Chapter 6: Days Awakening

Erik was careful to leave Christine before she woke. It was still hours before dawn, and he imagined the streets above, cool and dark without a person in sight. He longed to go up to the surface, to walk those streets and feel the fresh air-to celebrate life and see something beautiful and natural after their remarkable night. But he didn't dare leave his beloved alone, even as she slept. He wondered if he would ever dare to leave her alone again.

Returning to his room, he turned to his imagination. Thoughts began to take shape of a grand house, with a garden and high walls in the quiet outskirts of the city. There was a willow tree on the edge of a pond, it's spidery branches disappearing beneath the surface. And on the water's face he saw the moon, full and white, as it cast its supernatural glow upon him. Perhaps there was a dog, something small and pretty to make Christine smile, playing on the veranda. It made him smile too, for it was never far from her side and when it bounded into sight, she would be close behind. And there! In the doorway, emerging from the light, she appeared. Resplendent in a silver dress, her skin shone opalescent. And in her eyes was the look he longed for most-the look he had finally seen last night. But now, there was no cloud over her mind, and the love and desire came from her heart.

Oh, he longed for that image, that life with her. Could he achieve it? He probably had enough capital, between the money he had taken from the managers and the wealth he accumulated abroad. And if he fell short-well, there is always money to be had for the resourceful. The land could be purchased, and he could draw the architectural plans himself. Builders were forever desperate for work, and a crew could be assembled that wouldn't ask too many questions. And if the walls were high enough, there would be no eyes to be curious or frightened. No eyes but hers. And hers would not be disturbed, not when they lived such a life.

Erik moved to his desk, and began to sketch the house. It was remarkably easy, almost as if it already existed and he was simply copying it onto paper. Every detail he pictured perfectly in his mind: the long glass-roofed gallery on the second floor, the elaborate curving iron work on the front door. He could even see the expression on the faces of the fat cherubs decorating the frieze. It was a great joy to put it on paper, and as he became increasingly absorbed in the drawing, he hummed joyfully, always building on the fantasy life in his head.

Some hours later, still at work, he was disturbed by a knock at the door. What could be wrong? Was Christine hurt? Panicking, he jumped quickly, tipping his chair over backwards and upsetting a bottle of ink onto his house, and rushed to the door, throwing it open. Christine was there, but she was not hurt or even upset, but stood smiling calmly and patiently.

"Erik, I have a song in my head," she said, placidly. "It is making me quite mad. Could you play it for me please?"

Whatever he had expected her response to be this morning after, it wasn't this. For the first time since the night her lover had died, she had dressed and fixed her hair, and stood speaking as if they were once more in the time before the incident with the scorpion.

Hesitating in his confusion, he answered, though his voice was laced with suspicion. "Yes, of course, my dear." And he held out a hand to lead her into his room where the great organ dominated the wall. "What is it that you think of?"

The piece was a trifle, some hackneyed ballad that had been popular last season. But as he played, Christine leaned against the instrument and smiled, swaying like a little girl to the simple music. The woman he had seen in her last night was gone, but so was the desperate madness. It was if nothing had changed from those first blissful days. But as natural as she appeared in the moment, the contrast between this lightheartedness and her former miserable stupor was too much for Erik to ignore, and it worried him deeply. What could make her change so suddenly? Surely it wasn't the events of the previous night. If she had any idea what had happened, he thought, she would certainly throw herself straight into the lake. But if not that, what could it be? Nothing else had changed for weeks.

And was her smile genuine, he wondered, or was she simply acting the part, trying to convince him or herself, perhaps, that things were fine? He could not fathom this behavior at all, though it filled him with an unusually strong sense of foreboding.

But what could he do? Whatever she was thinking, Christine seemed happy enough at present, and he certainly wouldn't oppose it. Even if she didn't truly feel content, he though that at least this activity was healthy, a start in the right direction. Perhaps she would continue to improve, and one day she would become the same girl that he fell in love with again. The same girl in the day, but the woman at night.

So he encouraged her jocular mood, and when he finished the piece she had requested, he began a second. Wanting to be light and humorous, and wishing to avoid anything that could remind Christine of their relationship or the past, he chose the first duet from "Orpheus in the Underworld". Poor Orpheus, so misunderstood by his wife, who can no longer tolerate his bombastic music! It seemed positively ridiculous when his music was the only thing Christine had ever actually enjoyed with him. Erik sang with deliberate melodrama, and Christine laughed quite delightedly when, with affected softness and verve, he sang Eurydice's part as well. The second song soon ended, and he continued through a few more selections, always trying to preserve some sense of absurdity, but eventually his playing began to seem forced, and he quit the organ.

A rather uncomfortable silence descended, but after a few awkward moments, Erik grabbed desperately at the first thing he could think of.

"Why don't you choose a book to read, Christine? I'm sure I have some pleasant stories in my collection that you might care for." He gestured to the door, and they went together into the drawing room. Christine was happy to oblige his suggestion, and spent some time perusing the selection, asking him what some were about, or if ones she had heard of were worth the time. It was a pleasant conversation, and after she finally selected one, she settled down in the armchair to read. She didn't go to her room and shut herself away! Maybe she wanted to be with him, in the same space, like a normal couple. Erik chose a book for himself but he did not read. His mind was filled again with happiness and the house of his imagination. The interior would be magnificent, a world on it's own so they would never need to leave. And upstairs, there would be no coffin, no dies irae on the wall hangings, no torture chambers, but one bedroom and one grand bed.

The day wore on as he fantasized, and eventually his thoughts were disrupted as Christine set down the book and stood.

"I'm rather hungry, Erik. Could we eat soon?"

"Of course, darling. Would you like to lie down while I prepare it? It's been a rather active day for you."

"No," she smiled, "I'm tired of resting. I'd rather help. If you don't mind."

Help, like a real wife, he thought, and he imagined brushing her hand as he passed her something, or catching the scent of her perfume as she moved close to him. And so together they left the drawing room and, talking and laughing like any ordinary couple, they made their supper. But as they sat down to eat, the fantasy dissolved.

"Don't forget my wine," she said pointedly. It seemed utterly unnatural after such a lovely day to hear her request for sedation. But Erik left the table nevertheless and prepared her draught as usual, though he cut the dose slightly, and silently returned to place it by her plate. She didn't seem to think anything of it, and cheerfully finished her meal before drinking it.

"Well, thank you for the songs," she said as she stood. "They were quite amusing," she laughed, and she covered her mouth as she yawned. "But I'm tired all of a sudden. I think I might lie down after all." She crossed the room, leaving him alone at the table, but before she went into her room, she turned and fidgeted nervously for a moment before saying, "I hope you have a good night, Erik." And then she was gone.

What did it mean? Was it a subtle invitation or a rejection? He cleared the table, brooding on what he should do, wondering if there was any hope for the future. But an hour later, when he entered her room to make sure all was well, she was not asleep as he had expected, but sitting up in bed. She watched him with glazed eyes, and a relaxed posture, once more the woman he so longed for, and when she spoke her voice was low and husky.

"I was waiting," she said with a pout. With utter relief, he ran to her side and kissed her passionately, renewing the exploration of the night before.