I Hated Being Myself

by Ukara07

Christine Daae is the youngest of four, and the only girl. With both her parents dead, and her brothers gone, she flees. Set in America 1911.

7. This is Home, So to Speak

Hey all. Alright, I knwo that Erik is out of character, but it has to be this way for the storyline. His optimism and humor plays a key role in my story.

"Your train leaves in three hours, miss," the ticket man said.

"Thank you, sir." I took my ticket, bought the newspaper and found a place to sit undisturbed. I would, as the ticket man said, be waiting for three hours. My town was a quiet one and trains did not stop there often.

I did not remain undisturbed for long. While I was reading, rather peacefully and unbrokenly, the newspaper was magically snatched away from me.

"Excuse me, that is mine," I protested to the dark shadow in front of me.

The newspaper did not disappear magically or mysteriously. Erik was the culprit. He had followed me here.

"It is mine now, but yours only if I may sit next to you."

"Erik!"

"No."

"What?"

"Well, when a person is called by their name, he responds with a 'yes'. I am being different and I am saying no."

If I was not laughing hysterically at that, then who knows what I was doing.

"Well, may I sit?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have decided to be different, too," I announced through giggles.

"I refuse to stand here for the next three hours while we wait for your train, so you had better let me sit here or I will sit here without your permission."

"Help yourself. I do not own that seat."

"I was trying to be courteous."

"Thank you, but I was trying to be different."

"And if I were not trying to be different, then neither would you!"

"Will you just sit down!"

"My pleasure." He sat and opened the newspaper to read.

"That is mine, by the way," I reminded him. "You promised it would be given back to me if I let you sit down next to me, and I did. May I have it back?"

"No."

"Do not tell me you are trying to be different again."

"Well, now you are just being insolent for arguing with me, so now I think that I shall keep this." The grin on his face, the childish laughter in his eyes, the sarcastic yet cheerful tone in his voice made me happy he was here.

"I was not! I was trying to make a point that it was ridiculous to ask to sit next to me and I do not own that seat!"

"And you copied my individuality."

"Is that a crime?"

"No. I was just joking with you."

"All right."

"But you still may not have my newspaper."

"It is mine!"

"Not any longer."

"Erik!"

"Yes?"

"I am a poor person and I can barely afford a newspaper and you come along and steal mine. That is not very courteous, if you ask me."

"I was not trying to be courteous."

"But you were when you asked to sit next to me."

"That was then."

"You are mad."

"In the past month almost, you have told me that over and over again. I think I definitely shall keep my newspaper right here."

"Fine. It is only a newspaper. Why I was fighting over it with you is strange. Rather childish, if you asked me. I'll just sit here and bore myself to death and stare into the boring crowd while you read your precious newspaper."

"Crowds are not as boring as you think them to be."

"What makes you say that?"

"I was searching the crowd when I first saw you."

"And?"

"Here I am sitting next to you."

"And?"

"You are one of my closest friends now."

"You do not have any other friends?"

"Now why do you say that?"

"I do not think that I am much worth of your time. I am poor and you are rich and we have only met three weeks ago and…"

"You are the mad one here, Christine,"

"What?"

"You think that I judge people by how much money that they have?"

"Well…"

"Others do, I do not. Remember, I am different."

"I apologize."

"Good."

He sat up and let out a breath of air.

"Here is your newspaper." He handed it back to me.

"You can have it if you want it," I offered.

"I only took it to make you angry and blush."

"I was not blushing!"

"Yes, you were."

"You are most evil!"

"No, I am not. I am giving you your newspaper back, and I am going to take a walk while you read your paper."

At first I stopped to listen to what he was saying. "Oh, all right."

"Yes." He left me to my peace again, leaving his trunk with me to look after.

I went back to what I had been reading before my disturbance had arrived. Erik came back and began to read over my shoulder with me.

"Christine, you have a taste for everything?"

"I always read everything when I have the time."

"I am here, too. I did not come to be overridden by a newspaper."

"So, you are saying that I should stop reading and…"

"Pay more attention to me."

"All right." I lay the newspaper back onto my lap.

"Good."

"What would you like to do?"

He gave me a kiss.

"Was that it?"

"I just wanted to talk. Newspapers are incredibly boring."

"Almost as boring as staring into the crowd."

"Oh, Christine."

"Yes?"

"Nothing. You are just about as strange as I."

"If you say so."

"Glad to know that what I say counts."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He took my hand and sat back again. "At home, they only tease me."

"Erik, you are the youngest in your family. You should learn to expect that from older sisters and brothers. I have."

"Christine, are you a walking book of morals?"

"Me? No! Why would you think so?"

"You are always telling me facts of life."

"Does that make me whatever you said that you think I am?"

"A walking book of morals? Yes, to me, I think so."

"Odd."

"You, too, Christine."

"I think I shall read my newspaper now."

"You shall not!"

"I will."

"Why? It is an insult to me that you choose to entertain yourself with a newspaper and not me."

"Oh, all right! Just stop telling me what to do else wise!"

"When does the train leave again?"

"Three o'clock."

"Well then, we have some time until we leave here. Let us go for a walk."

"Who is 'we' you keep speaking of? You and I?"
"Yes."

"Where are you going?"

"Where you are going."

"My house?"

"Yes. I want to see where you live. I know, it's very rude of me to invite myself, but I know you do not mind." Erik stood. "I am going now. Do you care to come?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I do not feel like it at the moment. I am tired."

"No, you are not," he contradicted.

"Yes, I am."

"So what do you plan to do about it?"

"Sleep."

"Here, in the middle of a train station?"

"Yes."

"Have fun. I am going now."

I fell asleep after staring into the crowd for a while. When I woke, Erik was sitting next to me again, peering into my face. "You slept well for an hour, " he told me.

"And you simply sat and watched?"

"Most of the time, yes." He smiled.

I rose and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Almost three o'clock."

"I had better move. My train leaves soon."

"Your train?"

"Yes," I stated. "My train."

"You own it? I was under the impression that you were a very poor person."

"Erik!"

"You said your train was to leave. Do not yell at me," he pointed out. "You were being politically incorrect."

"I am leaving to the train that is going to take me to my home."

"Excellent, Christine."

"Good-bye, Erik."

"Good-bye, Christine."

I left to my train that I did not own but was going to use to get home. The trouble did not start until I found where my ticket said that my seat was. I could almost swear, even though that is wrong, that I had purchased a third class ticket and in my hand was a first class ticket in a private seat. I reached the private seat and sat, after checking three times again that I was in the correct seat. I still felt that something was not right.

Just as I closed the door and sat, Erik casually opened the door and sat next to me.

"You've done something, haven't you?" I asked right away without greeting him.

He nodded with confirmation. That rascal.

I stared vaguely at him only to find myself kissing him. It started as a simple kiss, but he decided to make it fancier by pulling me in rather closely to him and putting his arms around me. He did not let go of me for a while. I knew he was enjoying himself, able to be in control. He liked dominance, and never got any of it at work or at home, so he was now taking it all out on me.

Not as though I was not enjoying myself as well.

When the train started, neither of us moved. I did not want it to come to an end, and neither did Erik.

But it did. It had to. Because a few seconds after the train started to move, the door flew open, as did my eyes, and behind it was a girl in a white traveling dress and long blond hair. I was the one to notice, and I reluctantly pulled away from Erik as best as I could. From the look on his face, I knew that he did not know that the door had opened. I also knew that he knew that I saw something behind him and he should turn to look. He did, and gave the little girl a weak smile as his handsome face turned from its peach color to a bright pink. He squeezed my hand, telling me that he was all right.

"My name is Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz. Momma says I need ta make some friends on this train and everyone is too old. So I guess it's you two that'll have to do." The little girl who called herself Liz closed the door and climbed on the opposite bench to sit with her feet dangling.

Still too shocked to move, Erik sat as still as a teacup. I looked at him and surprisingly, he looked back, about to either start laughing or faint. So, the speaking was left to me.

"Hello, Liz. I am Christine and this," I pinched his hand, "is Erik." He winced and raised his other hand and waved with yet another weak smile.

"Are you two gonna get married?" Liz asked. The question was so startling, coming from such a young child, that Erik was pinned in his position again, unable to speak.

"Well," I gathered, "no…"

"What do you mean 'no?' How do you know?" Erik blurted out of nowhere. Now I was blown. The look in his eyes told me, clear as crystal, that he had no intention of leaving me.

He wanted to kiss me.

Oh, well, I thought, I do not blame him. We were interrupted rather rudely and abruptly.

"How old are you?" Liz asked.

Erik's eyes widened.

Now I wanted to kiss him, to let him know that it was all right, that Liz was just a little girl, but I could not. Not in front of Liz, anyway. As a makeshift, I squeezed Erik's hand to reassure him.

"We are in our twenties," I replied. I looked at Erik again to see if he approved of my saying that. He did not, because the next thing he did was to get up, open the door and say firmly, "Out," as he pointed that way.

"Erik!" I exclaimed. "Don't be rude."

He walked over to me and hastily whispered in my ear, "If anyone were being rude here, it is she! Do not make such implications!"

In all my three weeks of knowing him, I had never heard his whisper, and now the only thing that I could think of was that I loved how it sounded. Strange, really. Almost not comprehendible. He went too fast and his accent only made it harder and prettier. I wanted to ask him to do it again, and then kiss him.

But Liz….

"No, I am not going!" she objected stoutly.

"Where is your mother?" Erik demanded.

"On the train, obviously." She paused. "D'you know how ships move? There are millions of people involved…"

"I KNOW WHAT MAKES A SHIP MOVE!" Erik almost bellowed.

I did not like Erik's yell.

"How d'you know? Only ship people know."

"I am a deck officer. Now go."

"But Momma wants me to make new friends," Liz persisted.

"We are too old. Now go!" he was still pointing at the opened door.

"Can you come with me? Momma would want to see my new friends. 'Specially a couple. She likes couples."

"We are busy. Some other time."

"So you are getting married!"

"No…" he started, "…we are…" his tone was getting louder and angrier, "NOT! Now leave!"

Liz did not look the slightest bit frightened.

I suddenly remembered being frightened when Erik yelled at me as I crossed the bridge in an attempt to get away from the man I had thought was Raoul.

Erik sat next to me again, exasperated, and muttered, "I do not believe this! I am twenty-three and I am just about to die of heart failure!"

I was forced to stifle my giggles at that comment.

A look of eagerness to give more information came over the girl with a grin. "My neighbor's a woman now. She--"

"I do not wish to hear it!" Erik cried as he threw his hands to his ears. Then he got up, scooped Liz into his arms and put her outside before slamming the door shut. He sat down again, for the third time, to kiss me. I was relieved that Liz was gone. I had never seen such a child filled with such questions and curiosity and information that were so unneeded. Now that I have, I knew I did not want to be interrupted by her again.

Erik's kiss had become so long and engrossing that I knew it just might not end until the train stopped. His anger at the girl was now being taken out on me, and he kissed with all he had.

Once more, I heard the door crash open and before I could open my eyes, Erik had already pulled away from me and jumped up. Liz was there again, to my annoyance, with a young brown haired woman in a red dress, presumably Liz's mother.

We, Erik and I, were stone still once more and the lady introduced herself as Margaret, the mother of Liz. "So, you two are Elizabeth's new friends?"

"Yup," Liz answered for us.

"I would like to speak with you for a minute," Erik said to Liz's mother. They stepped out and Liz sat next to me.

"You go to school?"

"No, I have finished with that a long time ago." I sighed. "Liz, does your mother ever reprimand you?"

"Only when I say 'yup' and I talk too loud for her."

So, her mother did know that her daughter was an impolite rodent.

"I'll trade with you," Liz spoke suddenly. "You can be Momma's daughter and go to school as me and I'll be Erik's wife!"

"But we are not getting married. We have only known each other for three weeks."

Liz gasped with wide eyes. She reminded me somewhat of little Agatha, just a bit more nosy and loud.

"Then why were you kissing him?" she pondered in curiosity.

"Because we love each other," I told her. That sounded strange coming from my own mouth.

"Momma would say that it's improper."

"Well, you are allowed to kiss while you are not married. In fact, that is how it starts out…"

I realized that I was almost implying that at one point I would marry Erik.

"Let's not talk about Erik," I proposed.

"What do you think he's talking about with Momma?"

"Oh, I do not know," I lied. He was, without doubt, complaining that Margaret's daughter had rudely interrupted us and should be taught some good manners or she would never graduate from finishing school.

"I think he is just telling Momma that I opened your door without knocking and you were interrupted."

I had not thought that she had actually known that she should not have interrupted us and she had angered us.

"I am sorry that I interrupted you, Christine," Liz said solemnly, bowing her head. "I hope you'll forgive me."

She is just a girl, I told myself. "It is all right."

"I'll go now," she poutedly and ashamedly lowered herself off of the bench. Erik opened the door at the same time that Liz approached it.

"What is the matter with her?" he asked after she left and the door was closed again.

Privacy. We had that now.

"She said she is sorry she interrupted us. Now she looks like the world just ended because of her."

Erik seated himself for the fourth time. "It is all right, I hope you told her that."

"I did."

He put his arm around me. "Christine, were you and Liz talking about marrying me?"

"At one point."

"What did she say?"

"She said that we should switch lives so she would not have to go to school and she could marry you rather than I."

He laughed, and told me that he had been letting Margaret know that her daughter was being a nuisance, gently, and asked her to keep Liz from coming to disturb us again. He left out that we were kissing when Liz had thrown open the door.

"This is a long train ride," Erik said after we finished speaking of Liz.

"It should be two hours."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Really? You do not live that far from New York City, do you?"

"Would I lie?"

"Not really."

I moved closer to Erik. I felt like doing so. He was not bothered, obviously, and only wrapped his arm tighter and kissed my temple. "Are you tired?"

"A little."

"You may sleep if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. On my shoulder. I do not care." He took my hand with his free hand.

"All right."

"Tell me when you are asleep."

"Very funny."

When the train slowed to a stop, I woke up. Erik warned me that it was not our stop. But that door crashed open again, and Liz shouted, "We are stopping! We are stopping! Aren't you happy?"

Margaret instantly appeared behind her and pulled her away. "Yes, sweetheart, I am sure that Christine and Erik are aware of the train stopping. Let us go back to Grandfather, all right? I'm so sorry," she looked at us sheepishly and took Liz away.

"We have been lied to," Erik joked after I lifted my head.

"How?"

"Well, she said that she would keep Liz from coming here."

"Oh." I put my head back on his shoulder.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, of course not. The train did."

"Very well. It is four-thirty. What do you care to do?"

"I have no idea."

"You can snuggle up against me again and sleep." I could not see his face, but I knew he was smiling.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"Very much," he prided. After I listened to his respiration for a minute, he asked, "Christine, are you hungry?"

"Come to think of it, yes."

"Will you come to the dining car with me?"

"Of course."

He took my hand and we got something to eat as a small dinner-supper. When we came back to our private room, it was almost time for us to prepare to leave. We did not bother to sit; we simply prepared our things to leave. Once we were off of the train, I expected that I would feel like kissing the ground. This is home, Christine, I told myself. You did not come here for nothing.

I started to lead Erik to my house, but halfway there he said we should get a taxi. I said that I had never ridden in a car before, nor did I want to.

"But," he said, "it looks necessary."

"Have you ever ridden in a car before?" I asked.

"Well, no…" he admitted.

"Then how do you know what it is like?"

"Well…"

"That's enough." We walked straight on.

"I was just thinking that we could share a first time experience together."

I did not tell him when we were nearing my house. When we did, Raoul's mother shouted from her garden across the street, "Well, hello, Christine! Where have you been?"

I stopped and shouted back, "London!"

"My! See anything interesting?"

"No, not much." Erik frowned, his English pride going up.

"Raoul would be so happy that you are home!" she said as she stood from her sitting position.

"Is that your home?" Erik asked me as he pointed to my brown house.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you going to introduce me to your handsome friend?" Raoul's mother hollered.

"Yes!" I screamed. "This is Erik Deveroux, Mrs. McRion!" Erik waved. I lowered my voice and stated, "That is Adriana McRion, Raoul's mother."

"All right," Erik said as we waved and turned to walk up the front walk of my house. "Now, would you have any idea as to what she meant by saying that Raoul would be happy to see you?"

"No."

"I think he is here."

"For what reason?"

"I do not know."

The first thing that came to my mind was Raoul's response to my response to Meg's package. He came back to see if I am all right, I thought.

But I did not expect to open my front door to see Raoul behind it.

"Hello, Christine," he greeted me, smiling.

I dropped my trunk.

"You're surprised, there's no doubt." Raoul then looked at Erik. "Who's he?"

"Erik Deveroux," Erik replied.

"English?"

"Seventy-five percent, thank you."

"What's the other twenty-five?"

"German."

We started our way into my house, Erik ahead of me. I had hardly grabbed a breath of the air in my much missed home when Raoul, behind me closing the door, pulled on my arm gently. I put my trunk down and both Erik and I turned.

"Step aside," Raoul told Erik as the door closed. Then he examined me, front first, and then he ordered me to 'turn.' When I faced him again, he put his hand on my head, made a straight horizontal line from the top of my head to his neck and said, "Nope, you are as short as can be, still," with a face as straight as a pen.

I gave a sigh of exasperation and showed Erik to my room. Once in, he asked, "Where may I sleep?"

"You are spending the night?"

"The week, if you will."

"Oh, Erik, why don't you tell me these things?"

"I wished to surprise you."

"If anything were to be a surprise," I said as I dropped the volume of my voice to a whisper, "it would be Raoul's appearance."

"Talking about me behind my back, Christine?" Raoul asked from the doorway of my bedroom. "Tsk tsk. So, anyway, what's he doing here?"

"Erik shall stay the week here," I reported as I set my trunk on the floor near my bed. Erik did the same with his smaller suitcase and followed me out. Raoul, still confused, tagged along behind Erik into the kitchen.

"So, who is Erik? An acquaintance? A beau? A husband?"

At the word 'husband' both Erik and I had strawberried faces.

"He is my friend," I fixed as I opened the beige cabinets and pulled out various food items. When Erik asked if I needed assistance, I told him to sit at the counter.

"Raoul, why are you here?" I asked.

"My father is ill."

I paused, and then said, "How many people do you know of who live in their empty neighbor's house on a visit to see their sick father, Erik?"

"None that I know of, Christine," Erik responded. "Because I see someone outside in the backyard at the moment." His stare was directed to the back doors.

I dropped the rag I was using to wipe the counters with and rushed to the door. Thomas was there, looking right at me. I turned to Raoul in anger and darkly asserted with anger, "You did not tell me that Thomas was here."

Raoul shrugged. "You didn't ask."

Thomas came in and gaped openly at me. "What is she doing here?" he demanded authoritatively, clearly. As though… I did not belong. "And who is he?"

"I live here," I reminded him.

"Since when?"

"Since I was born."

"Oh, and where were you?'

"Vacation."

"Where vacation?"

"London."

"Oh, and where did you get the money? And who is he? You picked up a husband already?" My ears burned while Erik put his head on the counter. He lifted it and said, "I am Erik Deveroux."

"English?"

"Yes," Erik replied.

"Seventy-five percent English, twenty-five percent German, too," Raoul added knowingly. "Hey, do you speak German?"

"I know how to say shut up."

"And the money?" Thomas continued.

"I took what I saw."

"And I am not her husband," Erik said softly.

"Then what are you?" asked Thomas.

"Her friend."

I then brought up the subject on where everyone was sleeping. Raoul had taken Michael's room and Thomas his own. I would take mine, too, but they refused to let Erik stay in James' old room.

"He can't. His things are all there," Thomas said.

"So he had hardly a thing with him at the present?"

"Nope. James is a light traveler," Thomas explained.

"Traveler, you say. He came back here since he left, you think?"

"Well, before we did, yes," Raoul said.

"No! He did not!" I opposed. "Not while I was here."

"When did you leave?" Raoul leaned on the counter.

"The first of February."

"That's actually rather coincidental, Christine," Thomas said. "We came back on the second." The gleaming of the sunlight behind him that came through the door made him glow.

"And James has not been here?"

"No," the two said in unison.

"Then why don't we throw his things out?" I requested. "It is obvious he shall not be coming back, since he hates me so, being that he shot me—"

"HE WHAT!" Thomas yelled in the midst of the silent conversation, while Raoul exclaimed, "With a gun?'

"Why, yes, but…" the words came out jumbled like woodblocks.

"When? Why? Where?" Raoul questioned loudly.

"In London…. Sometime in mid-February…after the ship voyage."

"The sixteenth to be exact," Erik added tensely

To everyone's surprise, Thomas lurched towards me and slapped my face, the force and unexpectedness so hard it pushed me to the ground. As I fell, I caught glimpse of Raoul's and Erik's eyes widen in disbelief. I stayed on the floor, in pain. Erik got up off his stool and helped me up carefully.

"Don't lie to me, Christine," Thomas ordered plainly.

"It's true," I said. Thomas folded his arms across his chest in denial. Raoul looked at me, then Erik, expecting something to be said.

"It's true," I repeated, with much more emphasis then the first time. Erik's face was shocked with sorrow and regret as to what he just saw. Gathering some breath, he opened his mouth and said, "I think you should believe her because I saw her fall and I heard the gunshot. I took her to my home and my mother cleaned her up."

Thomas still looked unconvinced. He turned his displeased glare from me to Erik, then me again. "Get out of my face," he commanded. I ran to my room on the verge of tears. Without turning, I heard Erik's running footsteps on the bare wooden floor. After I slammed my bedroom door and began crying onto my bed, the door opened, closed again, and Erik put his arms around me. I felt his handkerchief near my face. I took it and used it.

"Shall I leave?" Erik asked. "Back in New York I can—"

"No, I beg you… stay," I said softly, hiding my face.

"But I'll be disruptive to your… family."

"What family!" I sat up in a flash, spitting out the word 'family' like I did not know it. "I do not see any family. My parents are dead; my oldest brother married my best friend and they left me; my next oldest brother shot me; and the last one thinks I am a liar. What else do you mean by saying that you would be disruptive to my family? Unless you have a way to Heaven where you can disrupt my mother and father, well…"

"Oh, shut up!"

My mouth shut in an instant. Shame overcame me, having just used sarcasm with Erik.

"I mean," he rushed on reassuringly, "well, I did not quite mean to cut you off so rudely. And yes, I will stay, I promise. The last thing I need is to go home knowing you are two weeks away unhappy." He hugged me tighter. I buried my face in his silky tie.

"I hate Thomas," I blurted out.

"If you must say so, fine, Christine, but I do not think that you do." He kissed the top of my head.

"I hate him still," I confirmed.

"I will not be the judge of that," he said as he lifted my head so that I was looking at his face.

Suddenly Thomas called through the door, "Don't just sit there moping, go make supper!"

"But I just got home!" I wanted to yell back. However, Thomas was gone to the kitchen or outside.

"I told you so. Thomas is a person worth hating in my book," I said.

"Are you coming, Shorty?" Raoul called. I got up and brushed myself off. Erik did the same.

"Duty calls," I said as I walked out. In the hallway Erik came up from behind me and snatched his handkerchief out of my hand, whispering, "I'll be taking that!" I was forced to smile nervously.

After I made the supper, I walked into the dining room with the food. Erik was standing, but Raoul and Thomas were seated. Thomas was at the head of the table, in Father's chair. I could have dropped what I was holding, but for some reason my shock turned to anger, and I grasped the pots' handles, wishing they were Thomas' neck.

"Wh-what are you doing…" I pondered when I managed to open my mouth.

"Sitting, waiting for you to serve supper."

"In Father's seat," I exhaled, nearly breathlessly.

He knew I was furious.

He did not move.

After I assured him to sit, Erik stared down at his plate in resent. I knew he was upset for having to meet my 'family' like this. I chose not to throw a fit, for his sake. Hurt, I served everyone and sat in the chair I had sat in for twenty-one years' worth of breakfasts, dinners and suppers. It felt good to be in this chair.

Supper was silently eaten. Afterwards, Raoul and Thomas got up and walked to their rooms to get ready for bed. I stared at them as they walked away.

They left the work for me. The table, littered with plates and food, was elsewhere deserted, had Erik not begun to pick up the plates.

"They treat you like Cinderella," he mumbled as he helped me clean the dishes.

I let some time to pass by, listening to the sound of running water and dishes clanking, noticing that Erik had rolled up his sleeves for this job. I had never seen anywhere past his wrists before. "Do Eve and your mother do all of the housework?"

"No, well, we had maids but they quit in early January. After a week of having to do everything ourselves, Father got so aggravated he took Edward, Marcie and Annie to France."

"Are any of them married?"

"No." He chuckled. "Eve is a stubborn brat. She refuses marriage as anyone would refuse a hammer in the head; so do not mention it to her. Marcie is just the same. Eve brainwashed her." He gave me a sly grin. "They are the largest feminists ever, and all the men are afraid of marrying someone so against men. Eve is a bit notorious. And Annie, well, she is rather old."

"No one wants her, either?"

"No one wants her, either."

Raoul walked in, then. "Hey, no lollygagging. You got to be quick with your work."

I very badly wanted to throw the plate I was holding in my hand at him.

"Well, don't just stand there," Raoul continued. "It's after eight, you know. Short people need their rest, too."

I know that the ending was a bit short, but it needed to be cut off here.

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