Alternatives

Chapter 3:Burials Part Three

The doctor nodded seriously, asking if she knew that small children sometimes don't survive pneumonia and that he will go with her, but there might be nothing he can do once he gets there.

„Yes, I'm aware. I'm also aware that you're the doctor everyone pointed me to when I asked for the best one on this island, and I'm quite sure you want to keep up that reputation", she lied without missing a beat. Nobody said this doctor was the best one, she just asked for any doctor people could think of that wasn't a complete fraud. But that seemed to work on the man, as his eyes widened and his face lit up with interest.

„I will pay you all of this upfront", she said, taking out most of the money in her bag, „and a bonus if all goes well, of course. You can count on me to come back whenever I need something if you make me believe you tried."

It was bold of her to say this as a poor immigrant who had just given away half her savings, but her bluff worked, surprisingly. The doctor nodded once more and followed her to the village.

To his credit, even though he was surprised when she took him to a Russian immigrant village, he stayed with her and followed through. Maybe he constructed some sort of romantic story in his head about an illegitimate child of some nobleman, but Alina never found out about it. He nodded politely at Yana, examined Piotr, and explained to them, with Alina translating for her. Piotr would probably be fine; they came on time. He would need medicine and constant care, but he had good chances. He gave them very detailed instructions and told them to come again if needed, moved by the obvious desperation on the tiny pale girl's face.

As the good doctor left the house, he pretended not to notice the strange masked man observing him from the roof.

Erik was busy at work all that time. He showed Yana spots around the house he intended to fix and explained what kind of materials he needed; Yana went door to door through the village to ask for them. None of her neighbors had the heart to deny her anything; she came back half a day later with about twice as much as he needed.

They spent a few more days in horror and anticipation. Piotr had a few more bad hours, but overall it was obvious he was getting better. His fever started going down a few days later. As Erik worked on one of the walls on their bedroom door, he noticed the boy sitting up in his bed, smiling at him with interest.

Over the next week, Erik fixed their tiny makeshift house, so it wouldn't leak, and the wind wouldn't blow straight through it anymore. Piotr watched him while he worked, with more color in his cheeks and more energy with every passing day. Erik would sometimes find himself smiling at the boy and whistling nursery rhymes for him. He made him more toys, and would sometimes tell him stories. He doubted the boy could understand him, but he seemed to simply enjoy the attention and the sound of Erik's voice. Yana looked better, too. She would sometimes listen to them talk.

One day, she called him to her telling him she had something for him. After some thought, she called Alina as well.

„You saved my son."

They were both extremely uncomfortable.

„I want to give you something."

They both refused, deeply offended.

„No, you have to take it. It belonged to my husband, but now he's dead, and if you two weren't here my boy would be dead also. Take it."

She reached under her bed and took out a small rectangular box.

„You can sell it if you don't want it, but I think you'll want it." She looked at Erik.

„What is it?" he asked her with interest, against his will.

„Look."

Erik opened the box carefully to reveal a violin, and laid gently on a soft pillow, and a fiddle next to it.

„I can't take this."

„You have to."

„I can't."

„You can."

I can. But I don't deserve it. It's a beautiful old instrument. I can't have it. No one has ever given me something this beautiful. He stared at the violin, almost hungry to take it.

„Try and play it", Yana offered, smiling.

He carefully took it out of the box; Yana tiptoed up to Alina to whisper something in her ear.

„She wants me to tell you that we both think you should play it", she laughed. „She says I have to pick a song, and then you have to play it for me."

„Really?" They were both grinning.

„Yes! Please play something. I've never heard you play, and auntie Giry told me you were an amazing musician."

As Erik took the violin into his hands, he felt like he found some part of himself that he forgot about long ago. Lifetimes ago. Something terrible, insane, and miserable. But something extraordinary, as well. Something that once kept him alive, but he'd decided to set aside since.

I've buried my wretched heart and now these oblivious, well-meaning people want so badly to dig it out.

He had managed to avoid even thinking about music since he came here. He didn't want to touch this lovely instrument because he was scared of what would come out. I want to forget.

Yana would be upset if he refused to play after she'd given him something so precious, but that wasn't the only thing that bothered him. What bothered him was that Alina would know much more about him than he wanted her to as soon as he let out even a single note. He didn't know what he was afraid she would find out, but he was certain some part of him would escape him, and he wouldn't like the outcome. They'd reached an equilibrium and were getting along well. It was a shallow, unstable equilibrium, but he liked it. Why upset it?

But they gave me a violin. It's irresistible. And I'm not known for my restraint.

Alina was still grinning. She wished to be entertained. Well, that he could do.

„What would you like me to play? Something cheerful for you?" he asked, taking the violin and tuning it. It was in surprisingly good shape.

„No, no. You're about to play it for the first time. Do it for yourself."

Witch.

He started with a simple improvisation to warm up but ended up enthralled within mere seconds. I have missed this so badly. I feel like I'm reunited with an old friend like I'm home again. How could I have forgotten this? Was it worth losing half of myself only to forget –

Christine.

The music started pouring out as he forgot about the world around him. Christine, Christine, Christine. Love. Madness. Hope. More madness. Sorrow. Despair. Regret. I once thought I could trap a small piece of happiness for myself, in my little bubble, and keep it there forever. Just a small piece, just for me. Everything good in the world is embodied in one person.

I'm sorry, Christine. I truly did love you.

He wanted to stop, but couldn't. He had to let it all pour through him now, or he would explode; there was no going back now. The floodgates had opened and everything was coming out, the passion, the rejection, the rage. But as it came out through this remarkable, wonderful instrument that was given to him, so lovingly it shredded the spikes and shards and thorns until it was the same thing but suddenly smaller, small enough to look at and safe enough not to kill him.

Bearable.

Insanity poured out and only sadness remained. And then it was over.

Erik put down the violin, suddenly very tired.

He looked up to see Alina crying. Does she even know why she's crying? Was it that upsetting? Why am I so good at making women cry? Especially when I try to show them something about myself.

„I'm afraid that wasn't for everybody", he offered, embarrassed.

She was still crying, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

„But you asked me to play for myself, so I did. I just improvised and this is what first came to my mind. I didn't mean to upset you." This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

She got up from her seat slowly and walked towards him, still goddamn crying please stop, and then got much too close to him, and he stood stiff as a board because what is she doing –

She started to put her arms around him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, but she did it so slowly that he managed to contain himself. The only thing missing is that you hit her now, fool. She rested her chin on his shoulder; she was fully embracing him now.

„That was beautiful."

He wanted to either scream or wrap himself around her, and he narrowly decided to try the latter. He tried to return her embrace as good as he could with the violin and fiddle still both in his hands.

It was only the sound of Yana's soft footsteps as she left that reminded him she was there.

ooo

The island, Alina later explained, was divided into two parts: settlements of poor unwanted immigrants and the other, „good" half, the one filled with tourist attractions and pastimes. Every weekend, the tourists flocked to the „good" part and spent time and money on attractions, souvenirs, food, and other things that were offered. Erik had noticed that the others made small things to be sold to tourists on the other side of the island – it was one of the few legitimate ways the villagers could make money in their current situation, aside from construction work and factories, given that they still barely spoke English. Erik made several of those toys himself out of boredom, each new one more elaborate and carefully made, until he started adding moving parts, singing parts, and mechanisms to them. The village children were enthralled by them. The man Yana spoke to on their first night – Sergei – once came to thank Alina for teaching his son English and commented that they were good, and could probably be sold very well.

„Do you want to sell them?" Alina asked him when the man left. „Or maybe you can patent them, or sell blueprints to people who make them. They're very good."

„I was thinking about it. The problem is I am lacking as a successful salesman."

She bit her lip, trying to decide if this was a good idea. „I'll do it."

„You would?"

„Absolutely. They're much better than the other trinkets I've seen the guests buy. Shouldn't be a problem to sell them I'm quite sure we'd get good money over some time if you ask them for part of the profit."

„We?" he turned to her.

She raised an eyebrow. „Sorry, did you intend for me to be your slave?"

„Are you trying to turn your profit on the toys I'm making myself?"

„Just for the part where I go around pulling people's sleeves and advertising and negotiating profit shares, yes. Do you think you'd be better off if someone else did it?"

Truth be told, so far she'd been quite successful at persuading people around her, so it was not hard to imagine her being good at it.

Besides, the remark about being a slave stung him more than he let on. He had to admit to himself he didn't think of her perspective like that. The genuinely friendly behavior she was starting to display towards him lately, instead of the controlled professional disguise, was entirely new to him, and he didn't fully know what to think about it. He hadn't even considered that she'd offer this until now. They had both started doing separate things since they got here. Erik knew what he was good at, and he knew how to make use of it, and she was good at taking care of children and talking to people, judging from what he'd seen her do so far. It didn't overlap much, and it was likely they would go their separate ways over time.

A very small voice, very deep inside him offered, so, if I do this, she's less likely to leave.

Where did that come from? She seems resourceful enough to survive on her own, and so am I, and I am no longer in immediate danger. Erik had a roof over his head and could get by with his skills now. Why would he give a damn if she decided to stay and work here or on any other side of the world?

I don't know why, but I do.

That was ridiculous. He hadn't yet decided if she was even trustworthy or if this was all still part of some elaborate debt she owed to Antoinette. Maybe she was just looking for a chance to further her standing in this place.

That's entirely unfair. She's been nothing but kind to me since I met her.

Isn't it unfair to also try to coax her into staying?

How is it unfair? I'd be doing exactly as she asked.

Isn't it unfair to pretend you're worth staying for-

„You're right", he admitted. „It wouldn't be fair. We'll share the money."

She nodded. „We'll make a good team. Let's show these bourgeoisie dimwits some real fun."

Erik bit his tongue to stop himself from telling her she's the very embodiment of the bourgeoisie.