I woke up and got out of bed. I put on some day clothes and left my room pulling my hair up in a ponytail. My hair had gotten crazy long. It went down to my waist now if I didn't pull it up. With its length I didn't bother to straighten it out any, so I had curls galore. I had to hunt down a scrunchee because a mere hair band couldn't handle my hair. It took me a few seconds to realize what day it was. February 18, my birthday. I looked up, seeing Erik in his armchair. I was eighteen. I was officially an adult. He looked to me with a smile.
"Good morning, Christine, and happy birthday." He told me. I smiled at him.
'Thank you, Erik! It's been a few years since I've had a happy birthday." I told Erik, coming closer to him and hugging my kind host. He hugged me back, having gotten comfortable with my physical contact over the past month.
"Now what do you want to do for your birthday. It's your day. We'll do anything you wish." He told me, going into the kitchen. I smiled and followed him.
"Have a seat, Christine." He demanded in a playful way. I sat and waited patiently. Erik had recently discovered my love of waffles, and I assumed he was making those for breakfast. I smiled. I loved being taken care of. It was something I missed. I remember Papa used to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me while he made our special birthday breakfast. Chocolate chip waffles and hot chocolate with the works. I smiled fondly at the memory.
I snapped out of my memory when Erik placed a plate of waffles and fruit in front of me. He sat down beside me, he was chipper.
"You're a morning person aren't you?" I asked him. Erik laughed and looked at me.
"What makes you assume that, Christine?" He replied.
"How… happy you always are in the morning," I told him.
"I've been awake since about five thirty. I don't sleep too much." He told me. I shook my head; I picked up my fork and dug in happily. I nearly groaned with the amazingness of the waffles. Erik laughed.
"I take it you like the waffles." Erik told me, taking a drink from his coffee. I swallowed my bite then giggled.
"Yeah, you did a great job. I remember when my dad was alive he would make chocolate chip waffles and hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate syrup and caramel. He would sing happy birthday loud enough to wake me up." I told him. Erik chuckled.
"He seems like I man I would have made good friends with." Erik told me. I nodded.
"I think he would've liked you." I told him. Erik looked down to his plate.
"You know how I told you that you don't really look like Christine?" He asked me.
'Yeah, why?" I asked.
"You do. With how long your hair has gotten, and now that you aren't straightening it anymore." He told me.
"Oh, do I need to start straightening it again?" I asked, worried that I was opening my friends old wounds.
"No. You're fine. You look better this way." He told me, returning to his breakfast. I continued to watch him until he looked up again and I returned to my breakfast.
I looked like Christine. That didn't faze him? I didn't want to bring his past back to hurt him.
"It's so strange. You look like her... But your past is like Christine's and my own fused together. I still don't understand." He told me.
"Maybe it's the universe's way of telling you that you're not alone." I told him. Our eyes met; it was intense for some reason. His ice blue eyes pierced my soul deeply. I couldn't tear my gaze away. He looked like he wanted to say something.
"You know what?" I asked him.
"What?" He asked our intense moment passing.
"I don't feel like an adult." I told him. He smirked.
"Because you were already acting like one. Mentally you were pretty close, but now you're legally an adult. I felt the same way when I turned eighteen." He told me I realized just how open he was with me.
"How many people have you talked to about your past?" I asked. He looked at me over the edge of his coffee mug as he drank.
"Two; you and Antoinette Giry." He told me. I felt a little privileged.
"Oh." I told him. He smiled a little.
"Okay now that we've eaten breakfast it's time for your present." He told me, standing up and taking our empty plates and placing them in the kitchen sink.
"Erik you didn't have to get me anything. You've done so much already." I told him. He shushed me and disappeared around the corner. He made no attempt to silence his footsteps as he ran up the stairs in a giddy fashion. He was like a little kid. A few moments later he came back down the stairs and entered the room. His collectiveness and calm air had returned as he did so. The package was wrapped in shimmering green paper with a white bow. He set the box down in front of me with a smile.
"I hope you like it." He told me. I started to gingerly open the box.
"Just open it, dear. You don't have to be shy about it." Erik said charmingly, resting his head on the heel of his hand his eyes sparkled alluringly. I blushed a little and tore into the package. I was greeted by a brown package. I opened the flaps and saw the packaging peanuts. I reached in and my fingers lit on rounded glass. I gripped it and the base. I pulled it out and saw a snow globe. Inside was an angel and a girl about my age who looked a little like me.
"That way when you leave you can still have an angel watching over you." He told me as I stared at the small but beautifully detailed statues.
I put the snow globe in my room and went back out to the living room where he was waiting for me. He stood tall and proud with his arms behind his back.
"Now what does the Mademoiselle wish to do now?" He asked. I smiled gently.
"I don't know. You have anything in mind?" I asked him.
"Well no birthday is complete without birthday cake. I thought I would first take you to the store and let you pick one out. Then we could see if anything sparks your interest." He told me. I smiled.
"Sounds nice, Erik." I told him. He smiled kindly as he headed to the door.
"I certainly hope so. Now come along." He told me. I scurried to the door and slid on my flats and left the house with him. We got into his Solstice and we headed towards Paris. I watched the countryside pass by quietly. Erik was as well, not even the radio was on. I looked at him. He was focused on the road. His eyes of ice locked firmly on any upcoming twist, turn, or pothole in the road. His reflexes were quick yet smooth and the way he drove forced the car to hug the turns and zip down straight sections of road. He soon noticed my gaze; either that or he finally chose to say something about it.
"Anything on your mind, Christine?" He asked, not looking at me.
"Not really." I told him.
"Are you sure?" He asked. I smiled just a little. I looked back out to the road.
"You're never really good at hiding emotions." He told me.
"But I'm damn good at reading them." I told him, hoping to change the subject off of my emotions, in fear that I would accidently betray myself. He laughed quietly.
"And what makes you think that?" He asked.
"I can read you like a book. You're tense, a lot, and you stress a lot." I told him. He gave me a glance out of the corner of his eye.
"It's easy to pick up on those emotions." He told me.
"And happiness, you're content now. Your eyes are soft and you're shoulders are slack. You're relaxed, comfortable with me." I told him. He gave a small huff. His eyes flicking.
"Now you're embarrassed." I told him.
"You've proven your ability just fine Christine." He told me, slightly irritated. I giggled and finally did fall silent until we entered Paris city limits.
But I realized something as what he told me when he gave me my present finally registered. 'When I leave.' I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay with him. But I knew I couldn't stay forever.