Christine bore a resemblance to Madeleine, my mother, but there were times she so reminded me of Marie, my mother's best friend. Marie, although afraid of me, had been kind to me and tried to make my mother love me. That was not what Christine reminded me of though, no. Marie and Christine shared a fear nothing to do with me, spiders.
I had a memory of Marie begging my mother to remove a spider. My mother, despite Marie's fervent pleas, had instead simply killed it. Marie had complained that it was cruel, it was not the creature's fault it was ugly and my mother should not be so heartless and yes, I see the parallel there. Christine's reaction to a spider in my home, the first time I witnessed it, was almost comical.
I was sitting in front of the fire, trying not to picture what Christine was doing, wishing she hadn't thought it necessary to inform me, in her sweet, timid, innocence that she was going to bathe. When I heard a shriek come from her bathroom I practically flew in, terrified she'd injured herself, only to find her pressed against the wall staring at the bath.
"Christine, what is the matter?" She turned terrified eyes to mine and pointed at the bath,
"There is a spider in the bath, Erik." She breathed. I felt an urge to laugh, such fear at so trivial a thing, but my poor little angel was truly scared.
"Don't worry Christine I'll remove it."
"Please don't kill it Erik." I have never before or since had such a vivid flashback as I did at those words. I saw Marie, eyes fearful, pressed against the wall of my mother's parlour begging her not to kill the spider that had scared her, my mother laughing and picking up a book to crush it with. It was only for a second but I half expected to be back there, a cloth bag over my head, watching from a hiding place, crippling evidence of my mother's cruelty. But there was only Christine, looking at me.
"I will only move it Christine I promise." She nodded and I gently took it in my hands. It was no bigger than my thumbnail but it had frightened Christine enough to make her scream, I identified with it a little more than I would have liked. I closed my hands over it as I passed Christine and I felt her eyes follow me until I disappeared. I placed the arachnid at the edge of the lake as I heard the door to Christine's bathroom close. I watched it scuttle away.
"You and I my friend are apparently alike." I whispered to no one. It was a new title for me, a spider.