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Erik really only sleeps a few nights each week, and when he does, I know better than to disturb him. Blinking often wakes him up, and once he's up, he can't go back to sleep.

The funniest thing about this is that Erik thinks he doesn't need sleep. I'll admit that he really does seem to have a higher tolerance for no sleep than other men, but I do not think he's really as nocturnal as he looks. He tells me he doesn't sleep for days, sometimes weeks… one time I found him in his study, sleeping over his books… and when he woke up, he hadn't even realized he'd been asleep, no matter what I said to him. He solemnly argued that he had been awake the whole time.

Tonight, he is tired—he should be tired, at least—but he is restless and moving around quite a bit. Every now and then, he releases an agitated sigh.

"Erik," I say softly, my eyes closed. "What do you think about Marianne coming over to meet you?"

He shifts over so he is staring at the ceiling; I can see his eyes sparkling in my head, and I know they are probably narrowed. "I think that my answer has not changed since the last time I gave it to you."

"But Marianne is my friend now." I protest. "I am comfortable to tell her about the mask so she won't be surprised, and then she can meet you."

"Why are you bringing this up now?" he demands. "What have I done?"

It provides a strong insight into Erik's life when he thinks that being exposed to new people is a punishment. "A few weeks ago, Mari asked to meet you." I reply quietly. "I told you that you would later, but ten you showed me the piano, so I don't think you were listening to me."

"You never said such a thing." he says brusquely, and I give a patient sigh. Erik was understandably sidetracked at the time, so I would forgive him with good grace.

"I would like you to think about it." I say one last time. "For me?"

"No." he answers. "Not for you. This isn't about you. It's about Erik, and you are not Erik. Do not force him. You cannot force Erik."

I say nothing else that night.

But I am still determined that he will meet my only friend and make a proper connection.

But the next day, he reacts in the same way. I faintly recall the last time we had a standing argument like this; it had been over the issue of moving to a new home. It had been accomplished, but at a terrible price…Erik had only given in because of the loss of my child, I was certain. He would not fall so easily this time.

"Do not act naive, Christine." he growls. "Do you think my mask will be the only thing that frightens your young friend? I am a frightening creature! People should be frightened of me, not friendly!"

"Do you want people to be frightened of you?" I ask patiently.

"Yes." he answers promptly.

I push him in the shoulder, and he turns to face me with genuine surprise, looking quite bewildered at the anger on my face. "How dare you? You complain how people hate you, but then you admit you want them to hate you?"

He advances on me, fury beginning to pour from him. "I did not say hate, you foolish girl, I said fear. Those who hate must not live in fear. And you, Christine! You fear me, do you not? And yet—you do not hate me, I do not think. You say you do not hate me, but you are frightened of me—" His voice becomes a gentle purr, wildly deceptive. "—now, I can see it in your eyes, you are frightened, because I am coming near to you, like so… What do you think your little friend would do, when I came towards her like this? Would she say, "Wonderful to meet you, Erik, do tell me about yourself?"? No, my little pet, she would run… rightly so, for you should…"

I stand my ground, refusing to show any emotion on my face until he is standing right next to me, and his cool breath flutters over my face. He is watching me closely, but I play his game, and stare him down.

"There." he says. "I must commend you on your self control, but Marianne will not be so welcoming, I can assure you."

I drop all pretenses. "Please—"

"Be quiet, woman!" he yells disjointedly, and disappears into the other room. I stood there, trying to decide, knowing I had to choose my battles carefully with Erik… before I turning on my heel and going into my room.

Perhaps I shouldn't have pushed him so… perhaps it was my fault, in the end.

But at that moment, I was only trying to help, and I knew Marianne would not judge him as other's had. I wanted him to be happy, and I wanted him to be social. His dreams were of a perfect couple like everyone else, no? But while he dreamed of it, he had trouble putting it into practice. I wanted to help him achieve it. I wanted to help.

On a more selfish note, I would hate it if a friend of mine constantly had an excuse to have her husband out of sight. I didn't want Marianne to think I was hiding something, or didn't trust her enough to have her meet him.

Besides, Marianne is nice and loquacious, and I think she could win Erik over if she just had the chance. I couldn't think of a single time where she seemed uncommonly sad or unhappy.

That is, until the next day when Mari shows up on my doorstep with red eyes and a crumpled letter in her hands.

"Mari!" I exclaim. "What ever is the matter?"

She clutches the paper to her chest for a moment. "I'm so sorry." she mumbles. "Oh, I will miss you… and you will miss me…" She takes a deep breath. "Karl's mother is ill. She has been sick for a long time, and the doctor's don't think she'll last must longer. Karl must go to her… He is her only living child now, and he doesn't want her to be alone. But they didn't get along very well, and I don't wish to send him to Norway on his own…"

"Of course, you must go with him." I agree fervently, and she looks up at me with troubled eyes.

"I do not want to go to Norway. I have met Karl's mother once, at our wedding, and I do not like the woman. She has been sick for such a long time, that she could have died years ago, and it wouldn't have been a surprise. I do not know anyone in Norway. I do not have family in Norway. I will not have friends in Norway." She shakes her head. "But I must go with my Karl. He needs me, and I need him. So we are leaving."

Like they always have been, my reactions usually do not overcome me in moments that shock me; they sink in later. So now all I can do is listen to her, and nod my head in agreement. "Yes, you must go. When are you—leaving?"

"Not until summer." Marianne says, looking down at her feet. "I made Karl agree to that. He wanted to leave as soon as spring begins, but I beat him down. His mother can last that long, and if she cannot, then better for us, I say."

"We have until summer, then." I say consolingly, and she nods a little, glancing around at the ground. I open my mouth to say more, to offer my condolences, to ask how Karl is doing, but she interrupts me quickly, as if she doesn't wish to speak of it anymore.

"The snow is nearly gone." she says chirpily. "Would you like to go on a picnic?"

I can tell she wants to spend time with me right now, and she needs me. After all, I am her only friend as she is surely mine. She waits outside while I hurry in to pack a few necessities for a supper snack.

I half expect Erik to be in the hallway, listening to the whole conversation, but he is nowhere to be found. I quickly write him a note to say I am going out with Marianne, and then pull a bit of food from the counter and push it in a little pink basket.

"Erik?" I call, just in case he is hiding away somewhere. "I'm going out to eat with Mari."

No reply.

"Erik?" I repeat. He must be out. He is quite possibly still angry with me. I drop the letter on the front table, where he will be sure to see it.

I take the basket, and leave.

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