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Christine hurried into her dressing room, hastily locking the door behind her. Finally, she was done with rehearsals for the week and could enjoy a quiet weekend in her tutor’s underground abode. When she turned from the door, he was stepping through the mirror, offering her a small smile.
“Good evening, Christine.”
“Good evening maestro.” She grinned at him. “I’m very excited to spend Hallowmas with you.”
His brow furrowed. “Hallowmas?”
“You… don’t know Hallowmas? We also call it All Saint’s Day. It is a day to commemorate the dead.”
“I am not familiar with the holiday, no.”
“Well that’s alright.” She took his hand. “I’ll teach you.”
Erik helped her through the mirror door, escorting her to his home. “We’ll need to make a trip to the market. We need a few things for Hallowmas.”
“Of course. When you are ready, I will take you. What do you have planned?”
“I want to host a dumb supper.”
Erik raised an eyebrow. “Dumb as in silent?”
Christine nodded solemnly. “The dinner is held in total silence.”
“Go on.”
“You set a place at the table for each person attending, as well as places for the deceased you wish to honor. Everyone writes a note to their deceased honoree and you burn the letters in order to deliver them. You serve food to all the places and eat in silence. Sometimes you pray as well, but I know you don’t pray.” She gave his hand a little squeeze. He hadn’t even realized she was still holding his hand, even though they had safely arrived at his home. A few months ago, he couldn’t fathom the idea of being so comfortable in her presence that her holding his hand wasn’t novel, it was just familiar.
She was totally oblivious to his internal revelation. “We also need to carve pumpkins!”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because of the legend of Stingy Jack!”
Erik’s lips curved into a small smile. “Do tell.”
Christine let out an exaggerated sigh. “You really don’t know anything about Hallowmas! Jack found a way to trap Satan and he released him as long as Satan promised not to reap his soul. He was too wicked for heaven or hell, condemned to wander the earth. Satan gave him a glowing coal to light his way and Jack placed it in a hollowed turnip.”
“Then why would we carve a pumpkin?”
“We just do! That’s what you do for Hallowmas, Erik.”
He raised his hands in defeat. “Pumpkins it is, my dear.”
Erik took Christine to the market, though he preferred to guard her from a distance, relatively unseen. She selected the ingredients she needed for their supper as well as insisting he carry two decently sized pumpkins. They returned to the lair and Christine set to work right away. Several of the dishes she wanted to make would take quite a bit of time to prepare.
“Will you set the table, Erik?”
He leaned over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was she was cooking. She pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Did you hear me?”
He turned his head towards her, glancing briefly at her lips. It would be so easy to lean in, close the gap…
“Erik?”
“Er- yes.” He stepped back. “I’ll set the table.”
“And when you’re done, you ought to write your note.”
“My… note?”
“For the loved one you wish to honor.”
“I don’t have any loved ones…”
Christine turned to him. “Oh… well, you don’t have to write a note. Just set three places then, ok?”
He nodded, leaving her to cook their supper.
Erik dressed the table in a clean, crisp tablecloth, lost in thought. He’d never really had a family but, when he was younger, he had had a mother.
Madeline had hated him, of course, and he felt much the same towards her. All he had wanted was his mother’s love and she had abused and berated him until she’d given him away. He’d learned of her death a few years ago.
He didn’t wish to honor her, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things he wished to say to her. Maybe he’d write a note after all.
It was hours later that Christine finally summoned him for dinner. ‘Once we light the candles, there can be no more talking until the dinner is finished.”
Erik nodded; that wouldn’t really be a difficult feat for him.
Christine started setting out food on the table. “There’s four places?” She looked at him, confused.
“Yes,” he looked anywhere but at Christine. “For my mother…”
Christine took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I understand. Are you ready?”
At his short nod, she lit the candles and fell silent. They sat at the table and Christine produced a small letter that she burned. Erik noticed her eyes watering but kept his vow of silence. He didn’t doubt that she’d written to her father.
With trembling hands, he retrieved his own letter, a few hastily written pages. When he was younger, he had thought he understood his mother’s actions. Who’d want to be saddled with a little monster. But as he’d gotten older, he found he resented her more than anything else. He’d been a loving, doting son who would have done anything she asked of him and she’d treated him abhorrently. His letter put words to the pain he’d lived with almost all his life. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, but he already felt a little lighter. He watched the pages burn, hoping that the words reached her spirit, wherever it was.
Christine served all four plates. Erik mostly picked at his food but he did make an effort to eat, for Christine. When it seemed like they were both finished eating, she reached out and took his hand, bowing her head. He knew she was praying and he wanted to join her, but he didn’t even know where to begin. If there was a god, he wouldn’t want to hear from him, Erik knew.
He saw her head bob in a silent “amen” and then she blew out the candles.
“Thank you for doing this with me, Erik.” She started clearing the table.
“I would do anything for you.”
Christine paused, looking at him. “You’re a good man. I’m lucky to have you.”
“You… have me?” Erik didn’t know what their relationship was or how to classify it anymore. But that she considered herself as having him fascinated him. What did it mean?
“I sleep in your home every evening, I spend all my spare time with you, we are affectionate… Are we not seeing each other?”
He couldn’t help but grin. “I suppose we are.”
“Good. Now, is my suitor going to come carve pumpkins with me?”