ERIK

Christine behaved oddly the following day. She kissed me at every available instant, save for when we were in public, but even then she squeezed my hand and rested her head against my arm. Her attitude was not unwanted by any means, only strange to me. All of this was still so strange, even after two months of it.

"I want to buy you a dressing gown today," she told me as we walked through the city.

"Why are you so adamant about that?" I asked, glad that she was with me now. It was awful to go out alone and be treated as less; with Christine, people saw me as an equal.

"I'm adamant because I want you to be relaxed at night," she said, with meaning. "I doubt you've ever been relaxed before now, and you deserve to know what it is to be safe and let your guard down."

"I deserve nothing," I replied simply.

"No one does."

A gentleman wearing a particularly tall hat glanced at Christine for far too long. That was the one difficulty amidst being accepted. The stares were directed at her instead of me, as she wore her best dresses when out and managed to put her hair up in ringlets to further enhance her loveliness.

"Your grip, Erik," Christine murmured to me just before we had reached the men's clothing store.

"Forgive me," I replied, realizing that I was indeed holding her arm far too tightly, as if that would keep away wandering eyes.

Were they jealous of me? Those gentlemen, did they see Christine smiling on my arm and, by any chance, wish they were me? I had never felt that before. Perhaps I was being ridiculous. Why would anyone want to be me? I certainly didn't want to be; I wanted to be so much more, for Christine's sake. She deserved more, in every way.

"Which color?" she asked me.

I shook myself out of my thoughts, glancing at the assortment of robes on white mannequins. A few men in the store found Christine either curious for assisting her husband, or they were admiring her beauty. I felt a surge of both anger and pride. The latter I did not deserve; I had earned nothing from Christine, only been given everything.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, noticing my unfocused eyes.

"The dark green," I said.

She nodded, glancing at the quilted one the color of a pine tree, "I think you would look handsome in a dark green, yes."

The hairs on my neck stood on end. Handsome? Had she said that word in reference to me?

"I think you're not well today," she remarked. "Let's buy this, then maybe sit down at a cafe for a little while?"

"Yes," I replied, my head spinning with that one remarkable word. I had heard wrong, surely. Absolutely.

We walked down to a little cafe wedged between two shops, one selling parasols, the other hats. I offered, my mind still rattled, to buy her one of each, as she was fair, firstly, and secondly, all women wore both in summer. She agreed with enthusiasm.

"But what's wrong?" she asked of me, intertwining my hand in hers from over the table.

"Much," I replied.

"What kind of much?"

"Nothing."

She smiled weakly, "You just said much... Won't you tell me?"

"Later."

"What if you forget?"

"I won't forget, my dear."

She nodded, "All right..." Then she glanced down at her menu. "What do you want to eat?"

"My mask," I reminded her.

"I don't think that would taste very good."

I laughed before I could restrain myself, and took a glance around before replying, "No, of course not. I can't eat with it on."

"No one would notice. They won't watch."

"You're rather beautiful, Christine."

"Rather?"

"Exceptionally, and that combined with my mask leads to twice as much curiosity."

She folded her hands in her lap. "If you're not comfortable eating here, then I won't ask again... I think I'll just get some soup."

"You have a fondness for soup."

"Most of my childhood was that or pickled fish... or both."

"I'm glad you have a more refined palate now."

"Who says pickled herring is not refined?"

"Christine, my dear, it's awful."

"I quite like it. When did you try it again?"

"In Russia."

"Maybe Sweden is a better place for it..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "If we ever have to run again, could we stay there? Just for a little while is all."

"I don't speak Swedish."

"I can translate."

"I don't want to be translated."

"You're ashamed to be dependent on your wife, you mean?"

"I'm not one for dependence."

"But you would learn quickly," she insisted. "You know that. You're a genius."

"Christine, I've been so many places, everywhere in Asia and Europe, and I don't want to leave France now, nor ever again. The rest of the world is no better than here, so why go anywhere else? It's exhausting."

"You don't understand. I'm being selfish."

"Selfish? You?"

She nodded, "I want to go to Sweden if we must run again. Only if we must, though. It would make me happy."

"Then..." I sighed. "I don't think we'll need to run again, but even so, I don't want to make any more promises I can't keep about it."

She smiled, "That's good enough for me."

She knew she had me wrapped around her finger. I could see the knowledge glittering in her lovely eyes.

Once her soup had been ordered and eaten, she requested to go shopping on her own.

"But you said you wanted a hat and parasol," I told her, trying to hide my disappointment. "That I would accompany you."

"Oh, I forgot, yes," she said, with a bit of nervousness. "But before that, I need to go buy a few things, and I would prefer to go alone."

Alone? What with all these handsome gentlemen about? In a city she didn't know?

"Where would you go?" I asked.

She gestured down from where we had come, "There. We'll meet at the hat shop, all right? Ooh, surprise me with something, would you?"

"How far down the way?"

"Just barely out of sight... It's all right, Erik dear. If my promise of love for you is not enough, remember that infidelity is strictly forbidden in my religion."

"That doesn't stop most."

"Trust me, please. I'm not stupid."

That is up for debate, as you married me.

"No, you are not," I told her firmly. Then I sighed, "How many francs do you need?"

She colored, "A hundred."

My eyes widened, "What on earth do you need with a hundred francs?"

"It's a surprise... I want to buy it with my own money, though, for you."

"There's no need-"

"There is very much a need," she took my hand in hers, smiling gently to melt my resolve.

I pulled out the notes, and she slipped away. I watched her go, then turned towards the hat shop.

"Surprise me."

A bell rang as I entered the shop, which reeked of lavender combined with the various perfumes of customers. The woman at the desk stared at me for only a moment before brightening.

"How may I help you, monsieur?" she asked. "We just received a shipment from Paris for the summer, the latest fashion, for your... wife, is it?"

"Yes..." I replied stiffly. "She has a coral dress for the summer."

"Let me show you the ones we have in that color, and one is from the Paris collection I was speaking of."

She seemed to think she was a remarkable salesperson, but it didn't matter what she said. I examined the quality of a fine coral hat with faux pink roses atop it, and found it suitable. Christine would look beautiful in anything, but I hoped in this one especially.

As I finished, Christine came into the shop with two small bags. Her cheeks were curiously flushed. She glanced down at the mint-green hat box I was holding.

"Thank you," she beamed. "Could we look at parasols now, then head home?"

"We still need a mattress."

"After that, then."

She looped her arm through mine as if there was nothing she wanted to do more. It was far more intimate than holding hands. All married couples held hands, most of the time, but lovers linked arms. My chest grew warm at the thought.

Buying a parasol was simple: all of them looked identical. Christine selected a less expensive model, but said it was her preferred choice, so I had no reason to buy something of more worth. She had it resting on her shoulder the rest of the time we walked, her arm still linked with mine.

We headed home after purchasing a mattress, and Christine also insisted on a bottle of champagne "just in case." I didn't know what she meant, but her surprises were always lovely.

It began to fully settle in my mind that tonight could be the night. As we rolled past vineyards and endless wooden fences, I couldn't help but hope through my fears. I wanted to be Christine's, entirely. She had such a symbolic view of the act, and it was remarkable how much it would mean to her. I wanted every part of that meaning. I wanted to be hers, and for her to be mine.

I could not omit the fact that she grew lovelier by the day, and she was becoming too much for me to bear. She was too wonderful. If I needed to bottle up every emotion I felt until I imploded, I would, but I hoped she would not force me to do that. After all, she had said that she wanted me as well. I doubted she felt the same as I did at the mere touch of her hand, but whatever she did feel was incredible to me.

We had a simple dinner together, then she insisted I get out my violin and play to accompany her. Her voice was that of a Siren, but my music intoxicated her in the same way. She had her eyes shut and the corners of her lips turned up. Her perfect lips...

The piece finished. She had colored brightly from it.

"I-I want to get dressed," she informed me. "In my nightgown, then I'll come back down."

I nodded, preemptive disappointment rooting my feet to the floor. The violin fell to my side as she shuffled upstairs.

I waited on the sofa for her. I waited a full ten minutes before I called for her, "Christine?"

"Just a moment," she replied through her closed door.

I ran my palms over my knees. Perhaps she was having trouble with her dress.

Another five minutes.

"Christine?" I called again.

Silence. I headed upstairs, confused. I knocked on her door.

"Come in," she told me, her voice rather airy.

Come in? What did that mean? What was she doing?

I pushed open the door, slowly, and found her sitting at the edge of the bed- our new bed- in her nightgown. She kicked her stockinged feet nervously where she sat. In her lap was a little black box.

She patted the spot beside her, "Come sit with me, Erik."

My mind had spiraled out of control from all the possibilities before me. What was she planning?

"This is what I bought for you," she whispered, handing the box to me.

I took it, glancing at her eyes for a clue. There were none. I pulled open the box to find a dark velvet lining, and nestled within it, a simple gold band.

"I haven't made a fuss about it," she said, apologetic. "I should have, but I think now is a good time to give you a ring as well."

"Now?" I whispered, removing it and testing its weight in my palm.

"I know we've moved rather... fast lately, but... I don't think there's a point in waiting anymore. I've already prepared all my preventions and such, so we're... well, we're ready, I think."

"You want to consummate the marriage... now?"

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, "I do... But I... Have you done this before?"

I felt inclined to laugh, but did not.

"No, I have not," I told her. "And you?"

"No... Are you nervous?"

I could barely hear her, as simply her name and the image of her were bursting in my mind like fireworks.

"I hope you are, then we're both on level footing," she said. "Oh, but is your wound all right?"

"Fine," I replied faintly.

"Oh, good... What do we do first, then?"

That was a good question that made me lucid for a moment. Where do we start?

"I love you," I told her.

She smiled, "I love you, too."

I shifted toward her, my trembling hands finding her waist and trailing up her side. She swallowed.

"Could you promise me something first?" she asked.

"Anything," I replied, falling into my daze again.

"You said before that it wouldn't hurt, that everyone was lying."

My vision cleared, "They were not lying. Their men were simply uninformed and likely didn't care, whereas I do."

"So you... know a lot?"

"Too much."

"At least you can use your knowledge now."

I nodded.

"I love you," she said again.

She caressed my deformity with utmost tenderness, and melted beneath her touch. She slipped the cold ring onto my finger. It was a size too large, but this was soon forgotten, as once her lips met mine, the world dissolved into flaming colors.

CHRISTINE

I awoke to find Erik sitting up in bed beside me, not touching. He was in his usual night wear- pants and a buttoned shirt- which he had put on, it seemed, after I had fallen asleep. I would have been disappointed, but I was still lightheaded with delight.

"I had the strangest dream," Erik told me as I sat up.

He exhaled shakily as the covers fell from my chest, and I could feel myself blushing all over.

"It wasn't a dream," I informed him, smiling shyly.

He stared at me for a moment as if unable to comprehend. Then he brightened.

"We're married," he whispered.

"Very much so."

He gave a little laugh that somehow turned into sobbing. He kept repeating about how wonderful I was, over and over, among other things that were so heavily interlaced with tears that they were indistinguishable. Once he had run dry, we lied there together for quite some time. We made no conversation, no noises save a few little hums and sighs of contentment, but it was wonderful. We both seemed to know each other well enough now that we didn't need words.

"What time is it?" Erik asked as he ran a hand through my hair.

"Mm, I don't want to know," I replied, shutting my eyes.

"We have things to do."

"What things?" I murmured.

"We should go into the city again."

I whimpered playfully, "I don't want to leave here ever again."

"We'll need to eat eventually."

"You'll have to drag me. I truly meant it: I never want to leave here."

"Then I'll get up and bring you food."

"That defeats the purpose. The only reason I want to be here is you."

"Isn't the bed nice?" he offered, patting the mattress.

"Without you, no."

He placed his hand on my cheek, stroking the surface, "Without you, I would have nothing."

I nudged him, "I feel the same."

"No. You could live if I died."

"I don't want to bring that up-"

"I have nothing save you," he insisted, holding my face firmly so that I would understand he was serious. "Nothing. This world is an endless ocean and you are my only refuge."

"That was very poetic, Erik dear... I will always be here for you."

"You can't promise that," he said, his hand falling to his side.

"And yet here I am, promising it," I smiled, leaning onto his chest and exhaling. "I may make many promises I cannot keep today, but I dearly hope I can keep this one..."

He went back to petting my hair, now pensive. Eventually my stomach murmured and he immediately decided lunch was in order. We found out that it was twelve o'clock, but time didn't matter anymore. It hardly existed. We were drunk on love. I had never understood that expression before, but now it fit perfectly.

I was playful with him the entire day. We decided not to go into the city, as we had enough for the day, and instead spent our time with whatever we wanted to do. I teased him, cautiously, and he replied in kind. He was more dazed than I was, still taking in what had happened, taking in reality. He kept interrupting me to say that he loved me, and I replied that I did, too. We kissed far too many times to count, and once we were so delirious that we were overcome. We didn't address the fact that neither had used any form of prevention, but once couldn't hurt. Erik didn't even seem to care. Rationale and reality were gone; we lived in our own world away from time and responsibility. We behaved childishly with no repercussions. We popped open a bottle of champagne for no good reason. We drowned in kisses and stifling affection.

Oh, I felt free! Freer than I had ever been! I could scarcely imagine the joy Erik was feeling, as mine was overpowering for me. What he was experiencing would likely bring me to my knees if I could trade hearts with him.

At the end of the day, when we fell into bed again, we were too exhausted by happiness to indulge ourselves again. We intertwined beneath the covers and fell asleep immediately.

I wondered how long our bliss would last before, inevitably, something came along to shatter it. I only wanted one more day. One more day like this.