It had been two weeks since Christine had suddenly backed away from Erik's touch, and she hadn't been able to bring herself close to him since. He in turn had become distant and reserved towards her. Christine wondered where the gulf that separated them had come from. Had their whole marriage been this way? Then there were the betrayals. Erik had forbid her to leave their home, but Christine yearned for something beyond the eternal night that they lived in. Against his wishes, she ventured to the world above them. She had made arrangements with a carriage driver to take a ride through the city once every week. For the small amount of money that she had taken from Erik, the driver had agreed to provide her with a few hours of fresh air and freedom. She would wait until Erik fell asleep before carefully taking the boat across the lake and sneaking through the Opera house. She had been unsteady at first, but she soon was able to skillfully guide the boat across the murky water. She felt guilty for deceiving Erik, but he had left her no other alternative. When he had forbid her from leaving, there was something in his voice that had made her shiver.
Christine tightened her cloak around her shoulders. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear. Christine could see practically every star in the heavens. She stood in front of the Opera Populaire and waited for her carriage to arrive. Somewhere down the street a baby was crying, awaking its undoubtedly exhausted parents. Christine couldn't understand why, but something about that cry stirred a sadness in her soul. She suddenly felt very alone and empty. For some inexplicable reason, Christine had the deepest urge to cry. She took a deep breath and turned when she heard the approaching horse.
"Are you alright, Madame? You're very pale," the driver said with concern.
"I'm fine, Armand. Thank you," she replied hurriedly as she climbed into the back.
Christine was distracted from the sights that usually enthralled her by the thoughts that plagued her mind. She simply couldn't shake the emotions that the crying child had forced upon her. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the sound from echoing in her mind. Then something happened. It was so quick that Christine hardly noticed it. An image had flashed in her mind, but what was it? Christine's brow furrowed as she tried to bring it back. A man, in a rocking chair, holding a sleeping child. Christine caught herself smiling, truly smiling, for the first time in weeks. She was surprised that an image that she didn't even understand could warm her so. She was determined to ask Erik about it, but she must be careful in how she approached the subject. She simply couldn't allow him to know that she had left.
When Christine returned home, Erik was still fast asleep in the Louis-Philippe room. He had taken it as his own room, leaving Christine alone in their bedroom. She approached him apprehensively. She placed one, small hand on his shoulder and stirred him from his sleep.
"Erik, I need to speak with you."
"Of course. Shall we sit at the dining table?" he asked as he stood.
Erik sat across from her, noting the concern on her face. "What's wrong Christine?"
"I…well, there is still so much that I still don't understand," she began.
"Please, feel free to ask anything."
"You and I, were we, I mean, was it always like this?" she asked, looking down at her hands.
Erik let out a deep sigh. "We've never had what many consider to be a normal relationship. We're both very…unconventional people. But no, it wasn't always like this. There was a time when we were very close. To be honest, I'd never loved anyone or been loved before you entered my life."
Christine reached across the table and took Erik's two hands in her own. "Tell me about your life, Erik."
"I really don't think…"
"Please."
Erik began a tale of rejection and loneliness that brought Christine to tears. She could feel her heart breaking for him. She couldn't imagine the pain and suffering that he had experienced. As he spoke, Christine rose from her seat and approached him. She sat down beside him and reached her hands up to his face. Removing his mask she said, "You don't have to hide from me, Erik." She lovingly placed a hand on his deformed face.
Erik lowered his head, trying to hide his tears from Christine's sight. After a moment, he regained his composure. He removed Christine's hand from his face and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "Was there something else, my dear?"
Christine hesitated, unsure of whether she should tell Erik what she had seen. If he discovered what she'd done, he may become upset with her. Christine couldn't bear to cause him any more pain, but she was suffering as well. She had remembered nothing, knew nothing of her life save for what Erik had told her. If she truly remembered something that night, wouldn't Erik be happy for her? She simply had to know.
"Something happened to me tonight. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but I think I remembered something," she looked up hopefully at Erik.
"Go on," he replied gently.
"It's nothing spectacular; it was only a moment. There was a man, very handsome," she said slowly, her eyes shifting back and forth as she tried to describe the image in her mind. "He was sitting in a rocking chair holding a baby. They were both sleeping. It was so…peaceful. Do you know what it is?"
Erik's throat tightened and his limbs stiffened. In his foolish hopefulness he hadn't considered that she would remember her former life, with that boy. No, not a boy. A man. A man who had fathered Christine's child. He simply couldn't allow Christine to believe that this man existed. Their happiness depended on it.
"I'm afraid there is nothing I can tell you. I haven't the faintest idea what this could possibly be. I suspect that it is something from your imagination. An old dream perhaps," he said, turning away from her.
"I see," she replied dejectedly. Erik's answer had left her devastated. She gave him a weak smile before standing and walking somberly from the room. She closed her bedroom door before collapsing onto the bed. Christine hugged her pillow tightly to her chest and silently cried herself to sleep.