Yeah, you'd better run, Lisa! I do not whine! I just inquire... in a high-pitched voice! I'm a soprano, what do you want? And what are you doing with Cassie's line? Give it back you weirdo! Anyway, as usual, my dear room-mate is glossing over things. For instance, there was one point in the Dairy Manor where several people stared at us rather pointedly and I basically saved Lisa's white Polish ass by claiming story-writing. (Which, from a certain point of view is true.)
But that's neither here
nor there. (I think it's somewhere in
Cleveland.) Anyway! On with this tale of mystery, murder, and
mayhem... oh, wait... that's A&E's Sherlock Holmes thing... Never mind, on
with the time traveling!
*Indiana Jones theme*
Under the pretense of going to back to school, we drove off into the sunset. (Well, I drove... Lisa just clutched the dashboard and screamed in terror. I made it a point to give her a sedative next time.) Once we'd driven far enough, which was somewhere around the Florida/Georgia border according to Lisa, I pulled Elsie up behind a conveniently-placed billboard advertising Cracker Barrel (if you've never been to the South, those things are blinking' everywhere!).
"Okay, dude... it's now or never. Doug already put the correct coordinates in for us. All I have to do is press that button." I smiled, almost too excited to sit still, which in itself is not a unique occurrence.
"Oh boy..." Lisa whimpered, sounding as though she were awaiting a hangman's noose rather than a meeting with the Phantom. (Yes, that is rather ironic... who let the English teacher in here? Out, out, out!) "What have I gotten myself into?"
"O stop whining... here we go!" I pushed the button before she could offer any more protests that I would be forced to ignore anyway.
Again the brief few seconds of total blackness, rather like passing out, followed by the disconcerting confusion of suddenly appearing in a dank and rather stinky alleyway in the middle of a downpour. I leaned against the steering wheel of Elsie, willing the dizziness to pass, which it did in its own sweet time.
"Urgh..." I groaned. "I don't think time-travel agrees with me any more than air travel. How are you, Lisa?"
"That's a special feeling..." Lisa grumbling, looking every bit as green as I felt. She was curled into a fetal ball in her seat, no easy feat when the car does not have bucket seats. Her glasses were no longer on her face, but dangling from her fingers as she pinched at her nose, like one with a sinus headache. Her blue eyes were shut tight as she presumably tried to force her last meal back where it belonged. With her hair cut like a boy’s and her impossibly baggy pants, she looked quite a bit like a street rat of the time. However, most little boys didn’t have quite that cute a face or the other prominent equipment that Lisa had. (Hey, I’m bigger than her at 38D, but not by a whole lot!)
"I think I need to sit down." She gurgled.
“You are sitting down.” I reminded her.
"Oh... well that's convenient isn't it?" she mumbled, resting her head back on the seat.
"Mm-hmm." I agreed, pleased to find my stomach leisurely making its way back down to where it belonged.
"Gee, we picked a good day to come." she complained, looking out the window at the massive waterfall streaming off of Elsie's roof.
"I told you we should've checked the weather reports for nineteenth-century France before we left." I joked, increasingly feeling more like my normal antagonizing self.
"We forgot to eat dinner before we left." she offered weakly. "I really wanted some Cracker Barrel too."
"You're weird."
"What? They have good biscuits."
"You're in the middle of Paris 1881 and you're thinking about Cracker Barrel biscuits?"
"I'm hungry!" she whined. "Do we have any crackers left?"
"Yes, they're in the cooler."
"Oh good. Do we even know where we're going?"
"Not yet."
"While you figure it out, I'll eat the crackers."
"You do that." I agreed, reaching over the seat to grab at (and miss several times before I finally caught) my Beaver College umbrella, a horrendous thing of red and white pie pieces with the logo emblazoned on its side in black.
"You're walking around Paris with that?" Lisa stared at the umbrella.
"I'm only going to find out what's outside of the alley, dumb-ass. Stay in the car and eat your crackers." I replied, preparing for a venture out into the sodden streets. Luckily, it wasn't quite as bad as I'd expected. The rain showed signs of letting up and my umbrella (which was incidentally missing two of the prongs) was actually holding up well. Nonetheless, I am not and never was a big fan of rain unless I am inside a well-heated and dry building at the time. Therefore, I darted to the entrance of the alley to look around at where we were. With the massive amounts of surprisingly fresh rain (no pollution and consequentially no acid rain) and the mist it produced, my vision was clouded beyond fifteen feet. It took me a few seconds to focus in on the gigantic building across from the alleyway.
Oh... that... Doug, you're better than you know. I thought as I recognized the building at last. With a goofy smile (which I am known for) I headed back to the car, restraining the urge to skip or jump in the puddles like a four-year-old.
I settled my somewhat soaked little self back in the car and playfully flicked water from my umbrella at Lisa, who was huddled against the seat and nibbling on the last cracker.
"Hey!" she tried to beat me off with an offended look and an appropriate hand gesture. "So, where are we?"
"Guess!" I grinned.
"No." she narrowed her eyes at me succinctly.
"You're no fun…"
"You're quick! Astute… slow, but astute."
"And you have a bad haircut, but we're still in a really convenient location."
"I snort in your general direction. Now where in hell are we?"
"Out of hell and across the street from the Opera itself." I finally told her with a REALLY wide grin.
"Oh."
"That's it?" I asked her in disbelief. "No fanfares, no clapping? No rejoicing whatsoever? What's the matter with you? The Phantom of the Opera, the real Phantom is less than a mile away and all you have to say is oh?"
"I'm sorry… I left my noisemakers in my other jacket. Look, Marie… I'm still not even sure this is a good idea. I'm just here to keep your little white ass outta trouble."
"That's a white, Irish ass, thank you very much."
"Very well, I'll keep your white, Irish ass outta trouble. Now let's get going. If I have to die, at least let's make it quick."
"You're morbid, dude." I said cheerfully.
"Dude? Okay, no more Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for you, dear."
"I don't watch them anymore and you know it!"
"Ah, so you admit to watching them in the past?"
"I admit it! I did it! I throw myself upon the mercy of the court!" I shrieked in mock-desperation.
"Kay, that was melodramatic… can we go now… please?"
"Sure."
"Oh good. Do we have a plan at all?" she asked as we proceeded to get out of the car.
"Not at all." I shrugged.
"Fun… let's go get killed…"
"Fun… let's go meet the man we all but worship. Remind me again, who are our two shrines at school devoted to?"
"If I have to remind you, that's really sad. I remember that we have a PTO shrine. I'm just saying that this is reality, not some little fan fic that we're writing because we're bored. In reality bad things happen."
"That's why I brought these." I announced, pulling the two thick leather straps out of my jacket pocket.
"What… the hell… are those… for? Marie… you're scaring me. No Phantom S&M please." Lisa stared at me in horror.
"What? No! These aren't meant for that! Jeez, Lisa… get your mind outta my gutter! Just fasten this around your neck tightly." I handed her one strap, which was, incidentally, a rather thick dog collar from a pet shop.
"Oh!" she suddenly realized what they were for. "Lasso protection! Cool! Why did I get the purple one?"
"Purple… lavender… Goliath… who knows how I arrive at these decisions. Besides, I wanted the black one… just in case I do decide to use them for that later."
"That's more than I ever needed to know about you, Marie." She said after a brief laugh. "How are we going to find our ghost anyway?"
"I'm thinking that-"
"Don't hurt yourself."
"Stuff it. I'm thinking that we just need to lure him out by displaying our futuristic technology. For example, we break into the theater after hours and proceed to blast modern music from the CD player. That should get his attention and keep us on relatively safe grounds." I explained as we finally reached the marble steps leading up to the Opera's main doors, the rain letting up significantly by now.
"I suppose that could work. Do I get a private concert?" Lisa asked, referring to my questionable vocal talents.
"If you wish… although that might have opposite the desired effect over Erik." (For anyone not familiar with Phantom stuff… Erik is the Phantom's name.)
"OK, do I have permission to smack you now?"
"Whatever for?"
"If anything, I think, you're singing would pique his interest, not send him for the closest chandelier weight."
"Perhaps… keep in mind that he's accustomed to spending his time listening to opera singers, not Broadway wanna-bees.
Lisa rolled her eyes and sighed. "Jeez, if you don't stop bashing your obvious talent I really will smack you. Besides, even you would have to admit that a song from his own musical would interest him no matter who sang it."
"How on earth is he supposed to know that a song is from Phantom, hmm?" I asked.
"Well, let's see… try one that involves the words… Phantom… of… the… Opera. Duh!"
"That's a duet! I can't sing that all by myself! Think about it… me singing both Christine's part and the Phantom's part… that's little weird."
"That'd be why we brought the CD, wouldn't it be? Duh!"
"That's the second time you've said duh… now who's been watching too much Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"
"Bite me."
"Where?"
Lisa sighed and all but dragged me up the remaining steps and into the theater. "Let's get in here already, I'm getting soaked."
"Well that's your fault for not having the foresight to bring an umbrella." I chirped with a smile.
"Don't make me smack you… let's just go get set up."
I saluted her like a soldier from the Third Reich and proceeded to goose-step my way down the nearest corridor.
"You're strange." she commented to my back.
"Thank you."
****
"Louder!" Lisa yelled from the back of the theater, interrupting my rather moving performance of Phantom of the Opera. I stopped abruptly and glared at her, letting the recording of Michael Crawford take over.
"Stop doing that!" I put my hands on my hips backward (with the fingers facing behind me... It's a double-jointed thing). Lisa grimaced at that… I was never able to figure out why that irked her. "If you keep interrupting me, I'll never get him up here!"
"Well, we'll never get him up here if he doesn't hear you either."
"Bite me."
"Where?"
"On my hairy, white ass!" I yelled in pure frustration.
"That's more than I ever needed to know about you, Marie." she shook her head and rubbed at her temples as though a headache were starting.
I stuck my tongue out at her in response. At that moment something made a huge, resounding crash in the darkness of backstage, forcing me to all but leap off of the stage in surprise. I sprinted down the steps, miraculously managing not to trip and joining Lisa in the orchestra pit.
"That's a special feeling... if I could pull my heart out of my throat I would." Lisa giggled hysterically while I hid behind her. (Not entirely successful considering I'm way wider than her.)
"Marie... what do we do now?"
"Why?" I asked in a squeak.
"There's a man-sized, black shape heading across the stage right towards us." she trembled, fumbling to stop the CD player, which had proceeded to Music of the Night.
"Okay..." I crept out from behind her, resolving to be the sane one for once. "If he really wanted to hurt us, he would've done it by now."
I was unprepared for the sight that met my eyes on the stage. There he stood... the Phantom of the Opera... almost as I'd always pictured him. Tall, dark, and handsome, nothing! He had to be at least six-foot-two, possibly taller and had a medium-sized build. (Now stop smirking at me for saying that… there’s nothing wrong with a medium-sized build… hey he can’t have everything.) Anyway, even at the distance I was from him, I could see that with his mask in place, he was an extremely handsome specimen. The lack of a hat exposed short, well-cut hair of a coal-black color with a (forgive me) blue-black sheen to it. And I had always thought that hair color only came from bottles! The only indications that he had seen younger days were the silvery-grey streaks at his temples; quite frankly they added to his appearance rather than detracting from it. I couldn’t see his eyes clearly though… and stifled my curiosity for the time being. However, I turned my attention to his clothes.
He wore the traditional
dress clothes for the Opera patrons, all in well-pressed black. Only his shirt and his mask were white, the
former looking as though it had just come from the best dry cleaners in New
York City. Form-fitting gloves of black
leather covered even his hands. The
infamous mask was not the ALW half-mask we were used to. In fact it was closest to Erik’s mask in the
Charles Dancer version, a full mask with only his eyes, lips, and chin exposed.
Yummy! Awooo-gah! Hot damn! If Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, and Tom Cruise all had been standing there in his place, I still wouldn't have lost nearly as much of my mind... such as it is.
"Bonjour, monsieur?" I asked tentatively, remembering too late that not only was it night-time, but Parisians do not greet strangers with "bonjour", but with only a straight-laced "Madame" or "Monsieur".
I sensed rather than saw
the curious rise of one eyebrow in my general direction and I coughed
delicately. "Excusé-moi, monsieur... parlez-vous
anglais?"
"Yes... English is a good thing!" Lisa piped up from several feet behind me.
I shushed her quickly and returned my gaze back to the powerful shadow in front of me as I inched my way up the steps to the stage.
"Yes." he finally answered in my native language, which was clipped slightly with a British accent. "I speak English well, thank you very much."
"Oh good... my French is sketchy at best." I smiled, trying to be friendly and as dangerous as tapioca pudding.
"So I can hear." he commented dryly, noting my outstretched arms, a move designed to prove that I had no weapons on me. "You may walk normally, mademoiselle... even if you had a knife, I could probably overpower you anyway."
I stopped, not knowing whether to laugh in agreement or be insulted. I chose the former. "You'd probably be right there. I may be on large side, but I have no strength in me."
"I can vouch for that! She's a whus!" Lisa interjected, coming up the stairs quickly and approaching Erik as well. She stopped abruptly and bowed at the waist.
"Hajimemashite doozo yoroshiku." she smiled in Japanese.
After a mini-second of
confusion he replied easily in perfect Japanese. "Doozo yoroshiku. Anata no namae wa nan desu ka?"
"Oh, cool!" she clapped her hands in delight. At his alarmed expression, she corrected herself. "No, no! That's not my name! I didn't expect you to reply in kind. Um... Watashi no namae wa Platt Lisa desu."
"If you to are quite
done with your Japanese, can I get a word in?" I mumbled, shouldering past
Lisa and extending my hand in traditional greeting. "Je m'appelle
Marie Noire des Etats-Unis. Comment
allez-vous, monsieur?"
"Je suis enchaté,
mademoiselle Noire." he extended his hand a fingertip away from
touching mine. "J'ai été agité."
"That's not good." I smiled nervously, my fingers stretching so that they did touch his, despite the fact that he wore gloves.
He pulled his hand back as if my fingers were made of acid, his eyes narrowing at me in what I hoped was only mild anger, though I had no idea why. My breath caught in my throat as I realized that he had eyes of the palest blue I'd ever seen; wash blue with a ring of midnight blue around the iris. Dear God... I always had a thing for blue eyes!
"Sorry." I apologized for my somewhat forward actions and backed away a step or two. "I suppose you're wondering why two American girls would be goofing around in your Opera at this hour of the night."
"That's one of my questions, yes." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, you probably won't believe this, but... we're from the future... the year 2000 to be exact." I blurted out, giving up on any subtle ideas.
"Smooth, Marie... very smooth." Lisa whispered behind me.
Erik's even stare was enough to tell me that he either thought us mad or blatant liars... or both. Therefore I continued on quickly. "We can prove it! Ask me any question about yourself, and I'll probably be able to answer it fairly accurately."
"Birthplace!" Lisa piped up, apparently deciding to help me out at last.
"Around about Rouen, France in about 1831." I answered. "I'll take Adventures for $500, Alex."
"Where did he build a palace made of mirrors?"
"Persia, the shah commissioned him to build a palace like no other and also to entertain his mother, the khanum. There he also met Nadir, the Daroga of Mazanderan and his one friend to this day."
"His cat's name and origin!"
"Ayesha, a Siamese he found during the Prussian attacks on Paris while the Opera was still being built."
"His parents' names."
"No last names have ever been recorded, but their first names were Madeleine and Charles."
"Enough!" he stopped me. "Even such knowledge doesn't prove you're from some future time."
"Okay then, take our accents and our mannerisms... or dialect, for that matter." I said confidently. "I highly doubt you've come across anyone else who uses words like 'cool' and 'dude' and 'my bad' in general conversation. On top of that... how do you explain this?"
With that, a reached for the CD player that Lisa still held and turned the volume up loud. With grand flourish I pressed the play button, knowing full well that Rent would come blasting out. Obviously, Erik had no such preconceptions and was consequentially quite startled at the noise roaring forth from the small, black box. Grinning, I turned the volume down to a tolerable level and looked at him expectantly.