Chapter 18
NEW YORK CITY WEATHER in mid-December was almost exclusively gray and gloomy. Thick clouds hung low over the city, broken by the occasional snow shower. Only the holiday lights saved the town from falling into the malaise that would start in mid-January when everyone took on a holding pattern, waiting for the first buds of spring. The tree Christine and Erik decorated gave his living room a glow that offset the skyline’s unrelieved monotony. Today he was on a rare daytime trip outside his apartment, anxiously awaiting Dr. Carmichael’s initial efforts for him.
Reza came with him today. He stood uncharacteristically quiet, with his arms folded. Was he nervous as well?
“As a reminder, Erik, what we’re fitting you for today is attached only by an adhesive. It’s a medical-grade adhesive, and it’s not bad, but it’s not permanent. With the screw inserted into your bone, it will both rest more securely on your face and be seamless.”
Erik nodded, his knee bouncing, an impatient tic that carried over from childhood. He kept telling himself not to let his expectations get too high. This was only the first part of Dr. Carmichael’s plan. She began applying the glue to his face.
“This is normally something my nurse would do.” She gave him a small smile. “But you asked for privacy. My nurse is better at this than I am.” She smiled at Erik as she added the necessary material. When she was satisfied with her application, she opened a plastic container. “This nose was created based on the images you shared of yourself before the accident. It was 3D printed by the lab team in my office. It’s going to feel odd at first. That’s normal.”
She affixed the acrylic resin to his face. The nerves in that area had been so damaged by the accident that he couldn’t tell when she’d finished until she sat back and breathed a satisfied sigh.
Erik opened his eyes and looked at Reza, who gave him a tentative smile.
“May I see a mirror, please?” Erik’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse.
Dr. Carmichael held up a hand mirror. Erik looked at himself for the first time in over a decade with a nose on his face.
It was so wrong.
The nose itself was perfect. The rest of his face was still a map of the carnage brought on by glass, pavement, and flame when he was tossed from a vehicle going too fast. This nose hadn’t seen any of that destruction. The look was patchwork, like a swatch of polyester covering a tear in a wool sweater.
Sensing his discomfort, Dr. Carmichael took the mirror away and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
“This is a tiny first step, Erik. The damage to your face is significant, and this will take time. We can help to improve your overall appearance, but the initial effects will be subtle.”
“I look like a puzzle someone tried to shove the wrong piece into.”
“Erik, please understand what Dr. Carmichael’s saying,” Reza pleaded.
“Thank you, Reza. The next step is for you to meet with my expert in micropigmentation, Andrew Ripley. He’ll design a tattoo schematic to break your scar tissue down and help this prosthetic blend with the rest of your skin. This will take several sessions. He’s not just trained in medical tattooing, he’s also a portrait artist. He knows what he’s doing.”
He understood. What had been undone in an instant would take many months to recreate.
“When can we begin this step?” Reza asked.
“In the new year. I’ve already begun marking weekly meetings with Andrew’s assistant. Your sessions will be Tuesday evenings, and he’s made the extraordinary offer to come to your home.”
“And if it’s all for nothing?” Erik asked. “What if I subject myself to this, and I still look like a freak?”
“I don’t like that word. And to answer your question, you will see improvement. It may even be a lot of improvement, but let’s keep our expectations…”
“Low?”
“Reasonable.”
“Reasonable…” he echoed to himself.
“Have you reached out to the patients I told you about?”
“Not yet.” Erik shrugged. The topic of speaking to others in his circumstances made him vaguely uncomfortable, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Dr. Carmichael smiled knowingly. “Erik, I don’t care if you reach out to my former patients, but I do care about you. Reza tells me you have a good support system. That is more than many of my patients have. However, all of them needed to connect with emotional support during this process. I want you to visit MyFace.org. They offer weekly virtual support groups for adults.”
She nodded encouragingly. “You’re not alone in your experience, Erik. You might be able to help others in your situation and make them feel less alone. You might learn about other technologies and resources as well. We’re meeting again in the new year. Still, I’ll take the extraordinary step of canceling further treatment if you don’t reach out to some system of support—whether it’s this group or a therapist or my former patients.”
Erik’s temper started to boil over. Who was this doctor to tell him what to do?
“I don’t appreciate being held hostage.”
“I am your doctor, which means I oversee every aspect of your care. The statistics show forty-eight percent of patients with facial abnormalities struggle with anxiety. Twenty-eight percent have depression. It’s easy to think all will be instantaneously made well if we can return your face to some level of normalcy, but you’ve been in a holding pattern for over a decade. You need support, more than just a friend, assistant, or partner can provide.”
Erik was livid. His breathing got harsh in response to her well-reasoned lecture. He wanted to shout that she didn’t know him, his needs, or his coping mechanisms.
“Erik, Dr. Carmichael has a point.”
Erik turned to glare at Reza with a sharp, jagged look. Et tu, Brute?
“Erik, it’s taken you thirteen years to begin this process. I’m thrilled to see you branch out and begin to approach the world again. Wouldn’t it be better if those of us who care about you weren’t your crutch to keeping you safe but your support to helping you take the next step?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m doing this. I…want to begin to…open myself,” Erik thrust his hands out as if pushing an imaginary door. “I just need to be more normal.” He sounded petulant even to himself.
Dr. Carmichael responded, “Erik, you’ll never be normal. And that’s okay. We’ll get you closer, but you have to process this truth so you can embrace what’s possible instead of mourning what’s not. ”
Her words echoed in his brain as Reza drove them back to his apartment. Erik reached up to touch the prosthetic. Would this ever feel normal to him? Reza looked at him when they were stopped at a red light.
“Never knew you could keep your mouth shut before, so why don’t you just say what you’re thinking?” Erik asked acidly.
“Why don’t you tell me what you think I’ll say?”
Erik snorted. “What kind of reverse psychology is that?” When Reza didn’t answer, Erik continued, “You’re going to say I need to be patient. You’re going to say Dr. Carmichael is right about me getting help transitioning from where I am to where I want to be.”
“Wow, I’m smart. Must be why you keep me around.”
“The idea of opening myself up after all these years…”
“You’re doing it with Christine.”
“That’s different.”
“And you’ve become more open with the rest of us. We’ve all seen it. You’ve been happier, calmer…”
“You all like to talk about me, huh?” What had been their caring was becoming evidence of their interference.
“Erik, my life right now is watching Bluey cartoons with Julia and Sarah and keeping an eye on you. It’d sure as hell be nice to be a little less worried about you. Did you know I considered you when deciding if Sarah and I should go for another kid? I want to be your friend, but my life is changing, and I worry what will happen if I’m not there for you enough.”
“I don’t need a keeper, Reza. No one asked you to take on that role.”
“If I hadn’t, you’d have gone off the deep end long ago. Don’t you think you owe it to all of us to try to come to terms with the accident and what it means? If not because we care for you, then because you care for us?”
Erik looked at Reza. In their many years of friendship, disagreements happened, but they were infrequent. Reza rarely got angry. Now Erik could see desperate fury, impatience, in his friend’s eyes. They all pitied him. They all worried about him. They just wanted him to get on with his life so they could get on with theirs.
“Enough,” Erik said, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe you should tell Christine about this—see what she thinks,” Reza suggested with a tone of desperation.
Erik’s temper flared. He’d deliberately chosen not to tell Christine. He didn’t want to raise her hopes unnecessarily. “She doesn’t need to know about this.”
“Why are you keeping this from her? If you’re trying to open yourself up to her so much, why keep this part of your life a secret?”
“It’s not a secret—I’m hoping to surprise her.” In his mind, it had been so clear. Showing up at her door one day, taking her for a sunset stroll or dinner. Like any man would do with the woman he loved.
“That’s a distinction without a difference, and I think you know that.”
Erik was distracted by the ringing of his cell phone. He glanced at the readout—Garret.
“Erik, I’m sorry to do this. I just dropped Christine off in the Hamptons at the party. I just… I can’t make the drive back. I’m sick as a dog. I’m checking into a local motel. I can get Christine in the morning, or we can send a car service to get her tonight.”
“Do you need me to send someone to come get you?”
“No, it’s just a bad cold, but I’m groggy. It’s not safe for me to drive like this.”
“I understand. Get some rest. Let me know if it gets worse. ”
He should send a car. That would be the easiest thing to do for everyone involved. There had to be a good limo service out there, someone who could help Christine with no inconvenience to himself. That’s what he would have done before they had met. His earlier conversations with Dr. Carmichael and now Reza ran rampant in his head. Their insistence he seek help had him feeling defensive. He wasn’t so damaged that he couldn’t drive to pick his girlfriend up from a party. That he was jealous of Rafe Cantor was unworthy of consideration. He could do this. He could drive out, pick her up, and perhaps pick up dinner on the way back if she was hungry.
“I need you to drop me at the garage. Garret’s sick. I’m going to pick up Christine in the Hamptons.”
“Are you up for that? It’s been a long day and… I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I’m fine. You’ve made your point perfectly clear.”
Christine had resisted asking Rafe what the dress code was for his parents’ party. She didn’t want to give it too much thought or overinflate its importance. That didn’t stop Meg from pressing on her a couple of outfit options. After looking them over, Christine decided on a pair of navy slacks with a cream-colored blouse with gold threaded throughout the neckline. On top, she wore a Chanel-style blazer of cream and navy and Meg’s gold hoops. Her knee-high camel-toned boots made the resulting outfit look casual but put together. She would’ve made brownies if this event had been a holiday party like the ones she attended while growing up. Since she didn’t know what she was walking into, she decided on a bottle of wine and some flowers.
She was in an excellent mood, both because of the party and because she’d had a flash of insight and found the perfect holiday gift for Erik. After racking her brain for weeks, inspiration came from visiting her apartment. The paparazzi were gone, and her milk had spoiled in the fridge, but the place looked untouched. As she flipped through some needed clothing items, her eye caught on a box filled with childhood mementos. She rifled through them, and she found it.
Erik was the only person in her life who would value the precious volume of her father’s music. Christine had long ago translated the recordings into digital formats. Still, the record she held was an original, featuring both jazz compositions and some of her dad’s favorite popular hits. She was sure Erik would love it. It was a relief he was gone when she left for Rafe’s party. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it secret, so she snuck the wrapped gift under the tree, hidden under the branches enough that he wouldn’t see it unless he looked.
Garret, quieter than usual due to a bad cold, dropped her off at Rafe’s East Hampton mansion. She was pleased to see the familiar face of Rafe’s mother as she entered.
“Christine, so glad you’re here!” Keri Cantor gave her a warm embrace. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were…”
“Eight years old,” Christine finished.
“You were such a darling little girl. We loved having you around. We were quite sorry to hear about your dad. He was incredibly talented and such a dedicated father to you.”
“I was lucky to have him.”
“Rafe told us all about your work in graduate school. How is the thesis prep going?”
“Really well, thanks in no small part to your son. He’s been extremely supportive.” Christine chose not to say that Erik had been the one to take her well in hand. Parents always wanted to hear good things about their kids, and making Keri Cantor happy gave Christine joy.
“Christine!” Rafe’s voice was booming as he came across the two women. He gave her a long hug. His breath smelled like mulled wine. “I’m glad you made it! How long did the drive take you? Or did you take a train?”
“I got a ride out here from a friend.” She looked around. The house was decorated with holly wrapped in white lights that flickered gently. She could see at least three Christmas trees from her spot in the drawing room. Waitstaff were passing around hors d’oeuvres. Christine picked up a mac and cheese ball and nibbled on it. Based on the other attendees, Meg’s outfit suggestion was on point.
“Christine Derring, what are you doing here?”
Oh no, not now.
Christine turned to see Cynthia holding a glass of red wine. She was dressed in a little black dress with silver peonies scattered throughout. She looked nicely put together and was utterly pleased with the position in which she found her subordinate. This meant she was determined to be unpleasant.
“Hi, Cynthia, it’s nice to see you. I grew up with Rafe. He invited me.”
“How lovely!” Her smile appeared frozen in place.
“Christine, do you know Cynthia? What a small world! Her parents are our best friends.”
“Yes,” Cynthia responded before Christine could utter a word. “Christine is my assistant at the Gardner Opera House. She helped plan our upcoming gala—the one I told you about.”
And so it begins.
“She’s more than that, Mom,” Rafe interjected. “You know she’s in grad school, but Christine has been putting herself out there. Did you know her singing went viral recently?”
Christine’s eyes widened. Not helping, Rafe! How had things gone downhill so quickly? Rafe meant no offense, but no networking conversation started with the words ‘assistant’ and ‘viral video.’
“You were in a viral video?” Keri was politely intrigued, if not amused.
“Ah, no,” Rafe seemed to realize his mistake. “Christine really struggles with anxiety on stage, and she’s been working quite hard to conquer it. That performance was a huge step forward for her.”
“I saw that video!” Another male voice joined the conversation. Philip Cantor approached and kissed Christine on the cheek. “You were wonderful! Keri, I sent it to you a couple of weeks ago.”
“That was you! With Erik Gardner? I thought you sounded fantastic. Do you think…” She paused. “Do you think you could sing a Christmas carol tonight? It would add to the festiveness of the party, don’t you think?”
“Unless it would make you too anxious, Christine?” Cynthia gave her a cool stare.
Everyone was staring at her, and Christine was starting to feel overwhelmed. Cynthia had a cat that ate the canary look on her face. Forget that.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
She gritted her teeth into a forced smile. “I’d be delighted.”
Rafe must have noticed the tension in Christine’s expression because he pulled her aside by the elbow, a few feet from where his parents conversed with Cynthia. “Chris, you don’t have to do this.”
She appreciated his concern. “No, but it’s a good idea for me to try… Plus I didn’t give up caffeine for nothing.”
“Well, I have an idea to help make this a little more festive.”
Two hours later, Philip and Keri gathered their guests into the ballroom of their home. Four more trees were used for the decor, along with tea light candles and vases full of large glass ornaments. The smell of a chocolate fountain filled the room with a sweet perfume. There was a piano set up in one corner, and a random guest was voluntold to be the accompaniment. If Christine had been nervous on Halloween, now she felt tremendously awkward. Though it was unsuitable for her voice, she gulped down a large glass of wine for something like liquid courage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to announce some impromptu entertainment for the evening. Our son recently reconnected with an old family friend who some of you may recognize from her recent video with Erik Gardner. She’s agreed to favor us with a song tonight.” Philip was gregarious, his appearance flushed from an evening of fun with friends and good wine.
It was a lively, up-tempo tune. Erik had trained Christine well to break down her performances so that even a new song felt like an old routine.
“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree!” Christine warbled the tune with a jolly wave before handing the microphone over to Rafe, who took over the second line.
“On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtle doves…”
“And a partridge in a pear tree!”
When the song’s lyrics began, there were a few good-natured chuckles around the room. Rafe could carry a tune, though not as good as Christine and nowhere near as talented as Erik. It was pleasant enough to sing with Rafe, who was hamming himself up to the crowd while Christine struggled and failed to contain the giggles the song inspired.
Christine passed the microphone to an unsuspecting Keri, who enthusiastically proffered three French hens. Philip took on four calling birds, and by the time they had reached five golden rings, the entire crowd was participating.
This was different from what she’d thought the evening would be. She wanted to talk with Philip Cantor about job opportunities, but as she looked at him caterwauling joyfully with his arm around his wife, she realized she never would’ve succeeded. This was a party. Maybe he’d remember her as frivolous, or maybe he’d just remember how she’d brought the crowd to their feet. Either way, she’d make it work to her advantage. She’d made an impression!
Her face hurt from the laughter the song inspired in her and the other partygoers. As the song concluded, the crowd shouted out the final call of a partridge in a pear tree and immediately burst into laughter and applause. Over the din of the crowd, Keri called out to her friends.
“This is a new tradition! Next year, our decorations will be themed around the Twelve Days of Christmas!”
It hadn’t been planned, and it wasn’t Christine’s style, but she had fun and was grateful to Rafe, who was trying to help her in his own way. After accepting congratulations from some attendees and the beleaguered pianist, she noticed a missed text.
Erik: Garret is sick. I’m waiting outside to take you home whenever you’re ready to leave.
Erik was here? She looked at the clock on her phone—it was already 9:30 p.m. She’d had fun, but she was happy to go.
“My ride is here.” She looked at Rafe. “Thank you again for inviting me tonight.”
“Already? I feel like we barely got to talk.”
“I know—but I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Is it Erik? ”
Christine looked at Rafe. He’d been quietly trying to grab her attention all semester, and it was all for naught. Maybe if she and Erik hadn’t fallen in love, there would’ve been a chance for an uncomplicated, happy relationship with someone like Rafe Cantor. Now, it was a shallow notion. She looked at him with understanding.
“I was hoping if I could get you out of the classroom, I could help you see me in another light.” He looked down at her with a sad smile. “I understand. It’s not your fault. I hope Erik, or whoever awaits you, makes you happy. You deserve it.”
“Thank you, Rafe. I’d like your friendship—when you’re ready.” She reached up and gave him a hug. “And thanks for the song!” Her grin was friendly and affectionate as she entered the winter night, looking for Erik’s car.
He was parked off to the side of the house near the ballroom windows, which lit up the surrounding patio. Christine climbed in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you so much for coming to get me. You could have just sent a car.” She fastened her seatbelt. “Why are you wearing your mask?”
“Just being careful—didn’t want to scare any guests if they looked outside.”
“Is Garret okay?”
“Yes, he has a bad cold. He’s sleeping it off. Didn’t feel safe driving back tonight.”
“We should pick up some chicken soup for him tomorrow.” She leaned her head back in her seat, her mood warm and mellow. She yawned.
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll take care of it in the morning,” she mumbled. She slipped her boots off and let her feet feel the soft floor mats of Erik’s SUV .
“Did you have fun at the party?”
“Oh, you know, it’s just a party.” She was nodding off. “I’ll tell you about it…tomorrow.”
“Christine, wake up. You’re home.” Erik’s voice jostled her from sleep.
“Hmm?” She looked around. Where were they? This wasn’t Erik’s garage. This was West Eighty-Fourth Street. She turned to him groggily. “Erik, why are we at my apartment?”
“I was thinking—perhaps you should stay at your place. The worst impact of the video has passed us by. Let’s get you back home.”
“I don’t understand. I thought we were waiting until after the gala?” She blinked, the enormity of Erik’s actions breaking through the buzz from the wine and the lulling effect of the car ride. “Why are we here, Erik?”
“It’s just—I saw you in there tonight. I heard you singing while I was waiting for you. You did such a great job. Your stage fright was nonexistent. I’m so proud of you.” He gave her a small smile. “But it’s not fair for you to be beholden to me when you can do so much more now. You don’t need me. You can be everything you want without me holding you in the shadows.”
“I like you holding me in the shadows.” She smiled, hoping to break through what was surely a momentary panic on his part. Inside, the seed of panic planted over Thanksgiving began to take root.
“I mean, holding you back. You can’t have one foot in my world and make a name for yourself. This is…this is for the best. ”
“I don’t understand. I’ve never shown the slightest… Everything has been fine—wonderful even. Did I overreact when I found out the secrets you kept from me? Wasn’t I supportive, like you said we should be for each other? I let you help fix some of my misconceptions. Why aren’t you willing to get out of your way for us? Do I matter so little to you?”
“You are everything . Don’t you see? I’d give up everything for you if I could.” His fingertips turned white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But I won’t keep you at your expense.”
“How can you say that? How have I not shown you trust? I gave myself to you and opened myself up to you being my partner in every way you asked. I accepted this relationship on your terms. All I ask of you is you let me have my journey. Now you’re ending things because I had fun at a party?”
“I’m ending things because you should be out there at parties. I can’t be enough for you. I love you, and I’m letting you go to do what you want. You can travel the world and experience life, and you won’t have me holding you back.”
“And this is what you want?”
“I don’t want you living a half life. I did what I needed to do for you. I supported you from behind the scenes and helped you as needed. I love you, but I won’t keep you prisoner.”
“I think the only prisoner here is you. You once told me you made your peace with your life, but that’s bullshit. You’re a coward. And you’re making unilateral decisions for my best interests again.” Her eyes grew dark with fury. She put her boots back on and grabbed her purse.
“Just a realist. One day, you’ll see everything you gave up for me. I can’t see that look of resentment in your eyes.”
“It’s funny, Erik. For such a long time, the lesson I took from my father’s death was that it’s better to be on my own. To rely on someone else was to live precariously. For a minute there, I let myself believe maybe I was wrong. I guess I should thank you for showing me I was right. Can’t rely on anyone but me.” She looked away from him. “Poor, unhappy Erik. Poor, unhappy Christine.”
“You can always come to me if you need anything.”
“Fuck off, Erik.”
She exited the car and slammed the door, ignoring his stare on her back until she was safe in her apartment. Only then did she break down in tears.