Julia10

Conversation was stilted from the very moment we sat down to supper. I attempted to make small talk and asked how Erik enjoyed his food, but he wanted nothing more than to slink home and dote over his memory of Christine. Each time he glanced at me I knew for certain that he didn't see me across the table. He envisioned Christine and therefore ruined my intentions of a pleasant dinner.

To hell with holding my tongue.

"When will you see Mme de Chagny again?" I questioned.

He glared at me, but didn't say a word. His endeavors were utter foolishness and I would prove that to him this evening or never see him again. For months I had sat patiently and listened for hours about how wonderful her voice was, how she was such a talented singer. I'd rather have driven nails into my ears than listen to his incessant babble over the singer.

"You don't know when she's performing?" I questioned.

"The second of April," Erik answered at last. He nearly dropped his knife on the floor as he hastily cut through his food.

"Luc Testan said her closing performance in New York was a disaster," I said under my breath.

"Pardon me?"

"And you will see her on the second of April?" I questioned.

I stared at him without blinking and dared him to lie to me.

"Yes," he said, his answer grating on my nerves just as my questions grated on his.

I refused to show a reaction. "Would you like more bread?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

He accepted the bread basket, and for several moments we sat in silence. I stared at my plate and considered rising to my feet and screaming that his intentions were completely asinine. I also considered falling to my knees and begging him to cease these fantasies, to accept me and forget Christine existed.

Instead, I remained privately spiteful.

"Good. I'm glad you're going to attend the fair again," I said.

Erik nearly choked on his food. Now that I had his full attention, nothing would stop me. I would tell him exactly how I felt and he would listen—for once.

"And I expect you will take Alex," I said without looking at Erik.

In that moment, everything changed. His chair slammed against the wall, the silverware on the table rattled, and before I knew what had happened he was standing over me screaming.

I'd never seen him enraged, not even the night he killed Louis. All of my confidence, every selfish intention, fled from my body and left me stunned, a victim of his rage.

A victim once more.

"Erik," I gasped, not knowing what else to say or do.

"She is mine! He will know her when I deem fit! Do you understand me?" he continued.

I shuddered, unable to look him in the eye. "Sit," I whispered. "For God's sake, Erik, sit."

He was breathing hard through his mouth as he attempted to control himself, which, thankfully, he did. I was ashamed of myself for taunting him, and as I sat in confused silence, I wondered if he would eventually regret screaming at me.

I wanted to look him in the eye and ask him why I was good enough for a tryst, but not for true love. But I couldn't meet his gaze. I knew he wouldn't see me still, and I feared I wouldn't see him, either.

He'd changed over the months that had passed since Christine's name was mentioned in the paper. The vast landscape of thoughts and ideas he had were now focused only on Christine.

"Please sit," I said at last.

"You said you wanted to celebrate. Does your offer still stand? Tell me now."

I hated myself, my cowardly, traitorous self. Louis had beaten me on the outside. Now I allowed Erik to beat me on the inside.

I folded my napkin and pushed away from the table. I was not his love, I was not his heart. I was nothing to him but a body. Years of physical encounters did not guarantee love.

"Wait for me upstairs," I said, resorting to the only thing we had in common.

Erik walked upstairs without me. It was the first time I hadn't led him upstairs. I wondered if he felt as awkward as I did as I stood in the kitchen and cleaned the dishes. Torn between wanting to see him one last time and knowing it would only add another layer of humiliation.

With my back against the kitchen wall, I stared at my hands and wondered when I had abandoned my senses. Once Louis was dead I didn't feel good, but I felt better. Lisette was my life and I loved her, and together I hoped to live in peace.

But I was not strong enough to live on my own. No, I needed a man in my life—or at least in my bed. I thought it fulfilled me to have Erik in my life, but as I examined my hands, which had never once fought back, I found I was weaker than I ever thought possible.

I muffled my sobs until I was able to dry my eyes and walk upstairs. When I reached the landing, I heard Erik mutter to himself through the bedroom door.

"A monster…" he said under his breath."A complete monster…" He shifted. I wondered if he lay beneath the covers and waited for me. "I don't want this…I don't…I want her to love me."

I sank onto the stairs and buried my head in my hands. In one last vain attempt, I filled his words with my name. I want Julia to love me. I do want this. I've always wanted this.

Please don't do this to me, I wanted to say to him. Please don't leave me for her. I'm the woman who loves you, who has loved you for years. He couldn't see it because he wasn't ready, and neither was I. Our relationship stood at the mercy of a dam that neither of us knew how to break.

"Oh, Julia," Erik sighed. "How cruel I've been to you."

My heart stopped and I lifted my head. I held my breath and listened for him to say my name again, but he didn't utter a word. Once I dried my eyes, I rose to my feet and entered the bedroom.

I felt Erik watch my every move. This was the room in which he made me feel powerful. It was here, in my bedroom, that he liberated me. How tragic that we both felt most comfortable lost in the dark.

When I turned to face Erik, he sat on the edge of my bed, his legs spread and his head down. I knelt before him and placed my hands on his knees.

I would give him reason to stay, I thought, as I stared at his trouser buttons. At least for one night, I would give him one meaningless reason to stay in my bed, to become an object, not a woman. Numbness froze my senses, my movements and thoughts mechanical. Actions, not feelings. I was, in that moment, his whore.

Slowly, I leaned forward and reached for his buttons.

Without a word Erik stood and I fell backward, startled by his actions. I thought he would grab me by the arms and throw me on my bed, cover my mouth the way Louis had done. Instead, Erik turned in a full circle, his hands against his head.

"Not like this," I thought I heard him say as he stormed from my room, nearly tripping over his feet. He never looked back and never said another word. In a heartbeat he was gone and I was alone. He didn't want me, not even for physical gratification.

The back door slammed, but I barely noticed. Curled up on the floor, I cried myself to sleep.