. That's all this place is.
"Am I allowed visitors?" I ask bitterly.
"Of course."
I search his eyes. Something is wrong here—I'm convinced of that right away. Whenever something feels too strange to be true, it probably is. Bruce is hiding something, that's my conclusion.
"I'll be off now," he announces before walking away. I watch him the whole time, wondering what I've been thrust into here with these strange, cold people.
One thing is certain: something is off.
And I'm going to find out what it is.