Breakfast was on the table, perfectly served for two as every morning at eight, not a minute earlier not a minute later. Yet again, she was alone. Frida played with her fingers over her lap as she patiently waited for her husband to show up. The fine japanese ceramic dishes were her companion, the smell of food coming from the covered trays her only stimulation. Here, in the middle of the huge dining room that she herself decorated years ago, she felt empty. The cute cutlery, the large and soft tablecloth, the expensive painting hanging on the white walls... every piece in tune to build a luxurious and honorable place. The place she'd been calling home during nine years now. A beautiful house placed in one of the most private areas of the city, it was huge, with large gardens where she did gardening, she simply adored plants. Being outside pampering her flowers was more than a hobby and more of a job. Sitting here all alone made her anxious, she preferred the fresh air of the garden, but her husband asked the maid to sever breakfast inside.
Frida looked through the large window right at the end of the table, the curtains were opened just as she requested; outside, the sun was proudly shining. Frida thought if she finished her breakfast soon then she could swim a bit in the pool and then work on her garden. That thought was enough to lift her spirit, she waited no more and served food on her plate. She would start eating without him. Once again, her subconscious added. And that was a sad truth. But even so, Frida didn't blame him, her husband was an important man with hundreds of commitments, his agenda was always tight which put him in a constant hurry. It was a miracle if by chance he finished his breakfast without calls interrupting or having to stop because time wouldn't be enough. Frida comprehended how demanding his job was, but she also needed him.
The cold silence was broken when she heard footsteps approaching. Frida wiped the edge of her mouth and hastened to swallow to greet him properly once he appeared; perfectly dressed in his black suit as the politician he was, his dark hair carefully combed and the red tie giving his outfit a special color touch. Frida smiled at the view of him, he also smelled good, to the same fragrance he'd used ever since she met him. "Hey, good morning," she greeted from her chair, resting her chin on their joined hands.
"Good morning." He answered without looking at her. He opened the chair and, with a long sigh, sat, wasting no time at serving his food. Time was gold for him.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes."
He was clearly in a hurry, as every morning, yet she felt ignored. "Henry..." she called him softly.
Henry stopped the fork halfway to his plate and looked up at his wife. "Yes, Anni-Frid?" There was exasperation in his voice, even in his eyes.
"Finally, your eyes on me." She giggled in an attempt to make it sound casual. Thing is, he hardly put his eyes on her. They barely saw each other during the day, when Henry wasn't at the office he spent hours in a special meeting or locked up in the home office. It had been that way since forever, she should be used by now but it was quite the opposite; she was fed up.
Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm late." He cut his omelet under her penetrating gaze. "I barely have time to eat."
"Take it easy."
"If I take it easy then I'll never finish. And, how many times? Do not put your elbows on the table." He pointed out bluntly. "It's uneducated."
Frida lowered her arms and took the fork to continue eating, fixing her eyes on the food, embarrassed. "No one else is here." Said in a low voice.
"I am here." He said back in a tone that warned no more discussion. With that, both fell silent.
Henry ignored everything else and started devouring his own breakfast, Frida, on the contrary, took her time. As usual, they barely exchanged a word. The atmosphere was tense, or at least she was tense, because when she dared to raise her eyes to him she found him very nonchalant. Frida took a sip of the delicious orange juice Alice, the main maid, served. She was about to make a comment to break the ice when Henry spoke. "By the way, remember we have dinner at the Clayton's tonight."
