The Periods of Being

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVI

     Olive is the last one to enter the dining room, leaving her to have to take the chair between Henry and Andrew. She clenches her hands at her sides while a footman slides her chair out for her. She thanks him between her bitten lips and sits down.

    Her eyes trail on the empty bowl in front of her that rests on a similar, smaller design plate. Her eyes circle around the golden engraved of the plate and then onto the bowl. She pretends to be enchanted by it, but she is accustomed to these dishes and their designs. She stares at it to keep herself from acknowledging the two people she just fought with. If Neil wasn't sitting far right of her, she would've turned around and never entered the premises of this room. The idea of asking for her meal to be sent up to her room is still tempting.

    When the footmen start their journey around the table to serve a soup and a salad, Henry speaks up, breaking the silence that the family was starting to get familiar with.

    "Your parents should've stayed for dinner tonight. It is a shame they had to leave right after the luncheon." Henry addresses to Neil, who suddenly snaps his head over to his direction as if he was as lost in his thoughts as Olive was— and is trying to.

    Yet, she turns to his direction and awaits to hear what he has to say about the matter. By her mother's words in the drawing-room, it made it sound like her in-laws left because of her. She waits for his answer to subside these thoughts. The last thing she wants, or ever wanted, is for her in-laws to hate her. She is certain her own parents despise her mourning. And her.

    Neil peeks a smile toward Henry. "They didn't want to stay for long. The manor reminds them too much of Mark and his absence here now. I'm sure they will want to visit again soon. Then, we can all share another dinner together." His words are calculated and full of ease. It's as if he knew this comment would come on the table tonight, or it is the exact words his parents told him before they left. Either way, he doesn't sound as sorrowful as his eyes and the soft transparent wrinkles between his eyebrows.

     The footman near Olive and she spoons out a small helping of soup despite her stomach ordering— begging her to scoop more into her large bowl. Her small helping doesn't pass the middle of the bowl. It is all liquid and a few pieces of vegetables. She eyes it in glum, but still picks up her spoon and spoons a mouthful of it.

    The split family eats in silence. The only sound is the scrapping of spoons and the occasional glass hitting the table each time one takes a sip of the white wine and water. The water is untouched by Olive, and the white wine is almost gone from her glass. With each small spoonful of her soup, she takes two large sips from the glass. She does this until she is finished with both.

    "Would you like more soup, m'lady?" One of the footmen asks, but she shakes her head and holds up her wine glass.

    "Can I have more wine instead?" She asks. Mr. Sadder rounds the table to her side and pours the wine without a thought. The footman steps aside, unhelpful since she didn't request for food.

    "Don't you think you've had enough?" A voice sounds across the table. Olive sets down her glass and looks over to the owner of the voice to find Freya's eyes on her. "After today, you might want to stay away from—"

    "Why do you have to put your opinion on everything?" Olive asks her, not allowing Freya to state her concern about Olive's second glass of wine.

    "I don't, but—"

    Marina steps in. "Girls, we don't need to fight."

    "We are not fighting," Freya replies. "I'm merely telling Olive—"