I'm going to play around with the narrative here and see what I like. I may end up jumping around throughout the whole thing. But for now, it's Erik's turn. This chapter's a bit short, but I'm exhausted and wanted to get these ideas out there before turning in.
Even the Dust Knows
The cerulean tie strengthened its hold around my neck, effectively leaving me breathless, though more from the discomforting claustrophobia it induced rather than actual tightness. I swiftly inhaled air and then let it out slowly as I regained composure. Of all days, today I had to be in control. Oxygen in, carbon dioxide out. Calm in, anxiety out.
I admired the deep blue color in the mirror, focusing on how it offset the black coat just as Nadir said it would. (Blast it, he was right.) My heels drug across the dusty wooden floor as I backed up to…admire my reflection. Christine had once said that there was an artistic air about my appearance. Not that it was artistic in an eccentric way-as I had first thought-but in a deep manner I was honestly not convinced she was capable of until…well. That was a memory for another time.
"The contrast of the mask against your dark hair is striking," she had said while running a hand through aforementioned strands. "Not to mention the sharp lines your tailored suits cast." I could still feel hands trailing down my chest to emphasize the words. "You wear them quite nicely," she'd said very simply, distracting me with her womanly charms as she removed my mask. "And your face…"
I had turned away in shame.
"Your face is quite stunning."
I quivered and allowed the memory to lead me along a tantalizing trail of rose-scented dreams.
"They say that the human mind tries to make order out of chaos, that we must organize what we see into something we know to be true. But your face…I cannot see the end of it." She began to lightly touch the scarred flesh and it felt as if her fingertips were nothing more than the softest of flower petals. "I try to make sense of it in my mind, but I cannot. I feel as if I have to keep looking for no other reason than to see you, to find you in the chaos."
"I am nothing more than a mess," I mumble through the fingers taunting my lips.
"But you are the most beautiful mess I have ever laid eyes upon."
My eyes closed tight and I could feel her searching for a way to get me out of the hole I'd forever find when I took a misstep.
Her voice turned dark and thick, playful but passionately serious. "Really, darling, if you don't want people to stare at you, you must try being a lot less captivating." She moved very close and whispered with a dreadfully wonderful voice into my ear, "I feel as if I must remind you who it is you belong to, sir."
My hands reached out to hold the little seductress to me.
And then my eyes opened.
The only thing there were my shoe prints in the dust and the saddest looking fellow in the mirror.
A buzzing sound came from my pocket. My phone. I silently thanked whoever was calling for keeping me from continuing on a most-likely awful setback in confidence. When left alone with my thoughts, I rarely proved optimistic.
All gratitude vanished when I saw who was calling.
"Nadir," I answered with a clipped tone, turning on my heel in an indifferent manner and exiting mine and Christine's bedroom.
"I'm outside. Are you ready?"
'That's a loaded question,' I thought with a grimace. "Of course. I'll be out shortly."
"Good. The court hearing is in an hour and a half so we'll have plenty of time to-"
"I'm well aware of the time that the judge has set, Nadir," I said before ending the call in the same snappy manner in which I spoke.
I cast one last look over the silent bedroom, eyes lingering on the mirror in the corner and then Christine's hairbrush on the desk, before gently closing the door. The dust particles inside settled back into their comfortable positions, ready to return back to a lengthy slumber.
Even the dust thought that my wife would never wake up.
