Chapter Twenty - Seven
Dear Diary
During those three months, I felt busier not having an official occupation that has a normal nine-to-six (and working as an aid does not count as normal…that job is more like eight-to-eleven). Maybe it's because I didn't feel busy? Every day was different from the last except for my meals and exercise. I met up with different people from the orchestra for coffee and we talked about years past. Other times I would see a show Erik got me tickets for. Sometimes I even get days where I could just visit museums and relax. Sometimes the weather warmed up just enough for me to sit on a bench in a park in the sun and. It was nice. It was easy.
Meg was still handling my Twitter (thank god). She gave updates on random things I do that I never really thought would matter to anyone else. People keep responding saying how much they loved how "normal" I was and that they felt I was just like "one of them." Every now and then someone will say something mean. I got pretty caught up on one that said something like, " ChritineGallagher u freeloader. U open ur legs and get a fortune. Ur not like us."
I remember going to the person's page. It was a plain looking thirty-some year old white male with a short hair cut. He was over weight, wearing a white wife-beater and thin sunglasses to cover a smug look on his face. Meg was with me when I saw it. It had popped up right as she was reviewing what was going on with me. I got so angry. I can't remember the last time I was so angry. I called him some bad things, yelled, then sobbed. Meg told me nice things, that no one cared, that he was a "big ugly loser" and took the phone out of my hands before I could respond and tell him that Erik and I were not sleeping with each other!
Meg said it would be better to leave our personal time a mystery as it wasn't the rest of the world's business how close…or not close he and I are. She had a good point. It would look odd for me to publicly state that Erik and I weren't doing anything. The most anyone had ever seen us do was hook arms and the time he kissed me on the forehead at the inaugural ball. Maybe they would think he was gay? Maybe they think he has a secret life on the side? …or maybe they think we know how to act appropriate in public then I whore myself out at his call?
There was no winning in public opinion. It was exactly what I had signed up for. Speculation. Insults. Underhandedness.
Sometimes I'd ask Meg what I was doing. She always has the best things to say like, "You're paying my rent!" or "You taking fate on its best offer." Still… I don't know. I still thought about Raoul often. I'm really trying to deal with his passing. Poor Raoul. He wanted to do so much and got cut so little and there I was sitting on top of the political chain. What would he think of all of this? What would have happened if he were still alive? Would Erik still have asked me to marry him?
Erik is in Egypt when we had our first argument over video chat. He told me he had gotten me gifts from all the different places I can't pronounce. I kept telling him to stop. I finally got angry at him the day after I got that mean tweet. I told him that people would never believe anything more than me being a whore unless he stopped buying so many things for me.
God he didn't like when I said that. He didn't like that at all. He started asking so many questions, terrible questions… "Do you think that's what I'm after? Sex? Goddammit, Christine! Did I defile you somehow? Do I really make you feel trapped? Is it not normal for a betrothed to want to give gifts? Was buying you a car for your safety too much? Return it! Give the money I give you to pay rent to some silly organization! I'm following through on my end of the bargain. I don't give a damn what you do with that payment so long as you follow through with what you promised me!"
I…started crying. Like…really crying. Right there on camera. In retrospect, he had every right to get angry, I mean, he had never treated me poorly. Sure, he was not always the kindest person out there and we do disagree on things sometimes, but I could see why he was upset that I implied what I did. I…assume he is a straight male who does have interest in sex. I imagine that if he wanted someone to sleep with it wouldn't be hard for him to find someone and pay them well if needed…Sort of…I don't know. I have seen him with a lot of people and he really isn't that nice…but he does have a lot of money. God I don't know!
Anyway! I started crying and shut my computer on him. He called me back, I turn off my phone. I cried some more and walked back to my own apartment. I turned my phone back on and called Meg. She said she was already on her way over to my apartment, but when I asked her why, she didn't answer and said she'd be at my place in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes later, she was silently syncing up to my wifi on her computer and who should be the first thing to pop up but Erik?!
I blushed, I was already embarrassed, and I wanted to really scream at Meg. I stood up and tried to make my way to the bedroom where I could shut my door, but Erik called out and I stopped. Long story short, Meg explained to Erik what had happened, Erik had calmed down and offered to get the man's account eliminated, and I managed to stop crying. At some point, Meg even left us alone to talk and Erik and I ended up talking for a while about what I should and shouldn't have to tolerate. He was very, well, almost trepidatious, in the ending conversation. He was cautious. He was actually really…nice.
Friday March 16th 2018. That will be the date of the wedding…my wedding…to Erik… I had less than a year for him to figure out that this is not a good idea beforehand. Sort of. I don't know. He's still very stuck on it. At least once a week he'll ask me if I'm still serious about everything. I am. Really, I'm not a flake.
I remember I was dealing with Etsy on finalizing the date and the venue. She still can't figure out what's wrong with me for only thinking to invite Meg and my foster mother from Baltimore to the wedding. "A nice girl like you needs to have friends, or at least make it look like you do." She told me. I said we could invite the National Orchestra, but was informed that they would be playing instead. She didn't like the idea of me inviting what was to be "the help." I told her I would think of some people through gritted teeth. Besides, I was sure Erik had people he is required to invite. His fake friends can fill the seats, that's fine with me.
I remember bringing up the suggestion of the venue to Erik. I was actually sort of nervous to do it. It was the first big step of moving our wedding forward that I had taken since I agreed to it. I hadn't told Etsy about it because I was afraid that she would insult me for the idea (as she often does). I told Erik that I thought it might be nice to get married in one of the rooms of the Library Of Congress.. Erik smiled. He really smiled and paused before saying anything. I felt a little uncomfortable until he nodded and told me he would tell Etsy to make the booking.
Erik and I spoke about my issues with the guest list. I kept telling him that if it were up to me it would be less than ten people. He said that there would be people to invite that required an invitation. I knew he had plenty of business connections that he would want to cater to. He sent me a list of these people and it wound up to be somewhere around two hundred people (four hundred with plus ones). It took a while for me to come to the word of how I felt, but when I did, I admitted that it made me nervous to have so many people watching me.
"Why would you be nervous?" He asked with a heartless expression on his face. "You don't have to concoct some long vow, just say you agree to the terms."
What that mean man had said on Twitter was still floating around my mind, "What if they say I'm not telling the truth on everything? What if people know this is a hoax?"
Through gritted teeth he seethed, "This is anything but a hoax and as soon as you agree to it in front as large a crowd I can care to gather, the better."
For a week or so, I didn't hear anything from Erik. I got an email from Doug the following day saying that he would be too busy to call for the remainder of their time in Qatar. Things were really quiet that week. I didn't have any shows to see that weekend and Meg was in New York. Erik's house seemed much larger and lonely without his calls. I had been over to feed and be friendly with Roach and Simba every day, but those were the first evenings made a fire for myself and ordered Chinese (picked up prior to my arrival of course). I have to admit his internet is much better than mine. I would sometimes make calls form his house anyway, but I would always leave afterwards. He was always keen to remind me of my minimal internet plan when our video chatting became slow.
I found the quilt he had lent me during the snow storm. It was just as warm and the fire was nice. Still…it's much quieter, emptier when he wasn't there. The air was sort of stale and there was no music to fill the silence. His home looms without him. Even though I'm still not sure how excited I could ever be about the music lessons, I found that without them to look forward to, there was not much else to plan towards. I didn't want to admit that my activities revolved around him or anything but…well I don't know.
Oh god. I realize it now. That was the first amount of time I remember actually missing him. I was missing him! That's why I was so sad and bored and on edge while I hoped to hear from him! Wow…who would have thought, huh? Certainly not me…
Erik called just when I was getting the feeling that staying at his house was no longer a welcome idea. He was surprised to see me at his house and I felt a little funny as I sat next to the fire with his quilt around me. Embarrassed, I remember trying to shrug the quilt off, but he stopped me saying, "You look as I like to remembering you." He paused, "I am glad you picked up my call, Christine. I imagine you do not relate, but my days grow very long without our lessons to share."
Instead of having a lesson that night, we just talked. For once, he started to let me in on some of the situations that were stressful to him. No serious details were given, of course. While I'm sure both his home internet and the internet he uses abroad is well protected, talking one-to-one in a private place is the only true place of relief…like his house, I suppose. Anyway, it was kind of nice to hear him talk. Sure, it made me feel a bit silly for my small problems with Etsy and such, but I sort of felt like I was helpful to him for once…. I'm…not sure why I should care, but still, it was a nice change.
As promised, Erik was back in June. The day before I was sure to remove any personal items I had brought to his house while I was staying the nights. While we never talked about it, I know he knew I was staying there. Maybe not all the time, but most of the time. Still, I didn't want to lead on and after having traveled so much of my life, I was quick to pick up after myself and put everything back in its place. Everything but the quilt. That I left on the bed in the minimalist guest room I had made mine.
When his plane touched down at JFK International Airport, I was expected to be there. It was already getting sticky and humid as spring was nearly skipped the month prior and D.C. went head first into muggy summer temperatures. Meg went with me to pick out a simple pale blue sun dress. She also did my hair and makeup that day and sent out a few Tweets letting the world know that I was "so excited to see a special someone today." Gosh she sends out all kinds of things….I hope that I lived up to those expectations that day. I don't know.
She had to take another story that morning so I was off to the airport on my own. Even with my sunglasses and sunhat, people were beginning to notice me on the Metro. One woman smiled and whispered, "I bet you've missed him." I smiled back. To be honest, I didn't know what I was feeling. No. I knew. I was nervous. I hadn't eaten breakfast and all the emptiness in my stomach seemed to be swirling around like a tornado and the once gentle rocking of the metro car only made it worse. My hands were sweaty. My feet were numb in my short heels. I had to start breathing slowly with my mouth - similar to my beginner breath support training - just to keep whatever wasn't filling my stomach down where it belonged.
Upon arrival at the station, I was able to slip past enough people with cameras and to the high security gate. From there, I was checked for weapons in private rather than in front of a line, and lead to a waiting area where I was offered coffee and breakfast. I turned it down of course. I didn't want to try and hold anything down when I was having such trouble already. The elite waiting area was mostly empty. To think people like Erik use such areas all the time! I just felt really small in there.
The plane arrived and I was escorted to the tarmac to greet him at the stairs. Oh, how sweaty my hands were and how shaky my stance was! Why was I so nervous? Well…I hadn't seen him in three months… Part of my mind was wondering if he had changed somehow. Like, I can't really explain how that might be, but I felt it. What was worse were all the clicks of cameras out there. No huge crowds, but I imagine that a twenty second clip might have been shown on the major news networks that the Vice President was back in the USA. Oh, but why did they have to take pictures of me too?
As the modest sized private jet parked and turned off the engine, I was sure that I could have been pushed over if I heard one more click of a camera. The stairs lowered and my breath caught. A moment. Another beat of time. Then there was Erik pulling himself out of the cabin and into the daylight, the sun shining off his white tell-tale mask. He looked over the crowd harshly until his eyes fell on me.
That smile. His smile. For days I couldn't stop seeing it. Paying no more attention to the press, he dove down the stairs and made his way up to me. I stepped forward and we both stopped only inches apart from one another. He continued to smile and I looked down feeling embarrassed by his look. His hand came to my cheek and cupped it very lightly as he encouraged me to look back up at him. "Hi," I said shyly.
"Hello, Christine," He responded.
The press was closing in, asking questions on this and that and holding out their microphones and digital voice recorders. Erik lowered his hand to encase mine as he addressed the crowd. "You all are aware of the press conference regarding my travels tomorrow morning at ten. I am certain many of your questions will be answered then." He turned back to me, then back to the crowd, "Now if you will excuse us, we have catching up to do."
The laughter from the group made me blush further, but he had already started to lead me towards his SUV where Darius was waiting to drive us. Surprisingly - or maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised - Erik took me straight back to my apartment. He told me he was on the phone all evening while flying across the Atlantic and intended on resting for the day. Otherwise, he didn't speak much in the car and didn't look much to me either. Something sank in my stomach at the thought that his reaction to me at the airport must have been for show…he's a good actor…I suck. But for some reason, I heard those camera's keep clicking.
That night, voice lessons continued as if they had never ended. I was expected at his house at eight-thirty and he was there to greet me at the door as if I didn't have a key. To be honest, I was glad he was there to open the door. I would have felt weird just walking in with him being there. If anything, singing with him in person was so much easier to do. There was no delay in the video and I didn't have to work with the prerecorded accompaniment that he would make for me prior to our chats. Even further, was the feeling that the music was producing for me. I was beginning to feel a craving for it.
I remember that when Dad was alive, I loved music. Music, traveling, and my dad's stories were all I needed to be full…but that was before he died. After he died, well, I never saw myself needing music again. It hurt too much…far too much. I can't explain it. So I was empty, really empty, but I was okay enough like that. It helped me survive after the crooked system of fostering children threw me out when I turned eighteen. Poor Mrs. Valery. If she had ever known I left her to live in an old car she would never forgive herself. But I knew that I would be too much of a burden on her without some money to provide for me from the government.
Anyway, this craving I mentioned. See, I don't think you can know what you want until you've had it, then lost it, then have to get it back. That's what it's like with singing. I once was full of music and light. Then I was starved. But now I have the taste again and the knack to get that feeling of fullness back. And in those moments of sustained notes, where everything seems to sync up and I don't feel burdened by the sadness of the past, I feel okay, really okay. I guess it was for this reason that I didn't realize the lesson had lasted until midnight.
Erik was the one to admit that he had lost track of the time. I shrugged and told him I would head back home.
"Do you not like it here?" he asked suddenly. For a moment, I saw him as I did when he got of the plane. Instead of searching a crowd, he was searching my eyes, trying to find just what he was looking for. I looked away, but before I could answer he whispered, "Do you not like it here when I am here." It wasn't a question. Even quieter he said, "I saw the quilt out in the spare bedroom. You have stayed here, yes?"
I nodded.
"But you will not stay now."
I stumbled on my words, "I… I don't know. It's just not my home."
"It may as well be," he said quickly, "You have your own room and bathroom, plenty of space to yourself, far more than in that studio. I've given you whatever food you wanted. Is there something that I missed?"
The world seemed to spin around me as I shook my head and told him no.
He looked out past me and towards the window. "Perhaps if there were stars out…" he said in a sing-song like chant. "I could take you somewhere that the stars can be seen. You would like that?"
I nodded. He was acting, well, sort of desperate for some reason. I asked him if something was wrong. That was the first time he had ever mentioned a serious threat made against his life. In brief words, he mentioned that while negotiations had gone well enough on his trip, there were groups in the country that were making serious threats against himself and Walker. "I am not keen on letting you go far from me, Christine. When I told you I would be resting today, it was far from the truth. There were…issues that needed to be attended to. But Christine," he took my hand in his quickly, "My home is safer. For you. I can protect you here. I do not intend on leaving you for so long as I just have. I will not."
My feet moved back, "Am I…?" I couldn't finish my question. This was not part of the deal! Or was it? Oh god! I should have through things through! This wasn't just a wedding and a marriage, this was a very dangerous position just by associations! He shook his head and assured me that no threats had been made against me specifically, but he intended to give me security officials.
He seemed to ready my mind, "What you need to consider is that we have both been playing our parts rather well to the public. If you were to back out, I doubt if anyone would be convinced. The nation, perhaps the world, love you, Christine. I…" he faded off and for a moment, just a brief moment I thought…but no. "I cannot lose you now." He said quickly. "There would be no point. Our lives are too intertwined."
My anxiety was picking up and terrible situations were beginning to play in my head. What could happen to me? Death? Pain? What mattered to me? Meg. She mattered. And everyone knew it. Shelter mattered, too. And now, I guess, Erik mattered enough. Yes, he did and he does. I know that much. I'm learning myself through music again. That is good enough. His voice stopped my head from taking flight with all the terror that was seizing it.
"You will stay, yes?" He pressed lightly. "You can be out before anyone sees you tomorrow. No one needs to know or think anything, just stay."
I looked to him and something in the back of his stare reminded me of someone pleading. No, that couldn't be Erik. Erik would never…or…would he? No… I looked away from him quickly and said, "I think I'll take red wine tonight."
Sleep came quickly once the wine set in and I did not want to fall asleep by a dead fireplace as I had some nights before. It was strange being at the top of the stares, him looking up after me before I closed the door between us. There was not so much to say. I had questions, sure, but sleeping would help. I trusted sleep to not hurt me so much. "Goodnight, Christine." He called after me before I shut the door. I nodded sheepishly and closed up the crack.
So from there, I was living with Erik. It was not a part of the agreement and I was even ashamed to tell Meg that I would actually choose to live with him. Somehow she guessed it. She is far too good at reading me. I know she could have given me crap, but instead she giggled and quickly changed the subject to the wedding. Erik and I fell into a light routine. At night, I would head to bed around eleven, sometimes earlier. From there, I would stay in the spare bedroom, not wanting him to see me in nightwear…The idea just felt weird, you know? In the mornings, I would be out just as the sun was peeking up over the houses. From there, my body guard, Clara, would always been between five and ten feet within range.
I have to say, I like her. Erik chose Etsy to get on my nerves, but Clara is nice. She is nice to talk to but also pleasant to be quiet with. She was a navel seal before retiring for being a private guard. And she never seems to be judgement of people even though she can read emotions very well. I haven't seen her fight anyone yet, but the way she carries her self would make you believe she could. Meg likes her too. And Etsy is terrified of her. It's funny.
My days were spent learning languages, trying to take walks in peace, reviewing opera's, and planning the wedding. Sometimes my dinners would be spent with Erik, sometimes not. Our lessons were always at the same time. Fewer and fewer things stayed at my apartment. Within a few weeks time, all of my summer outfits had been moved over, a few of my knick knacks that I had from traveling with Dad, and my makeup and hair supplies. I would even go back to his house during the day to do laundry before he got home or watched TV using his cable and internet.
My mind would often drift to the future. This would be what living in his house would be like. To be honest…it didn't seem so bad. He lived on a quieter street and the mattress was unused and soft. No, it wasn't my apartment, but I always had it to go back to if I needed it. The lease was on a month to month by then so I had the choice to keep renewing it…and I did. The month was there. I figured it didn't hurt to have it there. Things were starting to seem like they just might be okay…until they weren't.
Thanks so much for all of my favorites/followers/reviewers last chapter :) Today is going to be a long stressful work day (yes I work Saturdays) and I've caught some kind of cold, but I wanted to be sure to review before going to sleep. If you can spare a second to pass a kind thought my way, I'd be grateful as always.
Not too many chapters left to Part II. Thanks for hoping on for the journey!