The Girl Next Door
Stuart stared at Christine across the table in the pub.
"An opera?"
"Yeah. I know you're not really into that sort of thing, but it's really good." Christine said. She was pretty sure she could persuade him to go. She was in advertising, for crying out loud.
"Christine, I don't know anything about opera."
"Then this is your chance to learn. I'm telling you, this is an amazing cultural experience that you don't want to miss. Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to an opening night? And these are fantastic seats as well. It's a perfect opportunity."
He was weakening. She could tell. A sweet smile crossed her lips.
"Please, Stuart? I really want to share this with you…"
"…OK." He said. Christine grinned.
"You won't regret this!"
"No, but you might." He warned. "My boss is having some big party thing. He's invited everyone in the company. Formal wear, next Friday night and you're coming."
"That seems fair." Christine agreed.
"Great. Now, what do you want to drink?"
"Champagne!" Firmin announced to the office on Friday afternoon. Several people cheered and Sorelli smiled brightly.
"What's the occasion?"
"The Hawthorn Theatre sent several bottles to thank us for completing the Il Muto project." Firmin said. Christine smiled.
"That's generous."
"Extremely generous. My Destler sent his regards, particularly to you, Christine." He winked at her and Christine rolled her eyes. Meg whistled.
"Whoa, go Christine!"
"Oh, please. He's my neighbour and friend; he's only doing this to embarrass me." Christine insisted, using a stapler. Firmin poured her a glass of champagne.
"Well, thank him next time you see him."
"Of course." She said, accepting the glass. "I'll have this later; I want to finish packing my things."
Carlotta took a glass too.
"What a wonderful vintage. Father and I drank this at a dinner party last week." She said. Firmin smiled jovially.
"You'll have to excuse us less extravagant people. We don't drink like this every day."
"No, we're too busy earning a living." Christine muttered. Carlotta looked at her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, nothing. Just ignore me." Christine said pleasantly, putting things into a box. Firmin wasn't listening and Carlotta said snidely,
"Believe me, I'm trying."
"I couldn't possibly disagree. You are very trying." Christine replied, walking past to the printer. Carlotta glared after her, her grip tightening on the champagne glass.
"You are such a show off!" Christine said, appearing by the elevator. Erik looked down at her, momentarily surprised.
"I'm sorry?"
"Sending fancy champagne." She shook her head, smiling. "You're not getting a discount from the company, if that's what you were thinking!"
"Oh, damn. You caught me in my cunning plan." He said dryly. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Christine smiled at his sarcastic humour.
"It was a little much, don't you think?"
"I shall consider that opinion next time I decide to congratulate you on your work."
"Erik, you know I didn't mean it like that!"
A tiny smirk crossed his lips and Christine shook her head despairingly.
"I never know what to say around you! You always manage to twist it back on me."
"You set yourself up so beautifully for it though." They arrived at their floor and Christine looked up at him.
"Want to come in for coffee?"
"I don't-"
"It's Friday afternoon. You have the whole weekend to be reclusive, come and be sociable." He gave a nod and said,
"I'll put my things away and be over in a few minutes."
"Great."
She put the kettle on and quickly changed out of her work clothes. When Erik arrived she was opening her post, having picked it up from her box on the way in. They went into the kitchen, where she scanned the letter.
"Bill. How exciting." She muttered, pushing it under a paperweight before reaching for the second letter. Erik watched as her face flickered from expression to expression.
"Is everything alright?"
"Hmm. Just my solicitor." Christine said. "Isn't that depressing? Two letters and they're both formal."
"Not as depressing as getting no post at all."
"Good point."
She poured them both coffee and they went into the living room. The conversation immediately went to the opening of Il Muto, which was in a little over three weeks.
"I absolutely can't wait. I persuaded Stuart to come along, which was quite an achievement."
"He is not a fan of the opera?"
"Not particularly. But he agreed to go if I go to some work thing with him next Friday." Christine said, sipping at her coffee. Erik did not appear to be so impressed.
"Why force him to go if he doesn't want to?"
"Because he's my boyfriend and we should take an interest in each other's interests." Christine said firmly. "Besides, I'm sure he'll enjoy it once he's there. It's probably just the prospect of it he doesn't like."
She noticed his expression and smiled.
"Hey, not everyone can be as cultured as you."
"I don't claim to be cultured."
"No, but you are." She shifted her position so her feet were tucked under her. Erik went to the piano and sat, his hands wandering over the keys, caressing them. They often did this, talking whilst he played, although sometimes they simply sat in silence, listening to the striking music that he created. Christine became lost in a world of her own when she listened to him. There was something in the music that struck a chord within her. A bittersweet loneliness beneath the general sound of the song.
"Why are you so sad?"
He looked at her and his fingers paused, allowing the song to fade into silence.
"What?"
She hadn't realised that she'd said it out loud. A little embarrassed, she sat up straight, twisting her fingers.
"I… I don't know. I didn't mean to say that."
"Why did you?"
"I thought… this sounds stupid… I was just thinking about the music and when you play you seem… sad. Like you're trying to cover it up by playing something happy but…" She stopped, feeling awkward. Erik was frowning slightly and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. "I didn't mean to say it, it just came out."
"No. No, it's fine." He examined her face. "Very… perceptive of you."
"Are you going to answer the question?" She asked.
He lifted his hands from the piano.
"No."
"…OK." Christine said, having already guessed that would be his answer. Wanting to change the subjects, she went to stand by the piano. "I wish I could play as well as you."
"I get a lot more practice. And your hands are too small." He said, glancing at them. Christine looked at her hands. True, they were rather small. But she could still play.
"You look offended." Erik commented.
"I am. I can still play, even with little hands!"
"Yes, but the best players tend to have larger hands."
"Well, let's see yours then."
Obligingly, he held them up. Christine examined them. They were much bigger than hers, with long, graceful fingers. The thought of them flying elegantly over the keys was a beautiful one.
"I suppose it does make it easier to reach the keys." She admitted. Erik nodded.
"It does."
"Play something else?" He began to play Chopin. Christine leant on the piano lid, listening pleasurably. Erik watched her, rather curious as her eyes slid closed and a slight smile spread across her lips. He had rarely seen someone else who lost themselves so easily within a tune as he himself did. But she did, apparently.
"You sing?"
"Hmm?" Her eyes opened again. It was apparently a day for slippery words, for Erik hadn't intended to speak aloud.
"You mentioned once that you sing."
"Oh… I used to. I haven't in a long time." She said, rubbing at a dirt mark on the top of the piano until the spot gleamed along with the rest of the instrument.
"Why not?"
"Things got in the way. I just didn't have time for it anymore. I had university and… other things."
He sensed the reluctance to discuss said 'things' and decided not to question her further on them. Instead he asked,
"But you kept up playing the piano."
"Singing takes a lot more effort than playing the piano. Anyway, it's not as if anyone ever heard me sing, so no one really missed it."
"Why not?"
"Embarrassing story. I auditioned for the school musical and messed up. Badly. I just never…" She shrugged. "It was horrible. I sang so badly. I was nervous and everything went wrong and I just ran out without finishing the song."
"Which song was it?"
"Tonight from West Side Story." She laughed, but he sensed a sort of regret beneath the joviality of her tone. "Oh, it was dreadful…"
He began to play the song and Christine looked at him sharply.
"Not funny."
"I'm not trying to be. I want to hear you sing."
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because you're a professional musician and I haven't sung in about four years."
"Then I ask you as a friend to sing."
Christine glared at him. How mean, to twist their newfound friendship around like that! Yet there was a knowing glint in his eyes. She sighed.
"I haven't warmed up."
"Then do so." He led her through a basic warm up. She was clearly reluctant but Erik had never been anything if not stubborn. Once he felt she was capable of completing at least a few lines of the song, he began to play again. Christine squeezed her eyes shut.
Tonight
Tonight
It all began tonight
I saw you and the world went away
"Stop." He ordered. Christine glared at him.
"See? I told you it would be bad."
"It wasn't… bad. But you're not putting any effort into it." It was true. Even in those few lines he could recognise the talent that she must once have had. But it was rusty and poor now.
"Because I don't want to do it!"
He ignored her, standing and walking over to her. She folded her arms across her chest and he suddenly became very aware of how short she was. Not ridiculously so, but probably several inches below the average height. Petite, he decided was the best word. He unfolded her arms, placing them in a relaxed position and pressed a hand into her lower back, forcing her to stand straight.
"Lift your chin and breathe from here." He said, brushing his hand across the space between her ribs and her stomach. Christine looked resigned and he returned to the piano and began again. It was notably improved but lacked… passion.
Erik stood again and moved over to stand behind her. She was staring at the piano lid, pointedly ignoring him.
"Christine… you used to love music, didn't you?"
"I used to."
"Why?"
"Because… I could do it. It was something I was good at it."
"You could still be good. You just need to remember why you loved it so much." He said, talking quietly. Christine closed her eyes, resigned and unhappy.
"I can't."
"You can. Don't you remember, Christine? Don't you remember how it used to feel? If you loved music as much as you say you did then you must have known that feeling of power. Of freedom. Of knowing that you and you alone could bend the world, could grasp anything in the universe and twist it to your will and all because you could create something more beautiful than anything else in existence."
His voice had become, without his intention, low and almost seductive in tone.
"Don't you want to do that again?" He murmured. "Don't you want to sing again?"
There was a pause and then she made a tiny noise. Erik didn't know if it was of consent or rejection. It turned out to be neither because he saw a tear running down her cheek, quickly followed by another from the other eye. Frowning, he touched her shoulder tentatively and she shook out of her trance. Mortified, she wiped the drops from her face before swallowing hard.
"I… I think you'd better go." She whispered, her voice tight and pained. Erik stepped back at once.
"Christine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"No… no, I just… please, just go." She said, bowing her head. He turned and walked out, feeling puzzled, angry at himself and, to his utter surprise, concerned.
Christine watched him go before glancing at the piano. Instead of the comfort that it had once offered her, it now seemed mocking and cruel. She went into the study, determined to forget the entire incident.
She spent Saturday morning wandering around the apartment, cleaning and tidying, although it wasn't really very messy. But she had nothing else to do. She had finished her work and had nothing else until Monday, when she began her new job.
By midday she felt insane. Stuart had already said that he'd be busy for most of the day, but was free to meet her in the evening. But she couldn't face another six hours of solitude. She called Meg but was met by the machine announcing that the occupant was not available. Christine put the phone down, cursing Meg for unconsciously abandoning to her fate of madness.
You could always try playing music. Or better still, you could go and apologise to Erik for sending him away like that because you have irresolvable issues, a spiteful little voice in her mind hissed. Christine scowled.
She truly loathed and detested that voice.
Erik was scribbling away at a fresh piece of music when there was a tentative knock at his door. He immediately knew who it was, because he had not buzzed anyone in at the front door. He hesitated but knew that they would have to face each other eventually. He crossed to the door and opened it. Christine was standing in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously.
"Good afternoon." He said courteously, moving back to let in. She hovered in the doorway.
"I'm sorry to disturb you…"
"Not at all."
"I just wanted to… I don't know." She admitted, with a nervous laugh. It sounded a little shrill.
Erik watched her carefully as she composed herself. After a few moments she met his eyes.
"I want to apologise for yesterday. I shouldn't have told you to leave, it was rude."
"It was perfectly understandable."
"No. I was rude. I'm not sure why, I just… it made me feel a little emotional and you were the nearest target. It wasn't fair on you."
"Christine, you told me that you didn't want to sing and I should have listened. Forgive me; I can become a little irrational when it comes to music, especially when other people's feelings are involved."
They stood awkwardly in silence before Christine smiled.
"Listen to us, we're ridiculous!"
"I'll accept your apology if you accept mine." Erik offered. Christine nodded, with a smile.
"That seems fair." They shook hands and Erik said,
"Would you care for some tea or coffee?"
"Tea would be great."
Whilst the kettle boiled, Erik put his work away. Christine was admiring a painting on the wall.
"Who did this? It's beautiful." She asked. Erik glanced at the picture. It was of a scarlet rose lying on piano keys and was so perfectly drawn it could have been a photograph.
Erik closed his eyes…
"What do you think?" She said, holding the dripping paintbrush up. Erik peered over her shoulder.
"It's… what is it?"
"Erik, don't tease! You know perfectly well what it is!" She scolded him. Erik smiled.
"It's beautiful, of course. You couldn't produce anything that wasn't."
"I'll have to do a terrible one now, just to prove you wrong." She said absently, dabbing a little more paint onto the canvas.
"I don't know. I found it in a shop and it appealed." He lied. Christine nodded.
"I'll have to see if I can get hold of a copy, it's wonderful." She turned to look at him and smiled briefly. He went to make tea, feeling rather unsettled.
As they drank, Erik said,
"If you don't mind me saying so, you didn't sing badly last night."
"Oh?"
"Your voice is… rough around the edges. But you could probably sing very well if you practised."
"I don't have the time or money to take private lessons." Christine said. "Besides, what's the point if no one would ever hear me?"
"The point would be that you're not letting what is a potentially beautiful instrument go to waste." Erik said firmly. "I will give you a few voice lessons, if you would care to have them. And there would be no charge either."
"You are opening an opera in three weeks; you don't have time to mess around with me." Christine pointed out.
"I shall make time. It can be something to distract me from work."
"You're going to use music to distract you from music?" Christine said critically.
"Yes."
"…You're an odd man."
"It's been said before and will be said again." Erik said indifferently.
Christine looked at him in disbelief before sipping her tea, mulling the idea over. After a few moments of contemplative silence she looked at him.
"We'll try it for one lesson. Once you realise that I'm a lost cause, you'll regret the whole idea."
"You, Christine, are anything but a lost cause." Erik said smoothly.
Christine was beginning to regret the idea already.
Stuart arrived at about seven thirty. By this time, Christine was back in her apartment and sorting out something to wear for dinner, since they'd agreed to go out somewhere.
"How was your day?" She asked as she brushed her hair. Stuart grinned.
"Better for seeing you at the end of it."
"Don't be such a suck up."
"It was fine. Rather dull but you know. Conferences are never thrilling. What about you?"
For the briefest of moments Christine considered telling him that she would be spending Monday night in Erik Destler's apartment, having a singing lesson. But part of her felt that these two things, Stuart and her music, or even Stuart and Erik, belonged to different parts of her life.
"Oh, not much. Come on, I'm starving." She said, linking an arm through his and switching the light off.