Reality Issues
Five: Counterpoint
Sugar
trotted peacefully along the well-worn path. He needed no direction from
Christine; he had been down this road many times before and was well aware of
which turns to take. Besides, even if he forgot the way, he could always just
follow Belle, who was being guided by Raoul. But the way to the Lenfents was
relatively easy and Sugar was a very smart horse.
Above him sat Christine, looking
very confused. The previous night’s dream was replaying in her brain, with images
as concrete as memories. Yet the harder she thought about it the less she
understood. She did not know what was happening to her—well, her in the
dream—and what Erik had to do with her sickness. Didn’t he say it was all his
fault? He said she had a broken heart, but Christine didn’t think that made
much sense at all. How could heartache make a person physically sick? And even
if it could, what had Erik, her husband, done to make her so emotionally and
physically sick?
Well,
whatever had happened, the truth would never be revealed to her while she was
awake, Christine knew that. She must wait until she went to sleep again that
night and, hopefully, she would understand everything. But until then, she
would enjoy this visit with Marguerite and not think about the dream at all.
Marguerite
Lenfent and her husband, Frederick, were very close friends to the de Chagnys.
They had befriended the couple when Raoul and Christine first moved to the
village nearly three years ago. The two women at once formed an unbreakable
bond and loved each other dearly. Their husbands, too, became close friends and
each Saturday the two couples would spend the entire day together. The would
all have lunch together and afterwards Raoul and Frederick would retreat into
the study for brandy and Marguerite and Christine would talk in the parlor.
Marguerite
and Frederick’s marriage had been considered a scandal, just like Christine and
Raoul’s. A few years earlier, Marguerite was a beautiful heiress living in the
heart of Paris and engaged to the wealthy and noble Nicolas Bouden. However,
she fell in love with Frederick Lenfent, a poor orphan living in a small shack
and providing for four other orphans. After a year of tug-of-war between the
two men, Marguerite decided to follow her heart and marry Frederick. The two,
after finding the other four orphans jobs and new situations, left Paris for
the countryside. By that time Frederick had sold his first manuscript and had a
steady income coming from his publisher. He continued to write after they left
Paris and has had several essays and another novel published.
Christine
was pulled from her reverie—literally—as Raoul lifted her off of Sugar. As soon
as her feet were on the ground, Marguerite burst out of the front door and
threw her arms around her friend’s neck. "Christine," she cried,
"how are you? Has it only been a week? Raoul told Fred that you were sick
and—are you feeling better? Come, let’s get you inside. Good afternoon,
Raoul," she said, noticing him for the first time.
Their
lunch was as pleasant as it always was. They had a wonderful meal of filet
mignon (much better than fish) and delightful conversation with it. Frederick
announced that he was to go to Paris on Monday to speak with his publisher and
invited Raoul to come along. Yet he declined because he had to work this week,
which Christine dutifully reminded him. Raoul reported on the return of
Monsieur Latrec, the village doctor and another of Raoul’s friends who had been
away on a business venture in Rouen. Afterwards the men retreated into the
study and the ladies went into the parlor.
The
Lenfents’ house was much nicer than Christine and Raoul’s. Frederick’s latest
novel had been highly acclaimed (as his essays always were) and thus they had a
large amount of extra money. Marguerite had a wonderful taste in fine things
and Frederick knew where to go for the least expensive items. Together they
found a happy medium and redecorated most of the house. They also helped the de
Chagnys pick out furniture for their living room, although they didn’t have
nearly the same size budget.
Christine
and Marguerite took their usual seats on the sofa and, once they were sitting,
Marguerite took her companion’s hand. "Tell me, my dear Christine,"
she said, "now that the men aren’t here. How are you? Truly."
Christine
forced a smile. "I am fine. Do not worry about me. I’ve just had headaches
and…" She stalled, pondering whether or not to tell Marguerite about the
dream. She trusted her friend, more than anyone else, even more than Raoul, but
the dream felt…sacred. Like what she saw when she closed her eyes at night was
only for her and Erik to know.
"Raoul
says you have been sleeping quite a lot recently," Marguerite said.
"Perhaps you are pregnant."
"No!"
Christine exclaimed. "I am not pregnant! Trust me, Marguerite!"
"It’s
all right, Christine. I am fine," she replied, but with a betraying quiver
of her lower lip.
"No,"
Christine repeated, this time softly. "Believe me," she continued,
with a little laugh and nod of the head, "I am not pregnant."
"Oh,"
Marguerite said, understanding. "But you would tell me… if you were?"
"Of
course!" she paused. "Marguerite, dear Marguerite… how are you?"
The
young woman twirled a strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun and placed
it behind her ear. "I am…well," she said, lifting her head to meet
Christine’s eyes. "It has been a difficult time, true, but… oh, Christine,
he’s been so good to me! I was inconsolable and he comforted me. I felt
diseased and ugly and he made me feel beautiful. He lets me cry on his shoulder
whenever I need to—which I’ll admit, has been quite a lot recently. He is my
stronghold and—oh, Christine, you will never believe what he said. We were at
dinner last week and I looked at him and said, ‘If I am unable to have children,
I will understand if you want to leave me.’ He simply smiled at me and said,
‘Children would be a blessing, Marguerite. But you are my miracle. If I ever
left you my heart would collapse.’" Marguerite smiled, tears cascading
down her cheeks. "He is such a writer, my husband, isn’t he? What would I
ever do without him?"
Christine
felt tears in her own eyes. She wondered what Raoul’s reaction would be if she
were ever to have a miscarriage. "You are a very lucky woman."
"We,"
she replied, "we are very lucky women. Come," she continued, moving
to sit in front of the piano. "Let us sing something. I am in the mood to
sing."
"Oh,
no, Marguerite, I mustn’t," Christine quickly responded.
"Oh,
come now, I am sure Raoul wouldn’t mind this once!"
"No,
it isn’t that…" Christine drifted off again, lost in her own thoughts. She
could not sing without thinking of Erik, and thinking of Erik meant thinking of
the dream and his fate and… She just wasn’t prepared to do all this thinking
both with her friend before her and Raoul in the next room.
But
in her hesitation she had been caught. Marguerite knew something was wrong and
she was not the kind of woman to keep from prying. "Christine," she
said, slowly. "What is it? You can tell me."
Christine
sighed. "It’s Erik. I’ve been dreaming of him."
Marguerite’s
lips curled into a devious little smile. She knew all about Christine’s past
and everything about Erik. "Really?"
"Marguerite!"
Christine laughed. "It’s been an odd experience, I can tell you that. In
my dream…" she paused, leaned in closer to her friend and began to
whisper, even though no one could possible hear them either way. "In my
dream, we’re married, Erik and I. And there is no Raoul! Everything that really
happened never happened—Erik had never heard of Raoul before!"
"You
mean, no Angel of Music?"
"Well,
I don’t know, but there was no Raoul! No nemesis, no competition… Unless I had
a different fiancée, but I don’t know about that… And, oh, I am very sick. I
keep fainting, or something… and Erik blames himself."
"He
told you this?"
"No
he told Nadir."
"Who’s
Nadir?"
"The
Persian gentleman who took Raoul down to find me."
"Oh.
So, how do you know that Erik blames himself?"
"I
was eavesdropping."
"Oh."
The two were silent for a moment, each trying to organize their thoughts.
"That
sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?" Christine asked.
"Just
a bit," Marguerite replied, as they both began to laugh.
"I always pictured what my life would be like if I acted differently, but I never imagined…" Christine sighed, and leaned her head against he friend’s shoulder. "I loved them both, Marguerite. Does that make me horrible?"
"No,
dear," she said, stroking Christine’s hair. "It makes you human. You
loved the comfort in Raoul and the mystery and uniqueness of Erik. I don’t know
what I would do in that situation."
"But
you chose your Erik."
Marguerite
smiled. "It is not right to compare Frederick to Erik and Nicolas to
Raoul. True, Frederick was different, but he did not wear a mask, did not live
beneath an Opera House and never harmed anyone in his life! Nicolas was nothing
like Raoul; he was abusive and only wanted me for my dowry. There was never any
doubt in my mind who I wanted to marry. Christine," she continued, after a
pause, "did you ever think that you chose your Frederick?"
"No,"
she replied. "I guess I never have. But, as you said, you never doubted
your choice. Three years later, I am still filled with doubt, a doubt that has
never left my side since I left Erik!"
"Then
learn as much as you can from this dream of yours, Christine. When it all ends,
one way or the other, you will no longer have doubt."
Chapter Six, Raoul and
What Followed
Chapter Four, Teacher,
Husband… Killer?