Reality Issues
Four:
Teacher, Husband… Killer?
The sound of water splashing
into a tub greeted her when she awoke, once again in the large bed in Erik’s
house. Christine buried her face in the pillow, wishing for a peaceful rest and
release from both worlds. She feigned sleep for the next few minutes while
someone—Erik without a doubt—continued to full the bathtub. She was restless,
however, tossing and turning, her body yearning to be active but her mind
craving peace.
Eventually,
she succumbed to the whims of her body. Her headache was gone—that was a first
in her dream. Usually it was a constant, unwavering presence. With that out of
the way, Christine would be able to explore this dream world.
She
opened her eyes just as Erik appeared in the doorway of the lavatory.
"Good morning, my dear," he said. His eyes were tired, Christine
noted. "I just finished preparing your bath." He came and stood next
to the bed, his long form towering over her small figure. Once she would have
seen him as intimidating and backed away. Now she merely took comfort in his
presence, intense and intimidating as it was. "How are you feeling now,
Christine?"
"Well-rested, for
once," she said, pushing herself up with the heel of her palm. "And
much, much better."
"And
the headache?"
"Surprisingly
gone!" Christine exclaimed.
"I’m
glad," he said, smiling. "I’ve drawn you a bath, my dear, so if you’re…"
The doorbell interrupted him. Christine sat up, frightened.
"Who
could that be?" Christine asked. It took all of her efforts to keep her
voice steady. Please, don’t let it be Raoul…she thought. Christine had
no idea why she thought Raoul might be there, but the fact that he had yet to
show up in the dream made her nervous.
"It’s
probably just Nadir come for a visit," Erik replied, his eyes obviously
catching the panic she had tried so hard to suppress. He sat down beside her
and tilted his head towards hers. "Why don’t you take your bath and
perhaps, if you’re feeling up to it, you might join us after for some
tea."
Christine
nodded, turning to face him. "All right," she whispered. His eyes
mirrored her own anxiety but, she assumed, for a different reason than hers.
The doorbell rang once again, startling Christine even more than the first and
causing her to jump towards the middle of the bed. Erik looked towards the
bedroom door with a smile peeking at the edge of his mouth.
"Yes,
it must be Nadir," he assented, looking back at Christine with two more
smiles flashing through his eyes. "Only he would be so impertinent as to
ring my doorbell twice."
Christine
felt her quivering lips turn upwards into a small smile. He leaned in then, as
if to say something, even opened his mouth a bit, his eyes once again streaked
with worry. But before any words could form something flashed in his eyes; what
it was Christine couldn’t tell. Fear? A memory? Yet Christine knew that
whatever he saw it was awful and tragic. Something deep inside her heart told
her this, although she knew not what it was. But her feelings were only
confirmed by the way Erik sat up straight, his eyes alert and panicked. He
quickly walked to the door, his hand covering the visible half of his face.
As
he reached for the doorknob, Christine called out his name. When he turned, he
looked at her with a sadness she had never seen in him before. It was a deeper,
harsher pain than she had ever seen in anyone before. No, that wasn’t true. She
had seen this pain somewhere else…but where? Who? Whatever the answer, her
heart knew that something was wrong. Wrong with her, with him…with them, with
something else she didn’t know about. She wanted to ask him what he was
thinking. She wanted to ask him what plagued him and what was wrong with her.
Millions of questions pulsed insider her brain but only one made its way to her
mouth:
"Who
is Nadir?"
Confusion
must have reigned once more in that kingdom of knowledge known as Erik’s mind.
"You know, Nadir," he said, "my old friend, the Daroga?"
"Oh
yes, Nadir," she said, putting to tongue the long-forgotten name.
He was the one who led Raoul to Erik’s house on that last, fateful night.
Erik’s brow seemed no less tense even after she recognized his friend’s name.
He hurried back over to her side.
"Christine,
what is it? Why are you for—"
The
doorbell interrupted him for a third time. Erik cursed his friend loudly and
then knelt down beside Christine and looked into her eyes. "Give me five
minutes," he said softly. "I will send him away. Then I’ll make
something to eat and we can talk."
"No,"
she replied, her tone matching his. "You want to see your friend and, I’m
guessing by his obvious impatience, he wants to see you also. I will join you
later."
"Christine,
I’m worried."
Don’t be worried, Erik; it’s only a dream, Christine thought.
"I’m fine," she said as the doorbell rang for the fourth time.
"Go—before he breaks down the door!"
Christine
gently lowered herself into the bathtub; closing her eyes, she leaned her head
against the marble back. The water settled around her body and for a few
moments she didn’t even think; she concentrated solely on the gentle rippling
sounds of the water. But it lasted only a few peaceful seconds as a loud bang
caused the water in the tub to tremble, even before she jumped at the sound.
"I
don’t need your help, Nadir!" Erik’s voice boomed, easily permeating the
wall. Erik and Nadir had entered the Louis-Philippe Room, and Christine could
hear every word of their conversation. "Erik, you must listen to
reason…"
"Reason
is not yours to give, Daroga! When will you learn not to interfere in my
business?"
"She
is sick! Stop being stubborn and take her to a doctor!"
"A
doctor can’t fix a broken heart." The room on the other side of the wall
at once lapsed into silence. The only sound Christine could hear was the
beating of her own heart—her broken heart. It was her they were talking
about, wasn’t it? But why, she questioned, would her heart be broken? Was it
Raoul? No, it couldn’t be…Erik said he didn’t know of Raoul. And he wouldn’t
lie to her.
Finally,
the silence was broken. "Erik," Nadir said, "I know you’re in
pain, but think of Christine! It’s been over three months and, don’t deny it,
Erik, you know she’s not getting any better."
After
another few tense seconds, Erik replied, softly at first, but with growing
alacrity and fury, "No, I won’t deny it. Not only is she not getting any
better, she’s getting worse. Each day I watch her slip farther away from me,
towards some place I don’t know about. But I know that if she ever arrives
there, I’ll never reach her. I am a great magician, Nadir, but I can’t bring
back lost things—I never have been able to! And the worst part is—I did this to
her! I am the reason she is flowing swiftly down that river to—" By now
Erik was screaming. His voice flooded the bathroom where Christine sat huddled
in the bathtub, a river of tears joining the already present lake around her. She
was dying. It was just a dream, but nevertheless, she was dying. The dream
would end then. It was pleasant here; Christine took great comfort in the fact
that, whenever she felt lonely or upset, she could close her eyes and Erik
would appear. Soon, he wouldn’t. But what did Erik mean when he said it was
his fault? she thought. What did he do? Christine turned her
attentions once again to the Louis-Philippe Room, but both their voices had
dropped and she had to strain to hear their conversation.
Nadir
was speaking. "It is not your fault. It is no more your fault than it is
hers. It’s no one’s fault. Come," he continued, "let us go into the
kitchen and prepare the tea you promised your wife. I daresay she will be
joining us." Christine sat up at the reference to her. They would be
expecting her soon; she must hurry.
A
few minutes later she sat in a simple blue housedress at her vanity table,
brushing through her wet hair. Actually, she was not as interested in her hair
as she was in collecting her nerves and trying to push the conversation she had
just heard out of her mind. The questions that were plaguing her—too many to
name—had to be stored and not dwelled upon until she woke up. There would be
plenty of time then. Her time with Erik, however, was limited, and there were
still so many things she had to talk to him about. But she must remember not to
ask him things that his wife would obviously know; it only seemed to worry him
more. Who is Nadir? Ha! It’s a good thing he didn’t have her committed to a mad
house right then and there!
With
her hair pulled back in a cluster of damp ringlets, Christine, for the first
time in three years, left her bedroom and entered Erik’s kitchen.
"Hello,
dear," Erik said with a large smile on his face. He’s pretending everything’s
fine. Christine thought; he must have been hiding this all along. Well,
his eyes betray him. And indeed they did. His eyes were still full of that
tragic pain she had noted earlier in the bedroom. There they were, looking into
hers with such a deep sadness that she had to turn her head, lest she begin to
cry. Erik stood up as she returned his greeting and pulled out a chair for her,
she murmured a "bonjour" to Nadir and sat down, staring at her hands
in her lap.
"How
are you feeling, Christine?" Nadir asked.
"Good.
Very good," she stressed. "Much better than yesterday."
"I’m
glad. Very glad," Nadir said. At first Christine thought he was
mocking her, but discarded the idea when she saw the playful way he smiled at
her. Erik’s wife and he must be very friendly together, she thought.
For
the next two hours, the three conversed intimately with each other. Not so
intimately as to bring up Christine’s health or Erik’s blame in the matter, but
on everything else they shared together: from the Opera to the people
they knew. Christine was glad that she had paid special attention to the events
at the Opera these past three years—it certainly helped! She knew all about the
new management and their (what some would call) unorthodox views. And although
she did not know what Carlotta was doing now, it was interesting to learn that
the diva had apparently tried to start a new career in England, but could not
find an opera house willing to take her! So she had finally returned to her native
Spain, receiving a celebrated welcome. Erik and Nadir even recalled some of
their happier times in Persia together, which delighted Christine, who had
never known much of that particular part of the past. But the first time she
yawned, two hours after she had sat down, Erik immediately bid Nadir say his
farewells and sent Christine off to bed. She waited for Erik to come in to
talk, as she was sure he must; Raoul always did. But the moment she saw the
pillow she could not resist lying down; the moment she lay down she could not
help but close her eyes and the moment she did that… she woke up.
Chapter Three, A Talk With
Husband #1