Disclaimer: I do not own POTO, nor will I ever. Also, I do not own the phrase, "nor our truths unwavering," which I am borrowing from Loreena McKennitt's beautiful song, Samain Night.
Nor Our Truths Unwavering
They stood tensely in the lifeless entryway, facing each other. A fractured beam of light crept across the too-white walls and then disappeared, leaving the couple submerged in shadow. From a distance, they were two people in love, a frail, petite girl—almost so pale that you could lose her among the walls—and a handsome man with a noble countenance. The man was looking at the woman lovingly and the unsuspecting onlooker would think the image was an almost fine portrait of two young lovers but with a hint of something slightly awry. Maybe the fading light contributed to this feeling that hovered just beyond reach, or maybe the young woman's hollow, sad eyes.
Caught in a moment of daydream, Christine briefly imagined as this passive observer would. Raoul was speaking to her and, although she was not listening to his words, she knew what he was saying. Once again, he was gently questioning why she was so mournfully quiet, why she had shadows beneath her eyes, why they were engaged but had no marriage plans, why she no longer smiled with a radiance that made the sun seem dull and grey, why she still wandered about Raoul's estate so lost like a fading ghost, why….why, why, why.
She knew what was wrong with the portrait. It was her.
"Little Lotte," his voice was clear with some pure affection she could recognize but could not name. She began to listen to him again, searching for the answer. "You have lost much but we are together. We can spend the rest of our lives together doing all the things we love to do." Christine's face remained expressionless, prompting Raoul to fumble for some image that would illicit a response. He only wanted to see her smile. "Do you remember when we were little? How I loved to watch you dance in dresses with skirts that spiraled about you?"
Raoul's face glowed, as if he were cupping this golden memory to him to bathe in its warmth. Something within Christine stirred in a sad parody of Raoul's attempt to remind her of the happiness she surely must be feeling. Yet still she faltered on this image, a shade of a girl she had abandoned long ago. Those moments were beautiful but she did not want to return to them in reality or in memory.
He continued. "Or remember…"
She interrupted him suddenly in a trembling whisper she could hardly recognize as her own. "You do not know me."
She saw shock register in his auburn eyes. Hurt and pain clouded his face—that golden light gone and already forgotten. Christine's tiny frame had already been surrounded and swallowed by the same darkness long ago, yet to watch it descend on Raoul was infinitely more painful. Miserably, she looked away as though she had just failed at maintaining some desperate charade.
"Do not know you?" He reached out and took her hands. Christine withdrew them quickly almost before he could register how cold her skin was, as though her soul had been forever locked away in a shadowed, underground labyrinth bordering on an icy lake. Upon this thought, a sad phrase sang its way through Raoul's mind.
You've lost her.
He pushed it away immediately.
"Christine, you're trembling and your hands are cold. Please, just come with me to the parlor in front of the fire…" He had reached out to lead her gently by the arm but stopped when he saw her pleading expression. Wordlessly, she was asking him to end this or to start it…she wasn't sure which for neither of them knew where they were. But he recognized her request all the same.
"I do know you." Raoul momentarily cursed the uncertain waver in his voice but her eyes were dismantling his confidence. He cleared his throat and drew closer to her. "I've known you for so long. I knew you when you were little Lotte and nothing more. I knew you the years we were apart…I could still feel your spirit dancing through me, singing to me."
He continued blindly on, the words spilling from his lips as though crimson ink upon a manuscript. She couldn't be told through music as he knew she'd like—he didn't know the language—but he was certain she could be convinced yet. "Now I know you more than before. I know your fears; I know your hopes and desires. I know you fear marriage because you do not want to leave your previous life behind. I know I could never convince you to stop singing because it is you and to harness that would be to break all that is you. And…"
Here he paused. Christine's eyes of pansy blue—oh, how he wished he could hold that color and relish it forever!—were beginning to glimmer with tears. This is not where he intended to tread but there the path was, all the same. As he stepped onto it, he had the overwhelming sense that he was leaving his hope behind. "I also know you miss him. I know you believe you have lost someone who is dear to you and who gave you more than you ever gave in return."
"Raoul…"
"No." His desire for her silence made Christine close her eyes briefly. As a tear fell, she pressed her hands together tightly in an attempt to stop this forbidden moment, a conversation she knew would come but regretted all the same.
If only the past could be forgotten, if only…but he knows.
"I know. I can hear it even now. It's in your voice, the way you move, it's always in your eyes…you're still haunted by him. I only want to love you and to have you love me in return. That remains the only truth I have but now…neither of us can deny that you're still consumed by all that happened. You're still obsessed with, with…" He could barely speak the word. "…with your angel. And no matter what I do, I know I cannot stop it." Raoul took a shuddering breath. "It pains me, Christine. It pains me."
Christine began to reach out to Raoul but then stopped. She could not bear his pain but she could not deny the truths he had spoken. When had her misery over her angel become more honest than her love for her childhood sweetheart? "Yes…I suppose you do know me. I…" He could still hear her voice shimmering with tears and regret. "Oh, God, Raoul….I am so sorry." But still she did not touch him.
He felt like a lost child. "Will you leave me?"
"No." Her reply was simple yet her tone was resigned. "Not if you will still have me. I still…I do love you, Raoul."
Neither commented on what she did not say.
"I love you too, Christine. I want you to stay."
She nodded gently. "What do we do now?" Despite his words, despite it all, she was still as distant and untouchable as she had been since news of her angel'sdeath.
"I don't know." Finally, Raoul became choked on the tears that had been threatening since that unwanted thought.
You've lost her.
Now, as they once again stood staring helplessly at each other in that unbearable, fraught silence, it shifted into an aching harmony.
You cannot have her, never all of her.