OW4

I watched Raoul de Chagny gulp down the rest of his coffee, heedless to its temperature. He wiped his eyes and glanced around the room, his expression filled with grief and insurmountable guilt.

It was difficult to share the same space with him, as I continued to think of how our paths had overlapped. I wondered if we would have been better able to tolerate one another in a different lifetime. Now that we were no longer at odds I felt indifferent toward him.

"For years I've been killing her. It was the meticulous, cruel, torturous years that passed between us," he said under his breath.

"She was very ill," I mumbled, assuming she had taken too much of her medication.

Raoul nodded, acknowledging my words. "She was feeling better our last day in Paris. Her spirits were high because the girls were with us. It always made traveling easier when we were all together, and I knew everything would be fine because we were going home. She could rest, we could spend the next month by the sea…It was what she wanted." He paused for a long moment, his face taut and his lips pressed together. "And then suddenly it wasn't anything that she wanted. I was everything she absolutely despised."

At the time I knew her I had thought nothing of her mood swings. To me it was normal behavior, but even then she was quite ill. Though I didn't know what I would have done, I wish I had realized how much she suffered.

I wished I could have changed things. Moreover, I wish I could have changed myself.

"When we took the train out of Paris she told me that she wished I were you because then she would know devotion," he said, closing his eyes. "She accused me of adultery, of fathering boys, lots and lots of little boys with other women, because she had failed to give me a son. I had to send the girls with their nanny because she was so upset. You surely understand this, Monsieur, how one must see to the safety of their children above all else?"

"Of course," I said, merely to answer him. In the morning he would realize how much he had confided in me and regret it. I feared I would also confide in him by the end of the night.

"And then she decided to take a trip to Poland. She told me to stay at home with the girls, but I was worried because she wasn't eating. She was far too thin, and you know that Christine has always been rather gaunt. When she stopped dancing she lost so much weight that I thought she would starve."

My chest began to tighten as I thought back to the early days of her career. She had so much promise and no one saw it. Her struggles angered me, as I thought she should have been quite pampered in her life. She'd suffered so much with her father's passing. I never knew what happened to her mother, but I did know that Christine was utterly alone.

I thought of the Chagny children. "Where are your daughters now?"

Raoul raked his hand through his hair and sat forward, crossing his arms. He looked bewildered as he stared at the floor. "They are coming by train in the morning. They don't know yet about…their mother. I sent word that it was urgent for them to come to Paris."

Once I poured him another cup of coffee I sat back and folded my hands. His daughters, of course, belonged to him and Christine, but Alex was her son and mine. This was cause for a predicament, as her funeral would not be the place to divulge that she had borne a son out of wedlock.

Everything dawned on me then. Alex would never have a relationship with his birth mother. I knew this, but it became blatantly obvious that even if he wished to find her when he was older, it would never be, and the reality of it was bitter. There was no Christine.

"She's gone," I whispered.

Raoul nodded and looked away.

Neither one of us spoke. Anger, grief, numbness…each flooded me one by one as I thought of her. She was inside of my heart still. She would always be there, regardless of what had happened. I felt ashamed of myself for still having feelings for her, but there was no way to erase what had influenced my life for so long.

"I apologize for my intrusion," he said suddenly as he rose to his feet. "I know what you must be thinking to yourself."

"Yes," I said before he could interject his own comment. "Your daughters are fortunate to have a caring father."

His baleful eyes settled on the floor and he nodded, his grief consuming him. "How is Madame Seuratti?" he asked.

"We are to be wed in a week," I said, keeping my voice low. It wasn't the time to tell him, I knew, and I had no desire to boast. "Monsieur de Chagny—"

He offered his hand and stoically looked into my eyes. "She's a good woman. You'll be very happy together, your son and her…a daughter, is it?"

I nodded.

"She's young. She'll give you more children, I'm sure."

"I'm happy with her, with Lisette and Alex." There was no one else I needed in my life with her at my side.

When I looked at Raoul de Chagny I knew he had lost the only woman he wanted in his life as well. I couldn't imagine what I would do if I lost Julia. It made me sick to my stomach to think about her becoming ill or dying.

Raoul de Chagny turned toward the door and we both walked from the parlor, neither of us speaking until we reached the front door.

"If you would allow me, I will offer more details tomorrow when I am in better condition to do so," he said shamefully. He swallowed hard. "I apologize for approaching you in this manner."

"You may return when time allows," I replied, still feeling awkward at being so civil toward him.

He paused before he walked out the front door.

"The last image I have of my wife is of her on the floor," he whispered, rubbing his hand over the mark on his wrist. "She had removed her wedding ring and set it on the floor beside her. I stepped on it. Nearly fell on it, really. Caught myself on the sink and scratched my arm all the way to my elbow." He unbuttoned his sleeve and showed me how the cut curved around to the back of his wrist.

It relieved me to know that he hadn't harmed himself. His daughters needed someone, and I imagined that he was all they had—even before Christine had passed.

I thought he was finished speaking, but he glanced at me from the corner of his eye and sighed. "Broke it. I broke her ring. It was beyond repair." He took a deep breath and walked down the first stair. "Good night, Monsieur Kire, and thank you for your hospitality."

He was gone before I had a chance to reply. I stood very still for a moment with the door closed, turning only when I heard footsteps behind me.

Madeline was standing in the hall.

"He drinks too much," she said. "Women seldom appreciate such behavior."

"He has cause to drink."

"Erik, what's happened? Is it Alex?"

I leaned against the door and felt the first tears escaping my eyes. "She's dead," I whispered. "She murdered herself."

Before Madeline could say a word I returned to my room and closed the door, the first sob escaping as I locked the door and leaned against it. My body trembled, the grief I had felt building finally released.

Alone again, I was ready to mourn Christine at last.