IV. Four Months
The moonlight was terribly bright, and Victor was having a hard time getting to sleep. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to pull the curtains shut. While the light was somewhat irritating, it was also quite beautiful.
Victoria seemed to be just as awake as he was. The two of them lay side by side in Victoria's bed, staring up at the bed canopy. Victor had his own room, of course, but it was only rarely that he actually used it. Both of them preferred sharing a room. Nice as it was, though, sharing did have its inconveniences. Since Victoria liked getting up much earlier than Victor did, he'd often wake up at the same time as her, and then stumble groggily to his own room to get another couple hours of sleep. Likewise Victor, on average, stayed up a lot later than Victoria--usually she'd just give up and go to bed, and eventually Victor would join her (which was why, Victor figured, the two of them wound up in Victoria's room so often). For all that, the system seemed to work well. Besides, nobody had to know that they shared a room, and that the separate sleeping quarters were mainly for show.
It was rather late, and Victor was awfully tired. But for whatever reason, he was having one of those nights where it was impossible to shut his brain off in order to sleep. From the way Victoria kept tugging and adjusting the blankets, occasionally sighing, he could tell that she was having the same problem.
"The moonlight is very pretty, isn't it?" Victoria said, her voice low. Victor nodded.
"Yes, it is...Rather bright, though," he replied. "Should we pull the curtains?"
"We could...but I don't really want to get up."
"I don't either, now that you mention it."
They were both speaking in a languid, sleepy sort of tone. Really, in Victor's opinion, evenings didn't get all that much better than this--just lying there next to Victoria, enjoying the closeness and the occasional sleepy conversation.
"You know what I read once?" Victor asked through a yawn. He adjusted his pillow and turned his head to look at Victoria.
"No, what did you read?"
"That sleeping in the moonlight can make you go mad."
"Really?"
"Well, that's what I read."
"Interesting...Is it just sleeping in the moonlight that makes you go mad, or can you go mad from just being in the moonlight?"
"I don't recall whether or not that was specified. All I remember was that the book said that sleeping in the moonlight could cause madness."
"Hmm."
"Yes. It's called 'moon madness.'"
"That makes sense," Victoria replied, a smile in her voice. Then, as if struck by an idea, she asked, "Do you suppose that's where the term 'lunatic' comes from?"
"How do you mean?"
"You know. 'Luna' means 'moon,' and 'atic' is...er..."
"Where old boxes are kept?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Um...you know, 'attic'...because...crazy people have lots of old belongings in their attics." Victoria finally turned her head. Given the bright moonlight coming through the window, Victor could plainly see that she was cocking her eyebrow at him.
"Crazy people keep more things in their attics than sane people?"
Victor shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "It seems likely though, doesn't it?"
"Whatever you say," Victoria said, turning again to stare up into the darkness. Victor did the same. After thinking about it a bit more, he said,
"I thought that 'lunatic' had something to do with loons."
"Why would you think that?"
"Well...'lunatic,' 'crazy as a loon'...Are loons particularly crazy?"
"I haven't any idea. I've never met a loon."
"Nor I. But you know of them?"
"Well, yes...If I didn't, I wouldn't know what you were talking about. Actually," Victoria said, pulling the covers closer around her, "I'm not sure what you're talking about anyway."
"Loons," Victor replied. "And whether or not they're a type of bird that's inclined toward insanity."
"Ah."
"Yes. How would you go about measuring how crazy a bird is, anyway?"
"Well, obviously one couldn't use the same standards as one does for a person."
"Obviously."
"Hmm...I really don't know, Victor."
A comfortable, pre-sleep sort of silence settled over them. Victor stared up into the darkness, and after a few moments his eyelids began to droop. Then Victoria said in a low voice,
"No wonder everyone thinks we're...odd. We are sort of odd." Victor opened his eyes and looked over at her. Victoria was looking at him through lidded eyes, apparently ready to fall asleep.
"Are we?" Victor asked. Victoria gave a little laugh.
"Well, look at us. We lie in bed together talking about whether or not loons are insane." She reached over and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.
"And yesterday afternoon," Victoria continued, "we spent two hours reading the dictionary together." Victor smiled.
"Only because we'd been arguing about what 'cumbersome' meant." He gave her hand a squeeze. "It just sort of...snowballed from there."
"And as it turned out, we were both right."
"Though my definition was the more widely accepted one," Victor couldn't help adding.
"Did you notice that we've been invited to the Glottbergs' anniversary party?" Victoria asked, changing the subject.
Victor had to stifle a yawn before he answered, "Yes, I saw the invitation on the hall table...Whose turn is it to be too ill to attend?"
For the past year or so, Victor and Victoria had been practically inundated with invitations to various functions. Most of those invitations were Victor's mother's doing--she very much wanted all of the Van Dorts to be seen mingling with the elite. Out of politeness and a desire to keep family peace, they'd always agreed to attend at first. Soon enough, though, the socializing had begun to wear on both of them. Victor was extremely glad that Victoria had turned out to be, like him, the type who preferred staying quite out of the way of large groups of people. Both of them, given the option, would spend quiet evenings with just one another at home rather than parade around for a society get-together.
However, neither of them liked to be rude. Or to say "no" all that often. Victor had toyed with the idea of writing "No thank you, we hate parties. And we're not too fond of you, either. Kindly lose our address and leave us alone. Sincerely Yours, Mr. and Mrs. Victor Van Dort" on every single R.S.V.P. card, but had given it up as much too impolite. Truthful and to the point, but terribly rude. So, Victor and Victoria had simply both began to get mysteriously ill every time a party was thrown. They took it in turns. Victoria usually opted for the vague yet ladylike "terribly tired, and a headache that simply won't go away," but Victor liked to be a bit more creative. He liked to choose the most horrible-sounding illnesses he could, even if he didn't know quite what they were. The only time Victoria minded was when it caused a village panic--such as when Victor had, without thinking, told everyone that he was suffering from a particularly nasty case of yellow fever. Since then, the new rule was that Victor run his excuse by Victoria for approval before sending it off.
"Mine, I think," Victoria said. "Remember? The last invitation we received was from the Glottbergs as well. You told them..." She had to stop for a moment to swallow her laughter, and the effort made her voice hitch a little as she continued, "You--you t-told them on the R.S.V.P. card, 'My apologies, my wife and I cannot attend. We both...both have just a touch of leprosy.'" Victoria couldn't help it anymore, and she started to laugh. "And then you added, 'but I'm sure we'll--'"
"'Sure we'll be perfectly fine by Monday,'" Victor finished with a laugh. "I remember that. I'm glad you caught me before I sent that one off."
"Tell me again what you thought leprosy was."
"Oh, Victoria..."
"No, really. I'd like to hear it again."
Victor cleared his throat quietly, blushing just a bit at the memory. "I was under the impression that leprosy was just a fancy name for stomach upset," he admitted. The mattress shook a little from Victoria's suppressed laughter.
"I still don't understand how you came up with that," she said affectionately, the laugh still very present in her voice.
"I'm not sure, but it made sense at the time. I suppose, to fully understand, you have to be in here," Victor replied, tapping the side of his head.
"I love you, Victor."
"I love you, too. Even when you laugh at me."
"Just imagine if you had sent off that excuse," Victoria said. "Not only would everyone think us odd, they'd..."
"Think we're diseased," Victor finished. He glanced over at Victoria again. As soon as they made eye contact, they couldn't help laughing quietly. It took a moment or two for them to collect themselves. When they finally managed to calm down a bit, Victor reached out and placed his hand on Victoria's now slightly rounded middle.
"You have very strange parents, little Van Dort," he said, giving Victoria's abdomen a pat. "Once you're here, we can be a trio of oddballs, instead of just a pair." Victoria smiled and placed her hand over Victor's.
"If this is being an oddball," she said, "I don't think I want to be normal."
It's very nice, being us, Victor found himself thinking. Turned on his side, he watched as Victoria closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep, her hand still on his. After a moment he realized that he had a smile on his face--and a rather dumb one at that. It really surprised Victor, how much he was looking forward to being someone's father. He'd expected to be absolutely terrified at the prospect of a family...but then again, that was how he'd felt about being married, as well. Being with Victoria, everything seemed different. Less intimidating.
Victor was almost asleep, with those comforting, sweet thoughts in mind, when he felt Victoria stir.
"Victor," she whispered. "Are you asleep yet?"
"No, I'm awake," Victor replied, his eyes closed. Actually, it came out sounding more like gnomes ache. Maybe he'd been closer to sleep than he thought. He couldn't quite get his eyes to open, and his concentration was slipping. Still, he heard Victoria say,
"I'd like to go somewhere. I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I'd really like to go and visit...Victor, are you really awake?"
"Mmph..."
"Victor?"
"Middle of the night, Victoria...too tired to go anywhere right now..." Through his sleepy haze, Victor heard Victoria laugh a little. He hadn't thought he'd said anything particularly funny...
"Never mind, darling. I'll tell you tomorrow," Victoria said, patting his hand. "Good night, darling."
"Night," Victor managed to mumble. And then he was out cold.
