She walked listlessly to my chair and sat down with my dirty clothes piled on her lap. Then she looked at me with a somber, deeply thoughtful face.
“What happened, Erik? Why this sudden change?”
I laid my head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling, searching for the proper words. “I know I told you that I wouldn’t pressure you, and I don’t want to give you an ultimatum, but things have changed and a decision is necessary. I’ve grown to love you more than I thought humanly possible, Christine, but, as with all things, that love comes at a great cost to all concerned.” I looked back over at her. “I never expected my love for you to be this powerful, but since it is, I have to change our original agreement.”
I motioned to the walls. “This has been my home for over fifteen years, but now it’s my prison. I can no longer look at it the same way when you’re not here. I can make it through the next two weeks down here if I know there’ll be an end at that time—whatever it is.
“If you decide to stay with me, we can leave together and start a new life somewhere else. Wherever you want to go I’ll go: Spain, Italy, Austria, England, America, it won’t matter to me. But if you choose Raoul, then I’ll leave here alone and travel. Perhaps I’ll become like Jacob and go to the North Pole or the South Pacific Islands, I don’t know. Maybe I could even go to Port Elizabeth and find someone who could love me, the way Mathew did. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll most assuredly leave here—that I know for sure.”
I looked back at her as she gazed into the fire for a few moments before she looked at me. “I don’t understand why you feel I have to make a decision between you and Raoul. It wouldn’t matter if I chose him, he could never marry me, his brother would never permit it.”
“Is that the only reason why you couldn’t choose him? Do you not love him enough?”
Her eyes went back to the fire, and she responded softly, “Yes, I love him, and he says he loves me, but I believe it’s all just a fanciful game we play. He knows he can’t marry me, so we just play games like we did as children. We have dinner together and we talk about how it used to be and we laugh. It’s all just a fun game.”
“As Raoul once told you, Christine, you’re no longer children, and you have to face an adult life and the adult decisions that come with it. The game you play is becoming much too dangerous for you to look at it in the same way.”
She looked at me quickly. “Why do you keep using that term, dangerous? How can any of this be dangerous?”
Turning my head and closing my eyes, I sighed, “Oh, Christine, you’re such a naive and terribly innocent child. I’m trying to tell you that, if you don’t make a decision, then one is going to be made for you, and you’ll have no say in the matter. In two weeks, I’ll be gone. Either I’ll be dead or I’ll be out of France altogether. Preferably, I’ll be out of France.”
When I looked back at her she was frowning seriously. “Dead? What are you suggesting?”
Quickly, I answered, “I’m not only suggesting but I’m telling you that if Raoul and I stay in the same city much longer, one of us could easily turn up dead.”
“You wouldn’t,” she exclaimed as she sat forward. “You wouldn’t kill him! You promised!”
I again sighed as I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers across my forehead. “Not intentionally, my dear. But you’ve heard my track record and you know what happens when someone tries to take my life from me.” Sarcastically, I added, “I don’t appreciate it very much, and I can get a tad angry.”
“Raoul would never do that, Erik. He’s a gentleman. He talks about finding you, but I can’t bring myself to believe that he’d hurt you—much less kill you.”
With that ridiculous statement, I laughed aloud, causing me to wrench in pain, cough a few times, and then I let her have the truth. “Gentleman? You call this a gentlemanly act?” I laid my hand on my shoulder and my voice rose. “Does this really look like the results of a gentleman’s hand to you? Should I take the bandage off and show you the results of that gentleman’s efforts to get me out of his way?
“Should I show you where the bullet entered and where it exited? It entered in my back, Christine. He shot me in the back, and what makes it worse is that he thought he was doing the world a favor in doing so. Therefore, if you’re still going to call him a gentleman, then you have to at least call him a cowardly gentleman.”
I looked sternly at her sitting in my chair with her mouth dropped open and shaking her head. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.
“Oh, Christine, you need to wake up,” I rebuked harshly. “Right now we’re moving around in the eye of a hurricane and at any moment its walls could move in on us, and its gale winds would take complete control of our actions and our very lives, ripping them apart. If the three of us stay here together, then we’ll be allowing that to happen, and we’re all doomed to failure.
“I’m trying to prevent a disaster from happening, with or without your cooperation. Therefore, in two weeks, I’m leaving France. If you go with me, then you’ll make my dreams come true and make me the happiest man alive. If not, then I’ll leave alone just as I have so often in the past.”
She was still sitting there with disbelief flowing from her eyes. So, shaking my head at her, I tried one more time in a soft and loving tone. “Christine, I love you with a love that’s worth more to me than my own life. Everything that I’m telling you is based on that love. The fact that I’m lying here like this, with yet another hole in my body, should prove to you that what I’m saying is the truth. Something horrible is going to happen if we don’t act on what I say. I would rather set you free, Christine, than to see you hurt any more than you have been.”
She stared down at the rug at her feet. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. This is entirely my fault. You’re fighting over me. My indecision has caused this. I can’t let this happen. I’ll go away—far away from both of you.” She shook her head. “If one of you dies because of me . . . .” She shook her head again. “I never saw this coming. At times I was afraid you might kill him but never the other way around.”
“Oh, I see! In your eyes, he’s too much of a gentleman while I’m the murderer, right? So, your fair-haired boy would never do this? Ha,” I laughed.
“No, Erik, it’s not that. Raoul also has a bad temper; plus he’s spoiled and always wants his way. He’s told me he wants you dead, and I could tell in his eyes how he felt about you. I could see him trying to find you and fighting with you. I’ve even had to stop him from doing so. But I never thought he would catch you in a vulnerable position and be able to kill you.
“But I know your strengths, and I know what you could do in self defense. I never thought or imagined that you would ever kill him without being provoked. Oh,” she gasped. “Joseph.” She looked at my shoulder. “If Raoul shot you, what happened to him? Is he hurt?”
“No, he’s not hurt. He’s still just as aristocratic as ever. The last I heard from him, he was giving orders to his servants. No, he’s not hurt—yet.”
“No, Erik, this has to stop.” She got up and started pacing. “This has to stop. This is my fault.”
“No, this isn’t your fault, Christine. I went mad with jealousy. It’s not your fault that I’m crazy, and it’s not your fault that Raoul has such low regard for my life. It’s not your fault. We’re grown men and are responsible for our own actions—not you.”
She stopped and looked at me. “Had you done anything to deserve getting shot in the back?”
Forty-Two
I huffed and shook my head in disgust. “Well, let me see. Why, yes, I believe I did do something to deserve a bullet in the back. Yes, I did—I turned my back on him, that’s what I did. I learned a long time ago never to turn my back on an enemy, so it was my error. Sorry, I presume I did deserve it—right?”
She looked dumbfounded. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Well, believe it, my dear, because it’s real. You might look at your f
air-haired, childhood sweetheart in a different light now. He’s not so fair, is he? He’s not the innocent young man you thought him to be, my benevolent Christine, he’s one of them. One of the long list of people who’ve wanted me dead, and the only reason why his life hasn’t ended like the rest of the many who’ve tried to take my life is because of you and my love for you.”
She was staring down at her hands when she responded softly, “I’m having such a hard time visualizing Raoul actually pulling the trigger and shooting you in the back. I can’t believe it really happened.”
“Well, it did happen, and, furthermore, let me tell you that if he were a better marksman I would be dead and it would have been by his bullet.”
“Could you possibly be mistaken?” she almost pleaded.
“I don’t think so, Christine. It’s hard to mistake the pain of a bullet tearing through your flesh. It’s something you remember and you unquestionably mark the person who was responsible.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe you. You’re just telling me this to influence my mind.”
“Oh, really? Is that what you truly think? Do you honestly believe I did this to myself? Many have thought me to be crazy, but can you visualize me doing this to my own body just to influence you against Raoul?”
Her hand went over her mouth and she shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it that way, I only meant that you’re blaming Raoul for something someone else did to you, just as he blamed you for trying to kill him.”
Every syllable I spoke next came laced with venom. “No, Christine. I’ve had many opportunities to end his miserable life and without anyone suspecting me. I could have killed him right in your own dressing room or that night in Perros. And then there was the time down by the lake when we argued. He pulled a gun on me then also, so it would have been self defense.
“I could have ended all of this then and had you for myself. And then last night, I could have killed him easily, but no, because of my love for you, I didn’t. Instead, I turned my back on him and he shot me as if I was an open target in a practice field. No, my dear, this wound has his name on it for sure.
“Actually, I have two scars from him, and they both have his name written across them. Each of my scars has a name, and every time I see one of them, the memory of what happened flashes before me. So, with his name on two of them, my thoughts of him will be twice as frequent and twice as hate-filled.”
I took a much-needed breath and tried to calm my spirit before I went on. “This game is getting much too dangerous and you must stop it, Christine. I know you believe that Raoul can’t marry you, perhaps that’s adding to your indecision, but my many years have taught me that time has a way of changing our lives. I can think of several different scenarios where he could change his situation and marry you. Therefore, you must make up your mind and heart, either Raoul or me. If not, then one of us is going to end up dead, and you’ll have to bury one and live a life with that memory of your indecision. Two weeks, Christine—Raoul or me.”
She laid her face in her hands. “No, I can’t listen to any more of this. I can’t listen to any more.”
I was beginning to feel bad for my harsh tone, so, with all the caring I could give her at that time, I spoke to her. “Then go to your room and try to rest. Tomorrow you can pack what you want and leave me, and then I’ll see you in two weeks.”
She got up slowly, laid my dirty clothes in my chair, and left for her room, all without looking at me or responding in any way. I sighed, closed my eyes and melted into the divan. I felt horrible. I felt as if I was in another living nightmare, and I couldn’t even imagine how Christine must have felt.
I was lying there thinking for a few minutes when I heard her door open. I looked toward her and watched her cross the room toward me. Then she sat on the coffee table close to me.
“I’m sorry, Erik. I wish I could freely tell you what you want to hear, but . . .” She stopped and stared at the floor. “I care for you deeply, and the thought of never seeing you or not having you in my life is very painful for me, but . . .”
She stopped again and looked at me. “I’ll do what you ask, because I trust your wisdom more than my own, so I’ll stay away for two weeks, but not right now. I can’t leave you in this condition. I just can’t, and you can’t ask me to. I need to stay with you until you’re better and in a safe condition, and then I’ll do what you ask. Will you at least agree to that much?”
My heart was melting. “Oh, Christine,” I reached over and touched her hand. “I love you so much. You’re truly my angel. You may stay and help me. Please, don’t fret. Everything will work out for the best in the end. Believe me, it always does.”
She tried to smile and then she took my clothes into the kitchen, telling me she was going to put them in to soak.
“Seriously, Christine, don’t bother. The jacket and shirt have holes in them, and I don’t want them as another reminder.”
She nodded, but kept on walking. She was gone for some time, and when she came back, she had a plate with some cut up fish, some spiced rice, and two celery stalks.
As she poured me some tea she said, “You need to eat something and you need to start drinking your tea.”
She held out her hand for me to take, and I did, letting her help me up. She sat with me as I ate, but we didn’t say much, at least not verbally anyway. In the dim light from the dying fire, our eyes did most of the talking. She did, however, thank me for the jewelry box and said the inscription made her cry.
I finished eating, she took the dish to the kitchen, and, when she came back, she pulled something from her pocket, two lassos.
“I almost forgot,” she said as she walked toward me. “I found these violin strings in your coat pockets. Where would you like me to put them?”
“Those are my lassos, Christine,” I replied grimly.
“Oh!” she gasped.
I gestured toward the coffee table. “You can leave them right there.”
After taking a guarded glance at them, she laid them on the coffee table as if they were diseased.
We said goodnight, and she left, closing her door and taking the remainder of the light from the room. I lay there watching the last of the red embers turn to black, while I tried to sort out what I needed to do in order to keep myself on a straight path. Having her stay with me any longer was going to be hard, but I told myself that it could be the last I saw of her, so I needed to enjoy it while I could.
I’d told her I was going to stay down in my music room and work on Don Juan, but that was far from the truth. I needed to watch her with Raoul. I wanted to see how she reacted to him. He’d made her angry during the masked ball and also in Perros; therefore, I didn’t believe she was able to tell him what she was really feeling. I needed to give her the opportunity to be with him and let him bring out his true colors to her, and for her to bring out her true feelings for him, which would help me to know what her true feelings were for me.
The next day, and each day after that, she was gone from me only during rehearsals, performances, or when shopping for food. She made three full meals each day, not just tea and toast, and she kept me filled up with my tea and herbal medicine along with lots of fruit.
I slept as often as I felt the need, and, while she tried continually to get me to sleep in my bed and let her take the divan, I refused. To me, that bed was hers, and I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in it unless she was there with me. Therefore, I slept on the divan and woke many times to find her curled in my chair with a book or just watching me. When that was the case, she would instantly ask if she could get me anything. I soaked up everything she did for me and cherished every movement she made.
The pain I was in was severe most of the time, and I wanted to give into the soothing effects of morphine, but, as tempting as it was, I couldn’t do that with Christine in the house. I didn’t trust myself while under its influence, and, since my last encounter with it in Perros, I feared depending on it for an
y reason other than physical pain. Especially was that true right then, with the very real possibility that Christine could be gone from me forever.
The first two days passed like a dream, and we were playing house again just as before, but, toward the end of that second day, the air once more became charged with our conflicting feelings. Without my asking, she prepared to change the bandages on my shoulder.
“I don’t want another bottle of maggots around here, and I’m sure you don’t either, so we’d better take care of your shoulder properly.”
“You’ve got that right,” I replied.
She sat on the divan next to me and helped me off with my shirt, and then, as she removed the bandage, I clenched my teeth, causing her to apologize. When she became quiet, I glanced at her frowning brow.
“Oh, Erik, your poor shoulder. I didn’t realize a bullet could do this much damage,” she said, as she ran her finger gently across my shoulder.
“Come now, Christine, this is nothing compared to the last time you dressed my wound.”
“I know, but that was more than a bullet wound. I didn’t expect this to be so bad. It almost took off the top of your shoulder.”
Her words made me think about Raoul, and I’m afraid my voice showed my continued irritation with him. “That’s because it not only entered but also grabbed hold of my muscle before tearing through the front and taking a portion of my flesh with it.”
She closed her eyes and took a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
I should have kept my mouth shut and stayed on her compassionate side, but I let my bitter thoughts take hold and come out mockingly. “Oh, are you seeing Raoul in a different light, my dear? Can you see he’s not the sweet, debonair young man you think him to be?”
“Please don’t, Erik. Don’t start again.”
Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine Page 60
