Erik and I made our way as quickly as possible to the house that I had lived in currently, or as Erik liked to call it, our new vacation home. The cab we had chosen was still pulled by horse, and I honestly loved the ride. The English air flowing past my face, the familiar smells of London and of course the long road that traveled up to my family's house. My stomach churned the closer we got to the three story house. Was I ready? No matter what I had to be ready. My family was still there, my family would still be there and they would always be. It's where Erik and I had planned to stay until we were able to reach Cambridge.
Once we reached the front of the house the cabby stopped and we paid him handsomely and he drove off just as quick as he came. I placed the bags down by my feet and Erik had placed Marabelle's stuffed animal trunk down in front of him. I stood still, staring at the house, and Erik didn't make any move to go into the house without me.
The house needed some work already, it had been at least a month and a half since we had been home, and it looked like our groundskeeper had quit on us somewhere inbetween that month and now. The weeds were high and the grass needed cut, something Erik was going to do, weather he liked it or not. There were cobwebs in the window and red paint was chipping off the front door. Vines grew on the side of the house, working its way up to the second floor. The only think that looked decent about the house was that the flowers my mother had planted before we left seemed to live without very much care. Tears sprung in my eyes as I looked at the flowers, the last thing my mother did before we had left. She was positive that they would be in full bloom when she got back, and boy was she right.
"Well…" I looked up at Erik and took his hand holding onto it tightly "We have to go inside sometime, why not now?" I swallowed hard as I moved my way towards the front door. I paused at the gold door handle and turned to look at Erik and I gave him a sad little smile as my hand touched the handle.
"Christine, wait." Erik looked at me and took me by the shoulders "I think you should go in first by yourself, when you're ready for me, I'll be out here, admiring your mother's flowers."
I smiled slightly and wrapped my arms around his waist "Thank you, Erik." I stood on my toes and placed a kiss on half of his lips before I bent down and pulled the key from under the welcome mat. The key slid effortlessly into the keyhole and clicked when I had turned the lock.
The door opened to the living room, it was clean and looked the way it did when we had left. The wonderful red velvet couch sat in the center of the room, facing the fireplace that housed pictures of myself, my mother and my father. The side tables held all of the mail that we had missed in the past month, the most recent was dated to yesterday, which had proved to me that the maid at least still came. I swallowed hard and decided to move further into the house. I found the dining room set up for supper and the kitchen was spotless all besides a dried up sunflower that sat in a vase I had made from mud when I was six. From the kitchen I made my way up the staircase that was adjacent to the living room. It was quite a large staircase, wide at the bottom that thinned as it moved up, two staircases veered off to the left and right as it got to the top. I made my way up the first set up steps and moved up the right set of stairs, where my room, along with my father's office was located.
I made my way into my room, I figured I'd start with the least depressing. I shifted through my clothes, or the remaining clothes that I had. It hit me that my favorite dress was now at the bottom of the ocean, along with my favorite hat, and most of my jewels. I sighed and shifted through the closet, it dawned upon me that I had taken all of the clothes I had deemed 'pretty'. The chocolate brown dress didn't make the cut, and I remembered why with its velvet flowers and twists and twirls in black. It was hideous. I laughed slightly and looked around the room; everything was in order, the way I had left it when I had left.
I inhaled and exited my bedroom, my father's study could wait until last, I had other things to attend to. I made my way down the hall, listing to my footsteps echo in the silence. Silence, that's all that was here now. My mother's laughter wouldn't be filling the halls, My father's jokes would never cascade up the stairs and our family wouldn't sing Christmas carols or carve the turkey together again. I wiped the tears off my face as I neared the bedroom of my parents, the place where I was forbidden to go as a child during day light, the bedroom where they had sung me to sleep when I had nightmares or when the thunder proved to be too much to my childlike ears. Even now, in their death, I seemed to be entering a sort of forbidden territory.
My hand touched the door knob and I gently twisted it and with ease it popped open. I peered inside the room, standing still, as if I was waiting for the room to swallow me whole. I inhaled and stepped a foot inside the room, was I ready? I was unsure but it needed to be done if I wanted to live in this house for a while longer.
My parent's room had wonderful carpet. It was so plushy and had always reminded me of what a cloud would have felt like. Their bed was a large four poster bed made out of the finest wood imaginable, handcrafted by German furniture workers. The night table for the both of them was vastly different. My mother's held a light and a book, with her glasses sitting on top. My father's just held a book and a glass that he used for his nightly 'one drink' of whiskey. I smiled slightly as warm memories flooded back to me; when I was six I had taken my father's glass when it was filled thinking it was a different drink, took a large gulp and spit it back out into the cup, without my father's knowledge. I chuckled slightly and remembered where I was, sacred ground anymore.
I walked over to the vanity where my mother had often did her hair and had applied her make-up. Most of it was missing off the counter and was now resting with her at the bottom of the ocean, but her favorite hairbrush was sitting near the mirror, a few things her grandmother had given her and a picture of my father sitting up on the mirror. I sat on the chair and shuffled my way through the drawers, which were mostly empty. Except one drawer which was full of things I had made my mother from when I was younger. A homemade noodle necklace, drawings of her and I, the letter I had sent to my deceased baby brother and the picture of my family, one where I was doing a funny face. I put a hand to my mouth and let the tears flow freely, how I missed them, how I longed for them to hug me, to comfort me to tell me everything was going to be alright.
I missed watching my mother get ready for the morning, watching my father shave, making sure everything was okay. I missed the times when I was young and my parents were still alive. I wiped my eyes and stood up from the chair and looked at myself in the mirror.
"I'm splotchy." I mumbled and laughed slightly, I already reminded myself of my mother, she hated to cry because she hated being splotchy. I smiled slightly and moved around the room "You were once, my once companion, you were all that mattered. You were once a friend and father, and then my world was shattered." I moved through the wardrobes of my mother, her dresses were always so silky and beautiful "Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near, somehow it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here." I wiped at my eyes and made my way to my father's wardrobes, which were mostly empty save a few suits. I touched the corduroy and held it to my face "Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would, Dreaming of you, won't help me to do, all that you dreamed I could." I put the sleeve of the garment down and closed the wardrobe and quietly moved out of their room, shutting the door silently behind me "Passing bells, and sculpted angels, cold and monumental. Seem, for you the wrong companions, you were warm and gentle." I made it to the top of the staircase before I fell to my knees and sobbed "Too many years, fighting back tears, why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try! No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years. Help me say, goodbye" I paused and buried my face in my hands "Help me say, goodbye"
I wasn't sure how long I had sat there and sobbed at the top of the stairs, alone, but all I knew is that I didn't want to be alone any more, my parents wouldn't want me to be alone, they wouldn't want me to mourn them, neither would Raoul. "Erik!" I called out and waited a second "Erik!" I yelled louder and this time the door opened and a pair of feet rushed up the stairs. I looked up at the scarred man and bit my lip, tears streaming down my face "Erik" I whimpered and grabbed his shoulders pulling him into an embrace "I'm so scared, I'm so lost, I—I" I cried into his shoulder.
Erik didn't say anything, he just sat there and held me, as if that was the only thing he could do at the moment, and I wondered if it was all that I wanted, to be held, to know that someone was there when I had spiraled out of control.
I was unaware how long Erik and I had sat at the top of the steps, I was unaware of how long I had cried and I was unaware of when I had cried myself to sleep. But when I had woke up, I was laying in a bed, with Erik sleeping next to me. The sky outside was black and rain pitter pattered at the window. I cleared my throat as quietly as I could and moved the sheets off my body and got out of the bed, I was thirsty, and still midly upset. Here at home I was more depressed than I had been when I was in new York, when I was giving my testimony, when I had boarded the Carpathia knowing my parents and Raoul had perished.
My feet padded on the cool hard wood of the floor, making me realize that I wasn't in my dress, that I was simply in my chimsey and bloomers and the thought embarrassed me, even though Erik had seen me in less than this. But I was in my parent's house and I felt as if one of them would walk out of their room at any moment and see me in my worst. I laughed at the thought, although I was unsure why. Perhaps I needed to laugh, even though it wasn't that funny. I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed the silver pitcher off the counter and poured some water into the cup my father used for his brandy.
"Christine?" I turned to the sleepy voice of my husband "are you okay?" he rubbed his eyes and then pulled a hand down his face.
I nodded and then realized he probably couldn't see me as the lights were still off "Yeah, I'm fine." I held up the pitcher and realized he probably couldn't see that either "Just thirsty"
He nodded, but I could barely see it "are you okay?" he asked again "I mean about earlier."
I shrugged "I can't bring them back now, can I?" I inhaled and moved towards Erik and wrapped my arms around his waist and realized that he was shirtless which made me chuckle a bit "How about we go back to bed? We can talk about it in the morning okay?"
He mumbled something and we went back into one of the spare bedrooms we occupied, and went back to sleep.