Reality Issues
Two:
An Odd Occurrence
Christine
opened her eyes to find herself in bed again. Beside her, Raoul turned over
harshly, shaking the bed and causing the headboard to bang against Christine’s
head. Well, that accounts for the pain… she thought, sitting up. The
grandfather clock in the hall chimed four times.
"Raoul,"
she called, "you should get up now. The boat will be leaving soon."
Her
husband groaned loudly but nevertheless sat up and swung his feet over the side
of the bed. Christine slunk back down into bed, ready to return to her dream
now that her headache had been taken care of. But Raoul saw this and made a
disapproving face.
"Now,
Christine, none of that. You know the agreement we made when we first got married:
when I go to work, so do you." Raoul pointed sternly to her sewing machine
in the corner.
"Very
well," she sighed, knowing that she would rather not have an argument this
early in the morning. If she had to get up, she did not want to fight.
For
a few hours, Christine sewed steadily until her thoughts drifted back to Erik.
She wondered what he was doing now, or whether or not he was alive, for that
matter. When she left he was so distraught…
Christine
turned her head. The bed against the opposing wall looked quite appealing. She
could just go to sleep for a little while… Raoul wouldn’t be home for hours and
she had already finished the sewing for the day. There was nothing more for her
to do until Raoul could come home and take the garments to the shop in the
center of town. And perhaps sleep would bring her back to Erik, so that she may
talk with him again. She missed their conversations greatly; talking with Raoul
was nothing like talking with Erik. But perhaps that was unfair… After all,
Christine mused, Raoul was brought up not knowing anything and Erik
knew…well, everything!
Yes,
a little rest couldn’t hurt. And besides, didn’t she owe that much to Erik…to
his memory? If he couldn’t have her, he could at least have her dreams. She
didn’t mind in the least…
***
The
next thing she knew, she was lying in the center of a large, soft bed, as
familiar to her as her own thumb. The room was as it ever was; the small
writing table still stood beside the bed; the marble walls of the bathroom
poked out of the open door. Everything was precisely as she remembered it.
Well, with the exception of that wardrobe. Her old one was neither so tall nor
so broad.
Christine
got out of bed and opened its doors out of curiosity. She was both surprised
and confused to find not only clothes for her inside but also Erik’s clothes.
With wrinkled brow she shut the door to the wardrobe. It was then, for the
first time, she noticed the plain gold wedding band on her finger.
Of course, that makes sense! Christine thought, remembering her
initial dream, when she called Erik her husband. That is why they shared a
closet. How odd that she didn’t remember…
"Christine?"
Christine’s
heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She hadn’t heard Erik enter the room. But
he had, carrying a tray with a tea set. He laughed outright at her surprise,
his voice forming a string of pitches, which almost seemed to be a song.
"Did
I startle you, my dear?" he sang through his laughter. Christine could
feel her face turn scarlet. "Oh, now I’ve both startled and embarrassed
you! What kind of husband am I?" Erik took her gently by the elbow and
walked her back to the bed. "Now get back into bed before you catch a cold
as well."
Christine
lifted up the sheet and sat against the headboard as Erik placed the tray on
her lap and poured her some tea.
"Careful,"
he warned, pulling a chair beside the bed. "It’s hot." She slowly
brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip, although she wasn’t thirsty,
just to be polite to Erik. She had other things on her mind.
She
placed the cup on the tray and looked him squarely in the eyes. His lips were
turned slightly upwards on the good side of his face. "So," she said,
"you and I, we’re married, right?"
The
room echoed with the roars of his laughter. He tossed his head back in a howl,
and when he brought it back straight, said, "Yes, I believe so."
He seems different, she thought, happier.
"When?"
His
eyes sparkled in amusement and he bit his lip to stop another outburst. When he
had controlled himself, he replied, "Three days ago it was a year and
seven months."
"How
was the ceremony?"
"Beautiful.
Well…no… It rained for nearly a week before and all the way up to when we
walked in the church. But by the time the ceremony was over the sun was
shinning again."
It
was Christine’s turn to laugh. "You’re lying!"
"I
would never!" She frowned at him. "Well, maybe once or twice."
He grinned at her and she returned it. "My dear, you seem better."
"Yes,
Erik."
"But
don’t think that just because you convinced me you’re better I’m going to let
you sing tonight. You need your rest." He took one of her ringlets and
began curling the long blonde piece of hair around his index finger. "You
can’t have another fainting spell. I don’t know if your head can withstand
another fall. I don’t know if my heart can withstand it either."
No, she thought, he hasn’t changed. He’s still the same man he was
three years ago. I just never gave him the confidence he needed to talk to me
like this. Suddenly she had the greatest urge to take off his mask. She was
hesitant to though; she remembered all too clearly what happened the last time
she did. And yet, things were different now. They were married. She had surely
seen…more of him than just his face.
So with a steady hand she unveiled her husband and looked upon his naked face for the first time in three years. Yet the horror of his face was nothing in comparison to the pain in his eyes at the thought of losing her. And Christine felt pain at the thought of hurting him, both now and so long ago. With a sob, she pressed her cheek against his scarred one. They remained like that for a few minutes until her sobbing had ceased and after that he held her against his chest until her crying had stopped also.
Erik
was the first to break the embrace; Christine followed suit and sat back up.
"You
should sleep, my love," he whispered, and with trembling lips kissed her forehead.
Christine’s skin tingled at the place of contact, but it wasn’t an unpleasant
feeling. No, not at all.
She
nodded in response to him, her husband, Erik, and slid down under the covers.
Erik tucked the blanket around her and squeezed her hand, turning to leave with
the tea.
"Erik,"
she called, "I have one more question."
"I
hope this one’s as entertaining as the others," he said softly while
replacing the mask.
"Where’s
Raoul?" Christine asked boldly, though flinching at the thought of what
Erik would do when she said the name of his enemy.
"Raoul?"
he asked, confused. Christine nodded. "My dear, I’ve never known anyone
named Raoul." He gave her a puzzled look but, having nothing else to say,
gave her a small smile and left the room.
What? Christine thought, completely stupefied. He doesn’t know
Raoul! He wouldn’t lie to me now… And I can tell from his face (or half of it)
that he truly had no idea who I was talking about. How odd. But then if Raoul
and Erik never met…
Christine
could not even finish her thought before a deep sleep came over her and her
eyes, almost unwillingly, closed.
Chapter Three, A Talk With
Husband #1
Chapter One, A Life Less
Ordinary