Gift One
"The Photograph"

Erik never told her when his birthday was.

She could only assume it was because he didn't know, himself. But now that they'd lived together for a handful of months, and during that time he'd already celebrated her birthday, half birthday, and quarter birthday, she figured it was about time she do something for him in return.

He never let her leave the house without his direct supervision, afraid that if he did she would disappear into the mist and he'd never find her again. It was an unreasonable fear, since she was certainly not planning on leaving him, but she understood his fears of abandonment what with… everything that had happened to him in his life. But the problem that left her with was that it was impossible to buy something for him as a surprise.

There were times, however, that he left her alone in the house, and there were plenty of objects at her disposal with which to work. She entered his workshop with searching eyes, looking for anything that might give her an idea of what to get him.

And then she spotted it – a metal box sitting upon the shelf. Upon closer examination, she realized it was one of the new Kodak cameras she had seen advertised in the paper! A pamphlet attached to it touted its ease of use with just one 'press of a button,' and gave the directions for amateur photo-finishing.

Modern technology is so advanced, Christine marvelled to herself. To think – I can take a picture right here and have a finished photograph within just a few hours!

Giddily, she took the camera down from the shelf and examined it. It seemed easy enough to use - with the directions, that was – and an idea sprung up in her mind…

At night – or whatever could be determined as night, Christine was still unsure about the way the time passed below ground – Erik returned home.

"Is something the matter, Christine?" Erik questioned at once. "You are acting strangely."

"Oh, do sit, do sit!" Christine beckoned, practically dragging him to his favorite armchair beside the fireplace.

"Something is wrong," he decided, but followed where she led. Sitting down, he regarded her with concern. "Christine, do you feel well?"

"I am very well, dear!" Christine grinned. "And I hope you are, too!"

"Me-?"

She plucked a card off the mantle and held it out to him, and he accepted it with great trepidation. Looking upon it, he found it was a hand-drawn card, with the words Joyeux Anniversaire! scrawled across the front.

"What is this?" he demanded instantly.

Christine tilted her head. Didn't the card say it on the front? "A birthday card, Erik..."

"For who?"

"For you, dear!" she chirped. "We've probably celebrated my birthday six and half times in half as many months, but we've never done anything for you. I didn't know when your birthday was but figured we could do something now, and maybe on the real day, too? Anyway - look! Look inside!"

Still confused, he opened the folded card, and a handful of small rounded photographs fell out onto his lap. He stared at the heap in stunned silence for a moment, before plucking one up and looking at it.

It was a long minute before he spoke.

"Christine – how could you be so cruel?"

There were tears in his eyes.

Christine floundered. What was the matter? Did he not like the pictures? Was he mad that she used up the film? Sure, it was probably expensive, and hard to get… oh, he must certainly be upset about that! "I'm sorry, Erik, I didn't think about the cost…"

"The cost!" he wailed. "You never think about the cost, Christine."

"I am so sorry – I'll pay you back, however much it costs -"

"No need! Oh, how can one tell the value of a broken heart?"

"My dear, I apologize a thousand times over! I didn't realize you were so attached to the film!"

"Film? Film? Who cares about the price of the film?" Erik pressed one of the circular pictures to his heart. "These photographs are things to be cherished forever, Christine – but what good are they if my heart has been completely and utterly shattered? I have nothing with which to love them anymore!"

"Erik, what are you talking about? How have I broken your heart?"

"You are leaving me!" he accused, fresh tears spouting out from his swollen ducts. "And you have given me these beautiful pictures as a parting gift, as a way to soften the blow! Oh, I daresay you are very cruel, Christine, cruel indeed, to dangle the thing I want so desperately but can never have right in front of me!"

"No! Oh, no, Erik, no!" Christine cried. "You've misunderstood!"

"Misunderstood? Was this not an attempt to be kind? I was going to say – Christine, your kindness breaks me!" Erik sobbed. "No, you were intending to be cruel all along – you knew just what you were doing! And that's why you were so impatient when I came home! You couldn't wait to see me cry! You enjoy it, don't you? Oh, my villainous, spiteful Christine…! How I love you still!"

He wailed openly in the chair, the photographs and card resting upon his lap catching his tears as they fell. The ink ran across the cardstock, smudging the letters, and the photographs swelled and peeled away from their backings.

There was nothing Christine could say to ebb his tears, so she sat at his feet and rested her head against his bony knee so that she felt every sob that rang through his body.

At long last, the sobs turned to sniffles, and he dared to ask, "Well, what are you still doing here? Have I not cried enough to sate your sadistic pleasure?"

She sighed. "Oh, Erik, my poor dear, I have no intention of leaving you."

"I'm afraid," he said through sniffs, "that I don't quite understand."

She reached up and collected the photographs. They were thoroughly ruined, wet as they were. She tossed them into the fire. "Never mind, Erik. Let us pretend this night never happened."

"I don't -"

She took his hand and guided it to her hair. Cautiously, he laced his hand through the soft curls as she spoke: "It was a misunderstanding, Erik. That's all. But I am here, and I am not going anywhere. So, please… don't think about it anymore."

The last of the photographs burnt up in the embers.