Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dear Diary,
July in the capital was rather quiet. The summer heat had become so intense that I no longer wanted to walk as much as I used to. This allowed me far more time to plan the wedding. If anything, at least it's all being taken care of. The sooner that happens, the sooner I don't have to deal with Etsy and her condescending remarks. Erik was smart on her. All her ideas are things that I hate so it actually makes me think what I would really want. As far as I know, she's following through with the plans I've come up with in spite of her.
Some days Erik would leave work very early. He would find me at his house or call me there. Once we were both in the same place, he would continue his work from home without explanation of why he left or why I needed to stay with him. Sometimes I thought I saw worry in his eyes when he got to the house first while I was out. Still, he never said anything specific. I was always being left to my own thoughts.
I was making strides in my lessons. It was incredible to think that when we first started it took me a week to gather my breathing structure again. Then another week to focus on two different notes rather than one alone. Now we work on a new song every day. It is my responsibility to learn the song in the morning, to research its story, origin, and composer, and have it ready that evening to be sculpted. In time I moved from lullabies to ballads, to Golden Age musicals, and only recently, opera.
As opera is the most difficult, I started to hear Erik's voice more and more as he many times would need to demonstrate singing a line or proper pronunciation. My knowledge of German and French was growing thanks to the Duolingo app, but my pronunciation often suffered. Italian was next, but we weren't working on any Italian operas just yet. Anyway, I found myself more intrigued with his voice, sometimes zoning out to listen to it. It had never occurred to me to request my own songs before (I didn't hold preference before), but as I heard his voice more and more in fragments, I eventually built up the courage to request a duet.
The idea seemed to baffle him. He asked why we would waste our time with his voice when it was meant to be focused on mine. I told him that it would be helpful to be able to listen and respond to someone as well as sing on my own. He weighed the idea in his head. The next day, an antique, but well-polished baby grand piano sat in the Study and I found myself very interested in the way his hands moved effortlessly up and down the keys as he practised the song we were to practice that evening. It was Mozart. The simple song between Pamina and Papageno in the Magic Flute. The idea of him playing Papageno was rather comical, but he said he chose the song as it would be easy, not entirely effective to his type.
Pamina's open was short and light. Papageno's ought to have been as such, but…well…Erik's voice was distracting and when it was time for us to sing together, he abruptly stopped the song with a blaring, "Christine! Sing!" Then we were singing together…wow…we just matched so well. It's hard to describe really, but we fit together. As we continued, I became more distracted, nearly rushing, as I wanted to hear him again. The second time our voices joined together, he left the piano and stared at me cynically. He started to reach out to me as he had at the beginning of our lessons to correct my posture. Before ever making contact with me I would move my shoulders back, or lift my chin. Something like that. How could he focus so much on me when he sounded the way he did when he sang?
By the next refrain he had picked up at the exact place, we were in the song. As he seemed to stop correcting me, my voice grew as he did in confidence. The effect was turning to be more helpful than I thought it would be, but by the time the song had ended, I felt as if his voice had been teaching me throughout as he sang. It's…hard to describe. "You will need to become used to singing with me, Christine. My voice may seem rather distracting now, but as yours grows, it will be your voice that will be the distraction." He sighed and continued, "Let us start from the beginning and go slower this time. I can't have you getting into the habit of rushing your part."
After that night, we began to either start or review a new duet every day. He was right. After a time, his voice, while beautiful and powerful as it was, became something I could look towards rather than completely losing myself to. I can't believe how strange all of this must sound, but his voice…it's something else. Once I told Meg that I was convinced if he introduced bills to the House in song that he would never have issues getting them passed. That same week I asked Erik if he ever used his voice to convince people to agree with what he wants at the capital.
"Every day," he replied, "There are so many simple-minded fools there waiting for something pretty or terrifying enough to tell them what to do. I am that source. Rather ghostly, isn't it?"
My face must have contorted and he questioned it.
"What about me?"
"Well I convinced you to take lessons with me in the first place, didn't I? However…" he smiled a little to himself then, "You have grown smart to my old tricks."
I huffed and spat, "Good!"
He laughed.
Just when I thought the threats had died down, a video was released to the public at 10:30 AM on every major news network. My memorization has grown since learning new songs daily. I only had to watch it once for it to be forever ingrained in my head.
"Good morning. Our organization will remain nameless right now. The United States has failed us. Our women are unprotected. Our children are taught lies in school. Our daily rights are threatened. After a rigged election, Richard Walker further betrayed us in choosing a Vice President who never received votes. We see it necessary that the only ones looking out for our well being are not in power. We are making a public threat against the lives of President Walker and Vice President Underwood. We will give them a week to spare both their lives. They will probably be will be selfish and refuse to step down, so it is asked for this nation to speak out against their leadership and stand with us. If nothing is to happen within the week, we will take whatever measures necessary to follow through on our promise. Let the minor destruction following this video be our last warning."
There were pictures pulled up on the screen during the time and the voice was distorted. The last two pictures to come up appeared to be a quick picture of what I later found out was the mansion of the Walkers in their home state followed by my basement home in Washington. I was at Erik's home at the time and just happened to have the Weather Channel on while I looked over a new song for that evening when I saw it. Just as it had ended and I saw a glimpse of my apartment, the video cut out and I heard a loud bang from hardly a mile away.
My house!
I ran toward the door, but Clara met me before I could go outside. "Clara! My home! I need to go to my home!" I screamed. She held me back with a powerful force. She then pulled me to the ground and calmly and clearly whispered instructions into my ear. Something about how someone would be in to collect my things and the cats, but how I needed to be taken to another location. She shielded my back and I was led to the back corner of the Study where she strategically pulled a series of books in an uneven pattern. A crack opened up and I was pushed inside and told to go down the stairs. I pleaded for her to get my bag from upstairs. A photo of my father was in it along with a locket he had given me for my twelfth birthday. With my apartment likely having been destroyed with whatever loud bang I had just heard, I couldn't risk losing my last pieces of him that were in my bag.
At first, she told me, no, but when I told her of what was inside, she shoved me behind the case, closed up the hatch and told me she would be back shortly. In no time at all, she had grabbed my bag and had both cats in a carrier. I wanted to hug her when I saw her, but she slung my bag over my shoulders and pulled my elbow along down a narrow spiral staircase. We walked on for a little while through a narrow passageway lit only by motion detecting lights that come on and went in short amounts of time. At last, we stopped and I jumped when the tunnel rattled and shook.
"It's the Metro." She said quietly once the tremors stopped. "We're halfway between Eastern Market and Potomac. We will wait here."
The sounds of Simba's adolescent cries rose up and I looked down to the carrier that was in Clara's hands. I asked her how long she thought we would be there and she said that her instructions were to wait there until she received word from Erik or Doug. She told me that this was always the plan in case anything happened and I was found at Erik's home. I hadn't been told out about because Erik didn't want me to worry. I know it wasn't full honesty on his part, but I'm glad I was left out of the plan. If it weren't for Clara, I would have run straight out the door and all the way to C Street….in hindsight, that would not have been smart…
More trains passed us and I realized my phone had been left at the house. Clara said it was better since I didn't have a secure signal. It wasn't like I would be able to reach anyone from down there anyway. I went into the carrier and tried to comfort the cats as much as I could think to do. I'm not much of a motherly figure, at least I don't think I am, so I don't know how much help I was to them. Still, it made me feel a little better than I could offer some comfort to something else as Clara was giving to me.
I'm not sure how long we were down there and I'm not sure how many trains passed. A muffled sound, like the scratching of a pipe, was heard. There were a series of clicks, spaces, and dings. Clara was alert and listening. The sound then went away and she stood up. I asked her what it was and she told me of a system where someone could tap into different parts of metal from one of the Metro stations and send messages to one another. It was an old way of communication and she said it was a signal that it would be safe to go back to Erik's house. She said she wasn't sure if that would be the plan or if they would need to escape through the Metro tunnels. Apparently, there were changes of clothes for us if we needed them to get lost in the crowds of tourists on our way around or out of the city.
Once back in the house, I was told Erik would be along shortly. While I waited, I turned the news back on. Reports flashed back between the White House, a voiced over video from that morning, a burning mansion that used to be the Walker's home, and lastly, my tiny abode. Flames were licking up from the basement in one shot. The next shot was live where firefighters were seen hosing water on the last of the smoke. I was thankful that the top two floors seemed salvageable. The house would need to be rebuilt, yes, but at least the owners could gather their belongings before they leave. I would not be so lucky. They later determined that it was something as simple as a pipe bomb soaked in gasoline that had been thrown in through the window. All easy materials to gather.
There wouldn't be much of my belongings to gather from there. Those fine dresses Erik had purchased for me. The gifts and dress that Raoul had given to me. A few things here and there from Meg and Mrs Valery. All gone. I'm so thankful for carrying what's left of Dad with me now. I don't take the locket off anymore. The only salvageable items left in the house were the jewels Erik had gifted me. The flames hadn't gotten hot enough to melt the silver and gold that kept them together.
After hours of briefing, Erik and Doug were in the doorway. Once hearing the door shut, I tore myself from the news where the President was giving a press release and ran into the hallway. Doug was shaking his head about something and both men looked very tired. In seeing me, Erik froze and I did the same, some five feet separating us. Doug seemed to register some kind of timidity between us and bowed out into the Den with Clara. Darius was outside. Erik and I were left.
We both spoke at once and had to stop. Each of us took a step forward and tried to read one another. Not much came of that until he held out his hand and I took it. He led me to the couch in the Study and began to tell me what was to happen. We were to stay in Washington and I was to stay at his house. From beyond us on the television, I could hear Walker saying he would not be threatened, that he, his family, and Erik and I were safe and would remain that way, and that the criminals would be caught.
"No matter what happens," Erik told me, "You will always be safe."
The week passed so very slowly. Some of the orchestra members also reached out and said they stood with us. Some of my old co-workers who were finding new jobs on the Hill also expressed their sympathies. Meg visited when she could and updated the twitter to let everyone know that I was okay. People were overall kind to me that week. They said they were sorry for the loss of my home and I hoped I would stay strong. There were a few mean people too. People who said how I was a gold digger and probably planned it so I wouldn't have to live "like the rest of them." Such things can really hurt. I wonder if people know how much such words can hurt when they say them?
Erik spent even more time at the house with me that week. Even without there being a fire going, we found ourselves sitting in front of it as if there were. As the end of the week was close, I asked him if he was afraid.
"Not for myself." He said simply, "They targeted you because they are positive of my weakness."
I looked down. I was a weakness?
"I thought…I thought I was just a tool for you to be Vice President…things weren't supposed to be like this. No one was supposed to care about me."
"This is my fault," he said, "No one should have paid any attention to you, you're right. But I started to pay attention, more attention I guess. And when I did, so did everyone else."
I asked him what he meant.
"How is it so clear to everyone else just how much you mean to me?"
My words left me…what was I supposed to say to that?
"I'm not asking for you to feel anything further than tolerance towards me," he continued, "But, despite my attempts to be rational with myself and keep such afflictions private, it has been noticed." My hands were wringing and my vision stay towards them until his hand came to cover and still them. "I swear to you that nothing will happen to you. And if that means that I need to stay alive to ensure that due to a lack of trust in anyone else, I will stay alive. I am sorry, Christine. This was never my capital intent."
Not knowing what to say in response, I pulled away and quietly told him goodnight.
This will be my last entry on the time between the inauguration and Erik's becoming President. I was told this past week that the reason we were kept safe and Walker was not was simple. Erik chose very few, but highly qualified people to surround him. Walker went with quantity. There was a Brutus in his service time. They knew where he would be and at what time. A single square of glass in the Oval Office had been replaced from bulletproof glass to regular the night before. The recording had been removed and the job had apparently been done by one guard in workman's clothing. They said the sniper could have been half a mile away. The job was that simple.
The wind was up that day and it moved the bullet a few inches. It hit Walker in the side, but they couldn't stop the bleeding from the inside. All the while, both myself and Erik were in the same practice room we first met in. There were no events going on that day. It was a Monday. We arrived at different times. Myself by foot and with a hat on my head. Him within a box truck that pulled up to the stage door. The Kennedy Center was more than willing to let us stay there in secret from everywhere else. Only a small number of people knew we were ever there.
It was strange being in the place we had met in. I touched the keys of the piano and attempted old simple songs I learned along my travels. Erik would sometimes sit with me and add further accompaniment. Doug delivered Chinese to us and the three of us, plus Darius and Clara all shared lunch. It was in the afternoon that I saw Erik's face lower, his hand went to his forehead, and he looked at me, the phone still in his hand.
"You need to be seen with me this day." Was all he said. "The motorcade will be in the parking garage shortly."
From there we were driven to Georgetown hospital. President Walker wasn't dead…yet.
END OF PART TWO
Thoughts?
