And Then

Erik pulled back from the kiss feeling giddy and guilty. He searched her countenance for an indication of her feelings. Her eyes were still closed. He didn't blame her – if he had to look at himself, he'd be reluctant to open his eyes as well. Her color had returned; she was flushed to the point of looking feverish. Her brow was wrinkled in thought. While her eyes were closed, he wiped the tears from his face and quickly tied the mask back on.

"Christine, it's safe to look. The mask is on." He spoke as gently as he could, still sure she was like a wild bird, ready to fly at the first wrong move.

She opened her eyes, but the thoughtful look remained. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Erik felt her fingers tighten on his.

"I didn't do that well. I should have been able to look at you. I should have been able to stay..." Distress made her voice tight and rough.

Erik slid out of the chair and sat on the floor beside her. After a moment's deliberation, he put his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to lean against him. Having another person so close was a delicious feeling; it occurred to him that he could easily spend the rest of his life this way, and she was allowing it. Even now.

"Don't say that. Don't demean this," he murmured.

"But Erik..."

"You don't even know what you've done, do you..." He picked up her hand, hesitating only a moment before kissing her fingertips. "How many people – men and women combined – do you think there are who have seen me without the mask on and come back to me with kindness?"

"I don't..."

"Not including you, there are two. My father and Nadir Khan, my music teacher. Just two, and they both have known me from infancy. And neither of them has ever touched me as you just did. Certainly neither of them kissed me. That was my first kiss, Christine. And this is my first date, with my first dance."

"But I had to leave the room. I couldn't stay." She pressed against him and pulled his arm tighter around her. He was forgiving her for her moment of weakness, and in so doing he was stealing what remained of her heart.

"Is there a mess in my bathroom?"

"Huh?" A moment later she realized what he meant. "No."

"I didn't think so. The first time I saw myself after the last surgery, I vomited. If you did not, you took it better than I did. You did very well. You were brave. Even the nurses used to look away when they changed the bandages." It was true. Some of the nurses had drawn lots to see who had to care for him.

"You wouldn't say it, but I know I hurt you – your feelings. I want to do better next time."

"You want there to be a next time?" he asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"It's you," she said, as though that explained everything.

"I don't know. I don't like scaring you, Christine." Candlelight flickered against the side of her face, illuminating her profile. Erik couldn't resist touching her cheek, then he realized he no longer had to resist touching her. She tilted her head towards his caress.

"I won't be frightened next time. That part is over." She put her hand on top of his in a vague echo of his actions on the bus. "The worst is over. My secret is out, your secret is out... I think that now it's just a matter of coming to be used to it."

The worst is over... Erik smiled. He had to smile; that simple statement was true for him in ways she couldn't begin to imagine. The worst was over. It had taken many desperate years, but the worst finally was over. "That won't be as easy as you make it sound."

"No. I didn't think it would be. I won't lie to you. It will probably be a long time before I can look and be entirely comfortable with...with what I see."

"That's good."

"How can that possibly be good?" Christine was beginning to wonder if Erik wasn't slightly unhinged.

He gently disentangled himself from her, moving around until he sat facing her. "Christine, you see yourself all wrong. It's a good thing I'm here to know what you really mean," he teased.

She sighed in exasperation. "And what do I really mean?"

He held up two fingers, folding them down as he spoke. "First, your reaction to seeing me: you think it means that you failed me somehow. But what it really means is that you are willing to try to... be my friend...no matter how much it frightens you. Second, you say that it will be a long time before you are comfortable with what you see. Again, you think that means you're failing me, but it really means you intend to be around for a long time. You're not going to disappear. And that's better than good."

"But I can't get used to it if you wear that thing," Christine flicked her fingers at the mask, "all the time."

"True. But I think we've both had enough for tonight."

She was in the middle of nodding her agreement when her eyes popped wide. "Did you say 'tonight'?" she asked.

"Yes."

A glance around revealed that the candles, which had been new and freshly lit upon her arrival, were burnt down to little more than flaming stubs in pools of hot paraffin. Some had gone out entirely. She looked at her watch. It was nearly seven-thirty.

"Crud! I still have to get down to the laundromat and wash my work clothes for tomorrow, go grocery shopping, clean my place, get in some time on my cello, and somewhere in there I need to have dinner and sleep. Crapola!" As she spoke she stood up and grabbed her flute to disassemble it.

Erik almost groaned aloud in disappointment, but made his way to the kitchen. "I'll make a sandwich for you while you get your things together. Have dinner at the same time you ride the bus home; it will save you time."

"Thank you!" The flute was neatly stowed in its case. She hunted around for her CD and purse. The time had passed so quickly!

Soon Erik stood at the door, a sandwich wrapped neatly in a paper towel in his hand. Christine took the sandwich from him and was about to dash out the door, but stopped herself. This was no way to end such an amazing date.

"Thank you so much for today. This was the most wonderful date I've ever had in my entire life." She pulled him into a hug, then stood on her tiptoes to give him a little kiss. "But Erik...never apologize to me for the way you look again. If you do, I will bring Meg over here with a music rack and take no responsibility for her ensuing actions." With that threat lingering in the air, she turned and jogged down the hall. The bus she needed to catch would be there in a few minutes – she would have to run all the way to the bus stop to catch it.

From the doorway, Erik watched her run down the hall, one hand resting on his tingling lips. When she was halfway to the stairwell door he said, "Goodnight Christine. I love you," in a quiet voice, not knowing whether or not he hoped she could hear him. She didn't slow or look back, so he assumed she had not heard.

Christine sat on the bus, chewing slowly on her rabbit sandwich, deep in thought. She was sure he hadn't meant for her to hear those last three words. She kept running because what he'd said earlier was absolutely true: they'd both had enough for one night. In fact, since Erik had first decided to appear on his webcam, things had become decidedly intense. It was like trying to swim in rough surf; she never felt as though she had completely caught her breath before the next wave came and knocked her flat. But like the ocean, she could look beyond the breakers and see cerulean peace. Getting there was the trick.

Christine sat staring at the washer, cell phone in hand. She wanted to call Meg and tell her about her day, but she had no idea how to explain what had transpired. With a mental shrug, Christine pressed "SEND."

"Hi, Christine."

"Hey, Meg. What are you up to?"

"Well, I was heading to bed, but now I'm sitting here waiting for The Story with bated breath. So...get on with it. Dish the dirt, let no juicy detail be over looked, give me every sordid..."

"Jeez, Meg!" Christine giggled nervously. "Well, the first thing he did was give me flowers. He had candles everywhere. I'm pretty sure he disabled the smoke alarms in his apartment. There was even music playing in the background – Vivaldi."

"Flowers – check. Candlelight – check. Music – Check. He must have read the 'Sweep Her Off Her Feet Manual' by Gotta Getsum."

"Don't make fun, Meg. He really put a lot of effort into it. He even made dinner – but get this: he made rabbit in wine sauce. It was possibly the most exquisitely delicious thing I have ever put in my mouth."

"Rabbit? He cooked up a bunny?" Meg listened to the washer sloshing on the other end of the line. "Seriously, though. He can cook? This guy suddenly went up many points in my esteem."

"Then we danced. I brought Strauss's waltzes..."

"Ugh."

"and taught him to waltz. We danced the entire CD. He is a wonderful dancer, now, too. Add that to musician and cook and I think you have the portrait of the perfect man."

"Awww. Well, I wouldn't say that. There are certain other things that have to make that list if we are going to say 'perfect.' Ok. So you sniffed flowers, listened to music, ate, and danced. And?"

"And that's it." Christine turned the speaker phone function on while she transferred the wet clothes to the dryer."

"Liar." Meg shook her head at her friend's continuing denseness. Didn't the girl realize by now that after a score of years Meg could almost read her mind? "Dreadful liar. You didn't call me from a laundromat at nine-thirty at night to tell me you guys danced and ate Peter Rabbit. You would have told me that at shift tomorrow. So, I'm going to remain calm, assume you are still a virgin..."

"MEG!" Christine shrieked, snatching up the phone and turning off the speaker.

"And wait for you to tell me what else happened today. And if you are still recalcitrant, Miss Chris, I will come in late tomorrow morning and let the zombies eat you."

"Oh, no, you wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, I would. I unclogged the milk steamer. I have a 'get out of jail free' card." Meg was absolutely smug, knowing she had won.

"I shouldn't tell you at all, just for threatening me like that," Christine sniffed.

Meg made no verbal response; she simply began making zombie noises.

"He kissed me."

"I knew it. Is he a good kisser? Wet or dry? Did he try to slip you tongue?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It was a perfectly sweet peck on the lips."

"Then what's the fuss? Why the late-night call? No way. I still call you a liar, and a keeper of juicy secrets." The disappointment in Meg's voice made Christine bite her cheek to keep from giggling.

"You may be right." Christine looked at her reflection in the glass pane of the dryer door. "I saw his face." She tried to keep her tone even, but her voice broke slightly on the last word.

Ever aware, Meg realized she had to drop her joking demeanor. "That bad, huh? I'm sorry, girl. What's wrong with him?"

"Bad surgery when he was a kid. Botched operations. They destroyed his face, even some of the nerves and muscles." Christine heard her voice shake and then thicken with tears. She couldn't describe his face to Meg; no matter how wonderful she was, there were some things she just wouldn't understand.

"Can I ask an awful question?"

"Sure. You're good at that." Christine blew her nose noisily.

Meg ignored the snub. "Did he kiss you before or after you saw him?"

"After."

"Brave girl. Remember what I told you? I knew you'd be fine."

"That's what he said." Christine had regained her composure. Her laundry was nearly dry. "He called me brave and kind. I'm neither, Meg. I'm just in love. It's changing me into an entirely different person."

"You're a better woman than me, that's for sure. Jay has a big mole on his neck that I've been trying to convince him to get removed for the longest time...it's almost more than I can handle." Meg shuddered just thinking of it.

"Yeah, but he can't carry a tune in a bucket," Christine scoffed. "And he called my cello a 'big fiddle.' So I guess it's each to her own, right?"

"Right."

"Ok. The clothes are done. I've got to get them folded and get some sleep. G'night Meg."

"G'night, girl."

Christine lay in bed that night, trying to clear her mind enough to fall asleep. There was so much talking left between the two of them, so many issues left to be ironed out. Once a week was not going to be enough in-person time anymore. She wanted to date, to go to concerts and movies, and to do all the normal things couples do. Instinctively, she knew that his mask would attract less attention if he went out with her, but she needed to convince him of that. She needed to introduce him to the world outside her apartment and make him love it. She needed to make herself get used to his face. All of that paled in comparison to the difficulty of what she needed to do first; she needed to tell him that she loved him.

And make him believe her.