part 1
There's love that looks like smoke:
If it's too tight for her, she's a jerk,
Let her go and she'll be gone...
To be like smoke - but always young.
There is love, like a shadow:
In the afternoon at your feet - he listens to you,
At night, he hugs so quietly...
To be like a shadow, but together night and day...
И. Annensky. Two loves
We've been living together for three months now. However, we are not talking about any "we". There is only "me and him". We try to live separately as we used to live. He writes music, torments his terrible opera, wander lonely in the garden (we've moved out of town, it's so much calmer for him that I won't run away), wakes up every night from nightmares, almost doesn't eat and forbids me to interfere in his life, and constantly interferes with mine. For him, there are no decency or rules - but I'm a little used to it. I keep singing at the Opera House, and I get there myself on foot to the village, and from there on the stagecoach, and it takes me more than two hours , I keep doing handicrafts (I sell some things to earn more - Eric's savings are pretty big, but I can't let him spend much of them)... The only thing that changes radically in my life is that I am all alone. I haven't seen Raoul since my engagement to Eric, but he's reportedly gone to the North Pole. Mother Valerius was gone a week after our wedding. Eric didn't care, so the burden of the funeral device lay on my shoulders. The former Ghost forbade me to wear mourning, and I dared not rebel. For me, his word is the law.
I tried to be myself, but now I know more than ever that I was dragged into this abyss of despair.
I'm sitting on the couch in our tiny living room embroidering on a tablecloth. I plan to sell it, but I like the process itself - the only thing that remains pleasant in my life.
Outside the windows in June.
More and more flowers are blossoming in the garden, planted here by our only servant - an old gardener who is a bit blind but very devoted to this place. From the windows of the second floor, you can see a clear river flowing far away. There are plenty of trees here, but outside the garden, there are mostly untouched fields. They are covered with wildflowers, among which there are full of grasshoppers (their dragonflies are very calming for me), and I like to walk there.
A quiet, windless evening descends to our cozy corner, and I particularly acutely feel my loneliness.
I will go mad if I don't change my lifestyle. I've changed a lot, but I don't want to live like this anymore. I need to break this vicious circle somehow.
I have nothing against Eric. Yes, he is strange, yes, he is not the one I imagined in my romantic dreams as my husband, but he is... He is surprisingly my man. I've known him longer than anyone else. I'm used to all his shortcomings and I'm childishly in love with his virtues.
We could have been a real family.
I believe that "he and I" can turn into such a simple and understandable "we.
I know you can start from scratch, if not from scratch, then just start.
I'm ready for a lot of things to become happy again.
And now I am looking in the mirror for the first time in a long time. I want to be beautiful for him. I understand perfectly well that everything I am going to do will not be easy. We need time, but we have plenty of time.
I am ready for anything.
I've been putting my hair in order for a long time, having already taken refuge in my bedroom (there are two of them here, and we live separately - thank God I made Eric furnish his room as a human being, not like before. At least in the coffin he doesn't sleep anymore). . I like his material - silk slides between the fingers, it is light and pleasant. I don't usually wear it, but today I decide to change everything and start with myself. A little bit of a soul - Eric gave me this perfume a month after our wedding, and I never used it. They have a light, very weightless fragrance - a fragrance of tenderness and warmth. No, of course, I'm just wrapped in a floral florist, but that's what surprises me.
Sometimes I think Eric knows some things about me better than I do.
I go into the kitchen. It's cozy and bright here. It's okay: Eric likes it when everything is set up as if in an alchemical lab. It's his territory: it's him, not me, who's responsible for our meals.
But today I want to try to go against this tradition.
I cook vegetable soup. The aroma comes from it is absolutely wonderful: spicy herbs do their job. Carrots, potatoes, fennel, some pearl groats... I am delighted. I like a little glove and I understand that now Eric should definitely like it.
I slice the country bread. He has a very special taste. Eating a crust of salt is a little weakness of an almost adult.
Eric comes quite late, as always tired and absolutely detached from reality. I want to run up, to hug - as always during these three months. I know he's gonna be horrified, he's gonna look at me and ask me, looking me a little bit offended in the eye, "What does Christine want with Eric?
If I had the courage to explain for once that.
But I'm just a stupid Christine, only the one who, in his understanding, hates him and lives with him only out of pity ...
This is not true. I never hated him. Afraid? Yes, I was scared to death. Now he doesn't scare me anymore, because since he and I left the basement of the Opera House, we've both changed a lot. Eric got a little calmer, and I... I suddenly realized that, except for the disgusting looks and sometimes unjustified cruelty (not to me, he was afraid to raise his hand at me from the beginning; no, to those who were trying to stop him from living his own way), he could be a perfectly normal person, if not a good person.
I have no illusions that he would be able to find a crowd of friends and become a good citizen. God forbid! Eric is Eric, with all his shortcomings, with all his imperfections.
But he deserves to be happy too.
I walk up to him and freeze in indecision. Eric is already accustomed to putting a cane in an umbrella stand and turning the unexpectedly inquisitive gaze of golden eyes at me.
They don't seem so frightening in the light of day, at least they look more like honey-crime than they did in the dungeons under dim light.
- Does Christina have something to say to Eric?
He's nervously squeezing some small bundle in his hands, but I don't dare to ask about its contents.
- Yes. I made you dinner. I want us to eat together tonight.
Eric stepped back one step at a time, stunned by the look at me.
- But... but... Eric... Does Christine think he, such a terrible monster, would agree... spoil her appetite...
I interrupt his incoherent muttering by simply covering his mouth with his palm, which is not covered with this creepy black silk mask.
- Eric, I know you're hungry. Please eat with your wife.
I've never talked about myself as his wife before, and when I give him the chance to talk again, Eric squeezes my hand.
- Oh, Christine, Eric... - he can't say anything more, and I understand that. I gently release my hand and smile.
- Please, let's go!
He follows me without any objection, and it amazes me more than his first reaction to my offer.
He sits down at the table (we don't have a dining room, Eric thought it was a waste of money) and looks at me.
I am unwittingly starting to be shaken by a hard-to-understand fear.
I pour hot soup on plates, bring sliced bread. I feel like Eric is watching my every move.
- Thank you... - Suddenly I hear it for the first time from his lips. I used to... I didn't have anything to say before. He keeps his mouth shut and takes it quietly for food.
I eat silently too. There's no need to ask about anything so far.
- Eric can... Can I give Christine something?
His plate is already empty, and he will drink tea. I'm done with food, too, but I keep dragging bread off the plate and eating it with salt.
- You don't have to ask permission to do that," he said, "but I keep saying, "because you're free to do whatever you want.
- Then... Can Christine get up and close her eyes?
I go up and close my eyes obediently. His icy fingers touch my neck. Softly, gently, as if he was trying to open up to me for a moment.
I feel some weight on my neck.
- Christine can open her eyes...
I hurriedly put my eyes down - there's a gold pendant on my neck on a chain with some pretty expensive stone, apparently.
- Thank you," I look up at him and smile. Suddenly I think of a stupid idea. - Eric, I know my request is crazy, but... Can I hug you? I know you don't like touching, but... please!
He looks stunned at me and barely nods at me.
I press against him, holding him tight by the waist. My head only reaches his chest. The former teacher's heart is beating desperately, and he touches my shoulders uncertainly as if he didn't believe what was happening.
We stand so for a few long minutes.
This is the first time Eric leaves with a happy smile. There is love.
to be continued.....