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I never thought I would be that woman.
That woman who could make love with another and then go back, smiling, to her husband. That woman who crept out of the house and walked halfway across town to seek solace in the arms of another. That woman who actually snuck away during intermission to find passion with a different man.
But I am.
Once home, away from our honeymoon house, Raoul resumed his normal work, which involves, as far as I can tell, him writing long letters to various estates to convince them to donate charity to a de Chagny patronage—the Opera, for example. He says this is difficult because there are so many patrons of the Opera, and there must be something that the de Chagny's display that will catch their attention. The letters he writes to entice them are full or charm and wit. He lets me read them, asking for a 'woman's touch', and I giggle every time.
He tries so very hard to spend most of his time with me, and all I really want him to do is lock himself alone in his study at night so I can make my escape. Does this make me a bad person? I do love Raoul in the day time. It is just that at nighttime, I immediately feel uncomfrtoable, dreading what I fear is to happen. Just as I feel unhappy with Erik in the light, so I feel unhappy with Raoul in the dark.
We go to the Opera every week. Every week, I am so close. I must watch the show, even though my mind is completely elsewhere.
Erik does not like these Opera meetings, because they are short and hurried. He seems to grow more and more agitated with me each time, and I have only little ways to soothe him, and they are generally not very effective.
"Three monehts," he says bitterly to me one time. "How long do you plan to keep this up?"
I have just run to him as soon as the curtain closed between the acts. I do not want to waste much time talking. "What do you mean?" I ask him, slipping the buttons off my dress.
His hand gently stops me. "This cannot contie like this."
"Why not?" I say dumbly.
His eyes flash. "Because this is not right!"
"And when have you suddenly decided to stat caring about what is right?" I scoff.
"Since it concerns you!" he says irritably. Despite his arguments, he is coming closer to me and I hold out my arms. "Why did you marry him? Tell me why!"
"Because I love him," I say, and he tries to draw away from me, but I hold tight. "Oh, I love you too. But in a different way. I need to be Raoul's wife up in the real world. That is just how it has to be. But I belong with you down here, you know that."
"I want you all the time," he moans.
"Well, I am here as much I can get—"
"No, not like that. I want you, as my wife and as a my lover."
I stare at him blankly. "No, that cannot be. It just ist's feasible, Erik!"
"It is for everybody else!" he bellows, and I look around hastily, afraid someone might hear us. "Do you think I am not soutable as a husband?"
"You are not!" I hiss. "You cannot take me out, you cannot be a fine gentlemen who dotes upon me, you cannot be that type of man who lives for the woman on his arm! You are different, and that's just how it is! You are dark, and I am dark when I am with you, but when I am with Raoul, I have to be light and I have to be his wife. I do not love him more than you, I love him differently." This is an argument I feel we have every time.
"I want to call you wife," he rasps.
"I am more than that to you," I say stoutly.
He is pouting now.
I extend my arms to him again. "Darling," I say soothingly. "Have I displeased you?"
He is forced to hear the meaning in the most basic sense. "No," he grumbles, afraid to offend me.
"Do you wish me to go away and never return?"
His grip on me involuntarily tightens. "No, of course not," he murmuers. I kiss the side of his neck, not wanting to chamr him like I do Raoul. I want to seduce him, I want to lose control with him… All those naughty little things that you should not do to your husband… Why are we still wasting time talking?
"You just don't understand, Christine," he sighs. "Did no one explain to you that you must do these things with your husband? Everyone else does."
I blush. I do not want to think of all married people like that! How can they show their faces if they do such vile things to each other? Raoul and I are protecting ourselves. A married man and woman should only couple when the are attempting to produce a family. It is not a way of pleasure. Only lovers spoke of pleasure.
"How would you feel," he suddenly declares, "If you found out Raoul was doing this was another girl?"
I blink, and glare at him. "He is not. He only wants me."
"And do you let him have you?"
I am silent for a long moment. Long enough for Erik to suddenly start touching my arms gently, coaxing me further into him. I know I do not need to keep talking for much longer, and I am grateful for this.
"I avoid intimacies with him as much as I am able," I finally say softly.
He gives a low, dark chuckle. "Ah, husband indeed!" he cries.
That is the end of our conversation.
I arrive back to my seat just a moment after the next act begins. Raoul is waiting for me. I go and sit next to him, and I hold his hand.