First she ordered a Cosmopolitan, a dainty cocktail that almost appeared as pink lemonade with a lime tucked on its rim.
"And for you, sir?"
Erik had debated what he wanted as the bartender fixed her drink. Still, the chalkboard menu was incomprehensible as ever, but his eyes could make out a few words.
"Give me an Old Fashioned."
Christine gave a small giggle at the unsure expression of Erik's squinted eyes as the bartender twirled around to fix his drink. He glanced at her as she started sipping at her own drink, not taking her eyes off of him.
"I don't drink very often."
"I know," she smiled. "I figured that when I first met you. Either that or that you're just a lightweight."
Erik squinted at her and she giggled again, relishing in his playful irritation.
"Your drink, sir." The bartender set his cocktail on the bar in front of him and Erik thanked him with a small handful of cash and a nod.
"We've got to figure out what song we're going to sing together." Christine pulled her phone out and began scrolling through her music. "I mean, by the time we get up there we're probably going to be hammered. Should we sing something funny or romantic?"
The very idea of singing a duet with her thrilled him, but in front of a crowd, especially a crowd of people that were just as drunk, if not more by the time they finally got up there, was not entirely as thrilling. But it would be with her, he assured himself. And that's all that mattered.
He remembered what his father had told him before he left the hospital earlier that day:
"Go love her. Stop waiting around here with me. I will be fine. I've got people taking care of me."
His father had made great progress over the past couple of days, his speech improving significantly, yet still, he struggled with some words and Erik found himself to be quite good at helping him remember.
Erik had decided to stay with him everyday, not leaving except to feed the cat and to shower and change. He found he quite liked the hospital. It was quiet for the most part and the staff were friendly to both him and his father, only an occasional nurse discomforted him with constant glances in his direction.
But as his father progressed, he became more annoyed with Erik's constant presence.
"Can you tell him to leave?" he had asked Nadir.
Nadir answered with a laugh, feeling Erik's eyes rolling to the back of his head from across the room. "If he won't listen to you, he definitely won't listen to me."
"He needs to get out more often. I want him to go on a date with his girl- what's her name?"
"Christine," Erik chimed in with a grumble.
"Yes." Gerard gave himself a moment to turn back towards Erik, the next thing he said submitting the room into a dead silence.
Christine continued scrolling through her phone, stopping suddenly with a wide smile and an excited bounce on the stool. "This one!" she exclaimed, turning her phone so that he could see.
Don't Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John, he read, and smiled. "Sounds good."
Christine pushed herself off the barstool with a small, excited noise, and walked off to put their names on a list.
Erik's phone went off in his pant pocket and he pulled it out to read a message from Nadir:
Your dad is doing well. Heading down to grab something for dinner. How's Christine?
Erik released something of a relieved sigh, and replied:
Doing well. Karaoke tonight.
There was a moment before Nadir replied.
In public? Very unlike you.
Erik rolled his eyes, imagining Nadir's taunting tone of voice. Christine returned and Erik slipped his phone back into his pocket, choosing not to entertain his friend any longer.
"Okay, we've got a whole hour to get as much alcohol in us as possible." She pulled her cocktail to her lips once more, her eyes roaming back over the menu as if to decide what she wanted next.
"We're really going to be those people tonight?" He wasn't entirely sure if she had been joking or not when she originally proposed the idea of karaoke night to him.
"Everyone is drunk during karaoke night," she reminded him with a tilt of her head.
"That's usually because no one can sing and they don't want to remember the embarrassment of it all—their singing and others' singing."
Christine laughed hysterically at his statement, almost choking on her drink.
"But you can sing," Erik continued. "And I can sing as well."
She shot him a look of contemplation, the gears in her head moving at the back of her eyes. "That may be true, but I need a drink and so do you." Erik felt something of a tenseness within him. "Besides," she added, "I want to have fun. I feels like it's been so long since I've actually been out to, you know, have fun." She spoke of it as if she wasn't quite sure what it meant to have fun anymore.
Erik nodded understandingly and continued at his drink, trying to work past his disgust for the taste of alcohol. But as the night continued, the hour passing with several more orders from her and a only one extra order from him, Erik found he couldn't drink. The sweet, light giggles that bubbled up from Christine at every one of his jokes combined with the knowledge that she had gone over her limit on how much she should be allowed to drink kept him from taking his third sip of his Whiskey Sour.
"Christine and Erik!" the man on the mic called their names and Christine's back straightened, her eyes widening with surprise.
"Already?" She put her drink down and spun around, hopping off her stool. Erik followed behind and they took to the stage, grabbing their mics as they were applauded on.
It was quite horrifying being up there, he realized. The bar seemed to be a lot larger and more crowded than he had thought before. He ignored it though, focusing on the TV monitor and the startup of an orchestra blaring over the speakers.
Don't go breaking my heart I couldn't if I tried
The song broke down into the chorus and he found her safe under his arm, her free hand over the one splayed on her stomach, her hips swiveling to the beat.
He quite liked this. The combination of their voices, their hands and eyes locking continuously, an occasional two-step and her own little dancing. He was in love. It wasn't her voice, although that had been the initial draw-in. It was her.
Just her.
Christine laughed blissfully as the song came to its end and the crowd applauded and cheered wild and drunkenly for their performance.
"We should do that again," Christine said as they walked back towards the bar.
Erik laughed and helped her onto her stool. "Let's get some water in you first, before you think about signing us up for another round."
"I want another drink," she pouted.
"Christine." He hadn't intended for his voice to be so stern. Tonight was meant to be about having fun, letting loose. But now here he was, earning a baffled look of surprise from her. Shocked surprise.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, embarrassed by his tone.
"Is something wrong, Erik?" Her voice reflected her offense.
"No, Christine. I just-"
"I'm not any fun, am I?"
It was his turn to stare at her in shock, answering her as soon as he recovered with a shake of his head. "No, Christine. That's not it at all."
"That's why none of my bandmates want me to go out with them any more. 'It's gotta be all about you, Christine.' 'Why are you always so upset, Christine? Didn't you want to have fun tonight?' 'Why are you crying, Christine?' 'Stop being selfish, Christine,'" she mocked her friends in a high-pitched voice, lowering her head soon afterward as the tears emerged and came with ugly, garbled sobs.
"Christine!" he exclaimed in horror. "That's not-"
"Then why haven't you been drinking, Erik?" she whined, raising her glossy eyes for his viewing. "The plan was for us both to drink and lose ourselves to the music, not for only one of us to drink and start making a fool out of ourself in front of the other!"
Erik shook his head slowly, brows deeply furrowed beneath his mask. "I only stopped drinking because I care about you, Christine."
"No you don't!" she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands.
"Yes I do," he insisted. "I need to make sure you get home safe, Christine. I can't do that if I'm drunk as well."
Her crying slowed as she lifted her face from her hands. "You really do care about me?" she asked between sniffles.
"Yes, Christine. I do," he nodded.
He remembered what his father had said, the thing that silenced the room for what had felt like an entirety, neither him nor Nadir knowing how to respond:
"You must go and tell her you love her. I haven't gone a day without regretting having not told your mother the same."
Erik swallowed slowly now, lifting his thumb to swipe away a fresh tear that had left her eye. "And I love you."
To his relief, she seemed satisfied, and smiled. "Oh, Erik," she said, crying happily now.
He allowed her to throw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He folded her into both his arms now, closing his eyes and smiling happily, the horrible background singing and chatter of the bar around them being drowned out by the pure bliss of having her close.
She had insisted on trying to walk, moving horizontally rather than straight in the direction of the cab, nearly twisting her ankle on her heels. The rest of the walk from the cab to his condo would not be on foot for her, Erik decided, cradling her into his arms despite her groaning protest. They hadn't made it that far in when she decided she needed to use the restroom.
Erik removed her heels and dropped her onto her feet in front of the bathroom door, taking only two steps in the direction of a whining Ayesha when he heard the sound of her retching.
He pulled her hair back, gripping it in one fist as he rubbed her back with his other hand. He had a damp washcloth already prepared and handed it to her when she nodded in response to his question of whether or not she was finished. He gave her a sliver of privacy as she wiped up and flushed the toilet, filling the nearby tub with water and a generous drizzle of the bubble bath solution from her last stay.
"I might slip," she murmured as he capped the solution and set it back in its corner. He hadn't even considered it, only thinking of getting her into the tub so she could be comfortable for a while.
He helped her in anyways, averting his eyes from her as he helped her out of her dress and into the tub.
"You must think I'm a wreck."
Erik gathered the courage to look at her finally as he knew she was submerged enough into the tub water. "You're not a wreck, Christine."
He watched as tears formed in her eyes again, her lip quivering. She maintained her gaze on the cloud of bubbles before her. "I'm just a stupid girl who can't help but constantly embarrass herself in front of the guy she likes."
Erik felt his heart twist in agony, upset that she was upset with herself. "If anything, he likes you more for it." She cocked her head in his direction, her eyes blurred with tears and confusion. He lifted his hand to push a tear from continuing on its path down her left cheek. "I hate to break it to you, but this guy you like is much more stupid than you could ever be. Hell, he doesn't even know how to truly express his love to you."
Christine laughed a bit, drawing in a sniffle from her nostrils. "Maybe he should start with a kiss."
Erik smiled gently and pressed his lips to her forehead, holding for only a brief moment before pulling back to view her little smile.
Before they made it back to bed, her back in the large Blondie shirt she'd worn last time, Erik made her brush her teeth and drink several cups of water, drinking a few himself. Even when they made it back to bed it seemed the night was not over.
Erik moves to turn off the lamp only to be tugged back towards the center or the bed by his arm, a smiling, sleepy Christine greeting him with a kiss. He allowed it to continue, enjoying the fresh mint still lingering on her lips, but when she moved to straddle him, lifting her leg up and over his body, he stopped her with firm hands.
They each sat there in silence, both of them wide-eyed and unsure.
"I thought you wanted to know how to love me." Christine's voice was barely even that of a whisper. Her body trembled slightly beneath his hands.
"I do," he whispered back, swallowing. "Just not like this, Christine."
"You do think me a wreck."
"No," he assured her, his voice more certain and firm. "I love you, Christine. I want to protect you and make sure you won't do anything you'd regret."
"You think I'd regret you?"
Erik took a moment to respond, her question throwing him off almost entirely. It hadn't been what he was thinking in the moment, yet still the idea had been lingering in the back of his mind, taunting him at the lowest, loneliest points of his days.
"No, Christine. That's not..." he sighed frustratedly, closing his eyes, his hands loosening themselves slightly. "I'm not the man you deserve." He breathed slowly to maintain composure. "But you're the woman that I want and I can't help myself but be afraid that I'll scare you off."
Christine shook her head slowly. "Oh Erik," she breathed, feeling unwanted tears once more. She wondered if they'd ever stop.
He kept his hands clasped around her, afraid that she might flee if otherwise, keeping his eyes closed out of fear for seeing the disgust in her eyes, picturing the judging glances of all others who would pass him on the streets being reflected in her eyes—the only eyes he felt he'd ever been free of from true judgment.
He felt her move, and did not work against her.
The image of the teenage boys from down the block flashed before his eyes. A day he had decided to take for himself, explore the woods a bit, travel along the creek that ran through his neighborhood. It had all been one huge mistake.
He tried to rid his mind of their words after they had stumbled upon him sitting on the edge of a rock, shoes to the side and his toes in the cool creek water.
"We should put it out of its misery."
"No way anyone could love something like that."
He battled the fists even at night, still trapped in that six-year-old body of his, helpless and bleeding, his screams lasting what felt like an eternity before an older woman who had been working in her back garden heard and went running towards the teens, sending them scattering off through the woods.
He flinched when Christine removed his mask, squeezing his eyelids together as tight as possible, praying his face had somehow instantly changed into something acceptable, something desirable.
Something of a distressed moan escaped him when he felt her lips press to his eyelids, first the left, then the right. He opened his eyes slowly to find her smiling down at him, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears and her eyes so kind that, for a moment, he thought maybe the accident had not happened at all.
He wished to ask how. How could she look at him so? How could she so easily trace her fingers along his twisted cheek? How could she make his heart flutter so easy with the smallest tweak of her gaze, the lightest graze of her fingertips? Yet he could not.
Surely he was dead, surely he was dreaming.
"If you think that this could taint what I feel for you, then maybe I could agree that you are kind of stupid."
Erik laughed slightly and her smile widened, happy to calm his nerves.
"If it was physical appearance I was looking for, I would've avoided you the second night I saw you at the bar." She removed her hand from his cheek, perching it back on his chest. "But I'll be honest with you, a man that constantly feels the need to hide behind a mask isn't exactly what I was picturing to have as a husband."
Erik wished to laugh. Of course she had not imagined having someone like him in her life. Not even his own father felt indifferent towards his face, and his mask didn't seem to make it any better. He just couldn't get past that one word. Husband.
"So, so long as I'm around," she continued, a playful edge to her voice, "and you are comfortable, I'd like for you to keep this off." She held up his mask in one hand.
He nodded understandingly, receiving a kiss to both cheeks, then his lips before she leaned over and set his mask to the side, flicking the lamp off as she did so. He helped her work beneath the covers, happy to invite her into his embrace once again, the crown of her head tucked into the crook of his neck, his arm hooked around her back.