Because I am a quick learner, I washed meticulously before returning to Christine. Since it was late, I very quietly entered her room, expecting to see her asleep.
But she was not there.
I quelled the flash of panic that shot through my stomach. She could not have escaped… the doors were locked. It is not possible. Perhaps she is reading, I decided. I'd left a stack of books for her on my desk. I left her room for mine.
But she was not there either.
This wave of panic was stronger than the last and my vision started to change color… like when I am about to do something terrible that I won't remember later. I felt as if I was leaving myself… like I was stepping aside and letting something else take over.
And then I heard a sigh—her sigh—and I came back down to earth.
That is what Christine does, do you see? She keeps me anchored.
The soft sigh had come from my own bed, of all places. Still breathing heavily from my shock, I crossed the room towards the bed. There she was, curled up on one side and clutching my pillow.
I was aghast. I leaned over her and ran a finger down her cheek. I had… you see… I had to know that she was real.
She sighed again. "Erik…"
"I am here, my love." That is when I noticed the tear stains that had dried on her cheek. I traced the line with my thumb. "I did what you asked, Christine. I… Erik loves his wife. He does not want her to be sad. I let the man go, just as you said."
She raised a sleepy arm and pulled me down toward her. I had to climb into the bed to keep from falling on her. Then she rolled over… not quite touching me… but… it was close enough.
"You did good," she murmured.
I cannot pinpoint the moment of my own downward spiral… the event that caused my affection for Christine to become a love of the most maddening and the most obsessive kind. But… looking back in my mind, I can see this sleepy encounter as Christine's first baby-step into her own sort of madness. My sweet girl.
--
The flight home was uneventful, Christine was pensive and I was still reveling in the whispered praise she'd given me the night before. I was encouraged and I began to believe my hope might be justified after all.
We spent most of the day resting. The older I get, the more I hate traveling. I had convinced Christine to come and sit with me in the library and was now watching her read. She kept glancing up, awkwardly noticing my staring, but made no comment.
"Come sing with me?" I asked, after a time.
"No."
I was shocked by her refusal. Perhaps I had misunderstood.
"Excuse me?"
"No, I will not sing. I do not want to sing right now. Just… go away. Leave me alone. I don't want to be here."
I found myself getting angry. I had to reign in my temper and fast.
"Christine," I ground out as calmly as I could manage, "I am your husband and you will do as I say. Come with me to the music room. We have been neglecting our lessons too much lately."
I wish I could give a better explanation. I wanted her to be happy—truly, that is all I ever want—but I also wanted her to sing. Sing, love me, be happy… I don't know which order to put those in…
I must have made my irritation clear, because she set her book down and silently followed me out of the room.
While that was the end of her disobedience, I was far from pleased with the result. Her singing was tense and she seemed always out of breath. She was going to hurt her voice if she continued this way!
"Christine! Stop! What is the matter with you?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered. I thought she might cry. "I'll do better. Can we start again?"
We began the song again and I stopped her almost immediately, grasping her shoulders in my suppressed urge to shake her. I had to understand!
"No, stop! Christine, I taught you better than this. What are you thinking?"
And then she did cry. Her eyes were wild and she was vigorously shaking her head in a desperate 'no'. She wrenched away from me and turned around, fisting her hands in her hair and tugging at it like a lunatic.
"No, no, no! You don't understand… it isn't fair… it wasn't supposed to happen this way."
I was afraid; I'd never seen her act like this. I was so desperate to do something… to fix her somehow. My wife was suffering… something had upset her. It killed me not to understand. I was frustrated, but I could not get angry. No, I could not for her sake.
"What is it, Christine?" I asked in the voice I always used to sing her to sleep. "Tell Erik what the problem is."
Her sobs subsided into ragged breaths. She was still facing away from me and she leaned forward and rested her hands and forehead on the nearest wall. I crouched awkwardly to look up at her.
"You kidnapped me. You are the bad guy. This isn't right. I should not have…"
"What, Christine? What is it?"
She choked out another sob. "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you!"
Then she shoved herself off the wall and fled the room, leaving me speechless and panting in her wake.
--
I sat there for some time, trying to formulate a coherent thought. Christine loved me! Erik has a wife who loves him! But… if she loved me… then why was she so upset? We were married, and we loved each other. Where, then, was the problem? Our lives were finally complete. Yet she was… angry with me?
I couldn't tell. I was so confused.
After some moments of pondering, I decided that the only one who could clear up my confusion was Christine. I would find her and she would answer my questions. Of course she would answer me. She loved me.
I climbed the stairs, confused but determined. When I reached the main floor I turned down the hall that led to her room. I stopped, though, when I caught a flash of light in my peripheral vision.
The front door was swinging wide open.
--
The oddest thought passed through my brain. Eventually all this panic would kill me. I just wondered if it would be my heart or my mind to go first. Or maybe I'd have to suffer years of stomach ulcers and muscle spasms first. Either way, Christine wasn't doing good things for my health this weekend.
I practically launched myself out the front door. This was not at all like the last time she tried to run away. This wasn't planned, and I wasn't so sure I'd catch her this time.
Of course, I would bring her back to me eventually… even if she managed to escape me, I would come for her. I could not give her up. There was no place she could hide where Erik would not find her. Call me determined, but she was mine.
But I still felt sick. She loved me! She said so herself! The thought that it was all some… elaborate betrayal… that she had said exactly what I had longed to hear only so that she could distract me and escape…
It was unthinkable. Every inch of my body hurt and the dangerous part of me screamed with rage. I kept it at bay—barely—by focusing on one thought. I will find her.
I assured myself with the knowledge that I knew the property better than she did. It was a purposely confusing layout; you had to know where something was if you were going to find it. On the luckiest days, she would only be able to find the main exit. I counted on that, since it drastically reduced the places she might go.
So there I stood, blocking the way out, wondering if she had already found it or if she was still around somewhere.
And that is when I saw her.
She had found an escape after all. There she was, past my barriers and at least half way down my long driveway, quickly approaching the deserted street. I counted this as a win for me, oddly enough. At least I knew where she was. I sprinted after her.
As I ran, my mind worked. What would I say to her? Would I yell? Would I cry? I was hurt and angry beyond compare.
She could not be trusted. Christine would always betray me. The only thing left to do was to tie her up and lock her in her room. Yes, that is what I would do. Lock her up forever. She would never see the sun… but she would never leave me. I could tie her hands and cover her mouth. Yes! I could do that! Then I could dote on her and love her all I wanted and she could never push me away or tell me her treacherous lies ever again. I could cover her eyes as well—then she would not have to think of Erik's face. Oh how happy we could be then! Christine would depend on Erik for everything then. And he would be only too glad to provide for her.
It was all too perfect—my plans for our life together. It wasn't what I had originally had in mind, of course, but it seemed so brilliant that I wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner.
Now I had only to retrieve my bride and all would be well again.
But it was easier than I thought.
As my mind had been frantically sorting itself out, I hadn't noticed that Christine had abruptly stopped in the road. I looked up and saw her only a few yards away from me. There she was, on the threshold between the driveway and the road, on her knees. Yes, on her knees… she was rocking back and with her arms wrapped around herself. It was if there was some invisible wall between her and the highway.
I was instantly concerned. "What is it, Christine?"
She only shook her head. She was giving the open road the same kind of longing look that I often find myself giving to her. Can you be jealous of a street?
But, why hadn't she left? She was mere centimeters from freedom and yet, here she was, crouched on the ground just looking at it.
"I don't understand, Christine. Why did you stop? Why haven't you run away?"
Christine continued to look at the road. "I have nowhere to go," she said simply.
"I have nothing… no one… no place to go…" She looked at me with wide eyes and an expression of sudden realization. "There is only Erik," she said. There was no emotion in her voice… only resignation.
Her eyes met my own as if looking for confirmation. It was such a pleading look… so fragile… I could not deny her.
"Only Erik," I repeated.