I played an intermediate song piece while Erik read a book in the armchair in the corner. He had a thoughtful look on his face. He seemed to enjoy someone else playing. I was glad he enjoyed my playing. Erik was actually impressed with me. He said I was a very good student and if I worked long enough I would actually be able to become a master pianist. I eagerly wanted to be able to play the way he could. Every time he played I was completely enthralled in the music that flowed forth from the piano.
"That's a G, Christine. You're playing an F go up one." He told me his voice soft. I looked at him and nodded and went back to the beginning of the line and fixed my mistake. I heard Erik's quiet hum of approval that I had hit the correct key. I continued on until the end of the song.
"That's good, Christine. It didn't take you long to nearly master the piece. If you practice a little more you'll be able to move onto the next piece I have for you. I composed it myself a while back for someone about your level. It may be just a bit challenging, but I have faith that you can do it." He told me. I smiled a bit bashfully. I was his pupil. Just like her. I couldn't help but wonder; had he learned his lesson, or would we end up in the same place as with the late Christine de Chagney?
I stood from the piano bench and went to my bedroom. I looked to the calendar. I had been here longer than I had originally wanted. But I didn't want to leave anymore. I sent a glance to the man in the chair in the living room. What would he do if I did leave? I saw his initial reaction. But what would the long term reaction be? Sometimes I didn't want to think about it; others I just told myself that if he made it this far he could make it farther. If I were to ever leave him, I would kick myself. This man saved me at my time of need. He's been in need for over a century. He just didn't show it.
But living with Erik has taught me very much about how to read him. He was still riddled with pain. I could tell by just watching him sit and read. It was in his posture. In his eyes. The man did not look old. But if you really stared into his eyes, something I had been able to do only once; you can see it. His age, his agony, every spiritual scar shadowed his eyes. The bright ice blue shade of those eyes was not enough to hide his agelessness.
And I asked myself several times; if he lived this long, how long will he live? How long is he destined to walk the earth? He asks himself that too. I can see it. With Erik, the eyes really are the gateway to the soul. I can see everything he thought about, everything that troubled him. He recently worried about how much longer I would stay. He would look at me with this longing in his eyes; he never thought I was looking. My bangs may be getting longer, but through the auburn hair I see him staring.
I gave a sigh as Mega jumped into my lap as I sat down on the bed. He meowed sassily and I pet him. I watched Erik. He was so strong. How had he made it through all the hell in his life was beyond me. I almost felt childish for wanting to kill myself over what had been done to me. His mother literally hated him, she locked him away; and when he finally escaped he was thrown head long into years of even more torture and ridicule.
I stood up and went back into the living room. He looked up at me from his chair, giving me a curious look. He stood, putting down his book.
"Is there a problem, Christine?" He asked. I hugged him, throwing my arms around his neck, a little more intimate than my usual around his waist hug.
"Thank you. You give me hope." I told him. Erik put his arms around me in a hesitant way. Like he was avoiding something. I pulled back and looked at him. He gave me a tight smile.
"I'm going to go to the garden; I wish to be alone for a little bit; so-"
"That's cool; I understand; go on. I'll just entertain myself with Mega or practice some music or something. I'll leave you alone until you come to me." I told him; going to my room. Erik watched me retreat, his eyes shadowed mysteriously. I went into my room and closed the door. He probably just wasn't used to that kind of affection or something. I sat down in my chair and went through my singing scales. My pristine voice echoed through the house and then I looked through my iPod looking for something to sing along to. I came to Roses on My Grave by Papa Roach. I figured that would do well, it fitted my mood at the time. I contently sang along to the beautiful song. I remember when I first found it how shocked I was to find it was by Papa Roach.
It had become one of my favorite songs instantly. I played it almost constantly after I first discovered it. I felt warm on the inside. My stomach was warm and bubbly. I smiled softly and pet Mega after the song ended. I gave a content huff and looked to the ceiling, singing along to the song that now played. It was Skillet. I smiled a little bit more; that band got me through a lot.
Before I knew it I had spent such about two hours in the midst of my mind, mulling over thoughts and trying to answer questions that I had. I was brought out of my mind with a knock at the door and the light of my room flicked on, revealing Erik. I smiled at him.
"Thank you for that, Cherie." He told me. I nodded at him, pulling my ear buds out and leaning forward. I gave him a curious look.
"Cherie?" I asked, Erik smiled gently.
"It's nothing." He replied. I knew 'cherie' meant sweet in French. I gave a slight huff and let him slide.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"About six thirty. Are you hungry?" Erik told me. I shrugged, looking at Mega, who was glaring at Erik intensely. I frowned.
"That isn't nice, Mega." I told him.
"I'm going to go ahead and make supper. You can eat whenever you want, how does that sound?" He told me. I nodded; the masked man turned and left my room. I stood and followed him. He entered the kitchen. I took my usual seat at the island and watched him go about the kitchen, gathering the things he needed for the meal. He turned to me.
"Could you go out to the garden and get me some rosemary. I forgot to grab some before I left." He told me. I nodded and left through the back door; pulling on my boots I scampered out onto the snow covered yard and jogged across the snow to the green house. I shook myself once I entered the slightly humid building and I headed for the rosemary. I grabbed a few steams and went back to the cabin.
Erik thanked me kindly and washed the herbs. I returned to my post and watched him as I usually did. Accept this time he seemed almost uncomfortable.
"When is your birthday, Christine?" He asked me. I tilted my head a little.
"February Eighteenth; I'll be turning eighteen." I told him.
"Next month." He said. I nodded, he hadn't been looking at me directly, just watching me from his peripheral vision; those ice blue eyes piecing.
