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“Good morning,” she says brightly, still smiling. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”
My mouth hangs open, unable to formulate a response. I know that I’m supposed to say something, but for the first time since I can remember, I’m speechless.
This weak, bizarre human has baffled me. It fills me with a sense of intrigue, suddenly fascinated by her. There are few people who could induce this reaction from me, and for the first time I realize that she must be more complex than I’ve given her credit for.
She doesn’t wait for me to speak, which is fortunate. I think it’s possible we could stand there all day, staring at each other, if she did. Instead, she simply walks away, expecting me to follow.
And for some reason, I do. Me, who follows no one, meekly lets her lead me wordlessly into the dining room.
An elaborate breakfast is spread out on the table. There’s a platter of meat, and another plate of honeyed rolls. A big bowl of cut fruit sits in the middle, both a colorful decoration and an edible contribution.
Everything smells fantastic, and I can’t stop my mouth from watering slightly at the sight. Did she stay up all night cooking this? I wonder to myself. I have no idea how much labor goes into a meal like this, but it looks complicated. Hours, I imagine.
My mind can’t wrap itself around the display, trying to understand how it ever came to be. I didn’t even know I had enough stuff in my kitchen for a feast like this. It’s curious, and I’m suitably impressed by her effort.
But also baffled. Why did she go to so much trouble, and why is she sharing it with me? I could understand if she had raided my pantry while I was out, helping herself to anything she wanted. She could have done that in private, and likely never been caught.
She had the perfect opportunity, and the most freedom she’s had in days. And she used that time to clean my house and cook me breakfast. I’m filled with confusion, so thrown off that all I can do is stare blankly.
She pulls out a chair, finally sitting down when she realizes that I’m not moving. Then she waves a hand toward me, gesturing for me to do the same.
“Well?”
104
VOLIKAN
“Well?” she says expectantly, waving for me to sit down. My gaze follows her hand, and I realize that there’s even a table setting here for me. She made the table, expecting us to eat together.
This only adds to my confusion, still not understanding why she would go to all this effort. She could have helped herself to whatever she wanted – I was unconscious and could not stop her. Why did she do this for me?
For us, I realize numbly. But something about that word makes me uncomfortable. I stop the thought as soon as it comes, pushing it aside.
Instead, I sit down as directed, still speechless. I reflexively grab the chair in front of me, pulling it out and dropping into it distractedly.
I gaze around the room, as if the answers will be found written on the walls. Nothing about this is making sense, but it’s hard to put my finger on just what part bothers me the most. Nothing is wrong, but nothing feels right, either.
And my changed surroundings don’t help. It gives me the feeling that I somehow went to bed last night and woke up somewhere else. A place that almost looks exactly like my house, but not quite.
It’s too clean. I can see the difference, even if it’s hard to explain why it feels wrong. I know that cleanliness is a good thing, and I appreciate her effort. But it makes me feel as though I’m in the wrong place, that everything is just a little bit ‘off.’
All my questions compete in my mind, so jumbled at this point that I can’t decide which one would come first. So, I just say nothing, still trying to work it out in my head.
She smiles at me warmly again. It does that weird thing in my chest again, sort of like I’m being pricked all over. The feeling, I decide, is not entirely unpleasant now that I’ve had time to think about it.
I gaze at her, noticing how different she looks now. She doesn’t have the stressed, nervous expression that she did. Then again, when I think of how I acted when she first came home with me, it’s hard to blame her for looking nervous. I had gone out of my way to elicit that reaction. I guess I didn’t know that it would turn out I like this version of her, too.
She eyes me for a moment. There’s a twinkle of humor in her eyes as she waits. I recognize it, but I’m still too slack jawed to do anything more than simply take note of it. She doesn’t come right out and laugh, but I can tell that she’s close.
I don’t know what’s so funny, but I can’t make myself care right now. A response will have to wait, as I just don’t have the brain power to worry about it. I’m too overwhelmed and overloaded by everything unfolding here.
Her eyes sparkle with humor at me, even when I stare blankly back at her. Then she stands up and begins walking around the table to fetch the various serving plates, one at a time. She starts to serve me from them, filling my plate with big portions of everything.
It occurs to me that she was staring at me, waiting for me to do this myself. That’s why she kept looking at me and looked so amused when I didn’t.
She must think I’m a complete idiot. The small, gentle smirk on her face as she works doesn’t disprove it.
I suppose, at least when it comes to social interactions like this, I might be. I don’t get out of my house much or spend time in groups. I prefer to be on my own, left to my own devices. Things like sharing a polite meal are not my forte, or something I have a lot of experience with.
