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Christine sighed as she sank down on her bed, the light from her phone the only illumination in the dark room as she scrolled through Facebook at two in the morning. Her eyes were burning and not just because of the bright screen. She knew she should be sleeping, but sleep would come—she was dreading seeing Meg at work tomorrow and having to explain that she’d broken up with Raoul.
Having to explain it to Raoul had been bad enough, watching as his brow wrinkled and his eyes looked pained as she struggled to tell him that he hadn’t done anything wrong but she didn’t want to go out with him anymore. He hadn’t done anything wrong, possibly ever, in his life. Raoul was a genuinely great guy. He just—wasn’t him. And how was she supposed to say that to Meg? Yeah Raoul is literally everything a girl could want, but honestly I’m still stuck on my ex who I haven’t spoken to or seen or heard from in seven years and don’t even know if he’s still alive. Yeah, I am gonna turn thirty and be forever alone because of this.
It had been easy enough to hide when the guys she’d gone out with were random dudes from the Starbucks or OkCupid and Meg would believe whatever excuse she came up with about them—he was so rude! He didn’t have the best hygiene. He was weird…. Politically. But Meg actually knew Raoul and she was very aware that he was a real life Disney Prince. Meg was going to grill her over this, she just knew it.
But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Her heart wasn’t in the relationship the way Raoul’s heart was. It wasn’t fair to him to let him put so much in when she was still thinking of someone else.
So she had ended it. And here she was, late night, hair messy, unshowered, mascara tracks still on her cheeks, desperate scrolling Facebook for any trace of an account named Erik Carrier. But there wasn’t any.
Even when she had known him, he had never been on social media. Times had changed and people did too, so she often found herself browsing sites, looking to see if he’d changed his mind about the internet. Instagram, Twitter, Reddit, YouTube, TikTok, Facebook—she even searched on LinkedIn. Yet still nothing. Erik had disappeared from the face of the earth when he had disappeared from her life, it seemed.
She missed him so badly. She just wanted to see him again, even if it was just a little blurry photo of his poor masked face on some random social media site, just to know he was still out there, just to know he was okay.
Her hopes crushed once more, she turned off the phone and went to sleep, sniffling against her pillow.
“You look like crap,” Meg said when she saw Christine slink into the studio the next morning.
Christine rolled her eyes. She knew her friend meant well.
“We can’t all be Miss Yoga at six in the morning,” Christine muttered.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Meg left off arranging the LED tea lights on the wooden floor of the yoga studio to place a hand on Christine's shoulder.
“I broke up with Raoul,” she said, trying to avoid eye contact. “Do you want me to go over the budgets this morning?”
“Whoa hold up, forget about work right now. What happened with Raoul?”
“Nothing happened,” she said, trying to not sound pathetic. “It just—wasn’t working.”
“Well what did he do? Do I need to go kick his ass?”
“No,” Christine said, staring at her feet. “It wasn’t him. It was—it was me.”
Meg was quiet for a long moment.
“Is this about Erik?”
Christine squirmed.
“Christine,” Meg sighed.
“I still think about him A lot. And it didn’t feel fair to Raoul.”
“Erik’s gone,” she reminded her. “It’s been seven years.”
“Yeah,” Christine mumbled.
Meg pressed her lips tougher as she watched her friend shuffle and squirm. She’d know Christine was still pining for her old boyfriend, but breaking things off with a perfect guy because of the ghost of a high school sweetheart? Things were bad. She hadn’t realized how bad.
“Look,” Meg offered kindly. “We can go get ice cream for lunch, okay? We can talk about it then. You have your big interview tomorrow, and I want you to do well at it. So today is a cheer-up day. Good vibes only.”
Chrisitne nodded, thankful that she wasn;t berate her for letting Raoul go. Meg went back to prepping the room for the first yoga class of the morning and Christine went to the desk to get ready to check in the students.
Owning this yoga studio had been Meg’s dream ever since she’d retired from professional ballet. Working as the receptionist there hadn’t been Christine’s dream, but Meg was a generous employer and Christine had been a little lost ever since college graduation. But Christine did have an interview for her dream job tomorrow, and she and Meg were both crossing their fingers it would go well. She would miss working with her best friend, but working at the little theater would be so fulfilling, helping indie artists perform their work on stage, helping kids see shows they otherwise might not be able to afford, inspiring new generations of artists and actors and singers—it was what she wanted to spend her life doing.
She just had to get out of her funk for the interview. Which was easier said than done when her mind kept drifting back to the past.
She’d first met him in high school choir. He’d been tall and lanky and awkward but he was sweet and kind—to her at least. He had told her later on that he was kind to her because she was kind to him, that she had seen past his mask and treated him as a real person. To everyone else he was the weird moody kid who was so ugly he had to wear a mask, but to her he was just Erik, the guy who made sure she was caught up with class instructions on days when she had to miss school on account of her sick father, the guy who practiced music with her and helped her with her dreaded algebra homework and didn’t treat her like she was stupid because she couldn’t remember all the formulas.
She was the only one from school he had trusted to show his actual face to, not even the nurse had seen it after he’d “accidentally” gotten hit in the face with a football. He’d been in an accident when he was younger, he said, and though there was the possibility of having a plastic surgeon fix it, he was terrified of having yet another surgery and besides, his family couldn’t afford it. She’d guarded the truth of his appearance fiercely, losing more than one friendship because of how she stuck up for him even when he wasn’t around.
They’d started dating not long after, the progression from acquaintances to friends to love happening as easily as breathing. Things just felt right with him. They went to senior prom together. They graduated together. They even went to the same college together, something that worked for them personally and something that worked for their futures—she majored in music and he majored in theater, and the university they chose was prestigious in both.
They spent nearly every day in college together. Her new college friends were torn between saying how cute it was that they were still dating since high school and telling her that she should be spending her college years exploring what was out there and not tied to one person.
She couldn’t think of anyone she would rather be tied to, though. Erik treated her like a queen. She counted herself beyond lucky to have someone like him.
For her junior year of college she received the opportunity to spend the next year studying in France. It was the chance of a lifetime, and she accepted. When she told Erik about it, he was over the moon for her.
“I’ll go with you,” he told her, just as excited as she was.
“You can’t,” she said. “You have to stay here and finish your degree.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t need my degree. I want to follow you. I’ll drop out, we can get married, and we’ll go to France.”
They had had disagreements before, but they’d always worked through them. This, however, was not something she was willing to negotiate on.
“Erik. You can’t drop out. Please. You’re the first in your family to go to college, this is important.”
“It’s not as important as you,” he insisted. “Don’t—don't you want to get married?”
He searched her face, his expression pleading, and her heart sank.
She did want to marry him, but not yet. Not like this. She wanted to graduate first—she wanted them both to graduate. She knew it was silly and would change nothing but it felt like marriage would change everything even though they were already together more than many married couples were.
“I do,” she said, miserable. “But not now. I’m not ready for that.”
Erik looked crestfallen.
“Well,” he said, trying to backtrack. “We don’t have to get married just yet. But I want to go with you to France.”
“You can’t finish your degree in France,” she said sadly. “Please don’t do this, Erik.”
“I don’t want to spend a year away from my girlfriend,” he protested. “If you’re going, I want to go too.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t be your girlfriend.” The words were out of her mouth and already she regretted it. For a brief moment a look of hope passed across the visible half of his face, thinking that she meant to become his wife after all, but then despair set in as he grasped the true meaning of her words.
She put her hands over her face, upset by her own statement, but she wouldn’t take it back. She would not be the reason he was a college dropout. He would finish his degree and get a good job because of it and finally rise above the poverty he’d lived in as a child. He would see the wisdom of her plan when she came back from France, graduated with him, and then they could get married and face life together.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to go to France with me,” she said, beginning to cry into her hands. “But I don’t want you to throw your future away like this.”
He said nothing, only hugged her close as she leaned into him and cried, and he kissed the top of her head as he held her.
When they saw each other again the next day, she confirmed that she meant what she had said. If it was a choice between no longer dating and having him drop out of college, then they were no longer dating.
She didn’t realize it then, not when she saw him walk dejectedly away from her, and not during her entire year in France, but that was the last time she would see him. When she returned from France the following year, she learned from other students that he had dropped out anyway.
Her noble gesture of sacrificing her love for his future hadn’t done any good. All it had appeared to Erik was a rejection, both of him here now and also of his marriage proposal. He had left because of it, too ashamed to see her again.
Graduation was a solemn affair, and afterwards she had bounced from one low paying job to another until Meg offered her some refuge at her yoga studio. She’d had seven long years to reminisce about her old boyfriend, about how he used to call her on the phone and sing her to sleep when was sick or scared, about how he would leave flowers for her after midterms and tests and just because—about how his genius had gone unrecognized because he’d dropped out and never graduated, about how it was her fault that he had left.
She wished that she’d handled it differently back then. If she could live it all over again, she would accept his proposal without hesitation, she would marry him on the spot. She would have let him come with her to France since he was just going to drop out anyway, and they could have spent a beautiful year together before starting a career someplace side by side like they’d always talked about doing. She could have been happy. He could have been happy. They could have been married. No we all she had was useless degree, a string of pointless exes, and scrolling through Facebook hoping to see his name but never finding him.
She would have given anything to be able to tell him she loved him one more time, to feel his arms around her, to be able to kiss him. She wanted to spend each night, each morning with him, but at this point she’d settle for just one more minute with him.
He was on her mid during lunch with Meg, and still there when they went back to work after lunch. He was on her mind that night as she went to bed early for preparation for her interview the next morning, and he was definitely on her mind the next day as she parked in the parking garage across the street from the rundown little theater in the downtown district and walked to the building.
It was a chilly day—the same kind where he used to put his arm around her and let her share the warmth of his long coat as they walked side by side on the street. The kind where she used to make him hot cocoa with tiny peppermint marshmallows and whipped cream and sprinkles on top.
Those days are gone forever, she reminded herself bitterly as she braced against the wind, crossing the street. You can’t keep pining for him. You aren’t going to see him again.
The theater was warm inside, or at least warmer than outside. She took a deep breath upon entering, all the good memories of being a theater flooding back to her and wrapping her in comfort. The tensions eased out of her shoulders. She felt a sense of peace settle over her, a sense of belonging.
The building and decor were old, yes, but it was clear that whoever owned the place cared deeply about it. There were posters in the lobby advertising some plays coming up—a children’s puppet show called A Spider in the Rain, the community college’s presentation of Death of a Salesman, a show put on by a local jazz musician, and one for a new opera apparently called Don Juan Triumphant.
A smiling woman greeted her.
“You must be Christine,” she said, shaking her hand. “Come right this way. Would you like a tour of the theater?”
“I would love that.”
The woman, Leona, took her around the entire theater, from the bar to the cafe to the dressing rooms, to the offices and backstage and finally the auditorium. As they explored, they talked about her interest in music and theater and what it would mean to her to be able to work here—long nights and hard days made worthwhile by knowing that the arts really did make a difference in people’s lives.
“I know I don’t have the best resume,” Christine said sheepishly. “But I’m ready to work hard and I’m passionate about the field. Seeing musicals on stage when I was a little girl is what inspired me to get into singing. I’d love to be a part of that for someone else.”
Leona smiled.
“Don’t worry about your resume,” she told her, and Christine nodded, but it was difficult not to. She still wasn’t even sure how she had been chosen for the position—her website with her credentials hadn’t been updated since college, yet she’d still received an email from Leona offering an interview.
They paused for a few minutes in the auditorium, taking in the quiet magic that resided there. There was a beautiful crystal chandelier having over the red velvet upholstered seats, the black velvet of the floors threadbare but still retaining some of their former glory.
“It needs some repairs,” Leona said, her voice hushed. “But the owner is dedicated to making certain that one day this will be the finest theater in the state. The finest, but not the most expensive—he’s adamant that this will be a place for people from all backgrounds, too.”
Christine bit her lip wistfully. She knew it was going to mean the world to so many kids to be able to come here and see something life changing.
“I can only hope I’d make a good addition to your staff,” she said.
Leona tilted her head and smiled.
“I think you will. It’s not my decision, of course—it’s up to the boss, but I’ll put in a good word for you for sure.”
Leona held the door open for Christine as they exited the dimly lit auditorium, stepping back out under the fluorescent lights in the hallway that led to the lobby. Christine opened her mouth to say some word of thanks to Leona, but her words died on her tongue when she was startled by someone else’s sudden presence in the hall.
“Oh,” said Leona cheerfully. “Speak of the devil. Christine, this is our owner and director, Mr. Y.”
Christine could hardly breath as she stared up at Erik. He was different than she remembered him, but somehow still the same. Always a worryingly thin young man, he had filled out a little more in the years since college. His jaw a little sharper, his shoulders a little broader, his arms a little stronger. He had a five o’clock shadow and his hair looked like he had been running his hands through it all day. It always had been a nervous habit of his. He was dressed in rumpled dark slacks and a plain white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask looked slightly different than she remembered it. There were dark circles under his eyes and just a hint of fear as he met her gaze.
“I had not realized the interview was today,” he told Leona, his deep, rich voice sending a shiver down Christine’s spine.
“I told you yesterday,” Leona said with a raised eyebrow.
“I did not realize tomorrow had already become today,” he said, running a hand through his hair, still looking at Christine. “I would have dressed better had I known. Forgive me.”
His intense gaze fell to Christine’s left hand, or more specifically, to her ring finger. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her hand and held it in his own, his thumb running over the bare spot on her finger where a wedding ring would sit if she had one. He met her eye, searching her face for the answer to the question he was all but asking.
She nodded slightly, her eyes welling with unshed tears, and she squeezed Erik’s hand.
“Leona,” he said, not taking his gaze off of Christine. “Please go to my office and get the employment forms for Miss Daae.”
“Of course.” Leona beamed and hurried off as he had instructed.
Christine took a step closer to him, trying to find the words to express everything she wanted to say to him. She was so proud of what he’d become, owning and operating and restoring a theater like this. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him, how she’d thought of him every day since they’d parted, how much she regretted not marrying him, how much she still loved him. But she was afraid that if she opened her mouth all she would do was cry.
Erik, too, seemed incapable of words. He only continued to hold her hand in his, and then, he bowed his head and brought her hand up to his lips and softly kissed the back of her hand, right over her ring finger. Her breath stuck in throat, and even afterwards she could feel the ghost of his lips lingering in place of a ring, the sensation a seal reminding her that she was his, that she always had been—and she always would be. They belonged to each other.
She blinked hard as the pent up emotions of seven long years spilled down her face in hot tears. Erik turned her hand over and dared to press a kiss to the palm of her hand, a gesture of such intimacy and devotion that had once been theirs and might be theirs again. She drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, taken back to the very last time he had kissed her in college. He let her hand slip out of his.
“Here’s forms to fill out,” came Leona’s voice, breaking her reverie.
When Christine opened her eyes, Erik was gone, only the slow close of the door to the auditorium assuring her that he had really been where and was not a mere figment of her aching imagination. She turned to Leona to take the papers, suddenly realizing she had been crying. She sniffed and wiped at her face, trying to compose herself.
“I’m so sorry,” she tried. “It’s just—“
How could she explain what it meant to see Erik again? What he meant to her? That she had found a piece of her soul again, one she didn’t think she would ever find after losing?
Leona only smiled and politely averted her eyes.
“I figured you two might know each other. Mr. Y was most insistent that I send you a job offer despite your, ah, resume.”
Christine laughed through her tears into her handkerchief. All that time she had been searching for something, and what she was searching for had been searching for her. And now they’d found each other at last.
Christine sighed contentedly as she snuggled closer to Erik, feeling safe in his embrace. Above them, the stars were twinkling, drawing the patterns of fate across the dark sky. It had been seven months since she'd said yes to the theater job—had said yes to Erik—and she wanted to spend every moment she could with him.
Erik pulled the Sherpa blanket tighter around them, warding off the cool night air as they sat on the roof of the theater and stargazed. The remnants of their dinner sat next to them, an empty pizza box and a liter bottle of root beer. It had taken much conversation to get to where they currently were, but after those heart to heart talks they had fallen back into the couple they had used to be. Christine had tried to date after their breakup, but Erik had not even bothered—he knew there was only one person for him. And now she was beside him once more, sharing his theater, his life, his love, and soon—his name.
She ran her finger over the ring he’d placed on her finger, the smooth onyx stone reminding her of the night sky. She closed her eyes, leaning against his chest, knowing this was where she belonged in the world. Her heart had never felt so full.
“I love you,” she whispered to him.
His lips brushed against her forehead in a kiss.
“I love you too,” he murmured.
They were together again, and there was nothing they couldn’t face now, hand in hand.