False Southern Gentility

Christine sat alone on the train. It had been a year and a half since Christopher had left with the baby, and she couldn't help but wonder where they were; how little Abigail was growing, if her hair was long or short, if her eyes had begun to develop the strange burgundy color that her own eyes were.

She put out her hand to the bus boy, "Yes, I'd like something to drink--" she thought quickly. "I'd like a bottle of Chardonnay and one bottle of Whiskey."

The boy stood stunned.

"Well," Christine said, irritated by everyone around her as she always seemed to find herself these last few years. "What are you waiting for? Go!" she screamed as the boy took off running, his feet spiking wildly behind him; Christine laughed to herself in sick enjoyment.

She turned, sharp as a knife blade, she had heard his laugh, heard the babies small and quiet giggle. "Christopher?" she stood up, walking from one little glass window to another, calling out his name until she finally saw him, sitting there with a little girl perched next him, smiling and giggling while she sucked on a piece of chocolate.

"Yes?" he asked without looking up from his newspaper. He looked right next to him, at the little girl, "Did you get that from the candy boy? I thought daddy said no candy?" he asked the little figure with a strangely straight face, as if he was trying not to laugh.

"No cady." the little girl said as she sucked on the piece of chocolate, smiling up at him. "Abi wike cady." she said as she leaned back and looked over at Christine. "Hi." she said as she waved at Christine; Christine stared at the tiny figure and waved back at her.

Her hand never left from beside her hip.

Christopher looked up, "Who are you talking--" he stopped when his eyes hit Christine; and then a strange kind of smile spread across his face. "No matter where I go, I can't seem to get away from that face." he said with a large smile as he kissed the top of the little girl's head.

"Abigail, why don't you go ask the candy boy for more chocolate, tell him daddy said it was alright this time." he nodded as he placed the little girl on her feet; she wavered for a moment or two and then laugh as she walked away, happy that she had a chance to eat her 'cady'.

"Is that--" she asked as she looked at the small two and a half year old girl running down the hallway.

"Yes." Christopher bit off the word. "She's magnificent isn't she?" he asked as he noticed that Christine's eyes hadn't left the small figure in the small moving hallway.

"Yes, yes she is." she said as she turned back to Christopher her eyes sparkling as she took as she looked back at Christopher. "So, where have the two of you been this time?" she asked. No emotion, get attached and then it breaks, emotion is a disadvantage, a stop spot made to make people weak.

"Oh, here and there." Christopher said nonchalantly. "I've showed Abigail just about every place that I could ever think of, she's seen Charleston and all it's stuffiness beauty," he laughed at his own joke. "She's even seen Atlanta, she quite enjoyed your Aunt Meredith."

Christine shrugged as she looked out the window. " Yes, well. Her father always did enjoy Atlanta, why he did I'll never know." she breathed in a deep breath, trying to control her emotions.

What if he left? What if he didn't want her back? Then what? What would she do if she was this far from him, all she had to do was reach out and touch him, touch him and never let him go. But what if he didn't want her to touch him, what if he was revolted at even looking at her?

"Yes, well, her father is me. I won't have you confusing her and upsetting her with things that bear no difference now. She's quite happy now, she really enjoys dressing up. She's like you in that way." he said as he leaned back deeper into the seat.

Christine swallowed and took a step forward; Christopher raised an eyebrow in question. "You...you wouldn't mind if your wife sat down, would you?" she asked, a playful note rather obvious in her voice; Christine was working hard to hold it there.

"Of course not, why should I?" he asked as he gestured towards the seat beside him; Christine swallowed and took the seat directly in-front of him. Christopher laughed, warm and subtle; Christine loved the sound.

She shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea why I asked. You ought to know that if I wanted to sit down, I would have. With or without your approval." Why did she feel the need to assert some kind of damned feminine strength! Why now!

"You still have those pistols, and you do love to use them." he said with a smile as he flashed out his cigar; Christine smiled at the smell as he blew the smoke into the air; she quickly snatched her smile off of her face.

"Yes, and my ammunition is as ready as ever." she said as she adjusted the thick fur wrapper on her shoulders.

"Miss," the boy who Christine had scared earlier said in a whisper. "your...your drinks." he said as he showed the small bottle of Chardonnay and the rather large bottle of Whiskey.

Christopher laughed, bellowed to be more exact. "So, you've taken up Whiskey now, huh Christine?" he asked as he leaned towards the black boy and gestured for him to hand over the bottle. "No, not that one, the Whiskey, take that other away, she won't end up drinking it." he looked over at Christine and smiled. "Will you?"

Christine swallowed, mortified by the fact that her drinking had been discovered. "I didn't order the Whiskey." she said in a firm voice. "I did order the Chardonnay, I was planning on having a glass with my dinner."

Christopher laughed again as the little baby came back in the room. "Hello angel!" he exclaimed as he lifted her into his arms, one hand holding her, and the other opening the train window, splashing out all of the Whiskey onto the ground, and throwing the empty bottle out of the window also.

"Well, aren't we the sour puss." Christine said with a half crooked smile that she knew used to drive Christopher insane, that was the smile that she had given him on the steamboat to New Orleans.

She couldn't help but smile again, thinking of the way the two of them had smiled and laughed in such a gay manner at the time. She couldn't think of where the time had gone. She had smiled at him from across the room and he had almost ran to embrace her. Where was that Christopher now?

His hands had wrapped around her thin waist, feeling the gently curves of her hips. She had breathed n the scent of him, the smell of sweet cigars and just a touch of Alcohol. His hair was like nothing she had ever seen before, well, she had seen one man's like it before, but that man hadn't belonged to her, that man had belonged to one of her old friends, someone she had grown up with and laughed with.

Why couldn't she remember his name? She knew that he had had hair like Christopher's, dark and black like a raven's wings, but when Christopher had touched his lips to the lobs of her ear, everything she was thinking about disappeared at the brush of his teeth against her skin, the ease of his hands, and the way his tongue glided against the skin of her neck as he laid her into his arms and carried her to the honeymoon bed.

"Oh Christine," Christopher said as he snapped in-front of Christine's face, shocking her back from her fond and pleasant memories. "tell me, where were you?" he asked with an intrigued smile.

"What?" she asked as she looked over at him. All of the feeling, the want that he had brought down onto her that night, and the nights after that, seemed to have disappeared, along with all of the other things she had needed from him.

"Nothing." Christopher said as he smoothed out a small curl on Abigail's head. Christine desperately wanted him to touch her like that; yet, once again, she hadn't the faintest idea why?

"Abigail...would you run play down the hall for mother?" she asked the small figure that sat perched so quaintly on Christopher's lap.

"Moder?" she asked with a bright smile that brought tears to Christine's eyes. Of course she hadn't remembered her, that last time that Christine had seen her was when she was three months old.

"Yes, yes for mother." Christine said as Abigail picked up the skirt of her dress and ran as quickly as she could down the hall in an effort to please this new person that was now telling her she was her mother.

"Why did you send her away? I have enjoyed her company for the past year and a half, why shouldn't I want her here now? Or is it that you don't want her here?" he asked with a strong disgusted look on his face.

"Good heavens, no!" she yelled in a surprised voice as she moved across the small space that separated them and grasped his hand in a grip so tight, as if she feared he would slip away from her again. "I wanted to be here with you, for a moment." she said as she leaned close to him, and then leaned her head heavily against his shoulder.

Christopher swallowed as Christine's smell filled his nose; he wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. He could hear her breathing slow and it scared him at first; he looked down worriedly at her, and saw that she was sleeping. He smiled to himself as the thought that she was at peace enough to rest a heavy heart on him.

For a moment, he and she were happy, her eyes closed, and his hands wrapped around her as he cradled her to his chest. In her dreams, and his sight now, they both felt that this happiness could, and would last forever.

They were both terribly mistaken.