.
Tonight, I am wrapped up in a silky, black gown that is far too formal for something as simple as an evening walk. It was intended to be for the dinner that Raoul and I were to have together, but he has not been feeling well all day.
"I am so sorry," he says to me, acting terribly overdramatic, clutching my hand. "I have taken ill with something small, I am sure. Just give me… a good night's rest…"
I shush him comfortingly, and pull the covers over his shivering body. He truly does not look well at all. "I could bring you something up?" I offer, but he shakes his head violently.
"No food…" he says, looking clammy in the light. "Christine, I am so sorry—"
"Stop apologizing," I scold him, carefully kissing him on his forehead. "I want you to rest. I can eat by myself, and then I'll go for a walk on that trail you showed me Please do not worry about me. Please." I do not mind coddling Raoul when he is feeling ill. This is the proper duty of a wife, and I am pleased to be a proper wife!
He smiles weakly. "Such a good little wife, taking care of her poor, sick husband!" He sighs wearily. "I am sure I will be feeling better by tomorrow."
I truly am not upset in any way, as I leave Raoul to his rest. Of course, I am saddened that he is ill and disappointed that he will not be joining me for dinner, but what is a wife to do when her husband is unwell? I have spent all day cooking the dinner for him, and basing it only around what he enjoyed—I did not enjoy fish. In fact, I am a little pleased that now I would not have to eat it. I throw most of my prepared meal away, and end up snacking on a few chips and crackers from our lunch. Really, I am only stalling. I am waiting for night to fall.
There is something I must do.
You see, I made two very important promises to two very different men only a few days ago. One was to Raoul, and that was to be his lawfully wedded wife. It was easy promise to make, and one that I did not intend to go back on. I am now his wife, and I will be forevermore.
There was one more promise I made, only a few days before my wedding. I returned, and perhaps I shouldn't have. But Erik asked for an invitation to the wedding, and I was not about to deny him anything.
"I am so pleased you gave this to me. You have made me very happy. And promise me one thing, Christine…"
"Anything."
"Will you return… just one more time? After your wedding? I just want to see… I must know if you are happy."
"Of course, Erik… Of course."
Impossible to disobey!
I want to see him again.
I miss him.
It is not difficult to leave the little guesthouse, for Raoul is sound asleep when I make my way out. I decide against calling for a carriage, and instead I peacefully walk the mile or so to the Opera, pretending as though this is a simple house call on an old friend. I did not change out of my black silk dress.
When I arrive, I go quickly through the entrance he has shown me, and I painstakingly make my way down the familiar path. I do not know what I am doing, but something in my heart tells me it is the right thing to do. I do not know what I expect, but somehow I picture him waiting for me in the front room, eagerly anticipating this as much as I. However, I knock and knock, and there is no answer.
Discouraged, but not deterred, I go around back where I know there is a secret entrance in the stone. I wiggle with it, being careful not to ruin my gown and wrap, before sliding it into place and hearing the welcoming click of… home. I pretend as though this is not very sudden or strange, as if this has all been planned and I know exactly what I am doing.
Not much has changed as I step inside… except that it is cold. Very, very cold. I shiver and walk around the room, calling, "Erik?" as I did before.
How long did I wait for him? I cannot say, my mind was so full. Eventually, I cross over and pull a heavy quilt and sit on the divan, waiting for him…He will be here, I am sure. He will home for me, as I have come home for him. And then there is the sound of bells, and the door is opening.
He is tensed, and he is angry, perhaps looking for an intruder… When he catches sight of me, he freezes and watches me with wide eyes.
"Christine?" he says, as if he cannot believe it is really me.
I almost die at the sound of his voice, at the rush of familiar recognition pumping through my body. No other human being will utter my name with such a careful caress, as if every letter is formed simply for the beauty of his tone to express.
"As if you were to ever expect anyone else?" I try to say, but my voice cracks in odd places and I cannot stop the swooping sensations in my stomach as I watch his masked face change expression at my words, as if my voice causes as much frisson in him as it has done within me.
"Christine?" he repeats again.
"I came back," I whisper stupidly.
There is a pause.
He goes into motion then, closing the door and removing his jacket. He moves towards me gently, as if I am a wild animal he might scare off. "You…?" he says.
"I came back, for you," I say again, lifting my head to stare at him. "Like you wanted. After my… marriage."
His face grows dark. "Your marriage." he repeats.
Without thinking, without registering anything that has happened in the last ten seconds, I stretch out my hands eagerly and take his own. "How I've missed you!" I say impatiently. "How I've missed you so!"
For a moment, he only stares down at me, his eyes painfully blank. "Why have come back?" he asks mechanically. Although he does not embrace my hands, he also does not pull away.
I pause, confused. I thought that would be obvious. "I promised I would," I reply. "And I have missed you, and I had a chance, so I came…"
Not taking his eyes away from me, he slowly leads me back to the divan and sit me down. He kneels down next to me, our hands still clasped, and gently pushes my hair behind my ears. "My Christine," he says softly. "You have never broken your word to me."
"Never," I say proudly.
He only stares at me, and I can only stare back, my view undeterred by the darkened room, feasting my eyes upon him as if I might not ever get the opportunity to gaze at him with such clarity. Although this is not the same peacefulness that I felt with Raoul at our wedding, this is a whole other, highly desirable sense of comfort - as if part of me belongs here and I did not even realize how much it had been missing until I had returned.
Everything fits in together here, like some giant jigsaw puzzle. I am happy with Raoul in the light, and I am happy with Erik in the dark. I knew I needed to return to be complete, but what will happen when I leave again?
"Then tell me," he says. "Are you happy?"
His voice is so masculine and lovely, and I smile at him, unable to help myself. "Oh, yes."
He looks down instantly, and I am afraid I have said something wrong.
"I am happy for you, then," he murmurs, barely audible. I hesitate, and then I lift up his chin with my finger. His eyes widen again at our contact. I cannot help but remember the way I felt when I kissed him, the way our lips touched like they would not be parted again. This makes my heart pound faster, and I ask myself, what am I doing here?
"You do not seem happy," I observe, and his eyes flash and duck down again.
"Of course I am happy for you," he says a bit stiffly. "How could I not be? When you are happy, I am happy." He waits for a moment, to be sure that I am not going to say anything. "And is your marriage… everything you thought it would be?"
Unexpectedly, I pull my hands away from him and look the other way. That was a personal question, and he is the one person I cannot lie to. I am afraid of looking at him now. I am afraid he will make me tell him the truth.
"Christine?" Erik probes, his long fingers wrapping around my arm and shoulder, forcing my body to turn towards him. "Why do you turn away from me?"
"I am not a good wife…" I mutter.
He stops and tilts his head. "How are you not a good wife?" he says quizzically. "You are everything… everything a man could want in a wife."
I blush, I cannot help it, and I feel as though the involuntary heat in my cheeks is a betrayal of Raoul.
"Everything with Raoul is happy," I say slowly. "We eat together, we laugh together, we go for walks every night. But… it's difficult for me…" I hesitate, the rest of my body growing warmer to match my face. "I mean, we are young… And I am very nervous about… the bedroom…" I trail off pathetically.
Erik's cool eyes have not moved from me. "That is common," he says brusquely. "You are young, and you will learn."
I hate to hear him talk about such things in reference to me. As if he has any more experience that I had…!
"It isn't exactly how I thought it would be," I muse, more to myself than him.
His face flickers with emotion, and then settles on looking disgruntled. "You know, sweet child, this is not something that you need to share with me."
Something inside of me bursts, a dreadful conclusion I had reached within myself not long after my fairy-tale wedding. "But it is! Because you're the only one who can understand! It's not what I wanted! It's not passion! One week of marriage, and we've done it twice. Twice! Because I can't stand it, and he is so humiliated when I ask him to stop, and we can't enjoy it and I have no idea what to do! This is not what the lovers onstage sing about! This is not the romance that I always thought I would someday have! And yet it is... and I do not understand!"
I clutch at him and he carefully wraps his arms around me while I choke into his shoulder.
"You simply do not know what to expect," he says calmly, although I sense he is hiding something.
"I don't feel anything," I say flatly.
"You will."
"How would you know?" I accuse, pulling back from him. "How many times have you pleasured a woman?"
His lip curls in defense. "I am much older than you and your husband, Christine. Deeds do not have to actually be performed for one to grasp the understanding of an action. I have felt lust, I daresay, more times that you have, my little songbird."
I want to be angry at him, but it stirs a gentle part of my soul. It is exciting in ways I do not understand… "I do not want Raoul to pleasure me. It feels sinful."
"It is a part of marriage."
"I don't like it. It ruins everything between us."
"You should have thought of this before you married him."
"Then what else was I to do?" I snap back. "Marry you? What would you do any differently…?" I drag my sentence off, and he is watching me with a sharp eye.
"Christine?" he says, and his voice is incredibly tight.
I shrug and try to look away, ignoring the pounding of my heart. Half of me cannot believe I am having this conversation with Erik, but then again, he has always been the one I have gone to in times of trouble... the one who has been there for me for every vice... the one who I have been the most intimate with in all the tender parts of my spirit.
"I miss you," I whisper unhelpfully.
"You should have realized that when you chose him!" he suddenly replies coldly, his hands tightening on me. "I was very clear, was I not? Choose him, or choose me - and you chose him! You choice was made. I cannot continue to be used by you like this while you belong to another man!"
"Used?" I repeat emptily. "You think I am using you, by keeping my word to return to you?"
"Yes, you return," he says bitterly. "But for the wrong reasons."
"And what would be the right reasons for returning to you?"
He does not say anything, and we sit in silence for a moment. Somehow, I am very comfortable in this place with Erik. It reminds me of when we first started singing together, before Raoul had even entered my life... How I enjoy being close to him again!
"I cannot believe you actually came back," he says aloud. "And yet, I was counting upon it. Waiting for it. Lost without that hope."
"Here I am," I say in a small voice, and I hold his hand a little tighter, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Christine, you have to leave."
"Sending me away again?" I ask unhappily.
"What do you want from me?" he asks abruptly, letting go of me. "Why are you here? Why come to me, after you are married to your handsome Raoul? What more is it that you ask of me?"
"I did not have a reason," I reply honestly. "I promised to come back, and I did. I would not break my word to you."
"But has this broken your word to Raoul?"
There is a brief second of silence before I answer. "He does not know that I am here," I say, brushing away the guilty feelings that arise in me, unbidden. I am doing nothing wrong...
"So you come to me when you encounter problems in your marriage that you did not expect," he suddenly says. "What do you expect of me?"
"I did not mean to come here to complain," I reply steadily.
"Of course not," he murmurs, reaching out to take my hand again. "You are here, and that's all the matters."
His hand is achingly familiar and is like touching a physical piece of memory from a forgotten childhood. Unwillingly, my mind wanders to what it would feel like if he perhaps reached out and touched me face... My memory flutters to him standing there, as I crossed over to him, crying and pathetic, reaching out to embrace him and suddenly it had seemed so right to find put my hand on his shoulder and lean up to see what it felt like to kiss him...
He is staring at my hand and maybe he is thinking of the exact same thing because effortlessly, we seem closer and I am struggling with myself...
It is strange to think I am a married woman now, and that my relationship with Erik cannot continue as it was before; as if, however, it had ever been planned to continue as before. Perhaps foolish me did not quite understand how a kiss could change absolutely everything.
But my mind wanders and I cannot help the way my stomach swooped when his voice spoke to me, or the way I shivered whenever he looked at me in the eyes. These stirrings brought back the memories of what the ballet girls often whispered as passion, and it spoke to me, the same way the star-crossed lovers of the stage sang to each other in their romance.
I am no longer a virgin, and unashamedly, I wonder what it would be like to know.
"Christine," he says at once, and I jump as if he has been reading every wretched path of my thoughts. "You have to go."
Bitterly, I draw my hand away, as if burned. "Of course," I say, and I rise to my feet.
Erik is behind me, staring at me with his calculating eyes. Perhaps he reads the guilt in my face. "Why did you come here?" he asks for a final time.
I do not have an answer.
But as I turn to leave, every nerve in my body protests as I feel like I am caught in some sort of magnetic wave as he approaches me and before anything is thought out, I rush to him and bury my head in his chest.
I come alive instantly, the hole in my chest that has been growing since the wedding, finally does not cause me pain. He responds immediately, his arms clutching me to him as if we have been waiting for this moment since the second I arrived. Biting my lip and holding back tears at this unfortunately unsurprising revelation, I can only hold him tighter, staring blankly over his shoulder and thinking frantically in my head, please don't let me go. His arms wrap around me perfectly, as if we were made for this particular duet, and I do not feel clumsy or uncomfortable as I so often do with Raoul. Instead, my chest brims with a sort of emotional upheaval that I can think of no words to describe.
I do not love Erik. I am happy, being the wife of Raoul de Chagny. It is how it should be - stable, content, very happy.
Yet there is something with Erik that moves me in a way that my husband does not. There is something that is almost terrifying in the way that my body seems to connect to him- who would have thought this would have arisen from a kiss?
My mind knows better. My heart remains safe out of the way. But my soul wonders what it would be like to have Erik reaching out for me... to have Erik trail his dead lips down the curves of my arms... if it was Erik who gazed at me in a way that made my heart skip several beats. Sex is still a mystery to me, the lure of it completely dampened by my awkwardness, but now my body is pulling towards him and I cannot stop imagining it, over and over and over again...
"I have to go," I repeat blindly as I release him and he steps away, making an odd movement as if to grab his chest, but thinking better of it at the last minute. "I am sorry for complaining to you, Erik... That was not my intention."
He stares at me, recovering nicely and crossing his arms. "You are a silly girl," he says quietly, and almost unnoticeably, his eyes flicker from my face to my darkened dress. Despite his calm demeanor, his eyes are crazy, uncontrollable. "And you ought to be careful."
I pretend to not know what he is talking about, ignoring the way I burn for him, and the obvious ways he burns for me. My heart is pounding still and parts of me feel tingly. I did not expect to have such a strong reaction to Erik, no matter my other thoughts. "I am not a silly girl, Erik." Childishly, almost comically as opposed to my other statement, I fling back, "And you ought to be careful."
I think he snaps.
Suddenly, he is against me as he pushes me against the wall, and I do not protest in the slightest as I cling back onto him as if without separation, and I kiss him - straight on, unhindered, and desperate for his touch. In a single instance, I forget about Raoul entirely, and I can think of nothing but Erik, who is everywhere, who has always been everywhere, and he kisses me back, holding me so tightly that I think I will never be able to breathe again. He is in fervor against me, and I know that if I push forward, he will not be able to resist me.
"Why did you come here," he murmurs unwillingly against my lips, and I shiver as the sounds of his voice go straight through me. Ah, this is where this feeling belongs - down here here in the dark, in secret and in silence, not up in my marriage. Why should marriage be so ruined by something like this? This is to be shared with a lover, with someone who incites the sin within you. I do not want to share this sin with my husband. I do not want to taint him in that way.
"For you," I whisper brokenly, my hands at his face as I pull away the mask. "I came here for you."
It is strange, in that foggy moment, that I think things have never been clearer. I push him away from the wall as I stumble haphazardly towards the couch, pulling him with me - I know what to do and how to do it, and I have never felt more alive than in this moment as I feel every inch of my body alight with passion, with the addictive rush of emotions that I have longed for, all trapped within this one moment, between this one person and I. Truly, I did not plan this. I did not come down here with a scenario in mind, or with any sort of structure of a seduction. All I wanted was to see if I could find that missing element in my split world of light and dark—I have the light. Now I need the dark.
"Christine, you must be insane," he whispers, and his voice has gone deliriously weak with desire. I am aflame for him, and I pull him down on top of me, my whole body crying out at the sensations I am experiencing, the weight of him on top of me and the way he breathes my name... This has spiraled too far for either of us to stop now.
I understand that Raoul is my husband.
But Erik and I were always meant to be lovers.
.