Spring 1854
Central Austrian Empire
Erik
"It's almost been three years," Christine said to me one morning.
I looked back at her.
"Since we've known each other," she explained, smiling at me. "Can you believe how quickly the time has flown? It seems that just yesterday you were giving me Persian lessons in my apartments!"
Yes, it really did not seem so long ago. I smiled grimly under my mask and resumed walking.
The winter was departing. It was turning out to be a warm spring, and I knew it would be a hot, dry summer as a result. I rode most days. The melting snow created thick, sticky mud that ruined the roads. I certainly didn't like my shoes and trousers becoming caked with dirt. However, it was clear and bright that morning. There were a few patches of mud, and they were easily avoided.
After our last disastrous argument, Christine had been undeniably and inexplicably sweet and (dare I say it?) affectionate with me. She was! She spoke with me, sang for me, did all that I asked with her little smile. She apologized nearly every day for her words and assured me, most adamantly, that she did not hate me.
Well, if she didn't hate me, what did she feel for me now? Pity? Indifference? Friendship?
I huffed silently and then began to observe our surrounds. The roads were becoming much better, more cared for. There began to be a splattering of houses and farms here and there. I observed for a while and then said,
"We will be in Vienna tomorrow."
"Vienna?" she gasped. "Oh, Erik, one of my dreams! Will you take me around to see it? Mozart died there, didn't he? Oh, shall we go see his grave? Beethoven is also buried there! Erik, isn't it marvelous? To be in the same places that those gifted musicians lived and breathed! Of course, I do spend my days with an equally-talented genius, so I shouldn't become too excited. But isn't it thrilling?"
She continued to chatter happily, and I smiled again under my mask.
I allowed us to stay at one of the finer hotels. It was a bit of a task getting a room, much as it always was. But I was finally sold a room for three nights, and Christine couldn't have been more thrilled.
"Three nights?" she said, clutching my arm as I led her to the room. "Does this mean you shall show me Vienna tomorrow? Oh, thank you, Erik! Thank you!"
She put on her best dress the next day (which wasn't much, and it slightly irked me that she was in my care and still dressed like a pauper) and fixed her hair. I didn't take her out until later in the afternoon. I had done many things for her, but I still hated the stares. As the night closed around us, the people began to drift to houses and brothels – places of the night, leaving most respectable quarters of the city quiet and deserted. Christine and I walked along the cobbled streets.
As the night wore on and it became later and later, Christine leaned into me a bit more, held my arm a bit tighter…She even leaned her head against my shoulder while I was observing a fountain. It took me by surprise, but I couldn't say it wasn't welcome.
"It's very beautiful here," she murmured.
I looked down at her and felt my heart swell with that love that only she brought. I still knew with every beat of my heart that no matter what she said to me, did to me…I would love her. I would love her regardless of what she did. I had loved her for nearly three years, and it had never wavered.
We returned to the inn, and she slept peacefully that night. I allowed myself a few hours and did the same.
"What are we doing today?" she asked me later the next morning.
I looked at her. "It's a surprise," I said simply.
"I wish you wouldn't tease me like that!" she said, laughing all the same. "It's perfectly dreadful of you. You know how impatient I am."
"Just wait until after your meal," I said, unyielding.
She sighed dramatically, but she did manage to wait until said time, by which time she was practically bouncing in her chair with excitement.
I couldn't resist adding a bit more anxiety to her state. She really was adorable when so delightfully-agitated. After pulling off my gloves, I leaned close to her and said,
"Don't move."
She stilled herself, though her eyes were still dancing. I put my fingers close to her ears and then snapped loudly, watching as she jumped at the sound.
"There's something for you in the waistband of your dress," I said, leaning back.
Quickly, she looked down and saw her present resting innocently in the folds of ribbon that encircled her waist. Looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a smile, she picked up the paper and then held it up to read.
"I don't understand," she said plainly, a little line coming between her fair brows.
"They're tickets," I said, watching her reaction closely.
"Tickets?" she asked breathlessly, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked at me.
"For tonight."
"What is tonight?"
I smiled at her.
"An opera."
I had heard of the opera before. It was some ridiculous trite with forgettable songs and a ludicrous plot. However, I remained silent, perusing the playbill while Christine looked around excitedly.
"I cannot believe it!" she whispered to me, smiling. The orchestra was tuning up. "This is so exciting! My first real opera – how I've longed to see one performed! You know, Paris really should consider building an opera house such as this. I'm sure it would be the crowning jewel to the beautiful city. Perhaps they will build one, and we shall see one together – what do you think? Hopefully they will perform something I've heard of. I don't believe I've heard of this particular opera. Are you familiar with it? What is it about? Oh – the orchestra is finished tuning. It's about to start soon! Look at the – "
"Christine," I interrupted quietly. I softly placed my hand on her arm, and she was silent instantly. "Hush." I smiled underneath my mask.
In the dim light, I could see her smile and blush slightly. She leaned back in her seat and watched the opening scene with ardent wonder. I was hardly interested in what was happening onstage. The music, while not terrible, was rather forgettable, and the orchestra itself was under the direction of a complete idiot. The lead baritone, however, did possess wonderful tone quality, and it was clear that the ballerinas had been trained well.
I said none of this to Christine and allowed her to pass the first act without comment from either of us.
It was pure luck that a few of the boxes hadn't been sold out for the entire season, and I managed to secure a secluded one for the evening. The man selling the tickets to me had been most suspicious, but after a few quiet words, he passed the two over with a nod and a pale face.
When the curtains closed for a short intermission and the lights flared up once again, I turned to face her.
"Did you understand all that happened?" I asked.
She nodded. "I believe so," she said. There was a minute of silence, and she turned to look at me, a smile on her pink lips. "That…wasn't very good, was it?"
Unexpectedly, I began to laugh. "No," I chuckled. "It wasn't."
She laughed as well and put an innocent hand on my arm. For a few glorious minutes, we laughed together. I finally stopped and said,
"Would you like to leave?"
Quickly, she shook her head. "Of course not," she said. "You paid quite a price for these seats. Even if we don't enjoy the show, let's enjoy the quiet evening and each other's company."
That made my heart skip a bit. Enjoy each other's company. She enjoyed my company. Well – I should certainly hope so! We had been in each other's company for years!
When the second act started, I pushed a hand under my mask and rubbed my bare face, trying to quell a rising headache that was a result of the orchestra. They might have sounded decent had someone else been conducting. Christine immediately noticed.
"Is it your mask?"
Quickly, I took my hand away and looked at her. I shook my head.
"You should take it off."
"No," I said quietly, firmly. "Don't tell me again."
She was unrelenting. "At least for a few minutes. It would feel good."
"No," I repeated, a little louder.
She put her hand on my arm again. "For me?" she pleaded. "It would make me feel better knowing that you spent at least five minutes of the day without that wretched thing on. I've told you before that your face doesn't bother me."
I eyed her shrewdly and then said, "There are too many people. Someone will see."
"No one will see, you silly man!" she sighed, obviously exasperated. "You've managed to buy us the most secluded seats in the entire house. Now, please – for a few minutes." She held out her hand expectantly. I hesitated before slowly bringing my hand to the ties of my mask.
I had never wanted to subject my face to her so many times, and so I took off my mask and looked away quickly, staring avidly in the opposite direction so she wouldn't have to look upon my hideous visage.
"Erik," she said gently. The pressure of her hand on my arm increased. "The show is on the stage. Not in the curtains."
Swallowing, I looked toward the stage again. There was no sudden intake of a disgusted breath, no slight motion signaling that she had turned her head away. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she smiled slightly. She smiled.
But smiling wasn't unusual for Christine…So I couldn't allow that to give me a true indication as to her inner emotions at my revealed face. I continued to observe her closely without appearing to do so.
A few minutes later, just as I was beginning to become distinctly uncomfortable without my mask, she turned to face me. I looked at her as well.
Suddenly, her presence was much too close. The air around us seemed heavy and thick, and I was having trouble drawing breath. When I did breathe, my head spun.
She leaned closer. I had an idea of what she was doing, but I didn't believe it. I simply watched her, almost daring her pink lips to draw closer to my own twisted strips of flesh that even I didn't dare to call lips.
Don't do this, a voice in my head warned me. Don't allow her to do this. She'll turn away and laugh at the hopeful expression in your eyes. She'll hurt you – disappoint you. Turn away. Turn away now.
Her eyes were half-closed, and her undoubtedly soft and warm mouth was slightly parted as she continued to lean up. Against my own inner warnings, I found my own eyes closing as well. Her breath fluttered around my mouth.
To my elation, the sensation of her lips against mine was everything and more than I had ever dreamed. Her lips were velvet and inviting as they timidly pressed against my mouth. I didn't kiss her back, though, as much as I wished to. I was still too frightened that she would pull away and retch. She let out a shuddering breath, pulled back just slightly, but came up and kissed me again, and this time it was firm and purposeful, nowhere near as hesitant as the first. One of her hands came to rest on the side of my neck, and I shivered against her.
Just as I was building up enough nerve to respond to her second kiss, she pulled herself away, looking at me with a steadily-forming expression of horror on her face.
It was what I had feared. I became murderously angry and stood quickly while she curled into her seat.
"Oh…" she gasped. "Oh…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…"
Without a word, I leaned over and grabbed my mask that had fallen to the floor. When I tied it back on, I felt empowered – once again an unfeeling monster. I gazed on her while she began to cry, my entire being pitiless, bordering on fury.
"May we – may we leave?" she sniffled weakly after a time.
"No," I snapped. "After all, I paid quite a price for these seats, don't you remember? And aren't you enjoying the quiet evening?" I sat down forcefully and trained my gaze back to the stage, my hands clenched into tight fists and my mouth set in fury.
She had kissed me. She was the one who leaned over and pressed her mouth to mine. I hadn't ever asked for it; of course I had wished it, but I had never asked for anything of the sort. So I couldn't blame myself. I could only blame the pathetic girl that was crying next to me.
I felt her hand touch my arm once again, and she whispered, "Erik, please don't – "
Quickly, I ripped my arm away and ignored her interrupted plea. "Quiet," I snarled harshly. "I'm trying to watch the performance."
The rest of the evening passed in silence – resolute for me, and enforced for her. When the curtain finally fell after the actors had made their final bow, we still sat while the audience around us milled about and exited the house. We didn't move until the faintest of conversations drifted away and all was silent. I knew we had to leave before a nosy box keeper would come poking about, and so I finally stood. Christine followed suit without a word. Her tears had dried long ago, but she still had an expression of sorrow written across her features.
Sorrow that she had willingly kissed a hideous monster.
We returned to the hotel, still in that awful silence that I knew she couldn't bear. She hated those silences – those gaps of noise where she knew that she shouldn't speak. But I couldn't say anything to her. I was afraid that if I started speaking I would become so angry that I couldn't control myself anymore, and I might harm her in some irreparable way. And so, I kept silent.
I allowed her adequate time to prepare for her bed, and I then slipped into the room when she opened the door for me. Quietly, she watched as I took the overstuffed velvet chair and set it by the door. She sat on her bed and I sat on the chair. We stared at each other. There was further silence.
"Erik," she finally said softly.
I held up my hand quickly. "There's no need to explain," I said, my voice calm and chilling. "I know you're quite sorry for what transpired between us this evening. I should have stopped you. Your reaction was to be expected. I can assure you that you'll never have to see my face again. Why I allowed you to persuade me to remove my mask is almost beyond my comprehension, but I did, hoping to please you. I can see now that it had quite the opposite effect. Once again, I promise never to subject you to the sight of my repulsive face."
She had started to cry again during the course of my monologue. Her tears did nothing but anger me further. I breathed heavily, my fingers twisting into the hideous green velvet of the arms of the chair, watching as tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. She might have looked pretty if I wasn't so furious with her.
"Please, listen to – " she began tearfully.
"Listen to what?" I demanded loudly, my calm façade shriveling. "Listen to your sniveling apologies? Listen to your ridiculous explanation? Listen to you cry about your dead husband? I've done quite enough of that already, thank you. I'm in no mood to listen, if you haven't noticed." The more I ranted, the more upset she became. "You are a stupid little girl, and I don't want to hear any more of your crying, do you understand me?"
To my extreme surprise, she stood. She then began to walk toward me, her hands outstretched. Instantly, I was out of my chair and on the other side of the room. If she touched me, I knew my bitter shell would crack, and she would see my hurt and fear that raged on inside.
It might have been comical had the situation not been so serious. She practically chased me around the room, sobbing as I made every attempt to distance myself from her.
"Get away from me," I gasped, backing into a wall. "Stay away, do you hear? Christine – Christine!"
Without regard to my commands, she approached. Her fingertips brushed my chest, and it was almost as if I could literally feel my anger being brushed aside by her small fingers. With another step, she had reached around me and pressed her face into my chest, rubbing her cheek against the material of my shirt. She hiccoughed quietly for a few minutes, hugging me tightly. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. And I didn't want to move. Her small form felt too nice against me to move away.
"I know I hurt you," she said miserably. "And I'm so sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to. I thought…you were disgusted with me; that you were angry with me for kissing you. This is all my doing. You've done nothing wrong. Please…forgive me?"
She looked up at me, resting her chin on my chest as she gazed up to meet my eyes. The entire situation was far too intimate for me to make a coherent answer, and so I detangled myself from her grasp, holding her wrists for a minute before allowing them to fall. I retreated to the other side of the room, which wasn't far at all.
"You are still angry with me!" she declared passionately. Her lips quivered again. With a moment of exhilaration, I remembered how they felt.
"No," I said quickly, even though I wasn't sure of myself anymore.
"Then why do you keep pulling away from me?" she demanded.
"You know how I am," I muttered. "I do not like to be…touched."
Her supple lips curved into a weak smile, and she said, "Of course that's not true."
The conviction and certainty in her voice angered me – and frightened me. "What are you talking about?" I snapped.
"You do not like to be touched when you're angry," she said slowly, allowing each word to fall across the room and into my ears. "But of course you like to be touched otherwise."
"How would you know?" I asked, trying to cover up the trembling in my voice. "You know nothing about me!"
She sighed, almost exasperated. "Erik, you are, without a doubt, the most complicated man I've ever met. Just a moment ago you said that I knew how you were, and now you are saying I know nothing about you. Well, if these years haven't taught me much about you, I'm not sure what will. I know many things about you."
In the deepest crevices of my black heart, I was almost hopeful. "Prove it," I said quickly, almost desperately. "Tell me what you know."
She sat on the little loveseat and patted the spot next to her, looking at me pointedly. I hesitated for a while and then walked over and sat next to her stiffly. She turned to look at me. She then began to speak. Her voice was low and hushed, and I listened with all of the energy of my soul.
"I know you are a well-traveled man. I know you've read more books than I could ever hope to read in a lifetime. I know you are a magician, scientist, artist, and everything else. I know you have…killed more men than I care to know."
Instantly, I turned aside and made to rise. I was not going to sit and listen to her tell me of all my crimes she knew of. However, she grabbed my hand with both of her small ones and held it firmly.
"I also know," she said hurriedly, "that you have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. You are the most talented musician I know. You're passionate. You are one of the kindest men." I finally looked at her when she said that. There was a smile on her face, and there were tears in her eyes. I didn't know what I had done…What had I done to make her start crying again?
"I know you like expensive things," she continued, laughing a little in spite of her tears. "You have a darling habit of trying to be intimidating when you are really very scared. I admit, that did work on me when we were first acquainted. But now I know you too well." She had not released my hand, and she squeezed it. "I know that when you care about something or someone, you care so deeply that it almost frightens you. So you try not to care for many things, because you are terrified of losing them."
"You make me sound ridiculous," I said weakly. "According to you, I'm afraid of most everything…"
"All people are," she said gently. "But this simply proves you are human, Erik. However, in spite of all of that, you are the bravest man I know." One of her hands released mine and came toward my face. I was startled, fearing she would remove my mask, but her hand simply settled on the cheek. Even through the leather, I could feel the warmth and softness of her hand. I allowed my eyes to slip close for just a moment, having a brief moment of insanity in which I wondered what it would feel like if her hand fell on my bare face.
"The very fact that you have accomplished so much with this proves your courage. The world has not been kind to you. I'm not so naïve as to ignore this fact. I feel as if I should apologize for all of the cruelty mankind has shown you…but it's not my place, and it wouldn't do anything. You haven't given up, Erik. I know should I have been shown a tenth of the cruelty that you have been given, I wouldn't have the courage to emerge ever again." Her fingers slid down my cheek, racing down to my chin and slipping off. She took my hand in both of hers again and raised it to her lips. I closed my eyes again when I felt the soft pressure of her lips against my knuckles.
I tried not to…I practically screamed at myself not to…but I simply couldn't stop myself. Three years of crazed longing finally broke me, and I indulged in my desire. I slipped off my mask, took her face in my hands, and kissed her. And she did not push me away or fight me. Her hands came and slid around my neck. I began to cry, my tears falling onto her cheeks. When I felt hot liquid on my hands, I knew that I was not the only one.
