Chapter Twenty-Nine: Free Fall

"Do you want to come over to my house for a while?" I asked Maggie as we walked down the sidewalk.

By now an hour had passed, and both of us were on our way home. Earlier Erik had shown Maggie around his underground home, and in delight, she explored the music room and a book of his sketches in the bedroom. Both of them got along perfectly to my relief, and mostly talked about classical ballets and (what Maggie was way into) old comedies.

"I really can't." Maggie said, "I was only supposed to go to the theater and pick up a few of my things I left there from Swan Lake. I'm sure my mom is going to have plenty of questions to why I was out for such a long time."

"Tell her you went to grab some ice cream with me at Whipple's." I said, "Don't worry, I'll cover you."

She smiled. "Thanks Chris."

"No problem. Anything for a friend. So… I have to ask, do you like him?"

She looked at me. "You mean Erik?"

"No, Santa Clause. YES, Erik."

She slung her gym bag over her shoulder and grinned. "Yeah, I do. Still, when you two started talking to me about him living away from the outside world, I wasn't sure. I thought he'd be some recluse who didn't know how to communicate."

"I'm glad you kept an open mind."

"I'm glad I did too. I just tried to treat him normally. What won me over was that fact that he seemed more upset about… what happened to be as a kid than I was."

"Yeah, I could tell." Suddenly my curiosity rose again. "Maggie, what exactly do you remember about seeing Erik as a kid?"

By now we were at the light post where we usually parted, but she leaned against it as though ready to talk for another hour.

"Honestly, I'm not exactly sure." She confessed, "I don't know what was real about that time, or what it is that I dreamt up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I remember Erik's face being horrible, being so ungodly terrifying as a child. But when I saw him today… it wasn't near as bad as I remembered. I was surprised more at how scary it wasn't. Some of what happened to me, I might've made worse than it was because of how my parents reacted. Actually, over reacted might be a better statement."

"Speaking of parents then, are you going to tell them about knowing Erik?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. At least, not until after Night of the Stars. I don't want them to freak out before then."

"That might be a good idea."

"I think so too. But enough about me, let's talk about you and Erik!"

I laughed. "What is there to know? You all ready found out he's my boyfriend."

"Yeah, but what have you guys done together?"

"Hmm… he actually cooked dinner for me, and we've watched movies together."

"That's not what I mean. Have you two, well, you know."

"Know what?"

She sighed dramatically and wrapped her arms around the light post. "Have you two made mad, passionate lov…"

I stopped her before she could take that thought any further. "Oh God, Maggie! You know me better than that!"

"Well, I had to ask. And Chris, I wouldn't blame you if you had. He does have a nice body."

"Mine." I warned teasingly, "I don't really care if you look, just don't touch."

She giggled. "You know I wouldn't dream of it."

We smiled at each other. "Yeah, I know." I said.

"But seriously… what have you two done then? Since it can't be that…"

I studied her for a moment, wondering if I should tell her about what had happened on the stage floor. I knew she wouldn't judge me, but would it gross her out?

Come on Chris, I thought to myself, We're now old enough to know that boys don't have cooties… and you want her to be able to talk to you when something like this happens in her personal life.

So, I motioned her to lean toward me, and I whispered in her ear about what happened. By the time I was done, we both were kind of laughing about it. I guess we were giddy about the fact that one of us had actually had a decent encounter with a guy… something notable.

"And, it wasn't weird?" She asked me later, "To let him… hold you like that?"

"No." I admitted, "It felt good to me. It felt like I was safe. And it was a big deal to him too. He said it was like me showing that I trusted him."

"You two seem pretty serious."

I gave a slight smile. "Mags… he said he loved me today."

"Oh my God, he did?"

"Yeah, and I told him I loved him." I said.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed excitedly, "I totally knew it! Back when we called him Desmond I knew you loved him! I could just tell there was something going on."

"I'm happy you were right, Mags."

"I'm happy that I was right too, Chris." At last we said goodbye, and I walked home by myself.

For the next day and a half all I did was clean the house and veg around on the couch. I enjoyed the rest, but I looked forward to being on stage again and being busy with rehearsals. I knew that when I wasn't rehearsing my piece I would be putting away costumes from Swan Lake or helping others find clothing they needed for the talent show. Most of the acts all ready had their own outfits picked out from home, but some (like Jamie and Maggie) might've wanted some sort of extra accessory to go with their costume, like a short-sleeved suit jacket.

That Saturday night I actually laid down on the couch, and thought through what I could wear with my act. My homecoming dress could have made the cut, but the look of it didn't match my song, and besides, I had all ready worn it to the after party for Swan Lake.

"Maybe I could make my black dress work…" I brainstormed.

Suddenly my cell phone rang, and I was pulled out of my thoughts. I stood up, and quickly walked over to where it was: inside my purse on the kitchen counter. As soon as it was in my hands I looked at the caller ID, but realized that it was a number I didn't know. Shrugging, I flipped it open, wondering who was calling at nine o'clock at night.

"Hello?"

"Chris, is that you?" A soft voice asked from the other side of the line.

My curiosity piqued upon recognizing who it was. "Yeah Mrs. Gardens, it's me." I reassured.

She sighed. "I'm so glad you answered. I didn't think you'd pick up this late at night."

"Why? What's going on? Is Maggie okay?"

"Yes dear, Maggie's fine. She's at home right now. I'm calling you from the theater on my cell. I'm with Erik right now."

My stomach dropped. "What's going on with Erik?"

"I can't tell you right now. I just need help with him. He… he isn't doing well. Just, please, get up here as soon as you can."

Without thinking I said, "I'll be up there in ten minutes" and closed my phone.

I got dressed as fast I could, since I had changed into my pajamas earlier. Rummaging through my drawers I found jeans and a purple tank and threw them on. Next I grabbed my black jacket on the way out and raced to my car. I didn't even bother to take my purse; I only had my cell phone and my car keys with me.

I opened the driver side door, and within ten seconds, was driving toward the theater. I was probably speeding, but I didn't care. I knew something was wrong. Mrs. Gardens wouldn't have called me for nothing.

Finally I barreled into the theater drive, parked my car, and at last made my way up to the entrance. I pushed the front door open, relived that it was unlocked and knowing that Mrs. Gardens had done so for me, and then I made my way to the stage.

"Mrs. Gardens!" I called, looking around in the auditorium. Nothing was lit, and it felt eerie, like I was in an abandoned house. "Mrs. Gardens, where are you? Mrs. Gardens!"

"Chris, I'm backstage! Go to the entrance to the underground rooms!"

I let out a deep breath hearing her voice, and as quickly as I could, made my way behind the curtain. Soon I saw her in black capris and a green long-sleeved shirt, standing next to the open wall, leading down below ground.

"Thank God you came!" She exclaimed, gently taking a hold of my arm, "I'm sorry I called you this late, but I had no other choice. He needs you right now."

"Mrs. Gardens, what's going on with Erik?" I asked as we hurried down the stairs, "Is he hurt?"

"He hasn't been well since you left him on Friday." She answered, "I had come down a few hours ago, to talk to him about Night of the Stars and I found him lying in his music room unconscious. His knuckles were bleeding, and I could tell from the blood on the walls, he had been hitting them. When he gets into his darker moods, he does a lot of damage to himself. Usually I could wake him up, and try to talk to him about what was going on… but I touched his arm and realized he was extremely warm. He has a high fever, and he's been sweating in his sleep and having nightmares. I've given him medicine and have tried cold rags on him, but nothing helps. And when he has these dreams he calls your name, Chris. He screams it over and over again, and then becomes quiet. But after that silence… he cries. I've never seen him cry like that, while dreaming. He's awaken a few times, and I've tried to coax out of him what he's been dreaming of, but he doesn't tell me. He's either too weak to, or he won't. I really can't tell. Occasionally he's asked to see you, but he doesn't quite seem coherent when he does, because he'll deny the request minutes later. I'm hoping that he may talk to you, and that you might give him some type of comfort."

"What about Mr. Gardens? Has he helped at all?"

"I've tried to reach him, but I can't. He had a meeting to go to for his work, and he said he wouldn't be home until late. I've been with Erik for almost four hours. He's had long fits, but never one this peculiar, this violent." She suddenly stopped at his bedroom door, and placed a hand upon it. "He's in here. Chris, can I trust you to be strong right now, and not fear him? Not reject him? If you can't, you need to walk away right now."

"No. I can do this." I stated.

She nodded, and then opened the door for me. I braced myself for what I would see… and I was glad I did.

I walked inside, and saw Erik was lying on his bed with his mask off. He was curled up slightly into a ball, and he was wearing a pair of black, drawstring pajama pants and a tight fitting white shirt. His forehead was glistening with sweat, and he held the sheets underneath him tightly in his fists. It seemed like, even in his sleep, he was clinging onto them for dear life. His knuckles were bandaged, because of the wounds Mrs. Gardens had told me about, and I noticed on the back of his hands were bruises. I then remembered the time I went to him for a lesson in the orchestra pit, and I saw his wounds treated like they were now. A shudder ran through me. Had he endured one of these fits right before I had seen him that day?

I edged closer, still gazing at his frighteningly pale form. Suddenly he began to shake violently, and I jumped back.

"He's dreaming." Mrs. Gardens explained behind me, "He'll start screaming soon. Remain strong."

I tried too, as seconds later; he produced a dreadful wail like none I heard before. It seemed to cut through my being, and then hit my heart. And then he yelled my name:

"Chris! Dear God, Chris! No! Chris! Chris!"

I began to quickly move toward him, but Mrs. Gardens grabbed my shoulder.

"Wait!" She hissed.

I did as she asked, and again another change took over him. He became frightfully still, and tears began to fall down his face.

"I'm sorry, my love." He whispered, "May God… may you forgive me." And then he cried silently, and soon went back to the way he was when I originally had seen him.

I found myself shaking, and Mrs. Gardens pulled out two chairs for both of us. I gratefully sat down, and she reached over and grasped my hand.

"I know it's scary." She soothed, "God knows, I've endured a lot of times with him like this. I once found him after he hit his head against a mirror. I thought he had died, or was going to. That was the worst night of my life."

"No!" I gasped, feeling tears rise to my eyes, "My Erik wouldn't…"

"No, he wouldn't now. But back then he tried to kill himself. Imagine the pain he went through, the hurt he had, knowing that he would go through life in solitude."

"That's not true anymore." I argued, "I won't leave him."

She shook her head and sighed. "Dear, you're seventeen. You don't know what you will or will not do in your life."

"I. Won't. Leave. Him." I repeated.

She sighed, but did not address my statement. "We'll have to keep vigil for now." She said, "Wait till he wakes for a moment, so that he might see you."

I shrugged, and continued to gaze at him.

"My Erik," I murmured, "My wonderful Erik…"

Suddenly he groaned. "Chris?" He mumbled, opening his eyes, "Chris?"

I shot up from my chair and leapt over to him. "Erik!"

"Hold on, stay back!" Mrs. Gardens cautioned. But I ignored her, and bent down to grasp Erik's hand.

"It's all right now." I soothed, "Everything will be…" But before I could finish my sentence he placed his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me away from him.

The force of his arms almost made me fall back, and I managed to catch myself on a chair. I tried to say something, but I couldn't. He had never been violent like that, and it surprised and scared me. I finally willed myself to look up at him, but I could see his attention was on Mrs. Gardens, not me.

"I asked you not to bring her here." He stated.

"Erik, you kept calling for her in your sleep." She explained, "I finally had to do something."

"I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want to hurt her!"

Hurt me? I wondered. How could the Erik I know, the one who got Richard to back off of me, try to harm me in any way?

"Why are you afraid of that?" Mrs. Gardens asked. I let out a deep breath. So I wasn't the only one wondering.

He glanced down, and finally collapsed back on the mattress. "I can't tell you." He said exhaustedly, "I don't want to be proven that I'm the monster I thought I was."

I stood up straight, and made my presence known. "Monsters don't create beautiful music." I said, "Monsters don't play piano like you do, or write plays or musicals. Monsters don't give young girls singing lessons, when that girl thinks she's hopeless. And monsters especially don't sing like the Angel of Music."

He shook his head. "I thought you were the angel in this relationship."

I tried to smile. "Funny, I thought you were." I took a deep breath then, and sat down next to him. Before he could back away, I grabbed his right hand in both of mine, and our fingers entwined together.

"What scared you?" I asked, "What made you freak like this?"

"I was hurting you." He said, "I dreamt we were both down in the music room, and you were about to take my mask off. Suddenly there was a mirror, and we both could see a reflection of my face. Except… it was so much worse, if you could imagine. It was as though the burns were fresh, and the skin was literally falling off my skull. You screamed and tried to run from me. That was when I grabbed you." At that moment he turned away from me, and wrenched his hand from mine. "I had my arms around your waist, and you were kicking and screaming to get away from me. I pinned you to the piano bench and—one thing lead to another—I can't do this. Chris, please."

"We promised we could talk to each other." I reminded him, "You can talk to me about this."

"I don't want to scare you."
"Erik, I'm scared for you now! I need to know what's happened, so that way I can help you. You were calling for me in your sleep for a reason. So… let's figure this out."

He pulled his legs up to his chest, and slowly nodded. At last he continued his story. "Chris, next thing I knew, you were beneath me and I had my hand over your mouth. Your skin was pale, and you had stopped breathing. I realized what happened, and I tried to call you back to me. And then I knew… I had defiled you… and killed you."

When the last word had been said he became white as sheet, and he put a hand over his mouth. He flew out of his bed, almost knocking me down on the way out, but when he tried to take a step towards the door, he stumbled.

"Mrs. Gardens," He said weakly and urgently, "the bathroom…"

She moved out of her chair as fast as he did, and putting his arm on her shoulders, they hobbled to the bathroom.

"Let me help!" I cried, running after them.

"Chris, please stay!" He begged, and then he coughed, "Don't come near me right now, please!" He continued coughing as they turned the corner, and finally, I heard the bathroom door shut.

I made my down that hall, just so I could sit down near the door and hear what was going on. From inside, Mrs. Gardens' voice rose above Erik's coughing as she tried to soothe him. Minutes later I heard the sickening sound of choking, throwing up, and then dry heaving.

For a while there was deathly silence, and then the toilet flushed. I let out a sigh of relief as I listened to the din of their voices, and then the sound of the sink running. I heard Mrs. Gardens tell Erik to brush his teeth, and then ask if he had a spare wash cloth.

Seconds later, without warning, he came out of the bathroom with the support of Mrs. Gardens. Before he could stop me I ran to the other side of him and allowed his weight to shift against me. He opened his mouth to argue, but then said nothing.

Quietly we helped him back into bed, and I sat down at his side. Mrs. Gardens sat in a chair a part from us, and we both waited for someone to break the silence. That someone ended up being me.

"I love you." I said, "And I won't leave, no matter what you dream of or how you react to it. So stop having that fear, and get used to the fact that when you're hurt, I'll come running."

"I'm broken." He said.

"No. Broken is being undisturbed by what you dreamt about. Erik, you became physically ill at the thought of hurting me. That's not broken. That's morally… stable, I guess, in lack of a better word."

"Most people would have left me by now."

I shook my head. "Mrs. Gardens and I aren't most people. We love you, and love doesn't walk away. That's just how people are. So I guess that means you're stuck with Mrs. Gardens, Mr. Gardens, and me forever."

He looked past me and at Mrs. Gardens. "You love me?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. And Chris is right, Mr. Gardens loves you too."

He gave a slight smile. "I never thought three people would ever love me."

"It's true." I said, brightening, "And even though it's in different ways, we'll always love you."

Erik was silent for a moment, and he reached over and grasped my hand. "I love you too. You, Mrs. Gardens, and Mr. Gardens."

To my surprise, I heard her snivel behind me. "I never thought I'd hear that." She whispered, "Never…" She stood up, and walked over to Erik, bending down to kiss his cheek. "I think there are still things to discover about you, dear Erik." After she said that, she placed her hand over his forehead. "Your fever's breaking. Thank God."

"Thank God." I echoed.

She let out a sigh, and then looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh wow. It's one in the morning Chris. You probably want to go home."

"Hey, I'm fine." I reassured, "Why don't you go and sleep? I can stay here. If something happens with Erik, I'll call you, all right?" She looked at me skeptically, and then shrugged.

"You know, I'm too tired to complain. Just, please, don't do anything dumb." She begged. "And if anything comes up, call."

"I will. I promise."

She smiled, and grabbed her purse that was on the table. "Okay. Well, goodnight you two. Chris, I'll call you later tomorrow to make sure your home."
"You mean today?" I teased.

"Yeah, yeah." She said, "You know what I mean. Have a good night."

"Have a good night Mrs. Gardens."

At last she walked out the door and down the hallway. When I knew she was gone, I turned to Erik.

"Scoot over." I said. He made room for me on the bed, and I laid down, cuddling close to him.

"I'm sorry." He said, "About all that's happened."

"Don't apologize." I stated, "There's nothing to apologize for. If I wasn't doing well, you'd come to me. That's how relationships work."

"Are you tired?"
I shrugged. "Kind of."

"Sleep then."

"Naw, I want to be awake if you need anything."

"I'm okay now. I'll nod off soon too." At that moment he pulled the covers out from underneath me, and lifted them across my frame. "I'll sing you to sleep."

"You can sing to me, but I won't sleep." I challenged.

"Well then," He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me, "let's see about that." At that moment he brought me to rest against his shoulder, and began to sing in a soft, soothing voice. The song I slightly recognized, and I believed it to be in Latin, even though I couldn't remember the name. But it was a beautiful piece, and something I could imagine his mother singing to him as a child:

"Panis Angelicus

Fit panis ominum

Dat panis coelicus

Figures terminum…"

He was right. Before he could sing the next measure, I had drifted off into sleep.