I did not see Christine until dinner. I stayed in my room, pretending to sketch, pretending to play, staring at the goddamn coffin, staring out the window at nothing. All I could think was, What's going to happen? And since I didn't know, since it wasn't in my hands…my mind just kept running round and round on the same little track. What's going to happen, what's going to happen, what's going to happen? I wept repeatedly, realizing that I couldn't stop thinking about it, but I couldn't think about anything else.
Dinner was awful. We both looked like someone had died, Reza had no idea what was wrong, and the conversation was forced and desperately cheerful. Christine wouldn't look at me, and I felt uglier than ever before. I drank half again as much wine at dinner as I normally would have; she took more than her usual as well. I guess we were both thinking that at least we'd be able to pass out and get some sleep tonight.
When she left the table, I supposed I would have to go into the parlor and try to make some conversation with Reza. It was unbearable looking at him; the love and concern he felt for us both was etched on his face and I had no idea what I would tell him. Yes, I did. I would tell him nothing.
But first, I stepped to the bottom of the staircase and called to Christine. She paused, three steps from the top.
"Yes?"
I walked up to her. "Christine, could we start again? Please?"
"Not yet," she replied immediately. I drew a sobbing breath.
"I was prepared in case you said something like that; honestly, I wasn't going to get upset. I'm just…Christine, punish me, won't you? Anything, please, but let it be done with! I can't take this," I confessed.
"Erik, I'm sorry," she sympathized. "I can imagine how alone you must feel, but this will not happen on your terms, or according to your schedule. Even I can't tell you how long I will feel the way I do right now."
"How do you feel right now, Christine?"
"I feel hollow inside. I feel abandoned, because the person I turn to when I'm sad can't comfort me this time. I feel betrayed by the last person on earth that I ever imagined would betray me. I feel terrified, because even though you tell me she's insane…I understand perfectly why you disturb her so. I never dreamed I would have to feel jealousy over you…and I'm infuriated with you for making me feel it!" she wiped her tears away edgily. "Go away."
I felt too weak to move, but Christine turned away from me decisively. I understood; she couldn't be concerned with my pathetic importuning. So I went down to the parlor, where the daroga all but pounced on me.
"Erik! Erik…what is it? What is wrong?"
"I can't say anything, Reza," my lip was quivering. I felt like a fool and a baby. I was so tired of crying…
"Erik…" he clasped my hand between his.
"I've made a terrible mistake, but I can't talk about it. Don't worry about me; be good to Christine if you can." I poured us a couple of cognacs.
"I am sorry. I pray that everything will sort itself out. I hope you will let me do for you what I can."
I nodded. "Thank you." We sat silently, just drinking. I was grateful for his presence, his wiliness to be a comfort to a man undeserving of any comfort. I began to feel drowsy fairly soon; I had enough liquor in me to ensure it.
"I'm going, Reza. I hope I sleep tonight; I didn't last night."
He nodded.
I saw the light on in Christine's bedroom. I knocked and she came to the door. She'd been crying.
"I just wanted to say goodnight."
"You may sleep here, if you want to. You're still my man," she replied, but she still wouldn't look at me.
"No…thank you. I love you."
"I love you, too. Good night."
I went into my room and realized that, tired as I was, I couldn't possibly lay down in that coffin; I'd have to get a new one. I tried to get comfortable in the chair. Damn that Creole. As I fell asleep, I thought about how good it would feel to have my hands around her throat again.
Next morning, Christine caught me on the way down to breakfast. She beckoned me into her room.
"Erik, if there is something Josette…" she flushed, "something you…need, couldn't you tell me? Why—"
"No, Christine." I had to stop her. I couldn't bear to think of her tormented by such questions. "Don't think of these things, my Precious," she let me stroke her cheek. "I need nothing but you, you mustn't doubt it."
"But that's not true, how could it be true, if you—"
"It isn't like that, Christine, no. Believe me. She just happened to be here, and—"
"Just happened to be here?" she pressed her hand to her forehead, as if the struggle to understand was causing her pain. "What do you mean?"
"Forget it, child," I pleaded. "There's nothing there you need understand, I swear."
"Why won't you let me?" She wormed her way into my arms. "Tell me," she whispered.
"Stop it!" I ran from her, ashamed. I downed some coffee in the kitchen and rushed to the catacombs beneath the Louvre, the only fit place for a monster like me.
I went around to an undertaker and selected a new coffin. It was different than the other; the interior was more posh. They advised that they would remove the old one and deliver the new one that very day. They were as good as their word, for when I returned home, I was met at the door by Christine, frantic.
"Erik, you must speak with Reza. He saw the new coffin delivered, and with the way we've been behaving, he believes you're dying. I tried to explain to him that it was just an argument, but he won't be convinced. Oh, Erik, Erik! You must speak with him!" She was fairly wringing her hands. I nodded.
I entered the parlor and the daroga turned hollow, wounded eyes on me.
"Why couldn't you tell me you were ill?" he erupted. "After all these years of friendship, Erik! I have never wanted to imagine you heartless, but—"
"I'm not dying any more than you are, Reza," I grimaced, dropping into a chair. "It is difficult living in such close proximity with you; you do realize that? I have no patience with people worrying over me, expecting confidences of me! I could've stayed below, but no, you wouldn't have it, would you? And now I'm here and this sordid marital farce must be played out on a public stage! I'm not dying, damn you! I have a right to ruin my life with some degree of privacy, haven't I?"
"What do you expect me to think? The two of you floating around here like shades, silent and tearful, and a new coffin delivered?" he demanded.
"Oh, for god's sake, man, don't go out of your way for some ridiculous explanation when a simple one suffices! Why would I send for a new coffin?"
"Because you're dying!"
"No. Why would I—I, Erik—send for a new coffin?" I waited and watched Reza's eyes dart about, helplessly searching for an explanation. He could not think; I lost the wee dram of patience I possessed.
"BECAUSE I NEED A NEW BED, MAN! Use your head. No one's dying; I've stepped in it again and I need a place to sleep." I rubbed my aching forehead.
"Oh. OH!" my Persian grandmother brightened considerably. "Silly me; for a moment my fears got the better of me and I forgot who I was dealing with. Of course, you need a new bed." He pressed a brandy into my hand. "What is wrong with your old bed? How does one wear out a coffin?"
"Ha. Ha. I don't wish to discuss this any further. Christine insisted I calm your nerves as to my relative morbidity, but now that is accomplished, this conversation is hereby terminated."
"Erik, you poor man. What have you done this time?" he chuckled. Now that I'd rejoined the living, he felt it appropriate to regard me as a source of endless amusement once again.
"I'll tell you about if ever I emerge from the other end of the tunnel; no doubt it will afford you a great laugh. Meanwhile, you'll just have to let your fantasies run amuck."
"Fantasies run amuck? Could it really be as delicious as all that?"
"Reza, I believe you're drooling. You should make an attempt at a…social life; even I've got one now."
"It can't be much of a 'social life' if you're back to sleeping in a coffin," he reminded me.
"Touché. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see what sort of damage I can do elsewhere."
"Will you two be joining me for dinner?"
"Depends. She may be in the midst of flaying me. Do feel free to start without us."