A Thousand Words
Chapter 16
Silver Linings

"Honestly, Erik, I can do that myself," I protested.

He came in the bedroom carrying a tray laden with more food than I could hope to eat in a week: a huge bowl of steaming chicken soup (because chicken soup cures all ills, apparently even freak-outs in hospital ERs), an enormous sandwich made on what looked like an entire loaf of freshly made French bread, a plate of beautifully arranged sliced fruit, a tall glass of milk, a cup of tea and (bless his little French heart) a can of Coke.

I propped some pillows behind me and sat up in bed. He climbed in next to me and balanced the tray on his legs.

Spot, having made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, lifted his head and sniffed the air. He rose and stretched languidly, then re-settled himself beside me.

"I know you can," Erik said, "but you are my guest, and you need your rest, and I wanted to do this."

I opened my mouth to protest, but I knew any attempt at arguing with him was futile judging from the determined look in his eyes. He took advantage of my open mouth to pop in a succulent pineapple chunk. I had no choice but to eat it, but I stared daggers at him as I did.

He just smiled smugly at me.

"You play dirty," I grumbled.

"I know."

In retaliation for the fruit, I deliberately grabbed the soda can, opened it with a flourish and took a long, satisfying gulp.

"Mmmmm. Good."

He grimaced.

Now it was my turn to smile smugly.

I set the can back on the tray, and Erik took hold of my hand. His thumb gently traced circles over my knuckles. I looked up at him to find him gazing intently at me.

"Erik, I never thanked you for rescuing me at the hospital..."

"There's no need. All you ever have to do is call and I will be there for you."

He leaned over and kissed me. It was a soft, delicate kiss, and I felt it all the way down to my curled-up toes.

"If you haven't already figured it out, Christine, I love you."

He kissed me again. This time, there was nothing soft or delicate about it. This kiss was filled with passion, with want, with need; I nearly melted in his arms.

If it hadn't been for the lunch tray–and the bowl of hot soup–on his lap, I'm sure he would have had me on my back in the blink of an eye. As it was, he had to part from me to set the tray aside on the night table before he could accomplish what I'm sure were his nefarious plans for the afternoon.

As he turned back to me, ready for another kiss, I stopped him with a hand to his chest. He looked at me with an oddly quizzical expression.

"Before we go any farther, Erik, I want you to know that I love you too," I whispered to him.

He gazed at me with a blank expression on his face.

"You... you do?"

"Yes, you silly man. Of course I do. I've been in love with you since the first time I met you, back in your studio, with your paint-spattered work shirt and your gruff exterior. It was always you. I think fate must have brought us together."

"Fate. Yes," he agreed in a low purr as he leaned over me, his eyes bright with mischief.

I was growing impatient.

"Well, kiss me already," I demanded.

He didn't need to be told twice. He cradled the back of my head and gently touched his lips to mine in a delicate kiss. That sweetness didn't last long; soon he had me flat on my back down on the bed and our tongues were dancing against each other in that familiar erotic tango I had come to live for. One of his hands slowly slid down my side and rested at my hip, caressing me, driving me wild with that single touch.

I reached up to unbutton his shirt, but no sooner did I get the first button undone, he pulled away from me and sat up, leaning against the headboard.

Still out of breath, I sat up as well, facing him.

"Erik, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, my darling."

"Then, why..."

He put a finger to my lips to quiet me.

"Christine, you asked me not long ago about my mask and what lay under it. I said that only my family had ever seen my face."

I felt a lump form in my throat.

"Yes, I remember," I said.

He looked away from me.

"Do you still wish to see?"

I took a deep breath.

"Only if you wish to show me," I replied.

"If I show you, please promise me you will not leave me. I couldn't survive if you did."

"Erik, of course I won't leave you. I just told you that I love you."

Erik looked at me, his eyes glistening with the tears I knew he was fighting to hold back. I knew that this was the most difficult thing in the world for him to do, and he was trusting me, giving me his trust just as he gave me his heart. No matter what I saw under the mask, I had to be strong and remember that it was just Erik, just another part of the man I loved.

"All right."

Ever so slowly, he lifted his hand to his mask.

Then, an all-too-familiar, annoyingly happy little tune began playing in Erik's pants. We both jumped from the surprise. His cell phone was ringing.

"Oh, damn it all to hell!" he muttered.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

"I'm very sorry, but I have to take this call," he said to me.

"That's okay," I said.

He got up off the bed and answered the call, walking out of the room as I heard him say "Hello?"

So, I was left, frustrated and curious–and hungry. I reached over to the forgotten lunch tray and picked up half of the gigantic sandwich Erik had made for me. I took one bite of it when my cell phone began chirping away on the nightstand. I rolled my eyes, chewed like crazy, and picked up the infernal phone.

"Hello?"

"Christine?"

"Oh, hi, Dr. Kim. How are things at the hospital?"

"Busy. Very busy. I was calling to see how you were doing. I called your house and didn't get an answer. I take it you aren't there?"

"Oh... no, I'm staying with... a friend."

"The same friend who left with you the other day?"

"Ummm... well, yes."

"Well, that's good. Good, I mean, that you're not alone."

There was a long silence.

"Listen, Christine, about what happened..."

"I know, Dr. Kim,..."

"Christine, the hospital administrators are very worried about you. First the shooting, now this. Well,... I tried to change their minds, but..."

"But they dismissed me," I finished his sentence for him since he seemed reluctant to do so.

"I'm so very sorry."

I took a couple of deep breaths.

"Christine?" Dr. Kim's voice came over the phone. "Christine, are you still there?"

"You know, it's all right. It's going to be all right. Maybe all this happened for a reason."

"Well, I must say you're taking this much better than I thought you would."

I thought about that for a moment.

"So am I."

XXXXX

Erik came back in the bedroom a few minutes later as I took another bite of my sandwich. I smiled at him.

"So, who was on the phone?" I asked.

"That was Cynthia, from the gallery. Remember her?"

"No. Oh, wait, she was the mean one with the strange haircut, right?"

He laughed. "The very one. She wants to do an exhibition of my work next month."

In an instant I was up on my knees on the bed with my arms outstretched.

"Oh, Erik, that's wonderful!"

He joined me on the mattress and took me in his arms.

"Yes, I'm thrilled. Imagine, an entire show of my work. It's what I've dreamed about."

"Well. Your paintings are wonderful. You deserve it. And soon everyone will know how talented you are."

He kissed me.

"Even your family," I whispered into his ear.

He smiled.

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," he said with a laugh.

We settled back in the bed, lying in each other's arms.

"And I know which piece will be the focal point of the exhibit," he said to me.

"Which one?" I asked.

He pointedly looked to the opposite wall, the wall with the fireplace–and my portrait hanging above it.

I sat up, straight as a board.

"Oh, no! No way in hell!"

"Whyever not? It's beautiful, you said so yourself!"

"It... it is," I sputtered, trying desperately to find some way out of this. "But you just can't show that painting! Erik, you can't! I'm naked!"

"Yes you are, and you're beautiful."

"But the whole world can't see me like that!"

"You are my love, and my muse, and that painting is by far my best work. I have to show it."

"No, Erik. You can't," I pleaded. "Please."

"Well, then, what would you have me do?"

I thought wildly for a moment.

"Paint me again, with clothes on this time, and you can show that one," I suggested.

"Ah, there's an idea," he mused. "But your work schedule will interfere."

I looked up at him. "Actually, it won't," I said quietly. "While you were taking your call, I got one too. It seems that the ER can't have a doctor who freaks out at the drop of a hat. So I'm no longer needed."

Erik put his arms around me and held me tightly.

"They are fools for letting you go, my darling. But I am the richer for it. We shall start tomorrow."

In a matter of mere seconds we were both relieved of our clothing and happily engaging in our favorite pastime.

XXXXX

"We were distracted," Erik said to me in the darkness.

Day had dissolved into night, and we lay spooned together admiring the view of the city through the bedroom's floor-to-ceiling windows. He lazily stroked my arm, stopping every so often to kiss my shoulder, or my ear, or any other part of me within easy reach.

"Hm?"

"Before the phone rang, I was about to... show you..." he trailed off, not quite able to actually say the words.

"Oh. Yes. That."

I sat up in bed and faced him in the near darkness, a knot quickly forming in the pit of my stomach. I had thought about this moment many times with a combination of dread and anticipation. True, I told him that whatever lay under his mask would not change my feelings for him, but what if it did? What if it was so horribly grotesque that I couldn't even look at him? He told me about the girl years ago who saw his face and never saw him again. Would I be just like that girl? I loved him, I knew that in the deepest recesses of my heart, but would that be enough?

"I see doubt on your face," he said quietly as he sat up and faced me. "Do you still want to see?"

I raised one hand and laid it on his bare cheek. "Yes," was all I said.

He took a deep breath and lifted his hand to the mask. His fingers grasped the top edges along his hairline, and the mask slowly peeled away from his face. He kept his head bowed, afraid to look at me.

When I saw that he wouldn't look up on his own, I lifted his chin until his face was fully visible to me. I saw that he kept his eyes closed.

He was right: it wasn't pretty. The skin he kept hidden was twisted, discolored and scarred. It seemed that his original disfigurement had been made worse by botched surgeries some time in the past. He had no eyebrow on that side of his face, and his lower eyelid drooped without the support of the mask.

But this was my Erik, and I loved him, and nothing–not even this disfigurement–would change that.

"Erik," I whispered to him in the darkness.

He still did not open his eyes.

"Erik, look at me," I said again.

After a long moment he finally met my gaze. He looked like a poor dog waiting to be whipped.

I put my hand on his mangled cheek. The skin seemed too warm and moist from constantly being hidden behind the mask and not being allowed to breathe.

"I love you. I love all of you," I said quietly.

His expression changed. He had a look of wonder in his eyes.

"You do?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I do, you silly man! Nothing will ever change that!"

I leaned over and kissed him. He threw his arms around me, holding on for dear life it seemed, as he kissed me back.

"Oh, Christine, you have made me so happy!"

He kissed me again.

I finally pushed him away from me. "All right now, we have to stop this," I said.

"Whyever should we do that?" he asked.

I smiled at him. "Because we have a big day tomorrow. You have to begin work on your new masterpiece!"