| Chapter 2 ~ To Love a Ghost |
| For the next few weeks, I let Meg Giry occupy my time. I did not think I had the will to live, but I also did not have the strength to fight her persistence, so I trudged up to the Opera House night after night to meet with her. Memories of Christine threatened to overwhelm me at times, but my path to Meg was entirely different. We were nowhere near Christine's old dressing room as we used the entire theatre for our classroom. To the casual observer (had there been any available at such an hour), it would appear that a solo ballerina was using the empty theatre for a private rehearsal, practicing tirelessly on her steps after the show. But I was there, the Master of the Shadows, urging Meg on towards perfection. I was a taskmaster – even harsher than her mother – and I noticed that she blossomed beautifully under my tutelage. She had a keen ear and was adept at bending her body to the music I played. I daresay, we discovered a modern type of dance together, and our time spent on this work was very rewarding. I felt like a master artist, bringing a new creation to life, and in that sense, it was a bit like my schooling of Christine. But that was as far as comparisons went. My existence was still haunted by the dream of Christine Daae. Every waking hour was consumed by the thought of what my life could have been like with her. But the reality of her absence confirmed that our brief interlude must have been a dream. I tried not to give into grief – especially in the presence of Mam'selle Giry. I had shown Meg enough of my weakness. It was time to remind her and myself of my strengths. As the weeks flew by, I began to make plans. I did not want to live in the cellars of the Opera House any longer. Perhaps there was a place I could go where I would still feel alive and not suffer from mankind’s hatred. Should I should travel to colder regions like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein monster? (Now there was a lady I would have liked to meet, for she had some keen insight into the mind of a man on the edge of society. But alas, her time had passed.) I also toyed with the idea of travelling to Tibet to investigate the teachings of the Dalai Lama. It seemed like an almost ludicrous idea, but then, much of my life had held elements of the absurd to it. As I realized that the world lay before me, I slowly began to gather my things, hiding them away in the depths of the Opera House until I was ready to take my leave. In the meantime, I had my young pupil to attend to. One night when we were working quite late, I noticed that she seemed to be particularly distracted. I pounded on the piano, trying to force her to attention, but I could not seem to bend her to my will. “What in God’s name is on your mind?” I finally asked her. “Oh,” she mumbled morosely. “I didn't want to tell you….” My throat grew very tight, and I suddenly had great trouble breathing. I felt certain that she meant to tell me of Christine’s wedding to the Vicomte de Chagny. “What is it?” I asked. She looked to the floor and seemed to be lost in some private debate with herself. Her sighs were heavy and her torment was quite evident. Her girlish face was screwed up in consternation. “It’s Christine,” she said at last, confirming my dread. “She has come back to the Opera.” I caught my breath, and tried to remain calm. “What do you mean?” I asked quietly. “I mean, she didn’t marry Raoul!” Meg blurted out. Time seemed to stand still, as I drank in her words. I was lost in a moment of such supreme joy that I could hardly hear or sense anything else. Christine had returned! “And now she thinks she can just waltz right back into our lives,” Meg huffed. “She’ll ruin everything!” I could not begin to understand little Giry’s distress, and I looked at her in surprise. “I thought you and Miss Daae were great friends,” I said. “Not after the way she treated you!” she exclaimed. I could not help but smile at her vehement defense of me. “You are right, Meg,” I said. “Christine and I did not part on the best of terms.” “But now she’s back!” she said miserably. “And why would that distress you?” I asked, curious for her reply. When none seemed to be forthcoming, I tried a different tactic. “If you fear for any disasters at the opera because of her appearance, that is unlikely. You know that I am planning to leave quite soon...” “No!” she cried. “I mean, I had hoped that you would stay. I’ve been progressing so well in my lessons, and I thought you might someday teach me how to sing.” I sighed, and gently began to stroke the piano keys. My heart and mind were racing with the possibilities of Christine’s return, and I found myself drifting off, barely listening as Meg continued her supplication. But then she did something that quickly commanded my attention. “Angel of Music,” she sang softly, “guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!” “Meg,” I said in mild protest. “I can’t….” “Angel of Music, hide no longer!” she commanded. “Come to me, strange angel!” She moved towards me with her dancer’s grace and reached out to take my hand. She approached me with such an air of authority that I suddenly felt like the pupil instead of the teacher. She brought me to my feet and led me to the center of the stage. Then she began to dance, and I could hear her hum softly as she moved about me. She swayed to her wordless tune and extended her arms toward me, imploring me to join her. Music surged throughout my being, and I found myself falling into step beside her. It was exhilirating to dance, to liberate my mind and body with such simplicity and strength in movement. Meg continued to hum and I was pleased by her sweet sounds. I took her hand and tiwrled her about, drunk on the magic of the moment. I felt as if I was falling into a dream, awakening to a memory, and I barely heard her as she gave voice to her song. “Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,” Meg mused. “Touch me, trust me. Savor each sensation….” The words whirled through my mind, and as I caught her in my arms, I closed my eyes, falling prey to the dreams that had been calling to me for so long. Christine! I could almost feel her long chestnut curls caress my masked face and I breathed in the memory. But then she pulled away from me, dancing about like a coquette. I reached out to her, beckoning her to return to me, and to my delight, she did. My dream-maid came running back to me, and I lifted her up high above my head. “Pilotez, mon ange!” I cried. “Reach for the Heavens!” It was so ecstatic to hold her above me, to revel in the fantasy that had entered my mind. But then she seemed to melt in my grasp, commanding me to let her feet touch the ground. She slid down my body, but kept her arms around my neck. And then she kissed me. Shock surged through my being and quickly brought me back to my senses. This was not Christine I held in my arms, but Meg... and the realization slammed into me like steam engine. I felt ashamed for allowing my fantasy to cloud my judgement, and I stepped back from Meg, holding her at arm’s length. “Mam'selle,” I stammered, my heart pounding. “Please... forgive me…” “For what?” she asked innocently. “For my... impropriety…” I said. She merely laughed and reached up to caress my exposed cheek. “My dear Phantom. Didn't you know how much I have been wanting to kiss you?” I looked at her in awe, unable to believe what I had just heard. I shook my head and tried to stammer out a response, but a sound came from the back of the theatre that caught our attention. I was ready to dive into the wings when an angelic voice stopped me midflight. “Erik? Meg?” It was a voice I would have known anywhere. “Christine...” * * * * * * “I have been such a fool,” Christine confessed to me. We sat in the comfort of her old dressing room. It was the one place that had not been destroyed by the mob in their efforts to get to me. It was so strange to be there, actually talking with her, when I had spent months hiding behind her mirror, longing to reach out and touch her. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but that night,” she continued, unable to meet my gaze. My cheeks flushed with shame, and I fought the urge to flee from the room. Of course she had been haunted by that dreadful night! I had put her through Hell, and she had gifted me with Heaven’s kiss. I cursed myself for my ugliness, inside and out. “I’m sorry, Christine,” I managed to say. “It would seem I have become the monster that everyone says I am.” “Oh no!” she cried. “Oh, Erik! Please don’t think that!” She stood up and slowly began to pace about the room. “I have been in such a muddle since that night,” she continued. “I was so confused, so overwhelmed by your kiss. I was ready to stay with you forever, but you told me to go. And then Raoul took me away to his country estate. I guess he still wanted to marry me, but I was no longer sure of what I wanted. I simply couldn't stop thinking about you, Erik, and neither could Raoul for that matter.” My mind was reeling from all she had said, and for the first time in my life, I was speechless. “Raoul couldn't seem to forgive me for kissing you,” she explained. “Apparently, I was no longer a virtuous girl in his eyes. He insisted that I go to confession to cleanse my soul.” At that, I released a frustrated sigh and sank back further onto her couch. I could not take my eyes off of her, and I resisted the urge to fall prey to the old emotions I still harbored for her. It was like a dream to be near her, to see her once again! But with each measured step she took, I was fearful of what she might say next. “At first, I could not believe that was how Raoul saw me," she continued, furrowing her brow. "To him, I had suddenly become a wanton woman. But then I realized that perhaps I had been sinful in my thoughts and actions, and so I allowed him to escort me to confession. I told the priest of my sins, and he said that as penance I should seek you out to make amends for the wrongs I had done to you.” “And that’s why you’re here?” I whispered. She nodded and kept her eyes fixed on the floor. I stared at her helplessly, distraught beyond words. I wanted her to say that she had come to see me out of love, not out of some Christian sense of duty. But it all became so painfully clear to me. She felt that she had sinned by giving me her kiss, and before she could wed the Vicomte, she would have to be absolved of the past. "I see," I said stiffly. I rose to my feet and tried to find my voice. My mouth didn't seem to be working, though, and my throat was constricted. Christine looked up at me sheepishly and my wounded pride got the better of me. “You've said your peace,” I growled. “Now you can go back to your precious Vicomte!” I turned away from her and headed for the large mirror that made up her dressing room wall. I had to get out of the room before she could see me cry; I couldn’t bear that. Perhaps she’d only ever see me as a dog at her feet, but I would not give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I touched the mirror and instantly found the trigger that would swing open the secret door. As the glass parted to reveal the comforting darkness beyond, I heard Christine running up behind me. “NO!” she screamed. She threw herself at me, grabbing onto my cloak. The force of her mad rush propelled us both into the hidden passageway. I managed to keep us from hitting the hard stone floor, though I was tempted to drop her and disappear into the darkness alone. But she held tight to me with a deathlike grip and wept hysterically. “Erik, please!” she cried. “Don’t desert me again! I cannot bear to live without you!” The impact of her words hit me like a blow to the chest. My knees buckled, and I slowly lowered us to the floor. I cradled her against me while I played her words over and over in my mind. I cannot bear to live without you. She sobbed like a child and clung to me with such ferocity that I did not doubt her claim. I rocked her in my arms and caressed her lustrous curls. “Christine,” I murmured in disbelief. Even in the darkness, I could see her look up at me, her face wet with tears. “Erik, my love,” she whispered. Her words brought joyous tears to my eyes, and I wrapped her in a passionate embrace. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and heard her sigh with delight. Then she moved within my grasp and slid her hands up my starched shirtfront, reaching higher towards my face. I instinctively drew back, but she moved closer to me and caressed my neck with her fingertips. The sensation was exquisite, and I felt a lifetime of tension ease from my shoulders. She seemed to be drawing me to her, and before I knew it, her lips had found mine. It was like falling into a bed of rose petals! The soft, sweet, pleading kiss of my beautiful Christine! I caught her face in my hands and returned her rapturous kisses. I had never felt so alive, so complete in my life! I pulled her to me and drank from her lips the sweet nectar of her love. She did not seem to be afraid. In fact, she matched my passion with a fierce fire of her own. We caressed each other gratuitously, delighting in the thrill of each touch. Our desire had made us bold with one another, and her hands reached to unfasten my mask as my fingers were attempting to unfasten her gown. "No!" I said suddenly. "Erik, what's the matter?" she asked breathlessly. "We cannot proceed like this," I said, and I held her back at arms' length. "I don't want either of us to regret any hasty decisions...." "Erik," she murmured, taking my hands in her own. "I love you. I have always loved you. I want so much to be a part of you....." "You are, mon ange," I said happily. "And I love you too. But Christine, I want to lead a normal life, to be able to share my love in the light of day. I want to have a wife and to live in a house just like every man does." She remained quiet, and I could not read her reactions in the darkness. "I was intending to leave this place very soon," I continued. "I don't know where I'll go, but I have the money to live well, to start over. Would you ..... come with me? Will you be my wife?" She sighed, and I could not tell if there was a sense of resignation in her demeanor. I steeled myself for defeat. "Erik," she said softly. "I thought you'd never ask." ~ Chapter 3 ~ Back |
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