I stroked my cat a bit more before taking a shower. I needed to use the time my husband wasn't present; it would make me uncomfortable to do that before going to bed with Thomas close by.
Changing into home wear, with nearly dried-up hair, I put the marble inside the drawer. I really wished I had a little pillow for it, finding that it deserved more than rolling nakedly inside the drawer. I stacked my three little plates and placed the marble on them. But if opening or closing the drawer incautiously, the marble would roll down from its pedestal. I was really in the need of a case, a little pillow, or a little casket.
The maid came a bit later, and I was brought down to dinner. While walking down the endless corridor, I tried to sound her out,
"You have mentioned the prior Madam last time?"
The maid nearly stumbled before resuming to walk a tick faster than before,
"What?" She seemed to misunderstand me, feeling called out instead of inclined to talk.
"Was she a friendly person?" I asked, while looking around, as if just curious.
The maid puffed her chest out,
"She was the best; nobody could compare."
"Really?" I hoped she would elaborate a bit, instead of throwing boring jabs on me.
"Yes, she was the most beautiful woman, treating everyone nicely." We turned into the next corridor, and I got ready for what I really wanted to know.
"Beautiful? What was she looking like?" Like me?
The maid stopped and went silent, just staring at me. I had taken a few steps ahead already, forcing me to turn around when she suddenly halted in her track.
It seemed I struck a nerve, and because the conversation had changed uncomfortably, I decided to go all out,
"Was she blonde?" Taking a step toward her, I put my hands behind my back.
There was no answer; I could only see stubbornness in her eyes.
Taking another step toward her, I inquired,
"Am I her substitute?"
There was no reaction, but she turned nearly hostile.
"Is there a picture of her?" I was now standing directly in front of her, leaning down a bit to level her eyes.
But this time she was not intimidated like she had been before when I confronted her about my cat's necessaries.
Sidestepping me, she remained silent while presuming her way to the dining room. I sighed; that gave me no new clues. I couldn't tell if she was hostile because I was indeed the substitute of the dead wife, or if it was because I was the substitute of some other white moonlight; both possibilities were insulting to the dead wife.
When I arrived in the dining room, unfortunately, I saw my husband again, Jude, also in his seat. The big red flags I got gifted this morning were in a vase on the table as well.
Sitting down in silence, both men eyed me, with Thomas reaching for me, resulting in me ducking away from his hand.
He stopped and spoke,
"The plaster. Put it down."
I didn't want to, and a sudden stubbornness that maybe had rubbed up from the maid overshadowed my reluctance to disobey this creep.
"No."
Thomas looked at me, and his stony features didn't give away his thoughts. While he was a bit impatient at the beginning with my requests, albeit still polite, in his sleep he was handsy, later he almost used psychical punishment on me because I changed my hair color. I absolutely could not fathom what his reaction would be, but maybe it was time to test the boundaries. He would probably not do much in front of his son....right?
There was silence before he slammed his hand on the table, shaking the plates and cutlery—the sound was so loud that it was nearly deafening.
I flinched in my seat and averted my eyes, bowing my head. It was an instinctive reaction to the unnecessarily harsh display of power.
My grandma said that smart men knew when to retreat. So I let my instinct lead me, a bit scared of what would follow. Reaching for my plaster, I slowly peeled it up, crumbling it into a ball under the table.
Psycho. What a fucking psycho. If he was some alcoholic dude with anger issues, I wouldn't be so scared.
But Thomas, who seemed harmless at first glance, though distinguished, wealthy, and powerful, was still harmless enough to call him buddy and threaten to bury him if something happened to my cat. Since yesterday, this person has shown violent tendencies that erupted out of nowhere.
Or, maybe he had never been harmless, and I just measured with the standards of sane adults, which weren't normally going around, getting full psycho all of a sudden.
I really started to contemplate whether my only way out of here would be to kill him in his sleep. I think I would be able to do it. But, I wasn't ready for the aftermath, like what to do with the body, what about the police, and such things. Especially because meanwhile the medical science was nearly unbeatable, and it would raise suspicion if he would be finished off while lying next to the new wife, who soon after ran away.
The dinner was brought in, and I didn't look up again, not at either of the two men, and not interested in whatever game they would play next.
Eying the dark red napkin that had velvet emblems on it, I put it on my lap, as if to protect my dress from the possibly falling food. In each pause that was between the courses, I folded the napkin one time. At the end of the dinner, it was folded up in a fluffy square, and I slipped it in my pants pocket. My usual reason for treasure hunting somehow modified into maliciousness against that motherfucker.
'You lunatic can threaten me and get loud for all I care; I have your pen, fork, and napkin. Take that, you old man!'