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Dec.13, 1876
Seven months, four days, and so, many, hours. Could her heart ever pound the way it had before? It was dead. And the man with his castles, sparkling wines, and pretentious notability was hardly convincing. Neither the dungeon rat with his irrevocable charm and haughty veneer could steer her heart into stirring. Except for rage and regret, they were her constant companions.
Christine stood naked in front of her soon to be mother-in-law in her new private apartment within the DeChagny mansion. She peered at herself through the full-length oval mirror. She looked sad. Worn in every physical and mental way possible. Her newly adopted belief in nihilism showed itself unpleasantly. Her skin was ashen and frail. Her frame had lost all its curviness, her waist had become a dull rectangle. Most notably the eyes which used to beam and shine so vibrantly we're lifeless.
"Dear, " Josephine started, her tone indicative of worry and disdain. "Please don't take offense, but Christine, you don't look well." If it weren't someone who she'd admired so much she may have snapped, this hadn't been the first time someone had taken notice of her slowly decomposing body. She hadn't been eating. And when they forced her to she could never physically keep it down. Desire to or not.
Christine replied, almost whimpering, "I know, sorry".
Josephine sighed, "I'm just concerned."
"Yes, " Christine said swallowing the pitiful cry trying to escape her throat, "Me too."
"Please, tell me honestly, do you want this?" Josephine asked handing her the wedding night garments that went underneath the pure ivory wedding gown.
"Yes, I love him, " she lied, the flatness in her voice so unconvincing, Josephine shook her head.
"No one is forcing you into this darling. I've always imagined you and my son together, but I rather move on from that fantasy to know that you are happy."
"I promise, " Christine performed, somewhat better than the last sentence, "I want this, I want Raoul."
"Okay, " Josephine said thoughtfully. She lowered the wedding dress over the girl's head until it fit loosely around her. The poor thing was sullen, like air trying to fill a glass vase in substitution of water. Josephine only wished she could be freed from whatever demons seemed to be haunting her.
"Christine, it's lovely," she remarked. Christine winced as she looked into the mirror, not recognizing herself standing in the large gown, or at all for that matter, her figure was less than petite and her bones bulged out against her thin pale skin. She looked like a living corpse, and Erik thought he was the scary one...
"Thank you," she murmured, trying to be polite but noting Josephine had only complimented the dress and not the dress on her. There was a huge excess of material that Josephine was able to gather from the back as she seemed to be measuring how much material would need to be taken in. Christine hoped if she could make it to the upcoming wedding that she could be brave enough to put on a few pounds to look at least a fraction of her old self. With every part of her that had vowed to be strong, the daily physical decline denied her progress sevenfold.
"You know, I've never seen my Raoul so happy before, he really does love you, Christine, I hope you know that."
"Yes, I do. He's good." Her phrasing made Josephine furrow her brows. He's good. So odd... no matter though, she had to reassure her as much as possible between now and the wedding date, whatever her train of thought was at the present it could shift with enough positive encouragement.
"Christine, I can see you're looking a bit tired, let me allow you to rest, we can finish the fitting tomorrow and I can call in a seamstress to assist me, but before I leave I wish to tell you a very sweet story, are you up to it?"
"Of course, Madame."
"Well, then," Josephine replied instantly, anticipating her agreeableness almost a second too prematurely, "let us get you out of this uncomfortable attire." Once Christine was in her night shift again she gestured for her to sit on the large king-size bed behind them. She waited until the girl looked settled enough and then began.
"The day after you and your father, may he rest in peace," she signaled God, The Father, and The Holy Spirit, " left Switzerland, poor Raoul cried for a week straight. That little boy refused any company and kept to himself, mostly spending the afternoons and evenings at the beach, reliving your shared moments together in his head, I imagine," she said. It hadn't occurred to Christine about what it had been like for Raoul. They had left rather quickly and hadn't given much of a notice. It must have been a shock for their entire family- maybe even more than it had been to her.
She continued, "Dear, it was not only that particular week that he mourned your lack of presence. Years past by and he would mention you casually like you hadn't been too far off his mind. One day, a few years ago, a letter he'd wanted me to fetch from his office slipped out of my hand and fell underneath his desk, I was eager to learn that there was an etching of your name forged into the wood underneath, most likely written as a teen from the looks of the handwriting."
She paused letting this new information sink in before concluding, "And darling, the way his whole person changed the moment he realized he'd found you again. Oh, how vibrant and jolly he was! It was as if his whole world changed from dark to light in one instance. It was magical really, and then I knew with complete confidence the moment I laid my own eyes on you, that you and my son had always been destined to be."
It was a painful shame-like feeling, sitting there with nothing to say back that could prove her acknowledgment of her son's feelings. She'd loved the boy in the sea with the red scarf before when her days were always day and nights were always night. But her world was upside down and the nights became the day and the days became the night. From the moment she met him. It was always a kind of night. He was black glitter and cold moon, furry slippers, and candlelight. Melodies and charms. Weightless feelings when in his arms...
Thinking of him sent an unexpected rush of electricity through her body. He was her day in the darkness, the hope she'd known for years. Savior from grief.
And there was one morning which felt like years ago. She rose to light her candle before dawn and when it glowed she saw the strangest thing, two locks of hair, blonde and black, intertwined. It was him. He was there, not only in her dreams. Though, where was he now?
She played with the manipulated length of hair, towards the back of her head often, feeling it's ends and noticing the absence, as she also felt Erik's absence.
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