I apologize for the months of no new chapters. I started grad school in August and life has been incredibly busy since then. I will keep writing, just more sporadically than before. Thank you for reading my story thus far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 13
The funeral was a quiet affair. Christine had an older priest hold the service who agreed to not mention Erik's presence to anyone. She and Erik were the only people to attend. When they arrived at the cemetery, Christine expected to find the nondescript, simple headstone she had been able to afford. Instead it was a beautiful piece of stone engraved with Alice's name, birth year and death year, and the words "To love another person is to see the face of God."
Christine was speechless when she saw it. She looked at Erik, who was wearing his tailed tuxedo, mask, and wig, looking like a fine gentleman of the opera. "I put in some money as well," he explained. "It seemed right."
"Thank you," she whispered, leaning into his side. He put his arm around her and hugged her close.
They stood that way for the ceremony.
Once the priest was finished, he bid them farewell and left. The cemetery was empty, and the weather was perfect. A bright, crisp spring day. Christine looked at the grave thoughtfully, her mind swirling with memories of her aunt.
"Aunt Alice was the kindest woman," Christine said. "I remember when she took me in. I had been living with the Girys when she sought me out and asked me to live with her. Her husband had just died, yet she was willing to take in an angry, broken teenage girl she barely knew. It took me so long to trust her, but she never gave up." Christine smiled at the memory, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Alice was the first person I met who immediately treated me like a person," Erik said, his voice far away. "I remember when I entered her room that first day, she screamed and demanded to know who I was. I told her 'I am Erik. I am here by Christine's invitation. We knew each other at the opera and now she is taking care of me.' Alice nodded and said, 'Well you do look very thin. When was the last time you ate?'"
Christine chuckled. "You didn't know Aunt Alice before she was bedridden. Goodness she could cook. She was always on me about whether I was eating enough."
"She didn't even address my face," Erik continued. "She just said, 'well if you're in my house, you need to tell me some more about yourself.' She told me to sit, and I obeyed–which is not something I do easily, mind you–and I told her everything. She listened to me as I told her my story. I confessed everything to her. I don't even know why, it just felt safe. I confessed the murders, the horrible things I did to you, everything. And when I was done she looked at me and said, 'do you feel remorse for what you've done?' And I said, 'everyday.' And she nodded and said, 'that is all I care. Your past is yours to deal with, but who you are right now is what impacts me and my niece.'"
Christine smiled, easily imagining Alice saying those words to Erik. "I miss her so much, Erik."
Erik pulled Christine into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. Christine nuzzled her face into his white shirt and wrapped her arms around his middle. She felt like he was holding her together.
After what could have been hours or minutes, Erik whispered into her hair, "let's go home."
Erik and Christine cleaned up from dinner together quietly that evening. They had been quiet since returning home from the cemetery, both reflecting. As they finished the dishes though, Christine's mind returned to the night before.
After Raoul had left, the day turned hectic. Visitors came to wish Christine their condolences while she and Erik worked to organize the funeral. Finally, evening came, and Christine and Erik sat together on the sofa, Christine curled into Erik's side.
"Shall we go to bed?" Christine had asked.
"That is probably for the best," Erik replied softly. He slid his arm out from around Christine and stood to prepare the sheets for his bed on the sofa.
"Erik?" Christine asked, her voice soft with hesitation.
He turned his attention to her. Though the gesture was casual, she could see the anticipation in his eyes.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
Erik nodded, the corners of his lips turning up. "Of course."
She looked into his eyes, wrapping her fingers gently around his. Suddenly, she became nervous. "I– uh– I don't want to do that," she said awkwardly, averting her eyes away from him. "Just share a bed."
Erik placed his finger under her chin to turn her gaze back to him. "Whatever you want, Christine. You have given me everything. I am yours, however much you want of me." He spoke these words with such sincerity that her eyes filled with tears.
And that was all it was. She and Erik simply shared the bed. When she woke from a nightmare, Erik held her close until the tremors of fear ended. In the morning, she woke to find him watching her from across the pillow, his features soft and peaceful.
As Christine put away the final plate, though, she wondered what this evening would hold. Would Erik even want to share a bed again?
Erik gently grabbed Christine's waist as she closed the cabinet door and pulled her into a kiss. He deepened it slowly as Christine relaxed into him. She wound her arms up around his neck and stroked his fine hair. His hands slid up and down her back, then one slid down onto her skirts.
Christine broke off the kiss and nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck. He smelled so wonderfully fresh. She felt safe there, and the sadness from the day seemed to feel more like bittersweet acceptance.
"Bedtime?" Erik asked.
Christine nodded into his neck. They broke apart and prepared for bed separately. Christine changed into her nightgown behind the screen in her bedroom. She then peaked into the living room as Erik was lying out the blankets on the sofa.
"Erik, will you join me again tonight?" she asked hesitantly.
He looked up and smiled. Abandoning his half-made sofa bed, Erik followed Christine into the bedroom, slid under the covers beside her.
"Are you alright?" he asked once they were settled, his warm chocolate eyes searching hers. She was momentarily struck by the fact that such empathy was coming from the man who once haunted her day and night.
"I am. I knew this would happen eventually, but I still miss her so much. She was all I had for a long time."
"You had your vicomte for almost a year, though," Erik said.
Christine nodded. "True. He's a good man, just a little spoiled."
"You're too forgiving, Christine."
"If I weren't forgiving, you wouldn't be here with me right now… And I'm so glad you're here."
Erik shook his head. "I can't fully believe you're happy I'm here."
"Of course I'm happy," she said, caressing his cheek. "You've gotten me through this."
Erik looked genuinely confused. "I don't know what you mean."
There was something so endearing about Erik's utter lack of understanding about human emotions at times. And yet, he was also so acutely aware of it at other moments. Her beautiful man of contradictions.
"I just mean," she said, "that you've made me feel loved. You've reminded me time and time again that I'm not alone. You've made this hard time as easy as you could make it. I love you, Erik."
Erik's face cracked into an outpouring of emotion, like his face was the last piece of the dam holding the water back. He pulled Christine to him and kissed her passionately. He rolled onto his back, and Christine found herself on top of him. She straddled his torso and continued to kiss him, although she tasted a lock of hair in her mouth, so she pulled away to move her curls from her face.
Christine looked back down at Erik, who was gazing up at her like she was a miracle. She kissed him again on the lips, then on his cheek and down his neck. She stopped at his chest, where she rested her head against his heart, which was beating rapidly.
"Do you want to stop?" Erik asked.
Christine rolled back on her side to face him again. "It's just… everything in our relationship is improper," she said, keeping her head on his chest to avoid meeting his gaze.
She felt him sigh. "It is," he agreed. "I mean, we should get married first, shouldn't we?"
Christine rolled back onto the mattress and faced Erik. "Is that a proposal?" she asked.
"I kind of figured I already proposed a long time ago."
"But things were different then, Erik. I was being forced to marry you. Now I am with you by my own will. You see the difference, right?"
"Of course, I do!" he said firmly.
Christine felt exhausted, her mind whirling with grief and everything that had just transpired. Suddenly, she felt so heavy that she couldn't bear the idea of continuing the conversation.
"Let's talk about this later," she whispered, closing her eyes.
Erik was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he whispered "I love you, Christine."
Christine woke the next morning before Erik. She slipped from under the covers, wrapped herself in a dressing gown, and went to the kitchen. As she filled a kettle, her mind wandered back to the night before. She had kissed Erik so passionately. She had wanted more, more than she had ever wanted it before. It scared her.
"I wish Auntie were here," Christine said quietly to no one in particular. Her heart sank. It felt as though a cavity had opened up in her chest as the true realization hit her. She would never see Aunt Alice again. Her eyes filled with tears as a sob shook her chest. Christine sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Why do you have to be gone too?" she sobbed. "Why am I alone?" Her thoughts returned to photos of her mother, the woman she never knew but somehow still felt her love. She then remembered her father hugging her tightly. Then she thought of Aunt Alice, dying in her arms. So many loved ones gone.
She sobbed and sobbed, sitting on the kitchen floor. Eventually the tears ran out, and she was numb.
She hadn't realized how long she had been sitting on the floor until Erik came in.
"Christine?" His voice was full of worry.
She knew how this looked. She was sitting on the floor with her legs out in front of her in her dressing gown with a kettle on the floor beside her. Her cheeks were still wet, and her curls were an untouched disaster on her head.
"Sorry, sorry," she said hastily, standing up quickly and putting the kettle on the fire. She ran her fingers through her hair and surreptitiously wiped her cheeks.
Erik continued to stand in the doorway, watching her with narrowed eyes. Finally, he entered the kitchen and helped prepare breakfast.
Christine felt Erik's worried gaze on her throughout breakfast. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what to say. She remained silent, focusing on sipping her tea and eating her toast.
After they finished the dishes, Erik broke the silence. "How about we play music?"
Christine sighed. She felt empty with no emotions to express. "I don't feel like singing."
"How about I play for you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Christine nodded.
Erik sat on the sofa and pulled out the violin. He glanced at Christine then played. Christine, curled up in the armchair, recognized the tune. Lyrics filled her mind:
Wishing you were somehow here again
Knowing we must say goodbye
Try to forgive; teach me to live
Give me the strength to try
No more memories; no more silent tears
No more gazing across the wasted years
Help me say goodbye
Help me say goodbye
Erik knew the music of her heart, Christine realized. He knew how she felt even if she didn't. Despite the grief of the tune, Christine smiled tearfully. Erik met her gaze, his expression relieved and triumphant. He had succeeded.
He moved on to playing other tunes, familiar and comforting. Christine's mind was not black with grief, but instead filled with the kaleidoscope of music.
When he finally finished playing, Erik carefully placed the violin in its case. She watched him with fondness.
"Christine," he said carefully. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong last night. I didn't mean to hurt you or push you. I promised not to do that to you ever again when you took me back in. I broke that promise. I'm so sorry."
"I'm not angry. And you didn't hurt me," she said softly. "I love you. Let's let that be enough for now."
"Okay," he said with a faint smile. He got up and crossed the room to stand before her. "May I kiss you?" he asked.
"Always," Christine whispered. She lifted her face to meet her lips with his.