Let it Snow ©
By Phantasmarose
Disclaimer: I do not own or lay claim to the characters Erik, Christine, or Raoul. I do not own or lay claim to the original story of the Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. This version of that story is my own. Aside from Leroux's original characters, I have created my own.
Chapter 10
After a quick evening meal they mulled over a few business issues about the music school then Erik retired to his old bedroom, the room they now referred to as the music room, sat at his piano, and composed. There was nothing unusual about that, however, that night Erik slept on the guest couch and never went to their bed.
Christine should have said something, the first night he stayed away from her, but she didn't and now, a week later, it had become a norm. They spent the evening together talking about none personal issues, then Christine would go to sleep in their bedroom and Erik would go to the music room, play the piano and eventually fall asleep on the coach there. On Sunday morning, when she went to get dressed for church, she realized that he had removed all his clothing from the closet and transferred it to the music room. She decided to confront him.
"Erik, why are you not sleeping in our bedroom?"
"The new pills the doctor gave me give me insomnia. I need to pace until I drop. It's just for a while."
"It won't bother me. You know I sleep like a log."
"I don't want to wake you up with my odd hours."
"But you even removed your clothing."
"I didn't want to walk in and wake you up when I get dressed. It's nothing. Once my body is used to the pills, I'm sure my sleep cycle will normalize."
She noticed he didn't add that when that happened, he would go back to their bedroom.
Two years into the marriage and she was going to have to seduce her husband back into her bed.
-o-
It was a sacrifice not to wake up next to Christine every morning as he had done for the past two years. A worthwhile sacrifice if he could have breakfast with her and share a few hours with her during the evening.
It was a miracle that she had returned home with him ― although he had not given her a choice about that ― and agreed to live with him again.
Yesterday morning, he had cooked them a substantial breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Christine ate everything. She thanked him for the meal and when he turned his face up to deny the need for thanks she placed her mouth over his and gave him a lovely kiss. Less than five minutes later, the sound of her throwing up her breakfast into the toilet bowl reverberated throughout the apartment. He sighed ― she remembered what was under the mask. Christine emerged looking pale, went to her bedroom and closed the door. He wanted to take her into his arms, but thought that it would remind her of what had just made her sick. After a while he peeked into the bedroom. Her eyes were closed, both arms wrapped about her middle.
-o-
Christine sat all morning long thinking of ways to seduce Erik back to her bed. She could wear something sexy ― none of the clothing she owned could be considered sexy. Most of her wardrobe consisted of long loose sweaters and jeans. She owned no negligées since they both slept in their skin, wrapped around each other. Perhaps she could pout and batt her eyes at him, or she could try to deepen her voice and sound sultry. Actually, she realized, Erik had always liked her just as she was.
Christine went into the kitchen and started to cook.
-o-
Erik had spent a lifetime feeling frustrated, now that he had had a wife for two years his needs had increased and he was used to fulfilling that need regularly. But, she had seen his face and it made her sick just to kiss him. He turned over and pressed his face into his pillow and cried. He cried at nature's injustice at giving him an ugly face in a world that exulted beauty. He cried at the injustice that even his God given face had been preferable to what he had left after being tortured. He should let her go, but he knew that he could not. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life looking at her from across a room, without the ability to love her fully, he would take that over a complete loss of Christine.
Erik jumped off the bed, and pounded his frustration on the piano keys.
-o-
Erik had eaten two full plates of her Swedish meatballs with buttered noodles. He had even placed two roasted broccoli flowerets on his plate without turning down his mouth. Less than two weeks ago, they would have coddled on the sofa at the end of a meal, but today he sat at the other end of the sofa watching her knit. It was a victory that he had not gone back to his music room and composed.
It was time to get rid of the first elephant.
"You were composing last night?
"Yes."
"It sounded very sad."
"Perhaps I am not an upbeat person," he said with a down turn to his mouth.
She wanted to put down her knitting, but it gave her courage to do something useful with her hands.
"I told you the other day I had a confession to make…"
"We do not need to talk about that…"
"I need to talk about it and I need for you to listen."
"You're not paying attention to your knitting. Look at how tiny your sweater turned out. Who could possibly fit in that?"
His eyes rose up to hers.
She did not say a word. She simply smiled.
Erik's eyes gazed back at her, then his eyes travelled back to the tiny sweater. Back and forth his eyes travelled, finally landing on her middle.
"You're…" he said. He held her eyes.
She nodded.
"You're…"
"Yes."
"Have you seen a doctor? Have you…"
"I'm fine Erik. Are you happy?" She had expected a hug a kiss. He had not moved from where he sat.
"How could I not be? I'm just shocked. You should have given me a hint."
"Really Erik?"
"Ah… yes… the game… the cradle. Mrs. Williams was right. I can be dense."
She laughed.
"That sweater… it looks awfully small."
"They start out like that."
"Of course… um… Do you need anything?" He jumped off the sofa. "Can I bring you a drink? Oh, I'll raise your feet. I've seen that. You should seat with your feet elevated."
"I'm fine." He sat down next to her with a plop looking lost. "I just need one thing."
"What is it? I'll get it." He started to rise from his seat again.
She placed a hand on his knee. He looked down on it and swallowed. He felt it too. They had not touched much lately.
"I need you to take your mask off."
He removed his hand. "No." He set his mouth in a firm line. "Why would you want that? Who knows what that sight might do to the… the baby."
If their marriage was to be saved, it was now or never. "That is all I want from you. When you can give it to me, let me know."
"You think you have me so wrapped around your little finger that I would cut my own throat?" he snarled.
Christine did not say another word or look his way. She picked up her knitting left Erik standing in the middle of the sitting room and removed herself to her bedroom.
She heard the door to the music room bang, then heard him brutalizing his piano. An eerie silence followed by a knock at their bedroom door.
"This is our bedroom. Why do you knock?" she said from the bed.
He came in, his eyes blazing. "Don't blame me if things don't go well. This is a crazy idea. I hope it wasn't Shady who put it there."
"Come sit next to me on the bed and remove that mask."
"Why."
"I don't want anything to stand between us, not even cloth."
He walked slowly toward her and bent his legs even slower until he was sitting on the bed. He shook his head, opened his mouth and closed it.
"My nose… it's gone."
"I know… I noticed when I took your mask off."
"Were you horrified?"
I have to be honest. This is not the time for euphemisms. "Yes."
"Then why go through it again. It's not better."
"Take off your mask Erik, I need to see you again."
"Fine! I will show myself to you. After all, I live, but to attend to your wishes," he said gruffly. Erik grabbed the mask from under his chin and lifted it off his face in one swift movement.
"Here, enjoy ogling at the living monster. I expose my soul to you. You won't need a knife or gun. A mere word from you will do the job."
Let it Snow 2016 copyrights belong to Caridad Martin