part 3
It's July, and it's my day off.
We closed the season three weeks ago, and the rehearsal process in the summer takes much less time than the performances and additional rehearsals.
So I have extra days to spare, and I continue to invade Eric's world with shamelessness. It's already becoming a matter of principle: to get him out of the sink, to make him a little happier, to help...
I can see that he wants to do it himself, but he is afraid.
Without my support, he doesn't have the courage.
I sit on the back porch that overlooks the garden and watch as a furry bumblebee, a low buzzer, flying between blossoming rosehip bushes. I've always liked these flowers... They attract wasps and bees, which is their minus, but the fragile beauty of these rich pink petals is a very special natural mockery of my understanding of what is perfect.
The door creaks behind me, and Eric comes out silently on the porch. I know that without even looking back. He's here, looking at me, probably looking at a wreath of white clover in my blonde hair with interest.
- Eric wouldn't hurt Christine if he sat down? - that's the kind of ornate phrase that sounds like "Will you let me sit down?" or "Am I interrupting?
- No... (Sighs) - I'm moving a little so that Eric can sit down next to me. He slips down on little squeaky boards and tilts his head slightly, looking at me. I look at him: dark pants even in the summer and a white shirt I ironed. Dark hair is ruffled, and there's a black mask on my face that opens thin lips. - May I ask you a question? Why do you always talk like this... so strange?
- Erik has been accustomed to pronouncing sentences in such a way that he does not interfere with anyone's personality and ideas and becomes just a name that can be said to be "Erik did something". He, Eric, was nothing.
- But that's not true! - I'm afraid of his words and his indifferent tone.
- Why not? Erica is fine...
I sigh.
- Really? And I'm not. I don't want you... You thought so.
He sighs and looks me in the eye. I put my head on his shoulder. He is tense, nervously squeezing his hands at the thin knees protruding. I don't dare to go back to the previous position.
- Why... Why would Christine do that? She doesn't understand... Eric cannot be helped by anything.
I touch his cheeks.
He shouldn't think that way.
He shouldn't!
- Please... It will be much easier for me.
He's cramping my hand.
Excited.
As if I was calm...
- Eric, I'm asking you very much... for my sake," I'm in the same breath and keep talking more calmly and confidently. - Would you like to come to pick up some lingonberries with me? It's already ripe, especially on the felling.
- Eric... - He's catching my warning look - I... would like to.
He's clinging even harder to his knees.
I don't know if I should pretend not to notice.
- Beautiful! Then I'll grab a can now, and let's go. By the way, if I were you, I'd get rid of the black one... Today is really a hot day, and we will go through the fields.
I'm not sure he'll listen to me, but at least I'm trying to warn him.
I am in a hurry to the kitchen.
I take a canister, put two bowls in a small bag, a bottle of water, salt in a small jar and bread fried in the morning. I put on a modest, almost rustic, dark green dress made of some inexpensive fabric, put on a comfortable old shoe, put on a simple hat, decorate it with my wreath and go back to the porch.
Staying outdoors is bad for my skin: I'm starting to get a tan, and I'm worried about whether this will make Eric stop thinking I'm beautiful.
He's waiting for me in the same clothes unless he's changed his mask to exactly the same white one. It scares me a little, but I don't see it.
- Ready? - He nods and takes my bag and canoe. I don't mind.
We walk down the path to the fields, and there we go down the knee in the grass. I don't take it in my hand, on the contrary, I'm a little farther away - I feel too good, and I don't want to think about anything other than how good this day is. Eric follows me with a light smile.
It's all new to him, I see.
I am full of hope for this day.
We walk in silence, gradually moving from the field to the beaten path along the edge of the forest.
Eric goes very fast and smoothly, but I'm always distracted by the beauty of the surrounding area, where the bizarre snags bend over, the golden butterfly flies by, and the beautiful flowers grow here...
Gradually - after about an hour of walking in the heat - we reach the cuttings, a little deepened for the last ten minutes in the forest. Here, among the fallen trees, there are special meadows, where just a scatter of red berries.
Eric's eyes are burning with excitement, and I'm finally exhaling.
* * *
Two hours later, the can is full, and we're almost out of lingonberries. Eric's shirt had a few red spots of juice on it and a couple more on the mask by the mouth. He rolled up his sleeves, and all this time I see his strong, wiry hands, but it doesn't disgust me, but on the contrary, it attracts me.
I am strange.
Sometimes I don't understand myself.
- I think we can walk a little to the river," I put our bowls in the bag and take it myself, and Eric immediately covers the canopy and follows me. We are silent almost all the time - we understand each other without words.
We go down the slope to the river and settle down on the bank covered with grass.
I sink right down to the ground and get water and bread and salt. I take a few small sips and hold out a bottle to Erika.
He's lying on the grass next to me, and I can see he's very hot. He drinks greedily. Thank God he won't drink around a liter here at a time.
I go to the water and wash.
- Eric, you should wash up too - it would be easier... и... - I don't know how to say this without hurting him - a mask... If you took the mask off, it would be easier.
- Erica is fine, but I read his jealousy right through his eyes.
- I won't look. I promise. You can then lie on your side, turning your back on me. Please... Give yourself a break.
My voice must sound very pitiful now, but for some reason, it works: he gets up and hurries to take off the mask, sitting at the edge of the water.
I turn my back right away.
I'm not sure I'm ready. I'm not sure he's ready.
We are both cowardly and afraid of the unknown. It hurts me... but I can't break this circle.
After washing, it's obviously easier for Eric. He sits next to me and eats the proposed bread greedily, with just a little salt and water.
I pet him on the back.
First, he gets nervous, then he relaxes. Water flows down his hair - he was really hot.
We're sitting in the shade of trees, but there's a breeze too, and this place is amazingly romantic.
Eric is tired of lying on his side.
You have to let him rest.
Gathering berries is not an easy task, especially for a person who is not very used to it. Eat gadflies, gnats, mosquitoes; all the time you have to bend over, all your fingers are in juice, very sticky and sweet, for nothing that wasps aren't there...
- Eric... Can Eric lie here for a while longer?
- Let you still crawl out onto the sunny part of the earth... and leave your head in the shade.
He's not arguing.
He settles in and relaxes.
After half an hour, he falls asleep, turning over on his back, and now I can clearly see his facial features.
Sharp cheekbones, an outstanding narrow chin, and a high forehead are the details that give his appearance a strange beauty, if at all, in our situation. Eric is ugly, and this is clearly visible. He doesn't have a nose, his eyebrows are thin lines of light hair, and his lips are very thin. His eyelids are translucent, and it's scary. His skull is covered in yellow, not so much yellow as dry, painful skin with thin veins. Eric's eyes have dark shadows under his eyes; this is probably how sleep deprivation affects him.
He sleeps with his mouth slightly open. I lean back carefully against the tree trunk, stretch out my legs and put Eric's head on my lap. He doesn't wake up: the first time we met him, his dream was so deep.
I take it upon myself to stroke his hair a little bit.
I'm overwhelmed by a completely unexplained tenderness.
But this does not cancel my fear of his face.
* * *
I don't wake him up until an hour and a half later, we have to get home.
He believes (or pretends to believe) in my words that I was sleeping the whole time too, and we were both asleep when he put his head on my lap. He's in a hurry to put on a mask so I don't see anything extra.
I don't want to disappoint him with anything.
We are also going home through the fields. Eric is very thoughtful, but he doesn't ask me much, he just sings some vulgar song and twirls nervously a rope with nodules attached to a cane in his hands. I intercept his hands.
This is the first time in a long time that I believe we can do this.
Eric smiles the whole way.
to be continued.....