Chapter Four

Victor ruffled his hair in despair. He had always hated packing and usually pushed it off until the last minute possible. Loyal to that trait, he had done this once again. Now he stood facing his open closet and drawers. He sighed, the inevitable packing finally upon him. Why do I always do this to myself? he asked rhetorically. Defeated, he stepped toward his closet and sighed. He had just spotted a pair of pants he wanted to bring as the doorbell rang.

He turned around, expecting his father to claim he would answer the door, but instead he heard silence. He left his room and headed downstairs, not surprised to find his father asleep on a chair, snoring softly. Who could be at the door this early? he wondered. The doorbell rang again as Victor called, “Coming!” as he approached the door. He opened the door a sliver, surprised to find his eyes set on his bride.

“Hello Victor,” she said with a smile. “I look forward to seeing you again this afternoon as we head out for our…erm, honeymoon.”

Victor opened the door the rest of the way. “Victoria! Hello! It’s good to see you. Come in, come in,” he said, beckoning her inside.

“Thank you,” she said as he closed the door behind her. She took off her jacket and gloves, looking for a place to put them.

Victor followed her gaze. “Here,” he said a bit awkwardly, “let me take your coat.” She handed it to him and rubbed her hands together. “Come,” he said. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” she said again, warming her hands by the fire. Her cheeks began to regain their rosy tint from the warmth of the house. “Victor,” she said, looking him in the eyes with an honest plea n hers. “I need your help. I need to cook my parents breakfast, but—” Here she blushed with embarrassment. “—I don’t know how to cook, or even where our cooking utensils are. Can you—no, rather, would you help me?”

Victor answered without hesitation. “Of course I will,” he said, a smile forming on his lips. “What are we making?”

“Breakfast,” she said. “Perhaps eggs and toast?” She was pleased that her plan was working, but Victoria knew that in order for her to complete it, they needed to return to her house very soon.

Victor replied, “That sounds good to me.” He retrieved her coat and put it around her shoulders. She looked up at him, confused. “If we don’t start soon, we’ll be having breakfast for lunch,” he explained.

Realizing his point, Victoria rose from the chair and said, “Okay, let’s go then!” Victor walked over to the hooks on the wall with the coats hanging from them. He took his coat as Victoria followed him. He opened the door for her and followed her out of the house. “Wait,” said Victoria. “What about your father? Will he be all right?”

Victor glanced at his slumbering father before closing and locking the door behind him. “I’ll think he’ll be all right if I leave for an hour or so.” He smiled at Victoria as they began walking toward her house, which was about four blocks away. Victor had taken about twenty steps before becoming aware of the awkward silence that had risen between them. “So,” Victor asked, “were your parents…upset last night when you got home?”

Victoria sighed and put on her gloves. “Well, my mother exploded and I’d been possessed by a demonic force to follow you home. But hey,” she said, “love makes you do crazy things sometimes.”

“Yeah…” said Victor. Both of them blushed and looked away. Victoria laughed at how similar they were, and soon Victor was laughing too.

“So how about your parents?” asked Victoria. “What did they say?”

Victor breathed on his hands to warm them before he answered. “As soon as you closed the door, my parents started talking at the same time. Or at least my father was talking. My mother was yelling; I would be surprised if the whole neighborhood didn’t hear her.”

Victoria looked at him quizzically. “What was she saying?” she asked.

“Something about it being bad luck leaving the reception, and what the neighbors would say. It was funny, actually,” he said smiling. “After that, my father told her to shut up because she was killing his ears.” Both of them burst into laughter at the hilarity of their parents’ ignorance. They continued laughing until they reached the Everglot manor. Victor turned a full shade paler than the cold had made him. Victoria patted his hand reassuringly and unlocked the door. She wiped her feet on a mat and waved Victor inside. He followed a bit reluctantly, taking off his jacket as he stepped over the threshold.

Victoria took his coat and hung it on the coat rack with hers. “Come on,” she said. He followed her through the dining room into the kitchen. She turned to face him in front of the stove. “Okay,” she said. “Teach me, oh great one.” She smiled jokingly.

“Well,” said Victor, “we need to wash our hands first.” They walked over to the sink, and they both reached for the knob of the sink at the same time. Their hands met, and both of them blushed. Victor turned on the water and lathered up his hands. As he dried them, Victoria washed her hands.

Victor began searching in the lower cabinets for a frying pan, recalling that Victoria had mentioned making eggs. He found it on the second try and was pleased. He looked toward Victoria to see how she was faring, noticing she had dried her hands and was watching him.

“What next?” she asked. “How can I help?” She began to weave and unweave her fingers eagerly, awaiting her husband’s instruction.

He motioned to the icebox. “We’ll need butter and eggs,” he said. “You can get them.” He walked over to the stove as she rummaged for their ingredients.

“How many eggs?” she asked.

Victor thought for a moment, and then decided, “We’ll need two eggs for each person. So six.” He opened the butter, but realized he needed a knife. He asked her, “Do you know where the knives are?”

Victoria pointed to a drawer next to the sink. “In there,” she said, holding three eggs with care. She gently set them down on the table, and she was surprised to see them roll across the table. “Victor! Help!” she said. “The eggs!”

Victor half-heartedly suppressed a giggle. He walked over to the eggs and stopped them with his arm just as they were about to meet the floor. He rolled them back over to where they were and said, “Victoria, hold them there for a moment.” He pulled three tablespoons from the drawer and put one in front of Victoria’s hand, which was keeping the eggs from rolling. He lifted her hand, and two of the eggs rolled, but stopped at the spoon. Victor put the third egg in front of another spoon and returned to the stove. “Come here, and we’ll start cooking,” he said.

Victoria walked over to the stove slowly. I hope I don’t mess up, she thought concernedly.

“Okay, let’s begin then,” said Victor, interrupting Victoria’s worried thoughts. “To make eggs, first you put butter in the pan and spread it out a bit so the eggs don’t stick to the pan.” He did this, and let Victoria do it for a while. Then he took back the pan and put it back on the burner. “Now,” he said, staring at the floor, “how do you like your eggs?”

Victoria thought for a moment, then replied, “I rather like my eggs sunny side up, if you can do that.” She looked at him and smiled nervously.

Victor said, “Oh! Sunny side up is rather easy to make. You just crack the egg open over the pan and let it cook for a bit. Would you like to do the honors?” He indicated the pan and waited for her answer.

“Well, all right,” she said. Victoria walked over to the table and chose an egg. She looked at victor, and he motioned for her to get another. I hope I can eat all of it, she thought. She took her eggs to the stove to meet their seemingly delicious fate.

Victor shuffled his feet and took an egg. “I’ll do the first one, and you can do the other. Is…is that okay with you?” he asked. Victor knew Victoria wanted to help. In addition, he was trying to remain nonchalant, but yet a teacher, but not to the point that he would make her feel inferior. He cleared his head of these thoughts, trying to keep his mind on his work.

“Do you know how to crack an egg?” he asked. He knew she hadn’t known much about cooking, but he didn’t want to go too fast or skip steps.

Victoria shook her head with a sad smile. “No, I can’t say that I do. How do you do that?” she asked, thankful she wasn’t a very proud person, else this whole plan would break apart at the seams.

“Well,” said Victor, moving aside so she could see properly, “you just tap the egg against a tabletop or the rim of a bowl—” He did so using the edge of the counter. “—and you stick your thumbs in the crack you’ve made and gently pull apart.” He did this and the egg slid from its shell into the pan. “Now you try,” said Victor, who began looking for a lid for the frying pan.

“Like this?” asked Victoria, thumbs ready to open the egg. Victor banged his head on the inside of a lower cabinet he’d been looking in for the lid in his haste to see.

“Yes,” he replied, rubbing his injured head. “Go ahead.” He returned to the offending cabinet, and soon he found a lid. Victoria opened the shell and squealed in delight when it joined Victor’s in the pan. Victor put the lid on the pan and smiled. “You’re a natural,” he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “So how do your parents like their eggs?” he asked.

“Scrambled, the both of them.” Victoria laughed at this, although Victor failed to see the humor at first. However, Victor soon thought of how scrambled their minds were, and joined in laughing. They stood laughing for a while, and it soon passed and their sobriety returned.

Victor passed a sigh of content and said, “More eggs, I think.” He lifted the lid from to find Victoria’s eggs cooked to perfection. He called to her, “Your eggs are ready! Would you like to take them out of the pan, or shall I?

She placed the eggs near the spoons and walked near the stove where Victor stood. “Why don’t you do it and I’ll watch.” She stood smiling sweetly, loving the moment she was in.

“Okay then, I’ll do it. How about you go get a plate? I think I saw some on the table when we came in…” Victor turned down the burner so the eggs wouldn’t become overcooked.

“Oh! Right then,” said Victoria. She headed out the swinging doors and into the dining hall. Cooking is fun, she thought happily. I should do it more often. She took the plate near her place setting and returned to the kitchen, which was slowly filling with the smells of a warm, home-cooked breakfast. She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and handed Victor the plate. “Here you are,” she said with a smile.

Victor said, “Thanks.” He took the plate from her with thoughts of Please don’t drop it… He slid the flat end of the spatula under the eggs and slipped them onto the plate. He put down the spatula with a triumphant smile. “Here you are! Two eggs, sunny side up. Are you going to eat them now or later?” he asked.

“Well…usually it’s expected I eat with my parents, so I suppose I’ll eat with them. I expect they’ll be waking up soon, so maybe we should make their eggs now.” She clasped her hands nervously. We need to make their breakfast and get Victor out of here as soon as possible, she thought. “So how do you make scrambled eggs?” she asked Victor.

“Well, you crack the eggs into a bowl and mix them up with a fork. Then you dump that into the pan and bake it.” He wordlessly began searching for a bowl as Victoria took a fork from the drawer. Soon both of them were opening and closing cabinets in search of a bowl.

“Found one!” cried Victoria, presenting a yellow bowl with a small floral print encircling the rim. She took it over near the stove and placed it on the counter top. Victor, sensing the possibility of a joint effort, took two eggs and cracked them into the bowl. Victoria mixed them with the fork until they turned into a chalky yellow mixture. Victor tipped the bowl toward the pan, and the eggs slid into the pan with ease, soon making sizzling sounds. Victoria placed the lid on the pan and closed her eyes, content.

A trickle of sweat rolled down Victor’s neck. Should I take her hand? he wondered. Well, there’s no harm in it, and she can cook the eggs if she wants me to leave. But first… He walked over toward a cabinet, much to Victoria’s puzzlement. He pulled out the lid of a serving dish and placed it over Victoria’s plate so her eggs wouldn’t get cold. Then he walked back over to Victoria near the stove. He stuck out his hand, and much to his surprise she took it.

She smiled at him and said, “Victor, I must tell you something.” Victor returned her glance quizzically. “When I was…married…to that horrible Lord Barkis, I only wanted one thing; you.” She blushed, and continued. “I was so saddened when you were supposedly off with some mystery woman. I was afraid at first at the mere prospect of an arranged marriage. But then I met you at the rehearsal for the first time. You can only imagine my joy that you were so kind, and close to my own age. Needless to say, when you disappeared, I was devastated.” With her other hand, she scratched the back of her neck. She let her arm fall to her side and looked up. “Enough of my girlish fancies—”

“I don’t mind them, really. Besides, they aren’t girlish fancies; you speak the truth.” Victor was almost as surprised as Victoria to hear his voice. However, somehow he knew he’d said the right thing when Victoria squeezed his hand and sighed.

“Thank you. I suppose I’ve been told to hold my tongue so many times I’ve developed a habit of killing my end of the conversation. But what of your adventures?” She trailed off, leaving room for the conversation to flourish.

Victor thought for a moment. He checked on the eggs, and then began speaking.” It was incredible, I suppose; a whirlwind of events, so to speak. I left the church to practice my vows, and then just for practice, I slipped the ring onto a stick. The next thing I knew, a corpse rose from the ground and said, ‘I do.’ Then I was whisked off to the Land of the Dead. I found out my ‘wife’ had been killed by none other than Lord Barkis—” Here, Victoria gasped in shock at being married (however briefly) to a murderer. “I missed you so; that’s why I tried come back, but Emily-the corpse bride-took me back down there. Then I needed to be formally wed to her and everyone came up here. Then Emily realized what exactly she was doing to you and I, and said she couldn’t marry me. Of course, you know what’s happened since then.” He smiled, and checked on the eggs again. “They’re ready,” he said.

Victoria left to get another plate, leaving Victor alone with his thoughts. If this is marriage, I don’t mind it, he thought. I wonder how Victoria’s feeling. I guess knowing that comes with experience. Soon enough, Victoria returned with the plate, and Victor took the eggs from the skillet and put them on the plate. Victoria took a serving lid and put it on the plate. Mother and Father are more than likely awake…we need to finish very soon. She reached for the bowl at the same time Victor did, and their hands briefly before they knocked over the bowl and it crashed into thousands of shards of porcelain on the floor.