Lisa
I'm back, if only to
give you a break from the melodrama that is Marie! (Got another 'look' for that one!) Actually, hold on a sec…there, that's better…I had to go smack
Marie. First off, I do not squeak or
whine nearly that much! Secondly, Marie
has a wonderful voice! (And if she
berates herself again I'll throw a shoe at her and enjoy it!) At any rate…Marie has to sing whenever 'Take
me out tonight' comes on, so that left me to talk to our beloved ghost. Thank you Marie…
I turned my eyes away from the Phantom for a moment to look at my roomie, who was doing an enthusiastic rendition of Take Me Out Tonight. I shook my head and turn back to the opera ghost. "And she calls me the crazy one. Of course," I amended, "you probably think we're both mad by now."
"Yes."
"Well, at least you're honest." I looked over at Marie again. "When she's done we can explain why we're here…HEY MARIE! Are you done yet?!" I shouted over the CD player.
"I believe so, yes." She answered, stopping in mid syllable and turning off the music.
"So which one of us gets to tell him why we're here?"
"You."
"Me?!"
"Well...you don't seem to like the way I'm doing things." Marie said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What, you're not even gonna help?" I exclaimed turning an alarmed face to Marie.
"Only if you really want me to."
"Yes, help would be good, like for starters…why are we here? You know, besides the obvious idol worship?"
Marie gave me the exasperated, 'let me explain this to you very slowly' look. "So we can help."
"Right, help." I paused, looking around the huge theater. "But isn't this a bit of a conspicuous spot to tell him everything?"
"Ah, Lisa the ever sensible one"
The Phantom sighed, "I suppose you want to come down to the lair?"
"That'd be nice." Marie and I replied in unison.
He shook his head and gestured for us to follow him. Marie and I gathered our packs and hurried after him. "Field trip!" I shouted as we caught up.
"Do we have to sign waivers for this? You know…Beaver College does not accept responsibility for the loss of life, limbs or eyes while off campus?" Marie quipped as we followed him into one of the walls.
One thing I can say about Erik's lair…it's quite a hike from the theater! I'm pretty sure it took us over half an hour to make our way down there. Lugging about 50 pounds of equipment all the way. Anyhow, the lair...Wow, I tell you what…wow! (I quote Bartok the bat from Anastasia)
Upon entering we were both quite speechless…Marie recovered first. "Spaaaaaam!" She drawled like Pinky.
I followed suit, "Naaaaaarf!"
Erik looked at the two of us like we were quite mad.
"So, who's your decorator, Edgar Allen Poe?" Marie quipped as we set our backpacks down.
"Marie could we unpack and explain ourselves before he reconsiders letting us down here?"
"Amen sister."
"Just unpack the equipment."
We had quite a pile of stuff…CD's, movies, TV equipment, and piles of phan phic and books. Marie and I decided books and phan phic would be the best way to start.
"But we need some mood music." Marie said, holding up her copy of Phantom of the Opera.
I rolled my eyes. "Gee, you think he really wants to hear some Englishman's interpretation of the worst six months of his life?"
"Well jeez, when you put it that way... and the musical covers a year!" Marie corrected.
"Actually, I think it might be interesting." Erik said.
"Ok, it is a law that one must do just about anything that someone with 'the voice' says and he's definitely got it, so put it in Marie!"
"Chill Lisa, switch to decaf, sheesh." Marie slid the first CD in and pressed play.
Since Marie was busy singing along it was up to me to give the Phantom a play by play of his own musical.
"Interesting." Was all that he said when the second CD ended.
"I always thought so." I said, sighing, I always loved Michael Crawford's rendition, not as much as Franc D'Ambrosio, but that's something else entirely. "I've seen it six times."
"Me too, actually I've seen it seven times." Marie added.
"Spend your entire life trying to remain hidden and you become an icon." Erik commented.
"I don't know if I'd call you an icon, an Internet god maybe…"
Marie rolled her eyes at me. "Let's not get into computers yet."
"Yes ma'am." I saluted. "How about phan phiction? Can we get into that next?"
"No."
"No?!"
"You think we should? Oh, well, phan phic away!"
"Which should we start with? Black Velvet?"
"Let's leave our phan phic out of it for now."
"Well, I didn't bring mine." I replied triumphantly.
"I did." Marie smirked.
"What?"
"I have my whole site on file dear."
"I'm going to smack you…but that can wait, I think we're either confusing or annoying him…by the way…" I turned to address Erik. "How would you like us to address you?"
"Erik will do."
"My god, we're on a first name basis with the Phantom of the Opera!" I clapped my hands excitedly, earning an odd look from both Marie and Erik. "What?"
Marie just shook her head. "Oookay, let's start with something relatively safe…how about Gaston Leroux?"
Erik proceeded to devour all of the books we had about him and most of the phan phic…I say devoured because no one can simply read books that fast.
He looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Well…like we said, you're an idol in our time." I ventured after a long silence.
"So I see."
I looked at Marie for a second, weighing an idea for a moment, "We've always kind of wondered something…and well…it's really a debate only you could solve."
He looked at me quizzically and with a tinge of alarm. Given the explicit nature of much phan phic I couldn't blame him.
"We've always wondered which account of your life is the closest."
"Ah," he sighed with relief, "You had me worried for a moment…I would have to say Miss Kay's version…though I must say her ending is a bit more optimistic than the reality."
"Oh…well there's not much else we can show you, besides the movies and that will take a lot more explaining than I have energy for right now. Can you think of anything Marie?"
"What about your Complete Phantom of the Opera book?" She offered.
"Good idea, here…" I handed it to Erik. "It'll give you a better perspective on the musical."
"Perhaps some other time, the hour is late and this is a very draining experience."
"I imagine…so where do you want to stick us?" Marie asked.
"You may stay in Christi--, in the spare bedroom." He gestured to the door and opened it leaving Marie and I to haggle over who got the bed.
"Did you notice that?" I whispered to Marie once we had shut the door and set down our bags.
"Uh-huh…ouch, he almost called it Christine's room."
"I know…are you sure we're doing the right thing here? Exposing him to all the different version of how he gets Christine in the end?"
Marie sighed. "That's not our point in being here…we had to show him those things to explain why we knew so much about him."
"So what do you propose we do tomorrow?"
"Same thing we did tonight…try to cheer him up." she paused. "And then we try to take over the world!"
"Troz…no more Pinky and the Brain for you."
"You either."
****
It took us several days to show him all we had brought with us. After that, all that was left was for us to try and cheer him up…ok, perhaps calling that 'all that was left' gives the misimpression that it was easy…it was anything but. The man was…as Marie put it, a combination of Hugo, Poe, Shakespeare (in tragedy mode) and Melville… translation, very sad and very tedious at times. As for our attempts to cheer him up…well, after noting that he wasn't really eating, Marie and I decided that making him better food would be a good thing. If there's one thing the Phantom can't do…it's cook.
I remember the first time I had to explain kneading to him…apparently the guy had never seen anyone bake bread. (my favorite thing…very therapeutic) I was in the kitchen, clad in an old shirt (I, much to my dismay, had left my apron at home) and black jeans. (one must always wear black when baking…sort of like wearing black when carving plaster…otherwise no one can see how hard you've been working) I was pounding the crap out of a loaf of wheat bread when Erik just appeared next to me.
I started a bit. "Jeez man, don't do that!" I cried, taking a deep breath. "Never scare a woman wielding bread dough."
He merely raised an eyebrow at me. "I was wondering, what exactly are you doing to that dough?"
"Huh? …Oh, I'm kneading it, what else?"
"Kneading?"
"Yeah, I don't know why it has to be done, but if you want the bread to rise in the oven you have to knead it…it's actually kind of fun." I commented shrugging.
"You enjoy beating dough?" He looked at me quizzically.
"It's therapeutic…you have to either be really angry, or you just imagine the dough is someone you don't particularly like. That's the only way to put the proper energy into it. Like this…" I rounded the mass of dough and molded a face into it. "This…" I pounded the face flat with my fist. "…this was my mother's husband…not a very nice guy. Here, you try it." I said, stepping aside.
"You want me to beat dough?" He looked slightly taken aback.
"Yup, it's fun…besides, my arm is getting tired." I motioned for him to start.
Erik proceeded to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves…I remember thinking he had very nice forearms. (hey, I'm an artist, I draw the figure, I notice these things!) He was about to touch the dough when he turned to me, I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the faintest smile crack the corner of his mouth. "Is it necessary that I mold the dough into a little face before kneading it?"
I was surprised for a moment. "Jeez, and I thought Marie was a smart-ass…no, you can just knead it."
Erik proceeded to knead…or, actually, more accurately, beat the bread with more enthusiasm than I had ever witnessed before. He was a lot stronger than I so the effect was interesting to watch. He was also in dire need of stress relief. After a few minutes he seemed to forget I was there and the whole of his attention was fixed on the dough. After a particularly savage blow I broke the silence that had descended over the kitchen.
"Gee Erik, I thinks it’s dead now…who was that?"
He turned to look at me and I was a bit taken aback by the savagery in his eyes. "Raoul."
I refused to be put off by his obvious anger. "Good, the little twerp deserved it."
Erik stopped pounding the dough. "Twerp?"
"Yeah, you know, a moron, a fool, an idiot, a jerk, a dumb-ass." I supplied.
"I see…well, I was aware of that."
"I'm of the opinion it needs to be said as often as possible."
"What needs to be said?"
"Raoul's a twerp."
"I agree!" Marie piped as she entered the kitchen.
"Hey Marie, what's up?" I asked, turning to my roomie.
"Not much…I just got a part in the chorus, that's all." She said, beaming.
"HOLY SHIT!" I rushed over and hugged her. "That's great!"
"Calm Lisa, it's just a small part…so…uh, what exactly are you two doing?" She cast a quizzical look at our flour-smeared clothes.
"Making bread…duh!"
"Yes, Lisa was showing me how to knead the dough." Erik wiped his hands on a towel as he came over to us. "Congratulations on your new position."
Marie blushed a bit. "Thanks, hey, if you guys aren't doing anything, how about coming to rehearsals…it could be fun," she added when Erik seemed reluctant.
"Sure we'll come, won't we Erik?" I looked up at him and he nodded. "Now all we need to do is get cleaned up." I brushed the flour off my black pants and set the dough in a bowl to rise. It was then that I realized the front of Erik's pants was covered in flour. "Hey Erik, hold still."
Erik raised an eyebrow but complied as I walked up to him.
"You are covered in flour…" I proceeded to brush the flour off his pants. "…there you go, now you look presentable."
Erik just stared down at me with an unfathomable look on his face.
"Lisa!"
Marie exclaimed.
"What?" I looked over at her, unable to understand her shocked expression.
She pulled me aside. "Think about what you just did."
"I brushed the flour off his pants, what?"
"Think hard Lisa, but try not to hurt yourself."
"Hey! …Oh…well, his pants had flour on them." I defended.
Marie shook her head and sighed.