Erik lay in his bedroom staring at the ceiling, weighing his thoughts, one against the other. The ache in his chest was hard to ignore so he was playing over the previous evening his mind, trying to forget about the disaster of the morning. They had dined together in private. She had asked the waiter to give them more privacy with the innuendo of what that privacy was for. Had her mind truly thought of him like that, even for a moment? He felt his face flush with the numerous fantasies he conjured up into his head. The restaurant suddenly emptied of all but them. The curtains to their private dinner chamber suddenly turned to a heavy door with a lock. The dishes from their uneaten dinner scattered, breaking to the floor as they passionately shoved them aside to make room on the table for…
He had to stop there. It would never happen.
He rolled over onto his side.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
The steady rhythm of his breathing he timed with his heart beats' slow, methodical tempo.
Think of something else, he thought. Think of something else.
The way her perfume still clung to his cloak from their warm embrace on the walk home. The softness of her body as it pressed against the length of him. Her fingernails creasing the back of his shirt as she clung to him.
He bolted up out of bed, frustrated and feeling too hot in the stuffy room. He pushed the window open and let the cold wind push through the curtains. It wasn't enough. He went to the wash basin and splashed the chill water on his bare face, letting it drip down beneath his collar. He longed to escape, but he did not wish Christine to see him in this state. He did not wish himself to see Christine in this state. He had to control himself. Why did he cruelly replay these unattainable fantasies to himself over and over again, tormenting his frustration?
He knew the answer; because they were all he was likely to ever have with her. Fleeting imagined moments of bliss and fevered dreams of coupling in the dark or wherever else his brain could place the two of them in privacy.
While he toweled his face dry on the soft cloth hanging by the basin, he heard Christine's timid tapping at the door.
"Erik?" she called out softly. "Are you awake?"
Erik did not answer.
"I wanted to let you know that it's nearly suppertime, if you care to join me downstairs," Christine added.
Erik was screaming inside, 'I don't want supper. I want you!' but he was silent and stood still until he heard her footsteps padding away down the hall.
He didn't dare join her for dinner, much less, let everyone else around see him in such a state. He didn't think he could compose himself in time to dine with her. 'It's almost a good thing Marie fed me so much at breakfast,' he thought.
He listened at the door carefully. He could hear Christine's voice chiming in with the usual din of a small crowd in the main room downstairs. He would not be able to get past her without being seen. He looked out the window. It was a very long drop to the ground but luckily there was a tree just close enough, he thought, to take a leap for.
Normally, he was very graceful, but he underestimated the distance and nearly missed his mark. He dropped to the ground after clinging like a desperate cat to the branch, tearing a sleeve and cutting his arm when he rolled back as he hit. He stood and brushed the dust from his clothes. He hoped nobody had seen him for, although the light had faded, it was still enough to discern his person against the whitewashed side of the inn.
He took a deep breath in through his nostrils and smelled the ocean on the breeze. Normally he only felt claustrophobic when there were a lot of people around, but his modest room upstairs was downright oppressive. He swore to himself that Christine would be the death of him, driving him mad.
It was early in the evening and he felt the need for a long walk so he started towards the town. He could see small lights now glowing in the windows of various homes and businesses as people were either coming home for the night, or just getting busy. He remembered passing several taverns along the way. He didn't want any trouble in one of the lesser reputable ones, but neither did he wish to be turned away from a nicer one.
He settled on returning to the one they stopped into earlier that day. Perhaps having seen him in there before would assure no questions asked and no problems. It was a rather long walk to the tavern. He kept the hood drawn far over his face so only his chin could be seen to the casual passerby. As he made his way down the winding paths he paid little attention to the people he encountered. He had only one thing on his mind and he knew the only solution for the evening was to drown the thought into the bottom of a bottle.
He entered the tavern but kept his hood up as he made his way toward a dark corner of the room. His previous place by the fire had been taken up already by a handful of men who looked like they had just finished a day's hard labor and were throwing back a few before heading home to their wives. The same boy who had served them that afternoon came by and recognized him. Erik told him to bring a bottle of brandy and a glass.
"Would you be wanting any supper with that?" the boy asked in a rehearsed tone.
"Not tonight. Just the bottle, please," Erik replied.
"Suit yourself mister," the boy replied and left to fetch a bottle.
Erik didn't feel like dithering with money so he left a more than generous sum on the table and slid it toward the boy in exchange for his brandy.
As he felt the warm heat of the alcohol hit his throat, it spread familiarly through his face and into his muscles. He drank a few glasses in fast succession to numb his senses. Normally he would not resort to such measures. He was not a man to turn to drink often, but when his few other vices of release were nowhere to be had, he made do with what he could find.
He kept his back to the rest of the room, ignoring the bawdy laughter from the men by the fire. He pushed his hood back slightly, not enough for anyone to see his face, but enough that it no longer hid it entirely.
Sometime later, about half a bottle later to be precise, a woman approached his back and tapped his shoulder.
"S'cuse me sir," she said around a cigarette she had in her lips. "Fancy some company tonight?"
Erik's head felt heavy as he turned slightly towards the woman. "I've already got all the company I need this evening," he replied slurring a little as he tapped the bottle with his glass.
She shrugged her shoulders and stepped away towards the bar. The men by the fireplace had been watching her proposition Erik. One of them had caught a glimpse of his mask. He nudged his counterparts and started asking them in a not so subtle voice, "Did you see that? The freak in the corner thinks it's a party! Look, he's wearing his costume. Let's go see what the occasion is?" He elbowed his friends in the ribs and gestured towards Erik's table in the corner.
Erik heard the commotion and the men's comments and pressed his eyes shut hard, shaking his head, 'not tonight,' he thought. He knew what was coming next so before the man could clamp his rough hand on Erik's shoulder to spin him around for a better look, Erik turned to face them and lifted his hood back onto his shoulders.
They were not expecting this and took a step back. They could see the menace in his eyes as he coldly stared them down. He knew he was in no condition to fight. Let alone fight three men while every one of them was too far into their cups.
"Get a good look gentlemen," he said through clenched teeth. "Get your eyeful now, because it's all you're going to get."
Two of the men started to back away, clearly not expecting Erik to be ready for a confrontation. The third stayed where he was and even took a step closer. He stupidly leaned on the table and stated, "That's a pretty mask you've got there. Let me guess. You wear it because so stinkin' ugly!" He guffawed at his own wit but was cut off by Erik's reply.
"Actually, I wear it so that when they find the bodies, the witnesses can't identify me," Erik said with a grim smirk.
That unsettled all of them and this time they all backed away. The tavern keeper noticed what was going on and came over to settle things.
"What's going on here? Louie? You causing trouble again? And you there!" he gestured toward Erik, "What's the meaning of all this? There's to be no brawling in my pub! Why don't the lot of you clear out of here and go fight in the streets if that's what you're after tonight."
Erik sighed and flipped an extra coin onto the table and said, "I was just leaving. I'd hate to leave bloodstains on your freshly washed floors." He grabbed his bottle of brandy and gave a hard look at the boy who was eavesdropping behind the counter. He saw the boy gulp and the master of the house stepped aside for him to pass.
The man he called 'Louie' was loudly protesting that he wasn't trying to start any trouble and he was just having a little fun. Erik didn't hear any more after that. The door shut loudly behind him and he stepped out into the quiet street. Apparently, the threat to make them leave only applied to him.
It was several hours later when he finally stumbled into the Inn of the Setting Sun. He attempted to make his way quietly up to his room, but apparently his ears were as numb as the rest of him. He got to his door, and was confronted by a very worried and disgruntled Christine. She stood in her nightshift with her hair in braids and her arms were crossed over her chest.
"Erik? Where have you been? I've been worried sick all evening!" Christine said as he tried to brush past her.
"I went out for a little fun," he replied, thinking it a witty remark.
"Fun? What are you talking about? You reek of alcohol, and," she noticed the tear in his sleeve and the dried blood from the scrape on the branch, "is that blood? My god, Erik what have you been doing?"
Her irritation turned suddenly to concern and she pushed the door to his room open. He stumbled in towards his bed and fell across it. She filled the wash basin with fresh water and moved it to the bedside table. He lay there feebly trying to ward off her attempts to see the cut on his arm. He did not succeed. She managed to push the sleeve up past his elbow and examined the wound. After cleaning it with a damp cloth she decided it was not bad enough to need bandaging. It was mostly dirty from his fall.
She sat back on her heels and sighed as she studied her inebriated teacher. He was in and out of consciousness and laying in a very uncomfortable position. With the practice of having done many times for her father when he was too weary to do so himself, she removed Erik's boots and placed them on the floor and lifted his feet onto the bed. He came to and stared at her with lazy eyes.
"You're so beautiful, Christine," he mumbled.
She nodded at him, slightly amused now.
"I could make you so happy, Christine. My sweet Christine," he babbled. Christine was hardly able to understand him for the mask had slipped down to partially cover his mouth. She leaned over and slipped it off his face so he could breathe easier.
"Yes yes, Erik. I know. Hush and try to get some rest," she said.
"Christine?" he asked, his eyes glazed with his drunken stupor.
"Yes, Erik?" Christine humored him.
"If I were handsome, would you kiss me goodnight?" he asked.
Even though he was not truly in his right mind; she knew he was not or he would never ask such a question so openly; she was not sure what kind of an answer to give him or if he would even remember it in the morning. She studied his face. It was still not easy for her to look at but it certainly did not cause the same shock it once did seeing it.
Before she could give an answer, his breathing became heavier and more deeply drawn. She exhaled a long breath and with a timid unsure, leaned over and kissed his bare forehead.
"Goodnight Erik, "she whispered then blew out the candle and quietly crept to her own room.