September 16th 1892: Raoul
Before I could think about what to say, I was already muttering explanations. My wife needed them, and she needed them quickly.
"Please don't think I like this any better than you, my dear!" I whispered. "But it was his condition to move in with you. If I hadn't agreed, he wouldn't have come to protect you at all. There was no other way…"
"Have you even tried to find another way?" she asked me, her accusing voice burning into my flesh like acid. "Or did you just say yes to everything because you're not concerned directly anyway?"
"How can you say that, Christine?" I wanted to know. "Of course I tried to find other ways, but he didn't even consider them for a moment. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he knew very well that he was in the better position."
To my surprise, her features grew a little softer. A slight smile appeared on her face.
"Erik is not an easy person to argue with, is he?" she said.
"One could put it like that, yes," I agreed, holding back a sigh of relief. I was unbelievably glad that she no longer blamed me for having given in. If there was someone who understood how difficult reasoning with that man was, it was her.
"I'm worried about what is in store for us," she admitted after a moment. "Did he tell you what he meant by ´taking over your role´?"
"Well, as far as I know he wants to have a family, if only for a while," I replied, trying to sound at least a little understanding, although I didn't feel like it. "So he'll eat with you, accompany you when you leave the house – that's safer for you anyway – play with the children, I guess, and…" I cleared my throat, but the words didn't come out. How could I say that he expected her to share her bed with him?
Yet it turned out that I didn't have to tell her anything. Apparently the appalled expression on my face spoke a very clear language.
"…and sleep with me at night," she finished my sentence. No trace of emotion revealed how she felt about it.
"Not sleep with you, but sleep in the same bed as you," I stressed. After all, it was a very important difference. "But yes, that's a part of what he wants. Believe me, I fought for having it changed, and still he insisted on it. You are the only person who can do anything about it."
"Me?" she asked in a small voice.
I nodded.
"If you tell him to leave the bedroom and sleep somewhere else in the house, he'll do it. That's what he promised me, and I think he was serious about it."
"And what if I… don't tell him to leave?" By now her voice had become to soft that it was barely audible. I couldn't help noticing how small she looked, how helpless, standing at the fireplace and letting her little fingers wander over the porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece.
"Then he'll sleep in your room," I answered gently. "I… well, I could understand if you would like him to do that. Maybe it would make you feel safer." I tried my best to appear selfless, as if the prospect of another man sleeping in my bed didn't bother me, as long as it was good for my wife. Yet even the attempt to smile hurt me.
"The nights are long," she muttered, seemingly without connection to what I had said. "Long and cold and lonely…"
"Exactly," I agreed. The word was like a piece of glass in my mouth, cutting into my lips. "And if it makes you feel less cold to have him in the bed with you…" I couldn't go on. I swallowed the words that were still in my mouth, feeling them slit my throat as they tumbled down. The blood was starting to run down… No, it wasn't blood. It were tears, tears running down my cheeks.
Hoping against hope Christine hadn't noticed them, I embraced her. I buried my face in her hair, desperately seeking the comfort of the familiar scent.
"You've got to do what's best for you," I whispered. "But… I'm so frightened of losing you!"
She didn't say anything, but wrapped her arms around me and held me close till my sobs became fewer and fewer.
It took me a while to calm down. Every time I felt better the thought that this could be the last embrace I'd share with her shot through my head and sent a fresh wave of tears down my cheeks. At last I regained my composure enough to loosen my grip on her and lifted my head.
"Why do you think lying next to Erik could make you lose me?" she asked softly. "It wouldn't be forever, just for a few nights."
"But you could get used to it," I argued. "His smell, the feeling of his body, the way he touches you… and when I come back, you might like him better than me."
"You weren't worried about that when you sent me to him," she reminded me. This time she didn't sound accusing, and still the sentence felt like a slap in the face. I should have known she'd start with that topic again.
"It's a different situation now," I tried to explain. "You'll spend very much time with him, hundreds of hours… much more than one night. Perhaps you'll like the feeling of having him as your… husband." There it was, another of the words which felt like glass.
"You are my husband," she said simply, brushing over my cheek with the back of her hand. "I couldn't ask for a better one. So why should I want to have somebody else?"
"You promise?" I whispered. "You promise that you won't forget me, even when you're lying in his arms?"
"I promise I won't forget you," she assured me. That wasn't exactly the answer I had wanted to hear. I'd have preferred ´I promise I won't lie in his arms.´. Yet I realised that was something I couldn't ask her to promise. No one knew how things would develop.
"Thank you," I breathed, running my hands through her hair. I noticed a large damp spot where my face had rested, but I didn't feel embarrassed for having cried like a little boy. I had just needed it, and she didn't seem to mind either.
I'd have liked to stand here for much longer, but a sideways glance told me there was no time for such things anymore. Gently I pulled myself out of the embrace.
"I should better begin to pack my belongings," I announced matter-of-factly. "It's nearly noon, and I'm going to leave at about two."
She nodded.
"Do you want me to help you?" she asked.
"Oh yes, please!" I exclaimed, giving her a boyish grin. I had never packed a suitcase alone and was afraid of forgetting half of what I'd need. Besides, I hoped the activity would give both of us the chance to return to normal after the emotional scene. As good as it was to talk about our feelings every now and then, it always left a strange taste in my mouth, as if I had done something wrong. Maybe it had to do with what my father had told me when I had been a boy: Men don't show emotions, especially not in front of women. Men try to have as few emotions as possible. I had never obeyed those rules, and still they were engraved in my mind.
I tried to chase away the sombre thoughts and dedicate my attention to a simple task for a change, one that didn't require the utmost caution with every step. We left the living room, agreeing that my wife would go to the bedroom and start taking clothes out of the wardrobe, while I would fetch the suitcases and meet her later. So I made my way to a small chamber in which we stowed away various object we didn't need too often.
It took me a few minutes to find the two large suitcases made of light brown leather under all the other things. Unfortunately the search didn't have the distracting effect I had expected. It only made me more aware of the fact that I'd have to leave. I thought back to the last time I had looked for suitcases here, though not for the same as today. It had been before Christine and I had gone on holiday. How happy I had been at that time, how certain that everything would be fine! It was good that I hadn't known how our situation would develop, or I might have considered not coming back at all.
When I had finally dragged the suitcases up the stairs, Christine had already put several piles of clothing onto the bed. I left the actual packing to her, for she could do it much better than me anyway. Leaning against the wall, I watched her every motion, trying to absorb as much as possible. After all, I wouldn't see her for a while and wanted to keep her image vivid on my mind.
My wife, however, seemed to be annoyed by the fact that I wasn't doing much. She sent me to the bathroom or downstairs a few times to fetch other things I'd need, and in the end we had probably done about the same amount of work.
"Thank you for helping me," I said when we were finished, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then I bent down and picked up the suitcases. "I'll carry those downstairs," I explained. "Sometimes coaches arrive early, and I don't want to hurry with lunch. If my luggage is already standing next to the door, I just have to take it and can leave."
I made a few steps in the direction of the door, but stopped as she called my name.
"Raoul? There's one more thing…" She sounded anxious and spoke so quickly that I could hardly understand her. Whatever it was she wanted to say, it was not pleasant.
"Yes, love?" I asked.
"What if… something does happen between Erik and me? Would you like me to tell you right away, in a letter, or - ?"
Continuing my way to the door I made a decision.
"I don't want to know it at all."