Back in the room, I curled into a ball in the corner of the sofa.
I stared at the carpet, at the antique rug that was probably worth more than I could fathom. I stared until my eyes burned. My mind refused to go blank, wouldn’t let me burrow into my hole of numbness. I needed to get there, to stop feeling, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t.
Feeling was too hard. I didn’t allow intense emotions anymore; my whole life was designed that way.
With my head against my knees, I focused on anger, anger at what, I wasn’t really sure, but that emotion was easier than caring. I stayed curled in a ball with my arms tightly around my knees, too tight. My hands went numb. I didn’t move.
I tried thinking about anything else, even resorted to reciting the German alphabet in my head.
He kept coming back, ruffling the numbness I was working so hard to gain.
I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut.
His beautiful face, the gentle way spoke to Hanna, the way his jaw tensed when he was angry. The color of his eyes in the bright sunshine, the way they caught the light.
Stop.
A knock. I couldn’t tell if it was in my head or in reality.
Another knock. I looked up and realized someone was at the door. I wanted to be in my little house where no one ever bothered me. I wanted to be alone, like I always was. People were too difficult.
“Adriane?” came Ben’s voice. “Breakfast is ready. You wanna eat?”
I took a breath and stood. My limbs felt like all the joints had been welded together. I focused on unclenching my jaw so I could talk, so I could pretend. I pretended a lot; it was usually easy. I walked over to the door and cracked it open.
“You okay?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. I just, um, don’t feel well. I’m not going to have breakfast.”
“I’ll send Hanna up. She’s real good at making people feel better.”
“No.” I forced my lips to curve a little. “It’s probably just homesickness. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated.
“I think I’ll just sleep a little more,” I said, “if that’s all right.”
“’Course it is.” Then he added, “Alec said to let you do whatever you want.”
My body tensed at his name, and my hands started shaking. “You’d better get down there before the eggs get cold.” I closed the door and listened for his heavy footsteps.
I took a deep breath, and it shook.
Then I sat back down on the sofa and stared at the rug. I stared for a long time. The design seemed to start moving, twisting around like serpents.
Hanna tapped at the door at some point and asked if I was all right. I pretended to be asleep.
The colors of the rug brightened with the afternoon sun, and then they faded as shadows fell. I tried to see the rug and nothing else. My eyes burned.
Eventually, I could barely see the rug, no colors, only faint outlines.
I breathed.
I didn’t move. My joints hurt.
If I stared long enough, everything would be okay. Everything would dull like it always did. Since my father’s death five years ago, I’d given up pleasant emotions in order to keep the difficult ones away. It was a fair tradeoff. I wasn’t entirely sure into which category my current emotions fell, but it didn’t matter; I didn’t want any of them.
A sound.
I blinked.
There were footsteps in the hall. Then they stopped.
A pause.
A soft tap at the door. “Adriane?”
Alec.
I looked at the door.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Do you need anything?”
With silent movements, I stood from the sofa and walked over to the door. I lay my hand on the wood.
A minute passed.
Then his quiet footsteps moved away, disappeared down the hall.
I leaned my head against the door.
Then I found a direction for my anger. I hated him for making me feel like this, for making me feel at all.
In the morning, I decided, I couldn’t hide in here forever. And I could control this. No one was allowed to affect me so much.
Slowly, so I would be sure to miss breakfast, to miss everyone who came to breakfast, I showered and dressed. In the mirror, I practiced my expression. My image seemed odd somehow, maybe just a consequence of staring at the rug all day. I practiced a smile and tried to get it to reach my eyes.
I turned away from the mirror and headed out into the hall then down the stairs.
“I have it, sir. Don’t worry,” said a voice coming from the kitchen.
My feet paused. I was sure there’d been no conversation already in progress; it’d sprung up from nowhere. I would’ve heard it from the upstairs hall.
I continued down the stairs, slowly.
“Make sure.” It was a command. Alec walked out of the kitchen a second later. Then he was out the door.
I hesitated and then kept moving.
Hanna was in the kitchen cleaning up—and so was Vincent, the man with the Italian complexion. He was standing to the side, with no discernible purpose.
Hanna looked up from her pot-scrubbing when I walked in. “Oh, you’re up.” She pulled her hands out of the water and rubbed them over a towel. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah. It was just a little stomach bug. I’m better now.”
Vincent remained still.
“Are you sure?” Hanna asked. “Do you have a temperature?” She moved closer.
I walked around the other side of the island, past Vincent, and grabbed a Tupperware container to start on the leftovers. “I was just a little queasy. I didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick.”
Hanna paused. “Oh, all right. But tell me if you’re not better.”
“Sure.” I scooped hash browns into the container.
Vincent stood there for a few minutes and asked Hanna something about breakfast, about something he said he’d liked. I had the feeling he really didn’t care. He didn’t strike me as a cinnamon roll connoisseur.
Finally, he left. He still seemed unhappy about something. Maybe that was just how he always was.
The rest of the day Hanna asked several more times if I was all right. And again the next day. I painted a smile on my face and lied then tried to appear more cheerful. I couldn’t blame my lack of animation on being ill anymore, so I told Hanna I was just homesick.
A few days passed. Alec didn’t come around.
One evening, when Alec wasn’t at dinner yet again, Vincent left early, and Anthony lingered for a few minutes at the table, reading something on his phone.
I stood across the table from him. “I need to know what’s going on.”
He looked up at me as if he’d just realized I was in the room. “I’m sorry?”
“I need to know what’s going on. I deserve to know.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to Alec and—”
“When he talks, he doesn’t actually say crap.”
He hesitated. Then he smiled. “Talking to him is like reading Shakespeare. Everything means more than you initially realize.” He pushed his chair back and stood.
“I understand Shakespeare fine. I’m not an idiot.”
“Obviously. If you found what Mason hid in those books. Not even the IRS catches his shit.” He started toward the door.
I followed. “Anthony.”
Hanna, now in view from the kitchen, glanced over at me.
I tried to fix my expression, as if Anthony and I were just having a casual chat. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
He looked over at Hanna. “Roast beef was great. Thanks.” Then he turned back to me. “I’ll tell Alec you have some questions for him.”
I realized he’d walked over here and drawn Hanna’s attention just so I couldn’t harass him. I said nothing as he walked out the door.
After helping Hanna with the dishes, I sat with her and Ben while they watched the late news. I held a book in my hands to pretend to read.
The front door opened.
I looked up—then back down at the book in my hands. It was Alec. I gripped the book tighter in both hands and watched him peripherally.
He walked through the foyer past the dining room then down the one step into the great room.
“Good evening, Adriane.”
“Good evening,” I murmured, pretending I was absorbed in the book.
Hanna glanced over at him.
“How are you?” he asked me.
I only glanced in his direction. “Fine.”
“Anthony told me you have a few questions.”
I made myself look at him. “I’m sure Anthony or one of the others can answer them.” Then I added, “I know how busy you are.” I turned back to the book.
Peripherally, I saw his expression change, darken. He controlled it quickly, donned that same emotionless mask he always seemed to wear.
“Are you feeling well, Adriane?” he continued.
I kept my gaze on the book. “I’m fine.”
He walked away.
Then one of the doors in the hall under the stairs closed, loudly enough that I heard it over the news, footage of a tropical storm in Florida. I flinched at the sound of his anger