My Angel of Music

Funeral

The soft silk brushed against my skin and made me shiver with dread.  I stared at the horrid black dress.  This dress made it official.  This dress with it's long beautiful silk skirt.  And it's simple black buttons running down the bodice.  This dress confirmed my son's death.  I stared at it for a long time.  I wasn't sure how long, it could have been hours for all I knew.  But I did know that I hated this dress more than anything.  I wanted to rip it to shreds and burn it.  Suddenly, bile rose in my throat and I needed to hurl.  The whole mess of it, all of the sadness and death made me sick.  I rushed to the water room and hurled into the sink.

I held back my own damp curls as I hunched over the bowl.  I tried to make as little noise as possible so I would not attract anyone.  Especially Erik.  He had been blaming himself the entire time.  Everytime I shed a tear or sighed in sadness, he would apologize.  I hated it.  In fact, I hated him.  Of course, I didn't blame him, how could I?  But, he was getting under my skin with his self pity and apologies.  

When I was done, I solemnly walked to the dress and closed my eyes.  Instead of a funeral dress, I pretended it was my wedding dress.  The white satin and large skirt that poofed out like a queen's.  That's what I thought about as I gently took the dress and slid it over my corset and slip.  When I opened my eyes and saw myself in the mirror, a sob escaped my throat, but I pushed it down.  I would not cry.  I would not shed a single tear.

I grabbed a pair of black lace gloves, and pushed them through my fingers.  Another glance at my hair that was in a tight bun told me I was strong.  And I was ready.

Erik was waiting for me in the library, holding little Annabel.  I smiled when I approached him.  He held her and was singing a French lullaby.  His voice was not deep and seductive like it was with me, but gentle and light.  He didn't even notice me when I was standing right over him.  "Having fun?"  I joked, startling Erik.  He blushed and looked back at the baby.  "That was beautiful, love."  I said softly before bending down and planting a kiss on Annabel's forehead, then Erik's.  

He stood and handed the baby to me.  I took her and let Erik put his arm around me.  "Are you ready?"  He asked sadly.  I nodded with a sad smile on my face as we walked into the cold morning  air.

I held Annabel tightly in my arms so I could keep her warm in the chilly air.  Erik kept his arm around my shoulders and held me against his side.  I held my  composure, even when they brought out the tiny black box.  I shut my eyes tightly and squeezed the child in my arms even tighter.  Erik dropped his arm from my shoulders and held his hands together.  I opened my eyes and stared at his clasped hands.  He was squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his hands shook.  But when I glanced up at his face, I saw that his whole body was shaking.  His eyes were closed, and his nostrils flared.  His mask rubbed against his skin, making it raw.

I sighed and snuggled closer into his arms, then I placed my gloved hand over his clasped ones.  He didn't open his eyes, but he at least stopped shaking.  I didn't shed a tear throughout the whole funeral.  Not when the priest read from the bible about Jesus and the little children.  Not when he prayed for Gustave's soul to be allowed into heaven.  Not even when they lowered his small box into the cold earth.  But on the inside, I was screaming.  I was throwing things.  I was dying.  Bile rose in my throat as they shoveled the first pile of dirt onto my son.  Erik forcefully shook his hand from my grasp, and stalked away.  I glared at him from behind.  The servants, Meg, and Luke all turned to watch him storm inside, and slam the door behind him.

I shook my head and returned to closing my eyes until it was over.

Finally, the dreadful ceremony was done, and I was allowed to take the baby to the nanny, march up to my room, and let my emotions take hold.