September 15th 1892: Christine
"I suppose you're right about that," Erik muttered, yet I could sense the hidden objection in his voice.
"But?" I prompted.
"No ´but´," he said a little too hastily. "Not yet…"
I shook my head slowly, more than just slightly confused. When I had come here, I'd have never believed I'd have to persuade him to make love to me. I had been sure he'd be happy. Wasn't it bad enough that I didn't understand Raoul anymore? Why did Erik have to act strangely as well?
Of course I could understand his arguments. It had to be very hard for him to think about all those things he'd like to do with me, knowing his wishes would never come true. Yet now that I had given him the chance to fulfil one of his dreams, I couldn't comprehend why he agreed that reluctantly.
Tightening my embrace I whispered:
"Don't you remember the conversation we once had about understudies?". I didn't know why a discussion we had had more than ten years ago suddenly came to my mind again. Maybe it had something to do with being here in his home. Erik nodded slightly, throwing me a questioning glance. "I told you that I couldn't see why some people volunteered to become understudies, for they were hardly ever needed anyway," I reminded him. "And you said that even if they only performed a single scene instead of the regular singer, the feeling it gave them was worth the effort of learning all the lines and motions on stage. Of course you were right."
"So you want me to be the Vicomte's understudy then?" he asked with a wry smile.
"One could put it like that, yes," I replied. "You'll only have one performance, but the feeling will be worth it."
Regarding the silence that followed my statement as approval I started kissing him. At first he was completely passive, and I already suspected I had misinterpreted his behaviour. Yet after a few moments he began to return the kiss hesitantly, as if he couldn't believe his luck.
I wanted to take things slowly, to give him a few moments to get used to the thought that this time we wouldn't stop, but I couldn't keep the promise I had given myself. The feeling of his lips on mine was too good not to try and get more of it. Before long I deepened the kiss, while our hands wandered over our bodies, touching every part we could reach.
My desire to feel more of him soon overwhelmed me. As I brought my hands to his back and pushed them under his shirt, they encountered a pleasant coldness, which was a nice contrast to my flushed skin. He shivered under my touch.
"Sh… it's all right," I whispered, breaking the kiss for seconds before pressing my lips against his again. My hands roamed over his back, up to his shoulders and to the front. Fortunately his shirt was hanging loosely around his thin upper body. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to move them this freely.
It took me a while to realise that he was merely holding me. Unlike mine, his arms were motionless.
"What's the matter with you?" I asked, throwing him a glance full of concern. "Would you like me to show you what to do?" Taking my hands out from under his shirt I used them to lead his hands to the top of my dress, which was closed with a number of small buttons. "You can open them," I offered.
"No!" he muttered, pulling back his arms and wrapping them around his own body.
"But why not?" I wanted to know. When he still hadn't replied after a few moments, I thought about the answer myself. "Are you worried about disappointing me? I'm sure I'll like whatever you'll do..."
"It's not that," he murmured. He gave a deep sigh. "Oh Christine! I love you so much, but I can't do this with you. I am frightened, yes. I'm frightened that if we make love, I won't be able to let you go afterwards. I'll want to keep you with me, to have all of you – forever. And I know I can't have that."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, putting as much compassion as I could into those few words.
"You don't have to be sorry," he told me, glancing at me seriously. "After more than ten years without you it's about time that I get used to it." He tried a smile, but failed miserably. The tears in his eyes gave away what he was truly feeling. Although the sadness in my heart probably only was a fraction of what was going on inside him, it was enough to make me feel as if I'd burst into tears any moment myself.
Erik didn't deserve all that pain. But if he didn't want to take what little happiness I could offer him, what was I to do? After all, I couldn't force him to make love to me. I had to accept his refusal, even though the rejection was another load my heart had to carry. Inwardly I scolded myself not to be that selfish. This wasn't about me at the moment, but about him.
"Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?" I asked softly. Maybe a cup of hot tea or something similar could help him. After ten years he had surely developed certain methods of fighting sadness. For a fleeting moment I saw a sparkle of hope in his eyes.
"Could you stay here for the rest of the night?" he whispered. "I don't want to be alone."
"Of course," I replied readily. I didn't mention that I hadn't thought about leaving anyway. It was past midnight, and the chances of finding a coach were slim. Besides, I didn't want to come home, wake up Raoul and tell him that I hadn't done what he had asked me to. Such revelations could wait till morning.
Erik smiled at me, looking a little less sad than before.
"And where would you like me to sleep?" I wanted to know. "I suppose this is Philippe's bed now, so I could take the sofa in the living room, couldn't I?"
"No," he said, seizing my hand. "I want you to sleep here… with me… I mean, I… I've always dreamed about you falling asleep in my arms." It would have taken a much stronger person than myself to resist the pleading glance that followed his request. Moreover, I didn't want to resist. The idea of falling asleep in his arms was nice.
"I would like that very much," I told him. In my opinion it was an ideal solution, for it meant that I could do something for Erik without being unfaithful to my husband. It was as if the load on my heart had grown considerably lighter. For the first time in hours I dared relax a little. Almost instantly I realised how tired I was. Suppressing a yawn I asked:
"Can we go to bed right now?".
He nodded, smiling.
Reluctantly he let go of my hand, came to his feet and went to the door.
"I'll be back in a minute," he said, leaving the room.
I stood up as well and walked to my suitcase. Yet opening it I noticed something far from good: I had packed a new dress, stockings, undergarments, even another pair of shoes… but no nightdress. It seemed to have slipped my mind that I'd need to wear something between the lovemaking, which wouldn't take place now, and the morning.
My groan of frustration alerted Erik. He returned to the room, just closing the last button on his long black nightshirt.
"I forgot to bring a nightdress," I explained before he could ask. "But it's not that tragic. I guess I can leave on my dress."
"That won't be necessary," he gave back with a peculiar smile. "Just open the wardrobe."
Curiously I did what he had told me… and froze. Every single one of my dresses, skirts and blouses was hanging there neatly. I didn't dare open the drawers, but suspected they contained my undergarments.
"Erik… what is this?" I asked faintly.
"For every piece of clothing you bought from your seamstress or in a shop I got one made for storing it away here," he replied without hesitation. He didn't seem to be proud of it, yet not overly embarrassed either. "It made me feel closer to you."
"Oh," I made, not sure how to react. The obsessive part of his character wasn't something I enjoyed thinking about. "And… what do you do with all those clothes?"
"Nothing," he answered a little indignantly. "Well, almost nothing. Occasionally I need one of them. Do you remember that light blue dress with the white dots?"
I nodded. "Antoinette smeared mud all over it when she came home one day last autumn. But the next morning it was clean again. I was so pleased that Jacqueline had managed to get the stains outs." He merely smiled and jerked his head in the direction of the wardrobe. Then comprehension dawned on me. "You made her replace it."
"It was one of your favourite dresses at that time," he muttered, as if that explained everything.
This example of his thoughtfulness made me forget the uneasiness I had felt at first. Surely he only meant well. Quickly I choose a nightdress.
"Can I take this one?" I wanted to know.
"Basically they're your clothes," he answered. "I'm just keeping them for you. So you can take anything you like."
Giving him a grateful smile I vanished into the bathroom.
When I came back a few minutes later, he was already lying in bed. I extinguished the light and joined him under the blanket. Hesitantly he wrapped his arms around me. He apparently wasn't certain how far he could go. I snuggled up to him closely, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of lying next to him, separated by nothing but a few thin layers of clothing. Vaguely I wondered how he'd have reacted if I had repeated my request to make love to me, yet I didn't try it. That topic was finished.
"Good night, Erik," I muttered.
"Good night, Christine," he gave back, pressing his lips to my forehead in an almost chaste kiss. I still felt the soft touch of his body as I drifted off to sleep.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes again was the slightly unnerving absence of light. It was impossible to tell whether I had slept for hours or minutes, yet given my sleepiness the latter was more likely. In vain I tried to make out the numbers on the clock standing on the mantelpiece. Erik seemed to have felt the motion of my body, for he woke up as well.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a concerned whisper.
"Do you know how late it is?" I wanted to know.
He straightened up a little and peered at the clock. Thanks to his excellent eyes he could tell me the answer at once.
"It's half past nine," he muttered sleepily.