by
Catherine Sullivan
My professor in university had a friend who worked at the Paris Opera, in fact his friend ran the Visual Effects department, sets, costumes, lighting, that sort of thing. In other words, my major. My professor knew that I had a bit of an obsessive love with the Opera, or, rather, with the infamous Phantom that had once made the building his domain. He pulled some strings, and then, based on my own talent and his glowing recommendation, I was granted a sort of internship in the costume design department there. If after one year all parties were satisfied I would have a permanent position. Back then it had sounded like heaven.
Right about now it seemed more like hell on earth and M. Cassat, my supervisor, was the devil incarnate. At four that afternoon he had dropped and entire folio onto my desk of nearly a hundred designs that had to be reworked and ready for pattern drafting at 8am the next morning. I glanced at the clock on the wall, 2am, six hours to go and I was barely half finished. Idly I traced the picture frame on my desk, a post-card sized print of one of Robert Heindel’s Phantom paintings, The Veil, my favorite in the black and white series.
I finally decided to take a break, clear my head, get some coffee. I grabbed my mug off the desk and locked the door behind me. I was lucky to have my own office, granted it was tiny, in the middle of nowhere, and a former dressing room, but it was better than having to share space with eight other people.
As I sat in the kitchen area waiting for the water to boil so I could have some yummy instant coffee I studied my reflection in the glass of a bizarre badly framed print of something by Picasso. A messy braid of straight-as-a-board raven hair that was too long to be sensible in my line of work, red-rimmed smoky grey eyes, and my normally deathly pale complexion was white as a sheet. Combined with my well-worn black sweatshirt and ratty jeans I looked like some drunken bum sitting on a corner.
“Ana, you need a holiday filled with nothing for a week very badly. Go home, go to bed and tell Cassat to screw himself.” But I knew I couldn’t.
And with that I dragged my bum out into the dimly lit hallway to wait for either the coffee or death. Given how old some of the stuff in this place was I figured death was in the lead. I closed my eyes for a moment and that was when I heard it.
Someone was singing.
At least, it sounded like singing. I couldn’t tell; it was soft and seemed very far away. Mentally I ran through the people in the building at that hour. The night security guy who couldn’t leave his office, the five janitors who were probably playing cards somewhere, and me.
My tiredness and coffee now forgotten I went back to my office and rummaged around for a flashlight. My glance fell across the picture on my desk and I ran my fingertip down the figure with a smile.
“Have you come to visit me, Erik?”
Then I laughed at myself, much as I believed in him, I certainly didn’t think he existed in the here and now. I headed back into the hallway refusing to let my imagination get the better of me.
My pursuit lead me down some passages and eventually onstage. It was certainly louder and clearer here and quite definitely singing, but it was also obviously below me, someone was in the sub-stage area. I headed back the way I had come and down, directly under the stage. The voice was still below me.
I made my way down two more levels to the third sub-stage area. I had guessed right, the voice was somewhere in the pitch-blackness in front of me. Abandoning the relative safety of the hallway I switched on the flashlight and headed forward.
The voice was directly in front of me, at least it sounded that way, but the beam of the light revealed nothing. In exasperation I went to check behind a large set piece, the only possible hiding place.
I was about halfway there when the flashlight refused to function.
“Why is it that flashlights in theatres never work,” I mumbled to myself.
Knowing full well that I wasn’t going to find anything with out a light I turned to leave. Then it hit me; the singing had stopped. Feeling just slightly annoyed I picked my way blind, stumbling and tripping, back to the faint light of the hall. Without warning I was grabbed from behind, held by strong arms and a hand clamped over my mouth. I froze; flat out petrified.
“Do you promise not to scream?” a voice asked softly, whispering into my ear.
I nodded, hell, I would have promised anything right about then.
When his hand came away I took a deep breath and managed to stammer, “W-who are you?”
He laughed, “Come now, Ana, you know perfectly well who I am.”
With that he loosened his grip on me, turning me around to face him. Directly in front of me was nothing but black, but my eyes were accustoming to the dark and hovering above that was a faint blur, his face.
Tentatively I reached out my hand, brushing my fingertips across his left cheek, then I went to do the same to his right, but instead encountered smooth, cool leather instead.
I drew in a sharp breath, “Erik?”
He chuckled, “None other.”
I closed my eyes and counted to five, then fifty. When I finally opened them he was still there. “I’m exhausted and delusional, right?” I asked. “You’re not really here, either that or I feel asleep in the hall or at my desk or something, whatever the hell happened one of us is a figment of my warped imagination.”
He stepped forward and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my head back to look at him. I could feel his breath warm on my face. “You and I are as real as this very building. Ana, I need you, will you come with me?”
“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth and back and you wouldn’t have to ask twice,” I replied.
Even in the dark I could sense his smile. “I was not planning on going quite that far. But I cannot bring you now, you have work to finish, do you not?”
“Ouch,” I winced, “you just had to remind me.”
“When you are ready I will come for you, you will need to remove the bookcase on the left-hand wall, it should not be that difficult. Use this.” He handed me something long and heavy, a crowbar. “I shall see you later.” And with that he disappeared and I went back to my office.
By 6am I had finished all the designs and slid the folio under Cassat’s door. It’s rather amazing what a visit from the Phantom does to your creative energy. After that I ran back to my flat, freshened up and chucked some basic junk I thought I might need into a duffel bag. I was careful not to wake Mark, my live-in boyfriend, but left him a note to the effect that I wasn’t going to be around for an indefinite period of time. When I actually find the time to sit him down and dump him I’m going to have to.
At any rate I went back to the Opera and proceeded to tackle the bookcase. After carefully removing all my stuff and placing it against the opposite wall I took off the actual shelves and pried off the sides. The only piece that gave me trouble was the backing. When I finally managed to get it off I had my second big surprise of the day.
It was the mirror. Not just any mirror, but the mirror. The floor-to-ceiling-four-foot-wide-gold-framed mirror that plays such a big part in any of the Phantom stories. Which meant that my office was in what had once been Christine’s dressing room.
As the rational half of my brain vainly attempted to assess the sheer impossibility of the situation the other half of my brain did triple somersaults of joy the mirror quivered and then slid aside.
A rush of cool air blew in from the passage now open before me. Without hesitation I picked up my bag and stepped through the mirror. It slid shut behind me with the faintest click.
Suddenly Erik was beside me.
I jumped, startled, and then realised who it was. “Stop doing that, jeez, you scared the crap out of me.”
“My apologies, shall we go?” and he indicated the passage beyond.
“Yes, lets.”
He lead me through corridors and passages, down staircases, always descending, and guiding me carefully so I did not trip and fall in the dark.
Then we were at the lake. It was covered with a thick fog and the candles that floated here and there on its black surface did little to dispel the dark.
Erik helped me into the boat that waited by the shore and then began to pole us across the water.
I’d be lying if I had any more details of that trip. I was dead tired and it was dark, I didn’t see much more than fog.
We docked at a small landing and climbed out. Erik opened a door in the wall and then we went through a second door and into a small entryway that opened into an elegant drawing room. The interior was well lit and the sudden light came as quite a surprise to me.
Next thing I knew Erik had lead me to a pretty bedroom.
“You are very tired, Ana, rest, then we will talk,” he told me.
“Sounds great,” I replied. After he left I threw on boxers and a tank top and went directly to bed.
When I finally woke up and didn’t feel like I’d been hit by a truck I climbed out of bed, lured by the smell of good coffee.
My nose led me through the drawing room and a dining room to the kitchen where I noted the incongruity of a coffee maker quietly brewing. It still didn’t stop me from having a cup.
On the table was a not from Erik saying he’d be back in a little while and to make myself at home. I had another cup of coffee, a croissant, wandered back to my room, took a shower, noted the oddity of that too, and got dressed. After putting myself together I went back into the drawing room, discman in hand, singing along to some Linda Eder. “You Never Remind Me” great song. About halfway through the song I found out what it’s like to be nearly strangled by your own headphone cord. I’d turned around, come face-to-face with Erik, dropped the discman, got tangled in the cord and managed to extract myself from the headphones before they did any serious damage to me.
After that little performance I nonchalantly shrugged and greeted Erik, “Hi.”
He continued to stare at me like I had three heads.
I had the decency to blush, mini-wave, go “Bye!” and bolt.
Once in my room I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
“Well, Ana, now that you’ve made an idiot of yourself.” And then I wondered why I’d started talking to my reflection lately.
There were three taps on the door and a few moments later Erik entered carrying two large shopping bags.
“I collected a few things I thought you may need,” he explained, “I have informed the management you are resting for a time. You are welcome to remain in my home for so long as you wish to stay.”
“Thanks.” He turned to go. “Just one thing,” I stopped him.
“Yes?”
“Not that I’m objecting or anything, it’s great, but, urm, the coffee maker?”
He laughed, “The kitchen and your rooms are kept up to modern date. All else in the house remains as it always was. And everything in your rooms is for you, do not be afraid to make use of it.” With that he was gone.
Not entirely sure how to interpret his comment I walked forward and opened the wardrobe door.
It was filled with extravagant period dresses. The most beautiful I had ever seen, a costumer’s delight. Feeling slightly like a little girl playing dress-up I drew out a grey dress, just the color of my eyes, with a lace edged scoop neck. It looked about my size. In the drawer below I found a corset, bustle and petticoats. I ignored the corset, pulled on the bustle and petticoats over my own stuff and then on with the dress. When I checked my reflection the dress seemed perfect on me, except for one thing, my bra poked out of the low neckline. With an annoyed frown I pulled off the dress and the offending undergarment and strapped myself into the corset. Which actually looked pretty darn nice on me, if it weren’t for the fact that I lost the ability to bend over.
Once I’d finally made it back into the dress I approved of my new clean neckline, twisted my hair up into a simple bun and went out to see Erik.
He was sifting through sheet music at the piano when I came in.
He froze when he saw me.
“You are beautiful.”
I blushed, then turned around for him, “Do you think it suits me?”
He walked towards me, “In every way.”
Slowly, almost as though he were afraid I would hurt him, he reached out, brushing his fingers across my cheek and down my throat while his thumb traced the line of my collar-bone.
“You are trembling, why?” Only when he asked me, did I realise that I was.
I tried to explain the emotions running rampant through me. “For so many years you were merely a spirit, you existed only in my mind, and I loved you. Now you stand before me, here, a real man, and it’s quite a lot for a girl to handle. Fantasies don’t usually come true like this.”
Erik dropped to his knees before me. “Could you love me now, as a real man, before you?”
I knelt beside him, throwing my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. “With all my heart.”
I felt his arms creep cautiously around me.
And from the next room came the sound of my pager beeping.
Erik pulled away as though he had been burned.
“What, may I ask, is that?”
I sighed, “My pager, it can be ignored for now.” But even though I waned to continue what we had started I knew the moment was broken. I went into my room, turned off the beep and checked the number, Mark.
“Jerk,” I muttered, and then frustrated and angry with him for ruining yet another wonderful thing in my life I hurled the pager across the room where it hit the wall, popped in half and landed in the corner.
I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes when Erik’s hands closed on my arms.
“Why are you upset?”
“Because my arrogant, possessive, jerk of a bastard boyfriend can’t leave me alone long enough to have a cup of coffee when he wants me and won’t hang around long enough for me to tell him I want him out of my life. That’s why.”
“Go now and tell him to leave.”
I shook my head. “No. No, I want him to suffer for a dew days wondering where I am. Besides,” I turned to face Erik; “I’d rather be here with you.”
The next few days passed swiftly. I remained almost constantly by Erik’s side, often in the period dresses, after all, Erik had said he liked seeing me in them. He told me they accented my beauty. I believed him. Erik and I went out now and then, around the Opera, or sometimes the city, always at night though. We lived like a pair of owls. There were no more encounters like the one we had had on my first day there. I think the idea of Mark bothered Erik, and that became my sole motivation for leaving. Erik seemed relived when I told him where I was going and why.
“Return to me soon,” he said, “I will miss you until then.” What girl could resist?!
Mark wasn’t there when I arrived, so I went into the bedroom to pack more things to take back to Erik’s.
I was vaguely aware of the front door slamming but it didn’t register until Mark greeted me with a kiss.
Except in my mind, it wasn’t Mark who kissed me. I closed my eyes and it wasn’t Mark’s hands running across my body. Wasn’t Mark’s shirt I pulled off. Wasn’t Mark who caressed my breasts with hand and mouth. Wasn’t Mark whom, when we were fully undressed, lay me down on the bed and prepared to cover my body with his own. Then I opened my eyes and it was Mark who I stopped just before he entered me.
Somehow I managed to look him straight in the eye and say, “I think we should break up.”
He looked at me in shock. “What?!” he yelled.
I stood up, wrapping myself in the sheet, “You heard me, I think we should break up.” I began collecting my scattered clothing. “You can keep the apartment, for now, I have somewhere else to stay. Be out in, say, two weeks.” I shrugged at him, “I’m sorry, Mark, but I just don’t love you and I think it’s time to move on.”
I went into the bathroom, got dressed, and went back to Erik’s.
“It’s all over,” I announced.
“You did it?”
“Yup,” I smiled, “gave him two weeks to move out. In the meantime, I’m here with you, where I belong.” I sat next to him on the sofa. “I feel so at home here.”
Erik pulled away from me a bit and took my hands in his. “There is something I must tell you, I should have told you when this began, but I must tell you now, before it is too late.”
“Erik, you’re scaring me, what is it?”
He took a deep breath, “I am not entirely real. I am here, in my home, or out of these rooms if it is dark, but I do not exist in the light. I can live only within darkness.”
“You’ve lost me completely, you mean, you’re a ghost?”
He sighed, “Not exactly a ghost, but I am not exactly real either. I am caught between the two, mortal and immortal, spirit and man, and I must remain as such until….”
“Until what, Erik?” I demanded, “Tell me, maybe I can help.”
“I believe you can, Ana, truly I believe you can. I will become whole again when I am loved for myself, and when I love someone for herself in return. I wanted no more than that in my lifetime, and in wanting it I was trapped here until I found it. Christine lacked the courage to do that for me, and it took me over a hundred years to get past losing her, I loved her so much. When I finally determined to help myself past that pain and work to become whole again, there you were. I watched you, I knew you were the one, and when the time was right I made myself known to you. You are what I need, Ana, will you help me? Will you love me?”
I snatched hold of him, pulling him tight against me. “Of course, I promise, Erik, I promise I will love you.”
His arms closed around me gently, “Thank you, Ana.”
I leaned back to meet his eyes. “Start this now,” I whispered, “kiss me.”
And he did.
Did he ever.
This was no peck on the cheek or smooch on the lips. It was one of those kisses. The kind that you feel down to your toes, makes you tingle all over and your head spin. Reality vanishes and nothing more exists than the perfect sensation of that kiss. To make a long description a bit shorter, I was thoroughly and completely, and I may as well say it, very romantically, snogged by the Phantom. As far as I cared that was the single best moment of my life.
When we finally separated, and I had caught my breath and managed to calm my heartbeat down to something that passed for normal, I looked straight at Erik.
“I want to have your children,” was what popped out when I opened my mouth to speak.
He looked rather surprised at that but replied, “That can be arranged, my dear, in the future.”
I pouted at him, “Now you’re just teasing me.”
He laughed.
I threw a pillow at him.
And so it went for the next few days. The teasing, romantic interludes, learning about each other; I was happy and I think Erik was too. He taught me to waltz, I taught him to swing dance and salsa. We explored music together, anything and everything from Mozart, Bach, Wagner and Beethoven to musicals, Linda Eder, Michael Crawford and Savage Garden.
Time blurred in Erik’s house, days slipped into weeks without me even noticing or caring. And he and I became increasingly interested in each other and less in what surrounded us.
Erik was something I’d never experienced before. He was passion, sensuality embodied. Any fantasy I’d ever had come true. And as much as I had loved him when he was someone who existed only in my mind, I loved him a hundred times more now.
One evening I decided it was time to take action. We were swiftly working our way to the “point of no return” in our relationship, and I was going to be prepared, maybe even egg it on a little.
I went up to my office and plunked down in front of the computer. I had that line from Jekyll and Hyde running through my mind. “Silk and lace, in black and red, will drive a man, right off his head.” I hoped so. I logged onto the Internet. Search. Victoria’s Secret. Sleepwear.
This was more confusing than I thought it would be. Satin collection. Scroll down. Perfect.
Finally I’d found something that would work.
I browsed around a bit more, picked up a sheer robe with the concealing ability of a ziplock bag and sent in my order. I could deal with the three to five day waiting period, even though I put it on rush, it was still an international order. By then we would be ready anyway.
When I went back to the house Erik was reading in front of the fire.
“Where were you?” he asked with a smile.
I gave him the ‘innocent’ look; “I was shopping.”
Erik raised his eyebrow, but said no more.
I went to my room, it was getting frustrating, being around that man, and not having his, shall we say, undivided attention.
For the next few days I felt as though I were running in circles. Going nowhere and passing the same landmarks again and again.
Part of the time I was certain Erik was dropping hints about fulfilling our relationship, while other times I could swear he wanted nothing more than friendship. But I spent most of the time wondering what it was I wanted.
Though Mark and I had slept together, hell, he’d lived with me; I classed out experiences as meaningless sex. With Erik it would be different, it would be the first time I’d actually made love to a man. And beyond that, Erik still had his Victorian morals.
I was a product of my time, beauty magazines and birth control, stress and sex. But at least I wasn’t shallow, I had a job that kept me humble and Phantom to keep me human. Yet, on the other hand, I had been immensely popular and beautiful enough to turn heads and have boys follow me around through high school and university. I had found it annoying. And I had been unhappy, so I was thrilled when I moved to Paris and had to compete with French women and discovered I was ordinary.
All of this factored into what I was trying to decide about Erik.
If I invited him to my bed would be reject me for being to forward or jump at the chance?
If I waited for him would he think it improper to ask, afraid I would be offended? Or would he come right out and ask assured of my acceptance?
On top of all that was the issue of his mask. From all the different versions I had an idea of what to expect and I was fairly certain of my self that it wouldn’t be an issue, but knowing would have made things a bit easier.
Were either of us really ready for the sort of emotional commitment this would be?
As a result of muddling through all the unanswerable questions I grew irritable, stressing myself into increasingly bad moods.
Erik picked up on my attitude and steered clear, managing to isolate himself into an extremely ill temper.
In any case we were rapidly moving our way towards a disaster.
The tension exploded into a nasty fight over the stupidest thing.
I was up before Erik and headed for the kitchen, coffee calling to me from beyond the can.
Erik found me sitting on the counter, in my usual tank top and boxers, along with grey bathrobe and fuzzy bunny slippers, paying homage to the caffeine gods.
“Good morning.”
“Mornin’.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee as I downed the rest of mine and jumped off the counter. I put the coffee mug in the sink and turned to leave.
Erik loudly cleared his throat, stopping me.
“What?” I asked.
“Put it in the dishwasher.”
“What?”
“The dishwasher. Put your mug in the dishwasher. I am tired of doing it for you.
“Well, sorry, it’s a habit of mine. I’ll try to break it for you.” I snatched the mug put it in the dishwasher and closed the door with a slam. “Happy?”
“No,” he opened the dishwasher and moved my mug to the middle rack. “Mugs go here.”
“I’ll remember that for future reference, Mr. Perfect.”
“I would not need to be so perfect if you were not so untidy.”
“Me? Untidy? I am a very neat person.”
“Is it so much to ask one thing of you?”
“One small thing?! If it were only the mug. I wear period costume to please you, do I get any thanks for that?”
“I like you better in the dresses, if that is what you mean.”
“Oh, so I am to do nothing but make you happy? Is that what this is?”
“I ask only—“
“You’re just like other men, egotistical, self-centered.”
He slammed his fist on the table; “I am not like other men!”
“Excuse me,” I shot back, “other men have the courage to show their girlfriends their faces!”
He froze. In that moment we both knew I had gone too far.
I turned and ran.
For two days I avoided him, unsure of how to even begin repairing the damage I had done.
Finally, with what seemed like no other ideas, I pulled the package that had arrived the day of the fight out from under the bed and opened it.
I would offer my deepest apologies, along with myself, if he were interested.
I waited until Erik left, then pulled on the slinkly thing. It was basically two long strips of black silk that tied at the shoulders and had lacing, instead of seams, up the sides from hip to armpit. I discovered there wasn’t much you could wear with it, it showed in all the wrong places.
I pulled on the dressing gown, which was, indeed, completely sheer, and settled to do hair and make-up. By the time I finished I head the front door.
I stood in the doorway of my room.
“Hello, lover,” I drawled seductively. Oh, was that stupid, I thought.
Erik turned and I saw he carried a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of red roses. And he was looking at me like I had three heads.
I rushed forward and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t mean what I said, truly I didn’t. If you hate me forever I’m okay with that, just please accept my apology. I’m sorry. I love you. Oh, Erik, I’m so sorry.” And I just kept going like that wondering why he didn’t throw me out, or hold me, or at least say something.
Finally I shut up long enough for him to pull away and when I heard him set down the bottle and flowers it occurred to me that the though it his head while I was begging was probably something along the lines of:
“What am I supposed to do with the stuff in my hands?”
When he turned back to face me he wiped the tears from my eyes.
“You need not cry, Ana. I forgive you. You have a right to know and I should have shown you.”
I shook my head, “It doesn’t matter, nothing matters except that I have you and you have me. Will you keep me Erik? Will you make me yours?”
He studied me for a moment. “Is what I think you are attempting to ask in any way related to what you are…. What are you wearing?”
I laughed, “A little something I bought in the event that you’d like to take it off.”
“Now I know you are asking what I thought you were.” It was his turn to smile.
I slid my hands up his chest and around his neck. “I’m asking you to make love to me, unless, of course, you object?”
“Not in the least.”
And then he gave me the longest, most romantic, kiss of my life. It beat the other one by a few light years. After which he scooped me into his arms and carried me to his room.
My jaw practically hit the floor when I saw his room. The walls were hung with black silk and a fire blazed in the fireplace. Candles hung from scones in the walls or rested in tall candelabras casting a soft flickering glow about the room. In the centre was the bed, curiously shaped, on a raised dais. A canopy hung from the ceiling over it and surrounded the bed with gauzy curtains the color of wine.
“Erik, it’s beautiful,” I breathed.
I sensed more than saw his smile as he carried me to the bed, placing me on the edge before he sat beside me. He pulled my head forward to rest on his shoulder, stroking my hair.
“Ana, my pretty Ana,” he whispered.
I pulled back to look at his eyes, blue eyes, one dark, the other pale, and held his face in my hands.
“I love you.” And that did it.
Within moments my robe was on the floor and I feverishly worked to undo the buttons of his linen shirt. Once that was done I pressed myself against his chest, covering his throat with tiny clinging kisses even as his hands were everywhere on my body, his elegant fingers feeling and exploring as my mind reeled from the sensation of it all.
I heard Erik’s gasp of surprise as he realised what I was wearing, or, rather, wasn’t. I smiled and gave him a half-shrug as he undid the shoulder ties to my gown, sliding the silk down to expose my breasts.
And he simply sat there and looked, and looked some more. Finally I called to him.
“Erik, you can touch me.”
After a moment he managed to focus his gaze and meet my eyes.
“Oh, Ana,” he choked back a sob.
I pulled him close, cradling his head in my arms, pressing kisses to the top of his head. And only then did I realise his mask was gone, as my fingers brushed soft skin instead of leather. We kissed again, lips and mouths meeting and molding, as my hands arranged for his trousers to disappear.
I gave an insistent tug on his waistband as he pulled me to my feet, the movement causing my gown to fall to my feet as Erik’s pants also succumbed to the forces of gravity. Kicking them aside he gathered me to him, an enfolding embrace as he slid the covers aside behind me and laid me down, covering my body with his own.
Before that night I had never truly made love to anyone before. The exquisite sensations he evoked when he was with me, so different than any other man had been, so much passion and love and sensuality he expressed with the slightest movement. I was convinced I should never know such wonderful feelings with anyone else, ever.
Sometime later the first thing I became aware of was the warm body I curled against. I snuggled closer and he tightened his arms around me.
“Erik,” I mumbled against his shoulder.
“Mmm?”
“I love you.”
He nudged me to open my eyes and meet his gaze as he pulled his ring; a silver band wrapped about an onyx lozenge and slipped it onto my finger.
“I love you, too, Ana,” and he sealed his words with a kiss.
We were interrupted by a very bright light that suddenly flooded the room, and for two semi-sleepy people who getting gutter-minded it wasn’t very welcome.
Erik and I looked for the source of the light, which eventually settled itself into the form of a woman standing at the foot of the bed. I immediately slumped down, pulling the covers up to my chin, Erik, on the other hand, sat bolt upright.
“Christine,” and that single word left his lips like a prayer. I knew I was done for, despite what we had just shared, who was I compared to the love of his life?
She spoke, “Erik, I have come to bring you home.”
Erik stared at her, “Home? With you?” And then he turned to me, almost guiltily.
I smiled at him, doing what I had to do, no matter how much pain it would cost me. “Go with her, Erik, you two were meant to be.” I went to give him back his ring.
He shook his head, “Keep it.”
I reached round my neck, undoing my necklace, and handing it and the ring that hung from it to him.
“What is it?” he asked, studying the gold and ruby ring.
“It was my grandfather’s,” I explained, “when he died he gave it to me for the man I loved, I want you to have it.”
He nodded, “Ana, I must leave you, but I promise you will never be alone, I will not allow that to happen to you.”
Erik and I shared one last kiss, then he reached forward to take Christine’s hand and they were gone, leaving me in darkness.
For the next few days I couldn’t bring myself to leave Erik’s place, and when I finally did it was only to work. I threw myself into my job, hoping to distract myself from the hurt and pain and great sense of loss I felt. I still stayed at Erik’s, the thought of my flat to miserable to comprehend. I slept in his room, feeling closer to him there than anywhere else.
A month passed, and then another. I was so lonely I was making myself ill, I felt horrid, was sick to my stomach quite a bit and felt generally sick and depressed.
I finally managed to collect myself enough to drag off to the doctor’s. After the examination he explained why I was feeling the way I was. I had to ask him to repeat the diagnosis three times before it sunk in.
I was pregnant. And Erik was the only possible candidate for father.
After that I eventually managed to drag back to the Opera. When I finally stumbled back into my office there was a man at my desk.
“Are you Ana?” he inquired.
“Yeah.”
He extended a hand to me, “Alexandre Cabret.”
I shook his hand, “What do you want?”
Alexandre reached into his pocket, “A friend asked that I bring you this.” It was my chain, the one I had given Erik, that the ring had hung from. The ring wasn’t there, but something else was.
A golden half-mask. The back bore the inscription “to keep a promise ~ E.”
I simply stared at Alexandre. He took the chain from my fingers and fastened it around my neck.
Alex and I started dating. I found out I was carrying twins, a boy and a girl.
Shortly after that Alex asked me to marry him and I accepted. He also asked if I would name him as the father of my children, I agreed. It would be much simpler and somehow, deep inside, I knew that was part of Erik’s intention.
When they came both children had my hair and Jeanne Elise had my smoky grey eyes. My son was another matter. His eyes were blue, one dark, and one light.
When Alex held him the first time he made an intense study of the child, then spoke softly to him.
“Welcome to the world, Erik Alexandre.”
I smiled, I should have known all along.