Christine is offered two rings. This is a submission for Potober, Day 12 - The Scorpion and the Grasshopper - Begging/choices/ring.
Rings
"What is the ring you are wearing?" Raoul asked, spreading his cloak on the macadam making up the rooftop floor. "Every time I see you now, you are wearing it."
How many times must she tell him she was never going to marry him…anyone? She told him when they first started meeting on the roof of the Opera House. But he insisted on ignoring the words. He was so dear and loving – his was a lovely fantasy never coming to be.
Erik was promised she would marry no one and wore his ring to prove her fealty. The ring in question was a simple gold band with a stone she believed to be a black diamond surrounded by tiny yellow diamonds. The ring was very Erik – elegant with a touch of frivolity and unique. So long as she wore his ring, she and Raoul would be safe.
He gave his word and she trusted him however much he might terrify her, then declare his love in the same breath. An unusual reciprocal love had developed during the time she spent with him. Partly vocal training and partly simply getting to know one another – reading and listening to him play his creations. Two lonely people finding comfort in one another's company. Not perfect, but nearly so.
He had furnished a small bedroom and bath for her adjacent to the music room and never presumed to enter. A beautifully carved armoire held day dresses and shoes and underthings – more than she ever had in her life of travelling with her father from town to town. The bathroom was stocked with toiletries and clean, white towels. There was a small tub with hot running water and an unusual chamber pot that wasn't a pot at all, but vessel with a seat on it. It was always clean, and she blushed wondering who kept it so pristine.
There was a small kitchen in the apartment and, what she presumed was Erik's bedroom. She managed to glance into it once when he was coming from the room. When her eyes settled on what looked to be a coffin, he glared at her, shutting the door firmly. "You have no need to know of my private chamber."
No, she did not – feeling safer after his comment. There would be no invitation into his room, suiting her just fine. Those mixed emotions again. A rush of warmth flooded her veins…the gentle ache in her groin mocked her denial. Admit it – you feel incredibly drawn to him physically as well as those other more acceptable feelings one experiences with a friend.
Although tall and extremely thin, he was virile. The tension in his sinewy muscles could be seen across his back and shoulders as he played the organ. Hands, extremely long and thin – too long and thin perhaps, but with beautiful fingers, possibly the most beautiful element of his body. Fingers always playing music even when there was no instrument around.
"It is for my protection – from the patrons."
"Are you going to marry him, then?" His eyes begged her to say no.
She bowed her head and shook it slightly. A very small smile curved her pink lips as she looked back up at him, "I doubt I'll marry anyone. But we can pretend that we are engaged."
"I don't believe that for a minute," he scoffed. "You are going to marry me, you shall see."
After the chandelier fell and the Opera House closed for reparations, she told Raoul that they could be secretly engaged.
The next time they met, he gave her a ring – so different from Erik's. It was so Raoul, a platinum band with a very large emerald cut diamond with a diamond baguette on either side. No doubt it was beautiful and very expensive, but so ordinary. She scolded herself for such condescending thoughts. The ring had to cost a fortune and Raoul was so sincere, but the ring was ordinary. Except for the size, there was nothing unique about it.
"I shall wear this ring on the chain with the cross my father gave me."
"At least try it on, just to check the fit for the time when you will wear it," Raoul pleaded. "It cannot match your beauty, but I only hoped to complement it."
Christine blushed and nodded. Erik's ring was carefully removed and tucked into the pocket of her blue dress. Then she placed the diamond on her finger and held it up. Sunlight bounced off the facets and the diamond sparkled, proud of its beauty, happy to be in the light – in its rightful place on the finger of a beloved person.
"Oh, Raoul, it is truly a wonderful ring, but much too grand for me."
"If I could give you the world I would – this ring is a mere token."
Christine giggled and got to her feet. The ring did make her feel a little giddy and special. "It is getting late and I must go. Madame Giry will be wondering where I have got to." She took off the long silver chain that held the crucifix and after removing the diamond from her finger, placed it on the chain and returned the chain to her neck. The ring cradled in her bodice out of sight.
Missing the weight on her finger, she reached into her pocket to retrieve Erik's ring. Nothing. Where could it be? The beating of her heart left her breathless. Standing up carefully, hoping the small jewel was tucked into a pleat in her skirt, revealed nothing. Every pocket and bit of lining was examined. "Oh, no," she cried. "Where could it be?"
"What?" Raoul saw the panic in her face and actions. "What is wrong?"
"Erik's ring is gone. I put it in my pocket and now it is gone." Pale green eyes were full of tears threatening to overflow. "We must find it. We must."
They both fell to their knees and began searching the floor of the roof. The sun was going down and any light that might have given them assistance in their search was swiftly fading.
"Oh, God," she cried. "We are done."
"Do not be silly, Christine." Raoul grasped her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Stop it, you are becoming hysterical."
"You do not understand, he will kill us both." Her eyes were pleading. "He told me that if I was not wearing the ring when next he saw me, he did not know what he might do."
"If he loves you as he says – no harm will come."
A figure dressed entirely in black, standing in the shadows watched the couple leave the rooftop. The wealthy nobleman with his arm wrapped tightly around the woman whose tears were fading with every step – returning to their lives. Satisfied they were gone, he walked to the place where they had been sitting. Lifting a torn piece of the sloppily spread tar, Erik retrieved the black diamond from the crack, slipping it onto his own little finger.
"Did you think I would not know?" He whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks glisten in the moon's light. "Oh, Christine."